By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel

by Meghan Maslow

  I frowned. My gums itched with the desire to let my fangs slide through. My father shot me a quelling look.

  “Well, let him back in,” my father said. “Time to grab the unicorn by the horn.”

  I grunted, but did as he asked.

  Brandsome stormed into the office, obviously having worked himself into a lather. “I should report you to the EBI . . .” He trailed off as he noticed my father. His eyes rounded, but then narrowed as he considered this new development. “Oh, good, so I won’t have to go through the trouble of seeking you out, Councilmember Starfig. I’m Brandsome Nightwind.” A wave of his magic rolled out and filled the room, much like the dispersal of incense. Only evil.

  My father wrinkled his nose and waved a hand like he was swatting a fly. Brandsome’s magic evaporated. We all gawped at my dad.

  “You don’t think a council member is subject to such trifles?” He sniffed, and I swear Brandsome’s face turned as red as Bill. “Now, let’s get this settled.”

  “I want it known that if I have to go back to Brandsome I want the right to break the wizard-familiar bond.” Quinn’s voice rang out in the room, strong and sure.

  “No,” I said.

  “Yes. Non-negotiable. I’m not giving you to Brandsome. No matter what.”

  “You don’t get a say in this, pet. Be quiet. You’re going to be in enough trouble as it is.” Brandsome glared at Quinn, his expression promising all sorts of painful lessons. I almost shifted at the implied threat. Only Quinn’s hand on my arm kept me from it.

  “Enough.” My father’s voice rang with authority. “Why not just break the bond now and be done with it? A Starfig under someone else’s control is unnatural.”

  “No,” I persisted. “He’ll lose his magic. I’m not doing that.”

  My father tilted his head again, considering me. Like a pixie under a manticore’s paw. “You care for him.”

  I gritted my teeth. I really didn’t want to discuss this with dear old dad. He wouldn’t understand anyway.

  “Yes,” I forced through my teeth. Quinn’s intake of breath shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. He must know I cared. I wanted to mate him, for fuck’s sake. I covered the hand that still rested on my arm with mine.

  “But not enough to mate him.” Ah, there’s my dad.

  I stiffened. “It’s complicated.”

  “I see.”

  “I want to.”

  “You do?” Now his eyebrow rose infinitesimally. Wow. I’d surprised him. He quickly masked it, and I doubted anyone else noticed.

  “Yes. If he’ll have me.”

  Quinn’s hand tightened on mine.

  “What about it, wizard? I suppose you can’t wait to be mated to my son?” He shifted his gaze to Quinn. My father’s tone was insulting and suggested that of course he’d want to be mated to a Starfig. “If Twig refuses to break your bond, I suppose a mating would be the next best thing. At least then he’d have as much control over you as you have over him. And the first wizard in a thousand years wouldn’t bring undue shame on the family name. Not the ideal candidate, but my PR people could work with it.” He sounded so matter-of-fact that it raised the hair on my nape.

  “The dragon must have my permission,” Brandsome chimed in. “I mean, I’d certainly be willing to give it, but he still has to ask me first. My pet doesn’t have any choice, so if your son wants to do it, I’m sure we could come to terms.” To say his smile was oily was an understatement.

  I wanted to rip his spine from his body for talking about Quinn like that. My father, however, was not some novice, and I could tell that he didn’t like the way Brandsome tried to muscle into the conversation. It was the only thing keeping me from acting on my urges. My dad’s face stayed perfectly blank. Well, actually, he scowled, but that was his default expression, so, yeah.

  “We’ve never had a wizard-familiar pairing settle in the Elder before.” My father rubbed his chin. “A unique and special bond. And then to have you mated, as well. Yes, interesting.”

  “What’s that mean?” Brandsome demanded.

  “Well, Mr. Nightwind, my son is quite correct that witches are not allowed to be sold into indentured servitude. It would give the master too much power, plus the witches’ Council of Divine Magic would protest. One word that you’ve got a wizard as a bed slave and they’d demand action.”

  “Well, it’s the feather-brained witches’ council who sold him in the first place. They didn’t want him.”

