Page 5 of The Pixies' Chosen

It looks promising.

Spreading my wings wide and letting out a calling whistle, I flit covertly from the branches of the tree into a flowering bush. Pale flowers droop at the impact of my weight on the narrow branches and the rich perfume of the blooms fills my nose, mingling with the rich aromas of the food spread across the tables set out on the grass. I creep forward, my gaze trained on the colorfully clad humans moving back and forth in front of my hiding place. After several minutes pass, the bush shakes with another burst of flower petals, and I glance over wryly at my hive brother. Havoc grins mischievously from beneath a white petal capping his head. His short hair billows around his face as he gives a pleased buzz of his wings and hops toward the end of the branch, his wings flattening against his back as he watches the small crowd.

His smile widens as he peers out from between the tight network of branches, blooms, and leaves. I am still not entirely sure of this plan, but it is good to see Havoc so lively. For thatreason alone, I am disregarding every shred of caution that I normally possess. Gripping my left antenna between my first two fingers, I slide them down its length and repeat the process on my right antenna, gently scraping away the fine bits of pollen that is now coating them. I do it almost absently as my gaze trails among the females moving around in flowing garments. They almost appear to be like flowers themselves in their vivid hues, and my pulse quickens a little with interest as I eye them.

Havoc abruptly straightens and grips my arm with a hard squeeze, drawing my attention away from the lovely blooms to his devilish grin. “There, look,” he insists, tugging me closer to him as he grips my jaw in his hand and turns my head so that I am peering in the right direction. “The female in the vivid hue of pink. The one who appears to have all the beauty of a rose in bloom. Do you see her? She is the one.”

He does not even need to ask. The female in question is impossible to miss. Adorned in a brightly colored sheath in golden and sky-blue hues with a floral print in a lighter shade upon it and a large swath of material in a bold blue draped along one shoulder, she is an image of grace and beauty. She is tall and lithe, and her dark hair hangs like a wavy, dark curtain sun-kissed with amber, and jewelry set with red stones winks elegantly from where it is placed on her body. I might have almost mistaken her for a pixie female if not for the flat hue of her flesh that cannot compare to a pixie’s silvers or even the ethereal glow of elves and fairies. Even the tones of her voice have a soft warmth to them that makes me think of the heat of midsummer nights.

I slap his hand away, baring my fangs in annoyance as I do so, but promptly have another look as she moves closer to another female. The comparison between the two is stark and serves to highlight the preferability of the first as the first female is as plain as she is elegant. Rather than sheer, flowingfabrics, the other female wears a thicker, flat material in shades of orange that hangs from her much curvier frame. Collectively, it makes her look dull and plain next to the female Havoc has chosen for our mate. Even her mane is unimpressively bound as it is in a simple twist falling down her back. She is truly a moth among butterflies, and yet there is something far more appealing and intriguing about her that keeps drawing my gaze to her time and again.

Giving an impatient shake of my head, I focus on the correct female as Havoc creeps closer to the edge of the branch. She is laughing now at something the other female said, and the musical sound is indeed appealing.

“She is the one? Are you certain?” I murmur.

“Graceful, beautiful, and a female who clearly possesses a gentle and sweet temperament if you have been watching the way she has been interacting with the other humans here,” he replies, his voice firm with certainty.

I frown a little at that because that seems like poor criteria for choosing a female that we will be bound to for the rest of our very long lives. Mating is always a serious affair when you know that you won’t escape them even through death for a few millennia. This is one reason why courting a female is such a lengthy affair among the fae races, especially among those who possess long lifespans. Compared to elves, who can take upward of a hundred years to decide on a mate, pixies are the most impetuous of said species, and even for us we will spend years tentatively feeling out a female, learning of her likes and personality and how it meshes with the hive before we even consider taking part in a mating chase. Even so, instinct has always proven itself to be far more reliable than Havoc’s short list of qualifications.

“Do you not think we should just observe her for a time?” I hesitantly suggest. “Just to be certain. And there are manyfemales here, perhaps we could—” My words drop away as his head turns slowly toward me.

