Page 12 of The Pastel Prince

She broke out in laughter as I slipped and slewed my way out of the brook, hands shielding my cock and balls from her mirthful sight.

“I have never heard a pixie speak like you do!” I grumbled as I pulled on clean trousers with haste. “Whenever King Tawnyrose visited with his family, every female was demure, soft-spoken, and mindful of the ways of the druids, who, I should like to point out, werenotpoked fun at or made to feel bad.”

I tugged the laces on my breeches closed with attitude.

She flew in front of my face, minute traces of lilac dust floating amid the natural motes caught in a sunbeam. One small finger tapped my nose.

“Those stupid dictates are the very reason I left the pixie court and set out to be an adventurer! Demure females. Diddle that with a fat prick! And may I add, I mentioned that you had a fine green ass as well as a meaty rod. How is that poking fun? Most men are happy to have a glorious woman such as me wrapped around their swivel sticks, but you complain bitterly about it.” My cheeks burned with shame. “Oh.” Her finger lowered. “Oh, are you not partial to lasses fondling your ploughshare?”

My mouth fell open, and somehow my face grew even hotter. “I’ve not been subjected to lads or lasses fondling my—”

Her dark eyes went round. “You’ve neveroncehad a hand on your pickle other than yours? Not even the burly mitt of that mouthwatering archdruid you travel with?”

Unable to find a fitting reply, I merely gathered my dirty clothes and returned to the creek, where I pounded them on a rock. After a few minutes, I glanced behind me to see that the pixie had left. I returned my attention to my clothes. Was it my fault that I had come to maturity in a city that disliked the hue of my skin? I’d found many men appealing, and a few women pleasant to the eye, but none of them gave me any notice. So no, I had never felt a lover beside me in bed. I’d learned in my early teens that the only way I would ever find a mate would be to return to the woods. Male or female, it mattered not to me. Elves were incredibly fluid about sexuality. We chose our partners based on their hearts, not what could be found between their legs. Yes, we had preferences. Mine was for big men with broad chests and kind souls. Much like Beirach. I’d met only one such man a few years back. He’d been a traveling showman, part of a troupe, and we had exchanged searing looks across the great hall.

Nothing had come of it. He had left at dawn the next day to perform his juggling act with his friends in other towns. Late at night, alone in my room by the rookery, I would take myself in hand and imagine it was his mighty fingers closing around my flesh.

“I’ve given things some thought,” Tezen said, appearing by my ear with a whizz of wings. I startled and dropped my bag. “You’re terribly jumpy for a child of the forest. So, I have rethought my thoughts.” She landed on my shoulder, taking a long strand of wet hair in her fist as I bent to fetch my bag. “Woohoo!” The tiny thing clung like a winter burdock to wool as I straightened.

“I think we need to talk about what took place last night,” I said, heaving my bag to my free shoulder as I made my way back to camp.

“Right, so about that.” She used my hair to repel up my chest to stand on my shoulder once more. Her boots dug into my flesh. “I know that you druids are all into non-lethal actions and all that, and in that regard, I may have overreacted just a bit. Beirach explained that you are a gentle soul possessed of a tender heart.” I shot her a flat look. A pigeon cooed in the high branches. “To be fair, if you were my size and got caught in a web, you’d react the same way.”

She did make a point. “Perhaps, but I did ask you not to kill the spider. I was startled as well, but perhaps I could have made her see reason.”

“Can you talk to animals?”

“Well, no, I’ve not had the proper teaching but—”

“Can you talk to trees?”

“Again, no, I’ve not had the proper teaching but—”

“Can you talk to insects?”

I sighed. “No, I cannot, nor can I sense their emotions like I can vegetation and beasts, but—”

“Then why, by the fine hairs on my tuppy, do you think you could have made her see reason after you killed her hatchling?” I chewed that over as I pulled out a semi-dry shirt and gave it a shake. “That’s what I thought. But hey, I get it, you nature kind are just that way.”

I rolled my eyes. “We can’t help it. Rather like pixies are known for courtly manners and shy gazes from around a fan.”

Her round face tightened. “If you mention pixie courts to me one more time, I will gut you like a fish.” I grimaced. She frowned. “Sorry, I’ll gut you like a…rock. My point was that I apologize for letting my blood urges get the better of me. Next time I will totally follow your lead and politely request surcease of something trying to sink its fangs into your scrawny green flesh and suck your liquefied guts out of you slurp by slurp.”

I studied her intently as she smiled impishly at me, her hands still gripping a thick strand of my hair.

“You are unlike any pixie I have ever met before.”

“So you keep saying.” She blew some hair from her face.

“Also, I’m not sure you wish to travel with me. I’m riding deeper into the Verboten woods. I may be coming into contact with sick people who are carrying an unknown virus that has turned a raven into stone.”

She thought that over for a long moment. “Meh, I’m not scared of a few sick people. And a stone bird sounds amazing! I wonder if you could put the stone curse on a man’s cock? They always end things far too quickly, right?” I had no way of knowing. “Oh yeah, untouched, minty backside. Okay, well.” She clapped her hands and flew into the morning air a foot or so in front of me. “I’ll be at your side as you travel the woods, for you are in need of a warrior. No offense.”

“A fine warrior already rides by my side,” I pointed out as the smell of something sweet reached my nose.

“Oh yes, well, he is fine no doubt, but he too is a druid, which means he’s prone to asking if a vicious beast would prefer orange zest in their tea before pulling his sword.”

“He has no sword,” I mumbled.

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