Page 30 of The Pixies' Chosen

My eyebrows go up at his words because I can’t imagine what he would make that isn’t already readily available in town. Whatever it is, Havoc’s wings are humming with uncontainable excitement, and Tryst not only looks thrilled but is practically bursting with happiness as well. So, not to be the party pooper in our little family, I keep that observation to myself. There must be something particularly momentous about it because, with a quick nod, I’m bundled up into my mate’s arms and carried out in the chill morning air.

Crows immediately burst from the trees, their massive bodies diving dangerously close as sharp beaks snap at the air, pecking for us amid the flurry of feathers. There is a spark of something that feels like what I can only describe as evil in the air, and that rattles my nerves. A particularly large and strikingly familiar crow dives at us at the head of the flock. Its wings beat the air and the feathers glimmer like mica or a shimmer of magic clinging to them, and I swear that I see something swirling in its eyes.

What the fuck is this, Hitchcock’s wet dream? Another sequel toThe Birds, perhaps?

A scream rises in my throat as its wicked beak plunges for me, but Tryst hisses and banks away as he spins with Havoc in a quick flight that I sense is intentionally designed to confuse the creatures. Though it only lasts a moment before the crows fall away with a plaintive sound, I’m still frozen with fear in the icy morning air.

I shiver and huddle against Tryst, noting that bird horror aside, the air is most definitely getting colder with the approach of winter. Tryst has begun tanning a squirrel’s hide that Havocbrought home to make me something warm to wear. It doesn’t help that the drafts in my apartment are also far more noticeable with how big the space now feels. I would crank up the heat but that would do terrible things to my electric bill that my parents would object to.

“Perhaps a birdhouse would be better,” I mutter. “At least it would be cozy instead of so damn drafty.”

Tryst chuckles in response as he flies next to Havoc. “Our mate says she wishes for a birdhouse!” he shouts over, much to my embarrassment.

Is he going crazy now? I look up at him and widen my eyes at him in warning but he just grins with merriment. Even Havoc has stopped watching where the hell he is flying to look over me with an identical expression. They’re like a pair of children presented a gift they’ve only dreamed of, and I haven’t a clue how a birdhouse plays into that.

“Watch the air,” I bark at Havoc, and he chuckles as he effortlessly dodges a tree that came within a heart attack’s range of clobbering him. I let out my held breath in relief and glare at the idiot. “Are you insane or something?”

“Or something,” he agrees with a dark chuckle. “A pixie something. Some would say that pixies are blessed with madness.”

I groan because of course that would be popular knowledge among the fae—and it seems to be something that I’m just starting to find out.

CHAPTER 24

Tryst

I cuddlemy queen to me as I lead Havoc along the now familiar path back to the crabapple tree. It is a good thing I have been long blessed with a musician’s sharp memory or else I might not have recalled the route so perfectly. And to think that I discovered it solely by happenstance, but judging by the delight of both my mate and nest brother, it is fortuitous. It is just unfortunate that the crows continue to be an annoying plight. When we build our nest, we will have to carefully consider the location. They are not fast enough to snatch a pixie from the air, but I would worry about my mate and any future offspring with them around.

With Havoc’s resistance and Ammayi’s apathy toward adjusting to her new life, I had not dared to hope for such a thing. But in a short time, everything has changed around.

Havoc exchanges a pleased look with me as my queen’s words continue to echo through me. Although she jested about a birdhouse, I can see and feel the true desire behind it even if she does not entirely know what she is asking for. She wants a nest! She has finally fully accepted us and is ready to make a permanent home with Havoc and me.

I am so elated that my wings hum as I streak between the trees, heading for the lonely crabapple sitting apart in the shadows of what appears to be a small grove flourishing in an uninhabited spot. It occurs to me belatedly that I should have grabbed one of my newly woven baskets or fashioned a simple pouch from the silk I had been weaving, but then I would have no space left in my arms to carry my mate. And when it comes right down to it, when it comes to what I prefer to have in my arms, it will always be my Ammayi.

Ammayi’s grip tightens on me as she looks around, and her breath beats against my chitin as I catch a wave of anxiety when her gaze falls upon the tree. “Tryst, that is the most haunted-looking tree I’ve ever seen,” she whispers.

I glance at the tree and frown a little. Although bathed in sunlight it possesses a craggy, twisted structure that almost appears unnatural if not for the ripe fruits hanging from its branches among its golden leaves. I hug her close with a chuckle as I flit toward it.

“Just consider it another one of your Halloween treats,” I tease, and my smile widens when she predictably rolls her eyes at my jest.

“Halloween treat my ass if it eats me,” she retorts hotly, but her demeanor has lightened and the strain in our bond fades as she relaxes once more in my arms. “Those crabapples better be worth it.”

“We will make it worth it,” I assure her, and I privately hope that Havoc finally takes some initiative and claims our queen beneath the blessed fruit of the fairy apples.

If so, it will add a special magic to our mating that few hives get to experience. Fairy apples are few and far between in the Dark Forest as it is, but since pixies mate before the depths of the autumn season arrive, there is seldom such an opportunity unless a hive finds an early fruiting tree at the northern edge of the forest or late blooming one if he ventures into the more southern parts. That he plans on making fairy apple wine with the fruit—a traditional mating gift to bless newly mated hives and queens—is even more propitious as it will give the apples even greater magic that we can enjoy with every cupful throughout our first winter together.

Curious as to his intentions, I catch my nest brother’s eye as I stretch my senses along our bond. Havoc’s gaze slides over to me briefly and he grins before suddenly darting forward through the air, a happiness mingling with carnal lust following him. Closing my eyes in silent gratitude, I bask in the joy filling me, not only from within me but from Havoc as well. Our hive will finally be complete. We will finally truly have our queen. Thank the gods.

Increasing my pace, I chase after Havoc all the way to the tree. I nearly catch up to him when the male immediately shoots upward, skimming the front of the tree, flying up to the highest branches. Admitting my defeat, I aim for one of the middle branches laden heavily with fruit. This branch is also thicker than many of the others and will make a pleasant resting place as we enjoy the autumn afternoon.

Placing Ammayi gently on her feet, I steady her with one hand as I tip my head back in an effort to catch sight of Havoc. Both of her hands cling nervously to my arm, but her laughter is bright as she likewise peers into the branches above us.

“Where is he?”

“Getting an apple, I believe,” I reply.

“Like there aren’t dozens on this branch,” she retorts with amusement. “Why go all the way up there?”

“Because none of these apples are sun-kissed with magic at the top of the tree,” Havoc replies, startling me so that my wings snap wide as he drops from the leaves just above us, his arms wrapped around a brilliant red fairy apple.

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