Havoc’s eyes narrow on me impatiently with such a dark glower that I immediately regret asking. The last thing I wish to do is sow discord between us when our hive is finally recovering its equilibrium once more. As a member of our hive, I have every right to object, but I just do not have the heart for it given how pleased he was with his choice just a moment earlier.

“Perhaps under normal circumstances I would agree,” he quietly concedes, which is more than I expected to receive from him at this moment given his expression. “But this is not a normal situation, and we only have one chance at this,” he rumbles.

I grimace at that understatement. “That is what I am worried about.”

He shakes his head, his wings twitching anxiously. “That is not what I mean. Fairies are notorious for their games. It would be just like a fairy to give me such a gift and then either give it a quick expiration period or rob me of it at a critical moment. Better to act quickly in this circumstance. We will have the rest of our lives to get to know our queen.”

There is a strange sort of logic to his reasoning that I cannot refute. Fairies are known for their cruel games. And truthfully, if there is an unspoken limited window of opportunity, it would make sense to make a move quickly. It does not make me any more comfortable with the decision, but I understand it at least.

Regardless, it seems that Havoc is certain then. I roll my shoulders as I peer at the female again. She almost appears to be lightly preening herself as she speaks within a circle of females of various ages. It is obvious that while the elder female at her side is the center of everyone’s attention, this younger woman attracts much in the way of admiration among the other females present.

I also see that she is no longer standing next to the little moth of a female, and my gaze drifts along the crowd without thought before suddenly finding her. Her face is animated as she talks to a young male, her dark eyes sparkling with humor behind the lenses of her spectacles, and an adorable smile with two prominent dimples makes my mind slow to a stop in surprise. I quickly shake it off, however, and tear my gaze away. Even a moth can have an attractively painted wing. Her appearance is nothing spectacular in itself, after all, and she seems to be isolated from the company of the other females to a degree as no one is joining her or making her feel included. She only seems to have one or two males around her who are semi-attentive, which seems rather unfortunate from a pixie’s perspective.

As an undesirable male among my own colony, I feel a sharp stab of sympathy but brush it off. She at least has some company and in that respect is faring better than we did. She is not suffering any and seems quite comfortable and happy within her own circumstances.

This soothes my mind enough that my attention returns effortlessly to our chosen mate. Havoc is right. She is clearly a desirable female even among her own species. Why not take her for our own? With the way she also seems to be attracting admiration from several present males as well as the females, it is clear that she is highly sought as a companion and potential mate.

Havoc is right. We would be foolish to lose this opportunity. What if one of these males moves in to make their claim before we had the chance? One male in particular seems to be watching over her possessively. My gaze lingers for a moment with curiosity. As far as humans go, he is a tall male with an abundance of groomed facial hair that few species are blessed with. I think only dwarves can truly rival humans in their beards and mustaches. He hardly has the rough appearance ofa dwarf, however. Instead, there is a polished look to him that seems to draw our chosen female’s gaze repeatedly to him as she converses with the females around her.

I frown at that observation and peek over at my nest brother to see if he has noticed. My wings immediately lift in surprise to see that the male is already flitting from plant to plant, working his way toward her. Any relief I might have felt over the fact that my brother’s jealousy was not piqued is immediately lost to a sense of panic that I might get left behind in this whole mating ordeal.

With a humming flutter of my wings, I give chase as we rapidly close the space between us and our chosen human mate.

CHAPTER 5

AMMAYI

Iadjust the length of my silk odhni on my shoulder as I step out from the house into the yard. My stomach immediately sinks as I see the crowd. It’s as bad as I suspected. The entire community looks like it is squeezed into the elegantly manicured space.

I’m looking for a place where I can easily disappear and escape any possible attention directed my way but I’m too late. Inika had already noticed that I’ve made an appearance and is cheerfully waving in my direction.

Bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, her dark curls dance along the blue and yellow patterned kurti and blue odhni, her voice raises above the crowd, drawing numerous eyes in my direction. “Ammayi, there you are! Come over here and join us!”

I force my grimace into a smile as I pick my way across the yard to one of the large tables set up there. Mummi turns to greet me, and she is glowing with such happiness that I immediately regret my reluctance.

“Ammayi! There you are. You seldom visit so that I’m always praying for you. And look how thin you are,” she exclaims. “Do you not eat properly in that apartment of yours?”

---