Despite her fervent efforts, the meek creatures didn’t dare to travel closer than necessary to spread nature’s bounty upon the once-barren ground and replenish the leaves with green and beauty. Such was the power of the sprites who lived in the leafy boughs, the grassy mounds on the ground, and the colorful flowers they tended.
And according to them, Tink was strange and unnatural for their sort. Her closest friends had died of old age over the years since the defeat of Queen Maeval, leaving only new and young sprites in the area who had no love for adult shifters or humans.
“What if the big people eat you?” Splish asked.
“The big smelly one doesn’t even call you by your name,” Splash, the twin sister of the other fairy, agreed. She shook out her wild silver hair and frowned while studying the mouth of the nearby den. They wouldn’t come inside, no matter how hard Tink tried to convince them of the wolf pack’s benevolence.
“That isn’t Conall’s fault, and he isn’t smelly anymore,” Tink protested, although her friend was right. Bell had been the name given to her since creation, as her laughter sounded like many of them chiming. Each of her friends had similar names, given for their talents and the funny sounds they made. “I introduced myself as Tinker Bell.”
Splish snorted. “And like a human, he lacked the wit to understand a proper introduction. None of the big folk ever get it.”
Splish and Splash meant well, but they were notoriously hard on the humans. They tended the water flora in Lake Arweg, and their giggles mimicked the relaxing sound of gentle rainfall. And while they were sweet to the other fae folk, they had no patience for mortals.
Tink’s shoulders drooped. Arguing with them would be a lost cause and a waste of her time. “All right. Fine. Then don’t come.”
All she’d wanted was to find six other fairies to accompany her to bless Kendric’s birth. He’d turned three months old and, according to tradition, leaders from all the surrounding packs would arrive to pay their respects and gift the family presents.
Sorcha’s baby boy was one of the most beautiful things Tink had ever seen, and also the most irritating. No matter what they were doing, or how much fun she was having while playing with Conall, the moment the baby cried, his parents abandoned her to see to his needs.
And he cried a lot.
And he often smelled bad until one of the big people swept him away to change his nappy and freshen him.
And Tink still found him precious and absolutely irresistible to snuggle beside once Sorcha washed and swaddled him. Unfortunately, sprites had no children of their own. Instead of relying upon procreation, they were born from a child’s first laugh and simply came into existence upon motes of magic soon after, already young adults.
So why did she want one of the stinky little buggers?
Disappointed by her kin, Tink returned to the cavern as the first trickle of visitors arrived. Shifters of all shapes and sizes reached the mouth of the cavern where two werewolves waited like enormous furry sentries.
Finlay became human to greet her, experienced enough to shapeshift with his clothing intact. “Hello, Tink.” He made a rugged, attractive man while human, clothed in the clan’s scarlet and silver tartan.
“Hello, Fin!”
The second wolf inclined his head to her politely before Tink waved and zipped past them into the cavern. Knowing the many passages by heart, she hurried along chambers with smooth and polished walls, each one lit by numerous lanterns and the occasional opening in the ceiling designed to catch the sunlight. Many generations ago, the bears of Clan Ardal had used their magical stonecrafting talent at the behest of Conall’s ancestors. They’d carved out multiple levels of chambers into the rock, and even located the perfect pocket below the earth capable of producing a hot spring. Water from Lake Arweg created a magnificent grotto in Conall’s personal level of the den, although many of the pack members visited for a soak.
The aroma of roasting venison reached Tink’s nose before she picked out the small gathering of people in the receiving area. Cool water from the lake lapped against the stone ledge, and in the distance, Lake Arweg glittered beneath the afternoon sun. Magical enhancements guaranteed it never flooded the burrow, and despite the open ceiling above them to release smoke from the cooking fire, rainfall never dampened their furnishings. Most had been carved from wood or stone, lightly cushioned with furs or padded seats. The rugs and tapestries were all earth-toned shades, such as russet red, rich golden brown, and mossy green.
