by K. M. Shea
He was a rather unlikely fairy. His skin was not smooth and baby soft, but instead he perpetually bore facial stubble and furrowed brows. His grayish hair always looked as if he ran his hands through it and yanked on it, and his fairy wings—transparent and sparkly—were markedly smaller than the average fairy’s.
“What do you want?” Mortimer barked. “I’m busy with my research, and if you ruined my experiment by summoning me for something entirely unnecessary I will see that you live to regret it.”
Even though I could tell Mortimer everything as he’s a fairy, not a human, so my vow won’t apply to him, it won’t do to tell the whole story. He’ll get bored and wander off without helping me. Rynn licked her lips and mentally condensed her request into the shortest phrasing possible. “A thoughtless young lady used a fairy handkerchief to compel me into a vow of silence so I can’t tell the truth about a certain matter. I wish for you to break the vow so I can speak freely.”
“Can’t be done,” Mortimer said without hesitation.
“It can’t be done, or you won’t do it?” Rynn asked.
Mortimer eyed her, making his already bunched brow wrinkle further. “It’s unfortunate you have a shred more of intelligence than your ungrateful parents. Fine. It can be done, but I’m not going to do it. Do you have any idea how much work it would require? And all the reports I’d have to submit to the fairy council—for you? My talents are far better used focusing on my research.”
Rynn spoke through clenched jaws. “Then what good is a fairy godfather who won’t save his godchild?”
“Testy, aren’t you? If you took a moment to think, you’ll realize I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.” Mortimer waggled a long finger in Rynn’s face. “As it just so happens, you are in luck. I am a wish short of my quota for the month, so I will fix the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
Rynn grabbed a post of her canopy bed and scooted around the mattress. “No, no. It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“You’re a human,” Mortimer scoffed. “You can barely handle staying alive. You said you wanted to be able to speak freely and tell the truth, I’ll do you one better. I’ll make you so charismatic you can get people to do whatever you want.”
“No.” Rynn retreated behind her bed and shook her head. I was an idiot for calling him! If he gives me a magical gift it’ll make everything worse! Eva’s still suffering from the last wish he fulfilled for her! “No, I have no need of magical powers! It’s fine. I apologize for interrupting your research, but if you aren’t powerful enough to break my vow I’ll manage alone.”
“So now you insult me? Listen up, my pea-brained godchild, once this gift settles on you, you’ll be so thankful you’ll want to kiss my shoes. For now, I grant you the ability of charisma so powerful even the very air listens to you!”
Mortimer jabbed a finger at Rynn again, and a gust swirled through her bedroom with such force it almost ripped the canopy off its frame and put out the small fire that crackled in the fireplace.
The wind circled Rynn, yanking on her hair and clothes as it wound tighter and tighter around her. Her tongue burned as if she had just drunken scalding soup, and just as abruptly as it arrived, the wind died off.
Rynn pushed her amber hair out of her face. “That was not charisma!”
“You are right,” Mortimer said. “I thought it would be more interesting if I played with the phrasing a bit. Congratulations, you can now control the wind.”
Rynn gaped at the fairy—her hair and dress still unkempt—and tried to summon any sort of emotion besides shock.
“You may commence with the kissing of my shoes whenever you like.” Mortimer stuck a foot out and waited expectantly.
“Are you crazy?” Rynn shouted. “Wind control is the last gift I need! I’m posing as Princess Davina while staying in Farthendale! How do you think Prince Geraint will react when he finds out his fiancée has obtained magic powers overnight?”
Mortimer squinted. “Farthendale? No wonder it seemed extra stuffy for the human world. There’s not much magic here.”
“Exactly,” Rynn spat. She winced when the vehemence of her words made one of the canopy curtains flutter with her new magic. “Farthendale doesn’t see much magic ever. They won’t react happily when they learn what has happened.”
Mortimer shrugged. “Don’t tell them. Problem solved.”
“It’s an additional problem I can’t deal with on top of the role of playing fake princess,” Rynn said.