  “Yes, most unfortunate.”

  Quinn and I watched the exchange between my father and Brandsome. I wanted to interject, only my father was a million times more qualified than me to take on this issue. I couldn’t be positive, but I think he was actually on our side. If not for me, then because of the danger a wizard-familiar under Brandsome’s control posed to the Elder.

  Brandsome smirked. “So you see, I’d like to collect my servant and go. Your son can decide whether he wishes to accompany us. If so, I’d be happy to come to terms with him for say . . . keeping my pet from servicing others. I’m a reasonable creature, after all.” He smirked.

  Quinn grabbed me around the waist before I launched myself at Brandsome. Fucking bastard unicorn. I’d gut him for this.

  “Oh, settle down, Twig.” My father sighed. “You have so much to learn.”

  “Are you going to help me or not?” I snapped.

  My father chuckled, the sound dry as the Expanse. “Of course, my dear boy. I can’t have a power-hungry unicorn galloping around with you and a wizard. No, that simply won’t do.”

  “You don’t have the right—”

  “I have every right, Mr. Nightwind. More importantly, I have the documentation to prove it.” His form disappeared.

  “What happened?” Quinn asked. “Were you disconnected?”

  “I don’t know.” What in hydra’s hell fire? He makes a pronouncement and then just disappears?

  Brandsome didn’t seem to know what to make of it either. “Well, that was . . . convenient. Come, Quilt, we’re leaving.”

  “Quinn. My name is Quinn.” He glared at Brandsome, his face full of loathing.

  “Don’t get mouthy with me, pet.” Brandsome’s voice had gone deathly quiet and Quinn shuddered against me. He was truly afraid of Brandsome. Considering his bravery when faced with evil faes, zombies, and a pain-in-the-ass Red Fury, that said something. Damn. If I hated Brandsome before, he just moved to the top of my most-wanted-to-gut list.

  A loud pop had us all turning back to my desk. My father reappeared in person, waving a scroll. “Ah, here we go. Ransoner’s Principles, Section 4352z. This effectively makes null and void your contract with the witches’ council. You cannot hold a wizard as an indentured servant.”

  “But—”

  “I naturally brought this matter to the attention of the council and”—he snapped his fingers and another scroll appeared—“I took the time to write up an opinion piece on it, signed by all twelve members that will run in the Daily Chronicles tomorrow, so there will be no mistake on the legislation. We’ve also added it to our next meeting’s agenda so we can refine some of the finer points of policy. Can’t have it misinterpreted, can we?”

  “That’s not fair!” Brandsome threw up his hands. “I paid good coin for him.”

  “So you did. Don’t worry Mr. Nightwind. It’s the witches’ council’s responsibility to return your coin. I believe you just need to fill out Form 995432176456999.1 in triplicate. Then there’s Form 81205400367.9. Also in triplicate. I believe you also need to include a personal statement.” My father shook his head. “The Witches’ bureaucracy isn’t very efficient. Of course, you could ask Twig to agree to reimburse you, since my son would probably not want to wait until the witches go through their paperwork. His wizard would have to stay with the witches until they’d reviewed and signed off on everything, so you might get lucky. Or not. You could always ask. Either way, this matter is officially decided.”

  “But—”


  My father clapped his hands and both Quinn’s original contract and my temporary one appeared. My dad placed his hands on both and they went up in smoke. “Would you like me to notify the witches’ council you’ll be pressing your claim?”

  Brandsome sputtered, but Quinn whooped and threw himself into my arms, holding me tight. I turned us toward Brandsome. “I’m willing to pay out the contract.”

  “You don’t have to pay for me!” Quinn said. “I’d never be able to pay you back.”

  “Mates don’t worry about those sorts of things. Whatever I have is yours.”

  “Mates?” Quinn looked at me with such awe that my body warmed from his regard. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. We have a lot to discuss. Are you sure you want to belong to me? You don’t need to make that decision now.”

  “I do want to belong to you, Twig. I-I just need . . .”

  “Time. Me, too. It will require a lot of changes on both our parts, so I’m in no rush.” My dragon naturally didn’t agree.