Her best friends occupied one of the benches, Conall resting beside his wife with both of her feet in his lap.
“Hello, Tink,” Sorcha greeted her warmly, eyes twinkling with happiness. She held the swaddled baby to her breast while her husband, fascinated and ever devoted to his new family, rubbed her feet without complaint. The smile hadn’t left his face since Kendric’s birth; in fact, he’d endured Sorcha’s pregnancy-related mood swings with an admirable grin-and-bear-it attitude worthy of praise. Nothing could shake his optimism.
And Tink was quite proud of him for taking so well to the role. She landed on Sorcha’s shin and made herself comfortable on the woman’s plaid skirt, using the folds as a makeshift hammock.
“About time you reappeared,” Conall said. “I thought you’d miss the festivities.”
Tink scrunched her face up at him. “What are you talking about? Your guests haven’t even arrived yet.”
“Aye, that’s true. But you’re family, and your place is beside us.” When she tilted her face up to look at him, he grinned back at her. “The TalDrachs should arrive shortly. Anastasia sent word that they were delayed—Princess Teagan wanted to accompany them and bring a gift of her own.”
“Is she still recovering?” Tink asked, her brows drawing inward. Princess Teagan had nearly died during their kingdom’s war two decades ago, plummeting from the sky and crashing through the mountains, where she remained comatose for many years and under the care of goblins.
Conall nodded. “Aye, she is. It’s taken her a long while to recover the wing strength to fly this great a distance, but I hear the princess looks well.”
“Do we have enough to feed two dragons?” Tink whispered.
Conall snorted back his laughter. “There are bears coming too, lass. Ramsay and Victoria are coming from the east.”
“I better go hide the cheese!”
“Tink! There’s plenty of—”
Panicked, Tink zipped away, a bolt of anxious orange darting from the spacious den and into the lower levels where the wolves kept the pantry and wine cellar. She found her favorite wheels of cheese intact. Distrusting Ramsay, after she’d already witnessed the bear shifter’s incomparable appetite, she rolled one wax-sealed wheel behind a pile of potatoes.
“There. Stinky won’t eat all my cheese this time.”
Satisfied with her handiwork, she returned to find that their guests had arrived. A procession of royal visitors and noble clan leaders from across Cairn Ocland made their way down the aisle into the sitting parlor where Sorcha and Conall awaited them.
Thanks to the spacious and open-walled cavern, there was plenty of room for everyone without crowding shifters or forcing them to sit shoulder to shoulder. The den had been designed to hold an entire pack, after all—not that Tink had to worry much. She zipped up to a little niche in the rocky ceiling and made herself comfortable.
As the tallest man in the room, King Alistair caught her attention first. The regal dragon and his sorceress wife made a matching pair in their green and gold tartan. Anastasia wore her red hair braided in intricate plaits tied with pink ribbon, matching the young girl behind her. Princess Elspeth and Prince Rua walked behind the two adults, the children perfect miniatures of their stately parents.
Princess Teagan approached last with a wolf trailing a short distance behind her. Tink leaned forward and peered at the older dragoness, who could have passed for Alistair’s sister rather than his aunt.
More people followed, and the din of joyous greeting
s filled the open space. Tink recognized a few prominent faces, especially the three bear elders of Clan Ardal. Unfamiliar clan leaders from the griffins, human settlements, and other groups made up the remainder of their visitors.
“Tink!” Conall called, interrupting the introductions.
“What?” she yelled back.
“Come down and meet our friends.”
Reluctant to crash the celebration between the big people, she flitted down and settled on Conall’s shoulder. Two dozen curious faces watched her, and a few called out generous greetings and welcomes to her as well. She tucked her chin, too shy to respond.
“I know many of you met Tinker Bell during the Battle of Mount Kinros, but today, I’m honored to introduce all of you to Kendric’s fairy godmother.”
Tinker Bell jerked around to stare at her friend’s unshaven cheek. She’d settled too close on his shoulder to see anything more than the edge of a satisfied smile on his face. “What? But… but I’m barely a fairy.”