“Well you should have thought about that before asking for my help.”
“I asked for you to nullify a vow, not give me magical powers!” Again, a wind flared with Rynn’s anger, though this time it slammed into the fairy godfather, who brushed it off with ease.
He rolled his eyes. “Ungrateful, just like her parents. Obviously, you can do so much better on your own. I will leave you to your little drama.”
“Wait, take the powers back.” Rynn took a few hurried steps closer to Mortimer.
“I think not,” Mortimer said. “Since you know everything, you can handle a bit of magic. Maybe it will teach you to be more thankful.”
Rynn gasped a little—which seemed to suck the air from the room and made it a little harder to breathe for a moment. She coughed, then shook her head. “Please!”
“Your pretty manners are too late. Now don’t bother me again!” Mortimer straightened the collar of his robe, then was gone with a flash of light.
Rynn stared at his vacated spot for several long moments before her legs gave out and she plopped down on the floor in a heap. That didn’t make things better…it’s far worse now! She pressed her hands to her mouth to keep herself from crying, and shook her head.
What do I do now? What can I do? The hopelessness of the situation finally broke past her control, and tears spilled down Rynn’s cheeks as she leaned against her bed and a breeze snapped the skirts of her dress.
* * *
The following day Rynn, exhausted and fatigued thanks to her sleepless night, sagged for a moment on Falada’s back as the white horse walked across the meadow. He made for the boulder where Davina was splayed, once again combing her gold hair as her goose charges roamed the meadow.
Why is it that I suffer greatly for the short bout of stupidity I had in thinking Mortimer would help, but Princess Davina—who launched the most insipidly senseless plan ever—gets to wile her days away combing her hair and sunning herself?
Rynn had spent the entirety of the night trying to grasp the mechanics of her newly bequeathed powers. They weren’t as wild as she had initially feared, and were tied to her words—as Mortimer had outlined when he foisted them upon her. While her control was still shaky at best, if Rynn kept her mouth shut they did not stir.
Additionally, Rynn had learned that the power of the winds appeared to be behind the strength at which she spoke. And, if she spoke directly to the wind, it would do her bidding. Otherwise it did whatever it wanted.
It’s a more rebellious power than I would have liked, but as long as I make sure I have the expressiveness of a rock, I can manage. Once this mess is over I will call Mortimer and demand he take the powers back. Though if I am lucky they might fade on their own…he did say he granted me these powers ‘for now.’
Falada stopped next to the small stream near Davina’s rock, and Rynn blinked her bleary eyes. “Thank you, Falada.” She slipped off his back and nearly fell down when she landed on the ground.
Falada chewed on his bit and turned his head so he could roll his eyes at her. “Are you ill?”
Rynn shook her head to clear it and forced her shoulders back. “I’m fine, thank you.” She patted his shoulder and zipped away when she heard the horse chew louder. Massaging the back of her neck, Rynn meandered towards Davina, offering Little Conrad a wan smile when he bowed to her.
Squinting in the sharp sunlight, Rynn tried to push the pounding headache from her mind. “Vina. You have to come forward and tell the truth.”
&nb
sp; Davina huffed and set her comb aside. “How foolish of me. Here I had thought you were coming to visit me or give me the money I deserve, but instead you came only to browbeat me into what you perceive as being right.”
“This has nothing to do with my beliefs or perceptions, Vina. This will end poorly.” Rynn was glad she was tired; it made it easier to keep her voice expressionless so she didn’t yell at the princess and loosen a gale upon her.
Davina scrambled off her rock. “I don’t have to listen to this. In fact, I won’t! Just because you care more about the kingdom than me doesn’t give you a right to scold me.”
Rynn trailed her as the princess stomped across the meadow, following the stream. “Do you hear yourself? Do you really think you should be allowed to put yourself ahead of the good of your kingdom—your people?”
Davina sniffed. “You are such a hypocrite. You harp all day long, and yet refuse to sacrifice yourself for the kingdom.”