  I kissed him, softly, just a peck. Any more and I’d bend him over my desk, which I assumed my father and Brandsome would not appreciate. Not that I gave a fuck what Brandsome thought.

  “Well, now that it’s settled, I need to get back to work. Principles don’t write themselves, you know. Twig, we’ll be in touch.”

  I nodded. My father’s last words chilled me because it meant we’d be having another talk about what I planned to do for the Starfig name. He’d certainly demand something. There’d be a price to pay for his help. But damn if I wasn’t willing to pay it.

  “I left the wizard’s temporary resident’s permit upstairs on the table with yours. We’ll work on the rest later.” He disappeared and I focused on Brandsome again.

  “So, do you want the money or would you rather go through the very lengthy process of dealing with the witches’ council?”

  “Syrup and sugar kisses, you can’t fool me. You don’t want to be separated from him. I could perhaps be convinced to deal with you if you sweetened the pot—”

  Before I could respond, Quinn charged Brandsome and punched him right in his too-perfect mouth. Brandsome shrieked like he’d been stabbed and covered his mouth with his palm. “You beast! I should have you arrested!”

  “Try it, you pathetic excuse for a horse.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that.” Brandsome’s magic filled the room again. So Quinn broke his nose.

  “Your magic doesn’t affect me. Remember, it can’t affect true love.” He looked back at me and his eyes went all soft. “And I do love you, Twig. I probably did from the beginning; it just took me a bit to realize it.”

  I smiled. “Right back atcha, babe.”

  “My nose! You broke my perfect nose!” Brandsome wailed.

  “I’m about to break your perfect teeth,” Quinn growled, and I laughed. “Besides, I’m not in the Alphae. I’m Lovely Creatures all the way. Nothing wrong with being the prolefairyat. Especially since they don’t have any silly rules about not attacking first.”

  I snickered. “Prolefairyat? I like it.”

  “Thanks, I just thought of it on the fly.”

  “My father will insist that you be accepted into the Alphae once we mate. It’s a Starfig thing.”

  Brandsome cleared his throat. Loudly.

  “Well, enough reminiscing,” I said. “Let’s get down to it. I’m willing to reimburse you. That’s it. Otherwise, Quinn and I will go to the Hominus Realm and wait it out. Up to you, but that’s a lot of coin.”

  “Fine.” Brandsome glared at both of us. If he could shoot poison we’d be dead on the floor. But that wasn’t one of unicorns’ talents and I’d probably be immune anyway. Then I’d shred him before he hurt Quinn. But I digress.

  A moment later we signed off on all the appropriate documents. I even waived the fee for returning his horn. I was feeling magnanimous. After all, Quinn was now free.

  Joy radiated off him even though he hadn’t reopened our connection. Before I could ask him to, he removed the barrier and I was hit with so much happiness and love it almost knocked me off my feet. Damn, it felt good.

  I reached over and snapped the heinous collar from his neck. He’d never wear anyone’s collar again. I couldn’t help staring at his throat where his familiar tattoo would go. I was eager for him to get it.

  “I’d say it’s nice doing business with you, but I’d be lying,” Brandsome grumbled at the end.

  “A piece of advice, Brandsome.” I grinned and let my fangs drop through my gum line. “I may have agreed to abide by the Alphae’s rules, but if you so much as come within a square mile of Quinn, I’ll tear you to pieces. Clear?”

  Brandsome squeaked out an assent. He turned to go.

  “Is he gone yet?” Bill said, making us all jump.

  “Bill, what did I say?”

  “Sorry, sorry.” So not sorry.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I-is that a-a Red Fury?” Brandsome’s eyes went wide.

  “Oh, goodness, I hadn’t expected you to still be here.” Bill straightened his tie, adjusted his vest.

  “Really, Bill? He’s an asshole. And his face is all covered in blood.”

  “So I see,” Bill all but purred. “So beautiful.”

  Brandsome’s face twisted in distaste before transforming into a gleeful smile. He pointed his horn at Bill.

