Page 4 of By the Fae

Been skydiving? Why yes, I had.

Travelled to the Mythic Realms? Done that.

Met a celebrity? Several, in fact.

Got a first at uni? Check.

Got a master’s? Double check.

Had an orgasm? Oh, thirteen-year-old me. Technically yes. If you counted all the orgasms I’d given myself, by myself, completely alone, with no one else even near me. Of course, this was before I moved back in with my parents. Because since then, there had been zero opportunity for any, erm, bean flicking. Not when I shared a bedroom with my sixteen-year-old sister and a bathroom with the rest of the apartment’s occupants i.e., my mum and stepdad.

I ticked it off nonetheless.

Had sex? Again, technically yes, but the item (item number seventeen) clearly stated ‘Have mind-blowing sex’, which sadly left a big fat empty box.

This brought me neatly to items numbered twenty-nine and thirty.‘Find a super-hot boyfriend (preferably fae)’and‘have super-hot boyfriend propose in a super-romantic and super-public way’. I really abused the word super in this document.

At age twenty-nine, I had until September to get the last few ticks. Twelve-ish weeks. Thankfully, I was in the right place. For the snagging-a-super-hot-fae-boyfriend part, that was. Though saying that, I’d been at FaeGames now for four months and I still hadn’t gotten the courage to strike a conversation up with any of the guys.

It was almost as though I didn’t exist to them. They’d pass me in the corridors, I’d say hello, and nothing. Hardly a stiff acknowledging nod. I’d see them in the break room. Nothing. One guy even moved my microwavable curry to the bins. While I was stood in front of it. The microwave door hit me in the chest as he opened it. He jumped out of his skin when I coughed and raised an accusatory eyebrow at him. It’s like I was a ghost to most of them.

Well, they couldn’t all ignore me forever. I worked here now. I had purpose, and could pull rank if I wanted, and and . . .

There were about three hundred of them in this building. All fae. All ridiculously hot. Obviously. All fae men were. With their pointy ears and razor-sharp facial bones, and shiny hair, and do not even get me started on the whole shirtless thing.

FaeGames had a strict policy that all employees must wear clothes at all times, shirts included. That didn’t stop them travelling to the office half naked, putting on the same old company branded t-shirt in the morning, and then whipping it off as soon as it was time to leave, hanging it up on the back of their chairs for the next day. I doubted any of them ever took them home to wash.

I’d discovered my favourite place to be was the communal office space on the sixth floor at 16:55. In fact, it was my new unofficial tradition. I’d get an iced coffee from the canteen, then take a very slow stroll through the building, and simply gawk as a hundred super-ripped guys tore away their clothes. They never even noticed I was there, so I only felt a little guilty about objectifying them.

I knocked on the door of the twelfth-floor office. This would be my floor once I passed my probation. I was still dizzy with excitement. Still could hardly believe my luck. No, not luck, talent, and thousands of painstaking hours of study and practice and failure and improving my craft.

“Enter,” my boss called out.

I did, my breath stilling, as it always did, at the view from her windows. The city of Remy lay spread out before me like marmalade on toast.

“Holly, great.” She smiled at me, warm and genuine, and motioned to the chair across from her desk. I sat down.

Of the three hundred-ish FaeGames employees, August (my boss) and myself, were two of approximately thirty female staff. And rather upsettingly, my position as senior designer was the second highest ranking of those female members. August’s being one of the top jobs. Most of the other women here occupied support roles. Accounts, admin, secretary, PA, that sort of thing. Not that there was anything wrong with those jobs, I just would’ve liked to have seen a little more balance in the distribution of power.

And of the three hundred-ish FaeGames employees, I was the only one, solitary, single, completely on my lonesome, human.

August handed me a wedge of papers. “Couple of things. Here’s the last of your training schedule. There’s some manual handling, fire safety, those types of bits you need to complete and then sign off in your logbook. And I’ve got Fee from HR coming up at some point to discuss the different needs you, as a human, have. You two can draw up a few new policies. The most important thing for me is to provide you with an atmosphere that you feel safe and comfortable in, so that you can concentrate on what I hired you for. You’ll find all the senior designers have their offices set up just as they like them, and you’ll be no different. I know humans need things a little warmer than we do, but I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what else you need, and I want to make sure you’re in control of setting out your own requirements. It’d be all too easy for one of us to overlook something because it doesn’t apply to us.”

“Thank you,” I said, my grin slowly taking over my face. I tried not to sing out loud.I’m going to get my own office. With walls and windows. And an amazing view. Yay.

“You’ll also, in time, get your own team of worker-bees. And, of course, you’ll be in full control of selecting or hiring them.” She pushed her sheet of silver-grey hair over her shoulder.

Like with most fae, it was impossible to guess August’s age. She sometimes wore glasses, but I had a feeling they were part of her ensemble, her look, rather than a requirement from terrible eyesight, like mine were. I got the impression she was older, yet there was not a wrinkle on her.

Most fae didn’t reach adulthood until they were one or two hundred years old, and depending on their type, they could live anywhere from five centuries to three thousand years.

I knew all this because I’d been obsessed with fae since I could remember. I had a book. The Faecyclopaedia. A kids reference book really. It detailed each type of higher, or courtly fae and their idiosyncrasies. There were about four hundred and fifty different types. I had most of them memorised to heart, and most had the ability to cast some form of glamour. Their magical specialities were listed in an index at the back of the book. Along with magical aids, such as fertility stones, contraceptive stones, life stones etc. But it wasn’t their magic that had enchanted me, it was them themselves. Fascinating and so different from humans in every possible way.

August, I found through diligent research, was a mater fae. Her glamour speciality was diplomacy. Tact, negotiation, discretion, people skills. Perfect managerial qualities.

And no fae could lie. No matter their species. I often found they talked in never ending riddles to combat this. Though, August seemed to be the sole exception here. I wondered if it had something to do with her type. In an environment where everyone seemed determined to pretend I didn’t exist, August went out of her way to make me feel safe, welcomed, valued.

“The other thing I wanted to talk to you about,” August said. I attempted to adjust my features into something less pathetically awestruck. “Now, you’ve two months left of your probation period, and for the rest of your time here, I want you to get some practical, hands-on experience. I want you to choose one of the senior designers . . . and shadow him.”

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