“That’s not a fair comparison.” Rynn felt her eyebrow twitch in anger. “It’s because I’m worried for our kingdom that I’m thinking ahead to what will happen when—not if—we are found out.”
“I don’t believe you.” Davina patted the head of a goose who ignored her and plucked at the lush meadow grass.
“I’m not being selfish.” Rynn clenched her jaw to keep her frustration in. (How could Davina declare they were the same, when Rynn was plagued with magic and was on the way to being executed for impersonating a royal!)
Davina turned around and placed her hands on her hips. “Oh? Then what are you doing?”
“I’M TRYING TO KEEP US ALIVE!”
Wind ripped through the meadow with such strength it made the trees groan as their branches swayed, and it set a few geese tumbling to the ground.
Davina shrieked and covered her face with her arms.
Rynn forced herself to stand tall despite being buffeted by the winds. “Enough.” She made herself speak the word without trembling or shouting.
Instantly, the wind died down into a delightful breeze. The only evidence of its violence was in Rynn’s and Davina’s twisted skirts, and the white feathers a few geese had shed that now danced in the air.
“That was strange,” Davina declared.
Rynn sat down, heedless of the grass and what it might do to her skirts. “I give up,” she muttered. “I want to go home. I was so stupid for ever leaving.”
Davina ignored her and instead walked up to a goose that was pecking at pebbles in a sandy patch next to the stream. “See here now, stop that!”
Rynn pushed the palms of her hands into her eyes, and tried to pull herself together. I can get through this. I know I can. Maybe I just need to work harder on Prince Geraint. If I could just get him out here to see Davina… But how will we deal with the truth? She chewed on her lip. Perhaps Lady Maela would help then. In spite of her distaste for Davina, I doubt she would try to continue the ruse if I managed to spill everything.
Unfortunately, even though bringing Geraint and Davina together was by far her best idea, it had proven rather difficult to work on. Geraint was willing enough to ride, but he insisted on taking Conrad with them—who was never available until the evening hours long after Davina and the geese returned to the palace.
Perhaps this is my punishment for bossing my siblings around and believing I could manage their lives better than they could. Hah. Now I can barely even survive living through mine. Rynn opened her eyes to find Davina wrestling with a goose.
“What are you doing?” Rynn asked.
“I’m saving this stupid bird’s life,” Davina grunted. “These silly geese keep trying to swallow rocks—ow!” She yelped when the goose flapped its wings and smacked her in the face. She let the bird go, which swallowed its pebble and honked in triumph.
Rynn pushed herself into a standing position again. “Just leave it be. Geese need to swallow pebbles and grit for their gizzards.”
Davina stood and dusted off her palms. “What do the rocks do?”
“Grind their food so the goose can digest it,” Rynn said. “Didn’t they give you any instructions when they put you in charge of the gaggle?”
Davina shook her head and scrunched her nose. “No. They said all I had to do was assist the experienced goose boy. But Little Conrad replaced him the day after I arrived. I don’t think he has much experience either.”
Rynn turned around to peer at the goose lad, who had waded into the stream to cool off, though based on the direction his hat pointed Rynn suspected he was watching them. “Putting two greenhorns together seems fair foolish…” Foolish, and unlikely. No one would risk losing all the king’s geese to beginner mistakes.
“I thought so too, but the man in charge of all the poultry won’t listen to me.” Davina sighed.
“I see. So neither of you truly know what you’re doing?” Rynn asked.
Davina shook her head. “No.”
Rynn briefly squeezed her eyes shut. I should leave them alone. I have enough to worry about without adding goose tending to my list… but to do something I’m familiar with!
Geese had always been Rynn’s least favorite bird that her parents owned. They were big, pushy, and could be downright mean. But Rynn had managed her parents’ birds for years before she left her family. As ornery as they were, the familiar honks and hisses of the geese soothed Rynn. I never would have thought hissing geese would be the lullaby that reminds me of home.
