Page 156 of Defy the Fae

Even stranger, her father’s heart makes the same racket. He mouths something to her mama, but the girl only makes out the wordsoon, which turns her mother’s cheeks crimson.

They keep staring at each other. However, the wee one loses patience and grunts, which breaks the spell.

Her papa grins and swaggers up to her mama. He growls something sneaky, something like a secret promise, then he plants his lips on hers.

This happens a lot, so the girl sighs. Her parents split apart and huff with laughter.

They stroll through the woods to their cabin. Inside, flames crackle from the fireplace, and the scent of cloves makes the girl sleepy. She slumps on her papa’s chest, limbs akimbo as he climbs upstairs with her mama in tow.

The girl’s wooden crib is nestled in her parents’ room on the second-floor loft, one level below the library. Their home is more like a treehouse than a cabin, and she likes that.

Her crib stands by the window overlooking The Herd of Deer, where the stags, bucks, and does graze. Sometimes she travels to the mortal realm with her Solitary family, to spend time in the sanctuary where her grandpapa lives. But tomorrow, he’s coming to Faerie instead. They’ll all be spending the day with her aunts and uncles, plus the rest of their kin, up in the wildlife park. She needs to slumber, so she’ll have energy to race the fauna.

But she can’t sleep yet. Their trio has a routine, and routines please the girl.

Despite her heavy eyelids, a word rolls across her tongue and teeters there. Finally, it bursts from her mouth. “Story.”

It comes out like a wish, like a demand, and like a trick. Her parents halt on the threshold. Their gazes snap to one another, then to her.

“Did she say…,” her mother breathes.

Her father shakes his awestruck head. “My, my, my. I’ll be fucked.”

Was her first word supposed to come later? But why wait?

Something bright strikes across their faces. The little girl must have impressed them. She enjoys the feeling and decides it won’t be the last time.

Her mama and papa oblige the request. They pass the loft bedroom and mount the winding steps to the library, where bookshelves embed into the walls, each one packed with titles.

One special shelf displays a framed copy of something called The Wild Treaty, which humans and Faeries created before she was born. The girl doesn’t understand what it is, only that it means both the townsfolk and Solitary Fae are friendly to each other. It also means they all take care of their natural worlds, from the land to its fauna. Each side does so equally.

Her parents settle with the girl on one of the wide reading chairs. The girl’s mortal mama cushions their daughter on her lap, while the girl’s Fae papa lounges on the seat’s armrest.

Some of the books’ pages make her parents grin, others make their faces sag. They’re a happy family. Only sometimes, she’ll catch her mother lost in a wounded daze. Or her father will awaken from dreams that make him breathe too fast, like something’s got him trapped, like he’s scared.

Does it have anything to do with the ink marked on her mama’s back? Or the scars dotting her papa’s calves and streaking across his spine?

The child doesn’t know. But eventually, she will ask, and they’ll tell her the tale.

Whenever her mama needs it, her parents hold each other close, and her papa murmurs a joke, and that makes her mother smile again.

Whenever her papa needs it, her mama combs through his red hair, and she whispers until he relaxes into the bed, and that makes him sink back into the pillows and close his eyes.

The girl has seen things like this happen with her aunts and uncles, too. Still, it isn’t often. Most days, they have a merry time, their big family of humans and Faeries and fauna.

Although the child could do without the abundance of kissing and naughty comments between the couples—in addition to the strange noises her parents make from different rooms throughout their cabin, when they think their daughter is asleep—she doesn’t mind. So long as she can run with the wild dwellers of this land and read stories about them, the girl is satisfied.

With that in mind, she picks out her favorite book from the library’s bountiful collection. Her huntress mother slides on a pair of spectacles. Her satyr father stretches one bulky arm across the seat back and combs his fingers through his woman’s hair.

With his free hand, he playfully taps his daughter’s tapered ear. “Ready, luv?”

Glade is always ready for a Fable. So her mother opens the journal and turns to the first page. And she begins to read.

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