“You’re fairy enough for us, Tink. And I trust you with our little one if we ever need you,” Sorcha said.
Stinging tears filled her eyes and blurred her sight. “I’ll do my very best, I promise.”
If only she were large enough to hug them. She kissed Conall’s cheek instead before gliding down on her sparkling wings to show the same affection to Sorcha and Kendric.
“Well done, Tinker Bell,” Alistair praised her, wearing a broad smile on his bearded face. “Now on to the presents. I had to rein Ana in before she could empty the castle and bury you in gifts. You’d thank me if you knew her plans.”
Conall chuckled. “Much appreciated.”
Anastasia drove her elbow into her husband’s abdomen and cleared her throat. “Don’t listen to him. Of all the gifts I might have brought, I find this will be the most use to you. When you first shared news of your pregnancy, I began to stitch protective spells into this blanket. Little Kendric will have only peaceful dreams and calm nights.” The queen passed the folded bundle over to Sorcha then winked. “I also have a larger one for the two of you.”
Everyone laughed, Tink included.
“And for my contribution, a simple cradle,” Alistair said.
Two clansmen carried over the piece and set it down within Sorcha’s reach. Dragons, wolves, and sprites had been carved into the dark wood.
“This is lovely.” Sorcha leaned forward and ran a hand over the satin-smooth rail.
“It’s nothing, really,” Alistair said. “No enchantments or special runes.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Anastasia chided her husband. “The simplest things are often the most beautiful and heartfelt. He made it himself for you. I never knew dragon talons were so useful for art, but once again, he’s proved me wrong.”
“I posed for the sprites,” Tink spoke up.
The queen smiled. “You certainly did, wee one. And you did a fantastic job.”
Tink lost track of the gifts at some point, fascinated by the toys, clothes, and assortment of weapons in varying sizes to carry the child into adulthood. She’d never seen a human with such a vast array of arms, let alone one so little.
Afterward, Tink rode Sorcha’s shoulder into the dining hall where a massive banquet awaited them all. Roasted venison, steaming fish, gooey cheese dishes, and fresh vegetables covered the formal table dedicated to entertaining guests. A traditional family meal in Cairn Ocland surrounded a round table, but in the case of hosting so many guests, clan leaders opted to use long, rectangular tables instead, placing the guest of honor at the end.
More tears sprang to her eyes when she saw the tiny golden plate and matching utensils set for her at the head of the table, the place setting accompanied by a miniature chair pushed up to the perfect wooden ledge.
They’d made her the guest of honor. A whole huge spot for only her.
“For me?”
“You’re part of the family,” Sorcha whispered. “Of course we’d have a place for you.”
Laughter and stories abounded over the course of the feast as everyone shared tales from their youth or about their own children. It was rare for the clans to gather in such a number, but Tink enjoyed the merriment and hoped for more parties in the future.
By the time she finished stuffing her face, she could do nothing more than crawl onto Sorcha’s lap alongside Kendric and bask in his newborn warmth. She fell asleep cuddling her new godson and didn’t stir until morning.
* * *
As much as Tink enjoyed helping her friends in the day-to-day care of their infant, something vague and indefinable darkened her spirits. She couldn’t put a finger on the source of her glum mood at first, until one evening when she settled nearby to watch the happy family. Sorcha played peekaboo with the baby while Conall made funny faces at him over his wife’s shoulder.
Kendric’s chubby face lit with happiness, his cheeks dimpled, and he giggled for the first time, releasing the most magical sound Tink had ever heard.
It came with a perceivable change in the air, energy flowing through the room like a living, breathing force of nature. No one but Tink noticed. While both parents playfully argued over who deserved credit for their babe’s laughter, the golden mist created from his giggle drifted up into the air and toward the den opening. She followed it as far as the middle of the lake before a breeze picked it up and sped it away to the south, far from her view.
A fairy had been born. Not any fae, but a sprite like her. More importantly, it would be a boy, just like Kendric.