  “Oh, fuck, Bill get out of here—” I shouted

  “Tell me your name, Demon. Your real name.” The horn lit up and its magic struck Bill straight in the chest. Since the horn was a part of Brandsome it would be a lot more potent than when Nyx tried to wield it. Shit.

  Bill roared, a heartrending sound that had both Quinn and me covering our ears. Then he took a quick step forward and sank his teeth into the tip of the horn.

  We all heard the crack.

  “No!” Brandsome screamed, trying to pull the horn from Bill’s maw. Another crack and Bill bit off the tip of the horn. He crunched a few times, then swallowed.

  “My horn! Candy canes and kittens, what have you done?” Brandsome looked like he was about to faint and Bill reached out to steady him. The horn shot random bolts of magic into the room before it went dark.

  “Well, now that we don’t have that awkwardness between us, how about going to dinner with me, hot stuff?” Bill waggled his eyebrows.

  Brandsome squawked and fled the room.

  Bill turned to us. “Don’t wait up.”

  He disappeared, hot on the heels of the fleeing Brandsome.

  “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for the unicorn.”

  “I’ll never feel sorry for him,” Quinn gritted out. “I feel sorry for Bill.”

  “Yeah, well, not everyone can have such refined taste.” I pulled him close and leaned down to kiss him.

  “Wait,” Quinn put his hand on my chest. “I want to know how your father managed all that in such a short time. You’ve never exactly said how it works.”

  I smirked. “My dad’s special talent is to work bureaucracies. He knows every law, every principle, every exception.”

  “Bureaucracy?” Quinn’s thunderstruck face expression was priceless.

  “Mmhmm. In a realm so taken with regulations and hierarchy, that makes him very, very powerful.”

  “Do . . . Do you share his talent?”

  “I hope not.”

  “But he’ll expect—”

  “I know.”

  “You shouldn’t have bargained—”

  I covered Quinn’s mouth with my own. I’d deal with my father’s demands later.

  “Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice called from the doorway. We broke apart and turned to see who had entered. An older half-elf with white-streaked hair and a form-fitting blouse that strained over her rounded figure looked between the two of us. She held a large metal box clasped in her hands. “Is this Starfig Investigations? A strange ghost parrot said you’d be able to help. I’m in need of someone to find my ex-boyfriend. He�
��s run off with my Chalice of Infatuation. The bastard plans to use it on a young”—she sniffed—“elf he met at the pub.”

  Quinn and I shared a look.

  “You’ve come to the right place,” Quinn said.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Acknowledgments

  This work would not have been possible without the support and eagle-eyes of my writing group. Carla Coupe, Adele Buck, and Donetta Marie. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. You’ve made the editing process so much more enjoyable and given me much needed laughter.

  A huge thank you to Annetta Ribken, developmental editor extraordinaire, who provided guidance and a kick ass critique. This is a better book because of your feedback.

  Also, thank you to Lauren Weidner for your copy editing expertise and for being a good friend. I love your direct approach, honesty, and kindness.

  A much needed thank you to Rhys Ford who has been my unofficial mentor and has answered endless rounds of questions with kindness and grace as I’ve moved through this exciting—but at times fumbling and scary—process. I’m a big advocate of kindness being contagious and I strongly believe in paying it forward. There is no better model for either than Rhys.

  CS Poe, Brandon Witt, Lucy Lennox, Sloan Johnson, SJ Himes, Naomi Grant, and Alexa Land, all let me pepper them with questions about ARCs, self-publishing, software, marketing, et cetera. Thank you all!

  Lou Harper did an amazing job with the cover design and put up with all my “what if we try this . . .” ideas. She is a very, very patient and talented designer.

  I’d also like to thank the m/m community more generally. I have received more support, friendship, and love than I ever thought possible.

  About the Author

  Meghan Maslow is truly a rare breed. No, not a unicorn (although that would be sooo cool). She’s a . . . gasp! . . . extroverted writer. It may seem counterintuitive that as someone who is energized by people, she spends most of her time alone. Yet, that’s the case. And she doesn’t mind.

  Mostly.