How to Survive a Fairy Bargain

Book 2: Fairies and Familiars

by Laura J. Mayo

Genres: Humorous Fantasy; Romantic Fantasy

Synopsis

All Theo asked for was a happy ending: a life of freedom where she could do what she wanted, when she wanted, with whom she wanted. But now that she's a familiar to the mighty Cecily of the Ash Fairies, her happily ever after feels farther away than she could possibly imagine. 

If only there were some way to break a fairy bargain...

Publisher: Orbit

Print pages: 352

Sample

No-longer-a-lady Theodosia Balfour was at her harp in the drawing room of a fairy’s expansive manor, playing music with her friends in their loose interpretation of a band while watching the party around her. From her vantage point through the wide doorways, she had prime viewing of most of the downstairs.

In the back of the drawing room, three fairies were unwittingly playing tug-of-war with a goat, attempting to retrieve a length of silk the ruminant had latched on to and apparently found quite tasty. Surprisingly, the fairies were losing. No one knew why the goat was here, where he came from, or who brought him. The creature himself did not seem at all bothered by his attendance, presumably finding the accommodations of a fairy’s abode a few steps up from a barnyard and, to a potentially lesser extent, due to simply being a goat. The cavernous main foyer was hosting a large game of blindfolded tag crossed with hot cockles, where the wearer of a blindfold wandered around having to guess which fairy had just slapped him in the face. The blindfolded fairy had yet to guess correctly, so it had been his turn for the past half hour. By this point his cheeks were such an angry, glowing red it looked as though he had put blush over a severe sunburn. Luckily, he was so drunk anyway that the odds of him feeling any of it were about as likely as the successful retrieval of fabric from a goat who had a penchant for jaunty cravats. And of course, in front of the band danced a copious number of drunken fairies, humans, and other delightfully inebriated creatures of the magical realm.

In another corner, some fairy’s human familiar was stooped behind some furniture, throwing up into a vase while being patted on the back by another familiar with a mix of care and mild revulsion. Theo had no idea as to either of their names but had seen both these women around before. The first woman retched again and the other woman took a step back, grimacing. Theo knew Cecily would easily clean this up later with a snap of her fingers, but given the familiar’s reaction, Theo was going to request Cecily just throw the whole thing out—magically clean or not.

Shortly after becoming a familiar herself, Theo discovered that there were limits as to who could transport a fairy’s familiar, and those boiled down to whether the familiar was willing or unwilling to be transported. If the familiar was willing, anyone with the capability could transport the familiar, regardless of who their fairy was. However, if the familiar was unwilling, the only ones able to do so were the familiar themselves, the familiar’s fairy they were bonded to, or another familiar bonded to that same fairy—something about having the same magic.

So having a familiar be as out of sorts as the one behind the furniture presented quite the predicament. The cookie-tossing familiar could barely stand up, so the act of transporting herself out of here was not a viable option—not to mention the gamble it would be to have her try to conjure a swirl of wind with the hopes that said cookies stayed contained. And unfortunately, the familiar who was now best friends with a vase had no desire to go anywhere. Which meant the back-patting familiar was left with only one option if she wanted to remove herself from the situation, and that was to find a particular fairy.

Theo very much hoped they would find that fairy quickly—for everyone’s sakes.

She wasn’t exceedingly concerned about the sick familiar getting back safely, more annoyed that it hadn’t happened already.

All in all, a standard party at Cecily of the Ash Fairies’ manor.

Cecily was wafting about, dressed in her usual finery, offering greetings to her friends and guests as any good host would do. When not mingling, she was on the dance floor spinning, twirling, and cheering the loudest at the end of each song.

It had been less than a year since Theo had fulfilled the bargain with Cecily, taking her stepsister Beatrice’s place as one of the fairy’s familiars. The time didn’t go by in the blink of an eye, but nor did it crawl. In fact, it almost seemed silly for Theo to track the time at all, seeing as how she was practically immortal now, her life tied to Cecily’s. So, marking the days and months was relatively pointless. And that was pretty much how she spent her time—without any point whatsoever. She slept in when she felt like it, ate where and when she felt like it, and was a regular fixture at Cecily’s parties. Tonight’s party was no exception.

