Page 1 of Of Pixies and Promises
Chapter
One
“If you don’t pick your dicks soon, they’ll be picked for you.”
Nyra ignored the unsolicited advice from her mother’s sister, Colt. Colt was a good friend and a Mage at the Order of the Well. She wasn’t required to have a harem. She didn’t understand.
As a trusted Councillor at the Order, Colt had a purpose. She had a life. She was only here to help with the coronation ball. Soon she would return to overseeing magic use in Elphyne, and Nyra would be left struggling to fit into this tribe alone.
After turning four and thirty this spring, Nyra’s wings still hadn’t created pixie dust. But it wasn’t as though she could control it. The wings dusted who they wanted. The Well had plans, and maybe having a harem—or any mate—wasn’t in Nyra’s future. The sooner everyone accepted it, the better.
Instead of wallowing, Nyra focused on finger painting bioluminescent art on the tree hollow walls in preparation for her coronation. Pixies bustled about behind them, decorating the vast space and trying not to eavesdrop, but Nyra was done suffering in silence. As far as she was concerned, having a haremhad nothing to do with her ability to rule. It might affect how much magic she could draw from the Well or how big their tribe might be, but they wouldn’t know until she was coronated.
“Nyra,” Colt said. “Are you listening?”
“I’m listening,” she replied in a sing-song voice and scribbled a mustache onto the character painted on the wall… who just happened to have the same rainbow wings, hair, and dusky brown skin as Colt.
Colt’s wings vibrated in vexation. Wind and dust stirred, ruining the wet paint of Nyra’s work. She scowled and faced her aunt.
“Was that necessary?” Colt’s eyebrow arched as she took in the mustache with a pout. The expression flared the glowing blue teardrop mark on her bottom lip—her Mage mark. It was a reminder that Colt was respected in the broader community, and Nyra was still a recalcitrant youth. “You could have at least painted one on your mother. It’s not my fault you’re in this predicament.”
Bitterness seethed in Nyra’s stomach. Colt had no clue what Nyra went through.No clue.
Queen Juniper’s figure was painted next to Nyra’s. Her age was determined not by wrinkles on her skin but by the luminosity of her wings. They were dull, unlike Nyra’s prismatic, sparkling set. The queen had the same pastel pink hair and golden skin, but Nyra’s hair floated around her face in wisps that tickled her shoulders. It was tied in a fancy woven design to prepare for the ball, but strands kept falling out. The queen’s tresses flowed in waves that gave vibrance where her wings failed. Her hair never looked messy like Nyra’s.
But those dull wings were a glaring truth. The queen’s magic was fading. It was time for her heir to accept the tithe from the Well in return for protecting their little pocket of Elphyne. Thistithe was too powerful for one little pixie queen to contain and required the full capacity of a harem.
“What is necessary,” Colt pressed. “Is that you remember your duty. Time is running out, and if we don’t have a new queen to unite the power of this tribe, then we cannot fight threats to our peace. The Athyrium Gully Tribe, the largest pixie tribe in all of Elphyne, will be dissolved into your rivals. Is that the legacy you want?”
“Can’t I just run away and join the Order like you?”
“As much as I’d like to have you with me, there are no other heirs. I was the spare. When you came along, I was free to do as I pleased. It is too late for me to return. As a Councillor, I have responsibilities to the entire land, not just this tribe.”
Nyra groaned and rolled to her belly. She rubbed her finger through the bioluminescent algae on the clay ground. If only it were as simple as painting the glow back onto her mother’s wings, she could remain queen for a little longer. Nyra wasn’t done exploring and being young. Four and thirty was virtually a child in fae years. Her mother’s life was three centuries long, and she would live longer still… just not as the active queen.
“Since your fathers died,” Colt said, but Nyra bared her fangs and hissed a warning. She hated talking about their deaths. Unruffled, Colt continued. “There has been a gaping hole in the amount of mana your tribe collectively farms, and the gully needs to be nurtured.”
“I know, I know.” Nyra sniffed. It wasn’t only her mother’s wings that faded. The plants were dimming, and the animals in the gully were leaving for greener pastures. Soon the forest would look as gray as the desecrated dead lands around Crystal City. She shuddered at the thought. It all started with the attack that stole her fathers’ lives. The three King Consorts in her mother’s harem had died protecting Queen Juniper during ahuman-led raid less than a decade ago. Nyra felt the pain of that loss as acutely as if it happened today.
“Since the great freeze,” Colt said, “and the ruin of the old world, the Well has entrusted the upkeep of nature to us woodland fae. The elves, the oak men, the stags, and pixies.” Colt’s wings dragged as she moved about the cave, pointing to the artwork they’d both painted over the week as part of Nyra’s pre-coronation ritual. She stopped at a dark human city covered with icy ominous clouds. “Humanity had custody of this land for generations. But they destroyed it with their metals, plastics, and greedy wars.” She moved to another picture—snowy landscapes and everything white and frozen. “The wasteland was barely survivable.” She moved to a third image—blue, glowing water bubbling from the ice, leaving magical things in its wake. Green life. Fae. “And then the Well miraculously gave us a second chance. It connected us on a level unseen for eons. It is because we are connected to the land that we protect it. If we fail it now, we circle back to this.”
Colt patted the dark, destructive cloud looming over the gray cities of the old world. Nyra shivered. A grey city already existed in this world. It grew cloudier and darker by the year. Crystal City was where humanity quarantined themselves and hid for centuries from their mistake, letting the fae do all the hard work of fostering this broken world back to life.
Nyra’s upper lip curled with bitterness. Humans stole her fathers, and now they wanted to steal precious resources buried deep beneath the gully.Well, they can’t have it.Whether or not Nyra found a harem, whether or not the Well accepted her as the new queen, she would give her dying breath to keep humans out of their territory.
She would find a way.
“Nrya—”
“Enough!” Nyra gnashed her fangs. Her wings fluttered and lifted her to a standing position. “I’ve heard enough, Colt. My duty to my people isn’t the problem.”
Pity entered Colt’s eyes as she glanced at Nyra’s wings. “Still haven’t created pixie dust?”
Nyra’s gaze dipped. “No.”
“You need to give some dicks a chance. Dusting might occur on the outside, but it starts within.”
Nyra’s brow arched. “You think that’s the problem? That I don’t want it or haven’t tried?”
