Page 74 of Fortune's Blade

The speaker was hard to find, despite sitting on a throne large enough for a giant. Which must have been who it had been made for, as it was plush and padded and easily twelve feet across, leaving its occupant to dine in solitary splendor even among guests. But she was still hard to see, and not just because her crimson robes were the same color as the velvet seat cushions.

But because she was all of eight inches tall.

“Pixie,” I said, in surprise, and she smirked at me.

“You were expecting something else?”

“I . . . wasn’t sure what to expect,” I said truthfully, and only after I spoke did I realize that the voice was coming out of Ray.

I wondered if he had been talking to himself this whole time, and couldn’t remember.

But the pixie only clapped her hands again, and laughed some more. “Oh, this is too fun. That was you, wasn’t it, who scared off my guard?”

“What guard?” Ray asked.

“The one I put on your room. Not to keep you two in, of course; I don’t think any of my people are up to that. But to keep others out. Everyone here was so curious and you were exhausted and needed to rest.

“But a few hours later he comes tearing in here, half crazed, and babbling about some foul miasma trying to leech into his bones. I did wonder . . ..” She eyed me up and down.

I attempted to look entirely unlike a foul miasma. And returned the scrutiny, although she appeared almost identical to the small creature who had served my lunch, except that she was a redhead. And unlike the other, whose locks had been close cropped, she appeared to have a great deal of hair.

It was piled on her head in coils of fat braids and in little curls that hung down around her face. She also had huge, lavender eyes and the prettiest, delicate green wings that were currently folded downward as they were not in use, giving her the appearance of wearing an iridescent cape about her shoulders. I could see them because she was sitting on a tower of cushions to get her above the slab of beautifully polished wood serving as a table top.

There was no crown nestled in all that shining abundance, but she didn’t need it. There was no doubt whatsoever who was in charge. Something that was impressive considering who else was at the table.

But before I could properly acknowledge them, something stirred in the pixie’s lap, under the tiniest of blankets. Forgetting my previous lesson, I moved closer, surmounting the few steps leading up to the dais to get a better view. And what I saw . . .

Drove everything else from my mind.

It was . . . it was . . . it was precious, so much so that I gasped in wonder and put out a hand, before remembering my current state and snatching it back. Ray hadn’t gone up in flames when I touched him because we were linked, with the witch’s spell seeming to view us and one and the same. But this beautiful creature did not have that protection, and I wouldn’t have hurt it for the world.

On the contrary, I felt a surge of overwhelming protectiveness sweep over me, something that the pixie seemed to sense. For she sat the tiny bundle up a bit more, and pulled back the blanket that was partially covering the face. And let me see.

“My son,” she told me proudly. “Is he not perfect?”

“Oh,” I breathed. “He is. He is utterly perfect.”

It was true. He must have been a new born, for he wasn’t even the size of my pinkie, with an exquisite little face smaller than a fingernail. He had no hair yet, at least not to speak of, although there was a bit of downy fuzz on his head so fine that I was not even sure that it was there.

He looked like a doll, something a master carver had made out of alabaster with the tiniest opalescent wings just visible in flashes as she adjusted him. But he wasn’t a doll. I could see that clearly when I got closer, moving around the long table and up to the throne, where the queen allowed me to get nearer, waving off the group of winged, leather clad guards that had descended on me like a cloud of locusts.

I barely noticed them; I was too busy bending over the bundle, being careful not to get too close. But he must have sensed something, because he moved, pushing an arm out of the softness of his blanket and waving the tiniest of fists about. As if to say, what is this huge, bad-mannered person who dares to breathe on me?

And then he yawned, a ridiculously big, open mouthed expression of displeasure and sleepiness that made me fall in love immediately.

I would have died for him.

“He likes you,” the queen said, her lavender eyes sharp. “He tends to scream at everyone else.”

“He is perfect,” I breathed. It was all I could think to say. But it seemed to be the right response, because she patted the seat beside her.

“Come, sit by me. I think he finds your presence soothing.”

“I—I can’t. I might scorch the seat, or—or hurt him.” It was unthinkable.

“Don’t worry about that,” she assured me. “The flames won’t get through my magic.”

“’Scuse me,” Ray said to someone from behind me. Because he must have moved when I did.

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