Page 59 of Faking with the Fae King

I work through a list of commands, having the robin lift its wings, then refold them. Making it stand on first one leg, then the next. It’s all small, harmless stuff, but I don’t like it—I don’t like making it do things it doesn’t want to do.

“You can go now.” I lift my hand higher. As it launches into the air, winging quickly away, I call after it, “Thank you.”

“You need more practice.” Severin steps away from me.

“You’re right, I do.” I turn to face him. “But I don’t want to use my magic to force animals. They’re still thinking creatures.” Finn’s got as much intelligence as anyone I’ve met, and more personality than a few of my exes. Having him as my familiar has only proven something I’ve always thought: animals are people, too.

“How are you going to get them to do what you want?” Severin scowls.

“I have an idea…”

Ten minutes later, I stand near a small grove of fruit trees. Severin’s shadows form a tray in the air, holding a collection of freshly caught grasshoppers.

“Bugs!” I cup my hands in a megaphone around my mouth and call up to the birds I can feel hiding in the trees. “I’ve got bugs to share!”

A bluebird sticks its head out from behind an apple leaf. “Bugs?”

“Yep.” I hold up a hand. “Come and sit here, and I’ll give you a nice juicy bug.”

It flutters over, and one of Severin’s shadows offers up a grasshopper, so I don’t have to touch it. Thank god, because bugs aresonot my thing.

The bluebird snaps up its treat, its head tipping back as it opens its beak wide and lets gravity do some of the work. Then it flares its wings and yells, “Bugs!”

The rustling of wings fills the air as bluebirds come from all over the garden to settle along my outstretched arms. Then my friend the robin joins them, and I have Severin give him a couple extra bugs to make up for earlier. Severin’s shadows reach outward in all directions, catching grasshoppers to keep up with demand.

I stand in the center of it all, a witch covered in birds, my magic singing through me. It’s chaotic and noisy… and one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced. When we run out of grasshoppers, the birds flit away, one after the other, the robin leaving last.

I’m still riding that high when Severin’s words pull me back down to Earth. “More practice.”

Once I determine there aren’t any animals in the garden other than a few field mice, chipmunks, and a rabbit, Severin takes me flying again. He skims over the treetops, moving as slowly as possible, his shadow wings silent. “Find a larger animal.”

I close my eyes and reach out with my magic. Dozensof little blips ping on my animal radar, birds and mice and squirrels. Then I sense something larger. “There!” I point.

We swoop down, startling a doe, who takes off running with a flick of her white tail, no matter how much I call out that I won’t hurt her.

Severin launches into the air again, and I stretch outward with my magic.

First, I find a badger, who waddles out from underneath a rhododendron, swinging his black and white head from side to side and muttering, “Want eat worms. Where worms?” His sharp claws dig into the mulch-covered ground. “You talk. You give worms.”

Note to self: the entire animal kingdomverymotivated by food. God, I can just picture me wearing cargo pants with each pocket stuffed with different kinds of animal treats. Or walking around with a sack of grasshoppers, scattering them behind me like the Johnny Appleseed of bugs.

I chuckle, and the badger snorts in disgust and wanders into a thicket of ferns, still muttering.

Next, I find a raccoon at the edge of a wide stream, its little arms wet up to the shoulders. It crunches into a crayfish, its whiskers wiggling as it chews. “Num num.”

“That’s pretty good, huh?”

“Yes.” The clever little hands dunk the crayfish in the water a couple of times, rolling it around like the raccoon’s washing its food. Then it takes another crackling bite. “Num num.”

“Are crayfish the best, or is there something you like better?”

It drops its little hands from its mouth, staring at mefrom its bandit-mask eyes. “Walnuts.”

“Good to know.” I turn to Severin, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt, but I can’t stop. “Raccoons love walnuts.” First item for my new animal-treats cargo pants.

We spend the rest of the day exploring the forest, and I talk to porcupines, rabbits, and even a skunk, spending most of that conversation arguing about not getting sprayed.

By the time evening falls, I’m worn out, sagging in Severin’s arms as he flies me tirelessly back toward town.

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