Page 64 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
“I don’t know. He left in a hurry with only the promise of meeting tomorrow.”
Lilibeth was silent for a beat before she kindly asked, “Do you want me to go with you this time? The arrogant fairy might think twice if he knows a brownie’s on your side.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I think this is something I need to do on my own.”I wasn’t a complete fool and added,“Pulling you into the fray will be plan B.”
Lilibeth nodded. “Always wise to have a backup.” She grew quiet again. Her weight was slight and nowhere near burdensome as she leaned against me, her gaze taking in the peaceful woods and gently sloping dip leading to the woods. Wildflowers bloomed across the rolling hills leading to the denser vegetation. This hill was where my seedpod landed. It was where Jamila found me when I was but a tiny sprout. I’d been so out of place here. The wind had been harsh and the winters cold. If not for Jamila, I doubt I would have survived those first few years when my bark was more tender and my roots too shallow. She’d sheltered me when it was cold and offered water when Gaia withheld her bounty. In every way imaginable, I owed Jamila my life.
“It truly is beautiful here,” Lilibeth mused. “It’s easy to see why Jamila loved this spot. I can’t believe her children sold the land.” Lilibeth shook her head. “She left them enough. There’s no good reason beyond greed.” My own thoughts echoed the disgust lacing Lilibeth’s words. “If Jamila had known this was what they’d do, she would have left the land to me.” Patting my trunk, she added, “If she’d known what you’d become, she would have left the land to you, Todrik. Of that, I have no doubt.”
But Jamila hadn’t known. Her love, followed by her death, gave birth to the being I was now. That was the way of things. It was how some dryads were born. Magic alone wasn’t enough. Love was needed as well. Some believed love was the strongest magic of all. Maybe that’s why spells, charms, and potions weren’t enough.
“I know.”The wind hid my heavy sigh.“I cannot allow Jamila’s land—her heart and soul—to be destroyed. Apartments,”I huffed.“As if there aren’t enough placesfor others to live.”I honestly didn’t know if that was true or not. My very nature made understanding such things impossible. Why did anyone need a solid structure to call home when sleeping under the stars was so much better?
“It’ll be a tough fight.” Lilibeth stroked her hand down my bark. “I’m not saying that to be discouraging. But facts are facts. Jamila left the land to her children, so by all rights, it’s up to them to decide what to do with it. Of course, that doesn’t mean we can’t fight tooth and nail to stop them. Ungrateful little shits.” Lilibeth muttered the last under her breath.
A gentle rain pattered against my leaves, and I twisted my branches, offering increased cover for my guest.“The air is heavy with rain, Lilibeth. You should head home soon.”
Lilibeth waved off my concern. “A little rain never hurt anyone. If it gets too heavy or uncomfortable I can be home with a thought.”
Brownies were like that. There one second and gone within the blink of an eye.
“I’ll stick around a bit longer. Magic knows this view may not always be here.”
“It will if I have a say.”
“Then let’s hope that fairy lawyer takes your case and kicks Jamila’s kids’ asses in court. If you make it that far, I’ll be sitting behind you, cheering on your cause.”
“Thank you, Lilibeth. You are a good friend.”
“Jamila was a better one,” Lilibeth argued. Her voice was heavier than the rain when she sadly said, “I miss her.”
“So do I.”Wrapping my limbs around her, I scooped Lilibeth up, holding her off the ground and nestling her against my trunk. Lilibeth’s small arms wrapped around me as her cheek nestled into my bark.
“I wish she could have seen what you became. Jamila would have loved you all the more.”
My heart ached and my branches dipped even further. Had anyone ventured upon us, they would have assumed I was a weeping cherry tree. At that moment, they wouldn’t have been wrong.
This time, I didn’t hesitate when I walked through Hamish McIntyre’s office door. The entrance was just as drab and empty as the day before. No one sat behind the reception desk, making me wonder what the point of it was. I mean, if one were simply supposed to ring the bell, a small side table would work just fine.
Arm raised, I held my finger above the bell, ready to tap the damn thing again. I’d do it a hundred and one times if that was the way to summon Hamish.
“Do not touch that bell.”
I jerked my hand back, fisting my fingers, my heart racing and my eyes wide. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Hamish stood just in front of his office door. His darkened eyes and pinched eyebrows threatened imminent death if I so much as nudged the bell on the counter. “How long have you been here? Am I late?” I couldn’t remember us settling on an exact time.Come back tomorrow morningreally wasn’t all that specific.
Hamish’s cocked eyebrow twitched. Ignoring my question, he turned on his heel and ordered, “Come.”
I bristled. He’d spoken to me as if I were little more than a pet. While I was generally fond of such creatures, I most certainly wasn’t one. “Rude,” I whispered under my breath. Fairies didn’t have enhanced hearing, so I felt fairly safe grumbling my dissatisfaction.
Just like the reception area, nothingin Hamish’s office had changed since the day before. Well, except for the fairy himself sitting behind the intimidating desk.
“Have a seat.” Hamish held out an elegant hand, his slender fingers indicating the chair opposite his own. Again, there was nopleaseattached to that phrase. I suppose beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I’d certainly shown up, proverbial hat in hand.
Perching my ass on the indicated chair, I sat ramrod straight, my hands futilely twisting in my lap. Nerves ate at me, heightening my anxiety. It wasn’t fear of the fairy sitting across from me that sparked my unease. That probably made me an idiot, but right now, I didn’t care. My true fear came from the knowledge that this fairy could deny me. That Hamish McIntyre would decline my case. If I were being totally honest, if I were in his shoes, I’d deny me. That thought wasn’t terribly awe-inspiring. In fact, it was downright depressing.
Elbows on his desk and fingers steeple, Hamish said, “So, here I am, as promised. Now, tell me why I shouldn’t throw you right back out the door. Tell me why you felt the need to ring that damn bell to the point of murderous justification.”
Ouch. I internally flinched while trying to maintain my falsely calm façade. “The sign said to ring the bell. You should change your summoning device if you don’t like the bell.”