The goose Rynn had saved from Davina’s misguided ministrations pecked at her skirt. Rynn exhaled, and a delightful little breeze played with her hair and rustled the leaves of the trees. “All right. I have nothing better to do.” She turned on her heels and shouted. “Little Conrad, come! We’re going to move the geese!”
“Move them where?” Davina asked.
Rynn pushed her already short sleeves up past her elbows. “Towards the trees. This direct sunlight is too strong for them in the summer heat. They should have the option of shade.”
Little Conrad trotted up to them, pulling his cap low over his head. “We could take them to the Royal Orchard.”
“It would be the ideal place for them,” Rynn agreed. “But if the orchard has any young trees the geese will strip the bark right off the trunks.”
“How do you know that?” Davina asked, fascinated.
“Experience,” Rynn said grimly. “Little Conrad and I will walk behind the geese and push them towards the trees. Vina, I want you to walk off to the side so you can keep them from circling around behind us.”
Davina nodded and, to Rynn’s surprise, skipped off without protesting.
Rynn and Little Conrad strode towards the geese, making them honk and waddle across the meadow.
Falada looked up from his grazing long enough to swat his tail as Rynn and Little Conrad drove the birds past him, then returned to grazing.
“How does a princess know so much about geese?” Little Conrad grunted, jumping back when a goose paused to peck at his shins.
Rynn opened her mouth to reply, but nothing would come out. Stupid vow! The breeze seemed to sense her frustration, for it tugged her hair into her face. Finally, Rynn replied. “I don’t know.”
Chapter 5
A Vicious Threat
Rain fell in sheets as Rynn—a cloak pulled tight around her—hurried across the puddle riddled courtyard. When she made it into the stables, she peeled the cloak off and hung it on a hook before she hurried down the aisleway.
“Falada,” she called. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ll get to ride today.”
The fairy horse scratched his forehead on his stall door. “You think?” he asked sourly. “If that’s so, what do you want?”
“I just wanted to let you know so you weren’t waiting for me,” Rynn said.
“I, wait for you?” Falada scoffed, arching his neck.
“Yes, I knew it was unlikely,” Rynn muttered.
To her amusement the gray pony housed in the stall on Falada’s left, strained h
er neck so she could poke her muzzle over the stall divider and sigh at him.
Falada recoiled at the pony’s lovestruck expression and sneered.
Rynn cleared her throat, though a bit of a chuckle still leaked from her, creating a swirling breeze that tossed bits of hay into the air. She paused, but the fairy horse did not seem to mind it, and instead continued to eye the pony. “At least you won’t be alone in here,” Rynn ventured.
Falada ripped his attention from the pony and snorted. “The mushrooms are not fit company.”
“Does that mean the other mushroom likes you, too?” Rynn asked, peering into the stall of the fat pony who was housed on Falada’s other side.
“No!” Falada pawed his door and eyed Rynn.
Rynn froze for a moment, but Falada did not strike out at her or bite the flirtatious pony who was still trying to stick her head in his stall.
Maybe he’s lonely too. Even though he seems as ornery as ever, by now he should have bitten me.
Rynn cleared her throat and clasped her hands behind her back. “At least they’re better than geese.”
Falada tossed his head. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Not really.”
Falada turned so his large, white rear faced Rynn. “Good day, Princess.”
“Have the stable hands send for me if you want some company.” Feeling brave, she ventured a slightly louder chuckle—one that mussed the forelock of Falada’s pony admirer with the breeze it created.
Falada responded by swatting his tail.
Rynn shook her head and started back up the aisle. “Enjoy your afternoon!” She reclaimed her wet cloak from the hook, shivering as she wrapped it around herself again.
When she staggered across the courtyard that stretched between the stables and the palace, she sneezed, creating a gust of wind that almost knocked her flat.
Regardless of whether they fade or not, I have got to get Mortimer to take these powers back. If I get a cold I’ll flatten the palace! Though I don’t have much hope of him retracting his gift—he never removed Eva’s magic, and she has it worse than I do.