She drifted back home in silence, lost to her thoughts. Would Kendric’s sprite find his way back to Cairn Ocland? What would he be like?
As she fluttered down to the cavern opening, her shoulders and wings drooped. Sprites may have been born from a baby’s laugh, but they didn’t feel a drive to return to the child. She hadn’t. In fact, Tink had no idea whose laughter had birthed her. It could have been anyone.
It didn’t seem right, she thought.
Around her, life went on. Sorcha set the table while Conall put Kendric to bed. In the lower part of the den, the rest of the pack settled down with their meals or evening games. She watched them and experienced soul-deep envy for the first time since she’d come to live with Clan TalWolthe.
As much as she considered them all family and friends, none of them were like her.
“I’m leaving,” Tink declared as she flew over to the table.
Conall glanced up from his dinner. He held a huge drumstick in his hand, a mouthful of meat between his teeth. “Huh?”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Sorcha chided him.
The shifter chewed a few times and swallowed, while shooting his wife a dirty look. “Then maybe she shouldn’t speak to me while I’m eating,” he grumbled. Sorcha may have lived among them for years, but they frequently resisted her efforts to instill culture and manners into them.
“Tink, what do you mean you’re leaving?” Sorcha asked. “Did someone upset you?” After a pause, she added, “Did I upset you?” The only other time Tink had parted from Conall’s side had been years ago when Sorcha entered their life. Back then, she’d been jealous, because she hadn’t wanted to share her best and dearest friend with the strange interloping human female who had charged into their life.
“No, it isn’t you.”
As much as Tink wanted to envy Sorcha for having everything she wanted, the truth was that the sprite’s desires had nothing to do with Conall. She didn’t want the enormous dire wolf shifter and clan leader, and she’d never felt anything more than strong kinship and a longing for his friendship. What Tink wanted was the woman’s lifestyle, a mate who adored her, a little one, and a sense of purpose.
Aside from her minor repairs to the den, Tink had no great purpose. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her short life repairing weapons in the armory or fixing the pots and pans for the cook. She wanted to live. And she wanted to do it alongside someone who loved her in return.
In her dreams
, she wanted someone gentler than Conall, someone less prone to moments of growling aggression, and someone who would play the games with her Conall had long outgrown. Because Conall was now a father, and he had no time for such frivolous activities when he was also the all-powerful clan leader of all nine wolf packs.
Conall fixed her with a hard look, a familiar stubborn set to his chin. “Where are you going to go that’s better than here?”
“Kendric laughed,” she said. When that answer failed to gain any acknowledgment other than a confused wrinkle to his brow, her shoulders drooped. “Did you forget what I told you about when sprites are born?”
“No,” Conall said with a little heat. “They’re made from a child’s first laugh. Contrary to what you believe, Tink, I listen to every word you say.”
“I want to go find Kendric’s sprite. If I can find him, maybe he’ll come with me and we can both live here together.”
Tink had no doubt Kendric would grow to be an exceptional young man, which meant a sprite born from his laughter would be exemplary, too.
“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Sorcha said. “The sprites are always welcome here. I see some in the woods at times, but they rarely venture close.”
“They think I’m odd,” Tink confessed. She plucked a pea from Conall’s plate and bit into it as an excuse to avoid looking at her friends.
“You’re nothing of the sort.” Conall’s voice raised in indignation. “But if you want to go find this newborn sprite, then we’ll make an adventure of it.”
“Well…” She wiped her face and peeked up. “I want to go alone.”
“Alone? Tink, it’s dangerous. You’ll need help.”
“Tink is very capable, Conall. You ought to know that for yourself,” Sorcha chided him.
“Yes, well… It’ll be dangerous going by herself to—” He blinked and looked down at Tink. “Where are sprites born anyway? Here in Cairn Ocland?”
Tink held her breath and shook her head, shoulders hunched and wings twitching. “I can’t tell you that. Or take you,” she said. “Our birthplace is secret from all big people.”
Belle and the Pirate Page 2