The band had shrunk from its original incarnation and now consisted of Theo playing jauntily on the harp; Beric, a fairy strumming complementary notes on his handheld harp; Torian, the lute player; and Lowen, the fiddle player. Occasionally other fairies would join in, but only when they felt like conjuring their instruments, which wasn’t very often.

They were set up in their usual spot. Normally the room had multiple seating areas scattered around, but on the nights when the band played, the couches, chairs, and tables were pushed to the walls so that the revelers could have enough space to dance. This evening, someone had even rolled up the rug, exposing the intricately patterned tile floor underneath. Theo loved when that happened. The sound of feet moving to the rhythm of the song sounded like a drumbeat echoing throughout the room, the joy of it intertwining with the music.

However, there was one fairy who wasn’t doing much of anything except watching the band from where he stood in the corner, alone. As he had been for over an hour now, Theo noted. He paid no mind to the fairies around him who were laughing, dancing, or simply talking to one another, and was not searching the crowd for anyone who might let him join in. The lack of drink in hand—plain fruit punch or something stronger—suggested he either was fully hydrated already or didn’t want to partake. Likewise with the food. Individually, none of these would suggest he wasn’t in a celebratory mood. But stacked one on top of the other, it seemed unlikely he was here for the festivities.

Like his manner, his dress was severe and very plain. Theo had found it hard to come by lackluster clothes living with a fairy who delighted in the beautiful and unusual, not to mention one who supplied her entire wardrobe. She had thought, and was led to believe by example, that every other fairy felt the same. But this man was wearing the antithesis of adornment in a white tunic with plain brown pants the exact color of boredom. Even buttons were too flashy. The lines of the outfit were so simple it was as though he based it on a child’s drawing, the sleeves stopping precisely at his wrists, the collar sitting straight across his neck. His shoulder-length copper hair was basic and unfussed, doing nothing other than staying neatly tucked behind his pointed ears. Apparently, he’d created his look as an homage to utility, with the guiding mantra of I am thoroughly against fun in all its forms and need an ensemble to reflect that.

This wouldn’t have otherwise been anything to note since, normally, being the fairy equivalent of a blank sheet of paper would have made someone unexceptional. But here among an entire manor full of fairies dressed to impress, it did the exact opposite. He was a mule standing in a herd of zebras. If he wanted to blend in, he’d have been better served by painting himself in glue and rolling around in gemstones. This wasn’t the first time she had noticed him at one of Cecily’s events, either. For the past few months, he’d appear at a party, watch the band play with a dour yet intense expression plastered on his face, and then disappear again. She hadn’t given him much thought the first few times, but the repetition was getting bizarre, to the point that even the other band members started to notice. And most disconcerting of all was how he was paying most of his attention to her.

Mid-song, Theo leaned over toward her friends. “What do you say we take an intermission after this?” Usually, she preferred playing her harp over mingling at a party. But right now, she needed this stranger to stop gawking at her. The sooner she could get away from the staring fairy, the better.

Thankfully, the band agreed, Beric with a flick of his wavy burgundy hair, Lowen with an enthusiastic nod, and Torian with relief manifesting in a droop of her posture.

When their song ended, Beric snapped his fingers, vanishing both his and Theo’s harps, as her minute amount of magic from being a familiar didn’t extend to conjuring or unconjuring anything.

She turned around so her back was to the room, letting her friends in on the real reason she stopped playing. “Beric, that fairy is here again.”

“I saw. Do you think he wants to join in?”

“I don’t know. He just stands there. It’s making me uneasy. But anytime I am close enough to ask who he is or why he’s here, he leaves.”

She shrugged but turned to face the room again. By then, Torian and Lowen were also ready. As the four of them made their way out of the drawing room, their path took them straight past the dull fairy. Right on cue, when he saw that they were all watching him and coming toward where he was standing, he launched into movement in the opposite direction. Theo was glad to be rid of him.

Her friends continued on to the game room, receiving compliments and accolades on their superb playing as they went. She had almost made it there, too, before she was stopped by a group of fairies who had followed her out of the drawing room: three friends, each now having conjured a drink for themselves after their whirlwind dancing. By the way they were dressed, it seemed to Theo they had come to do just that. Their coordinated dresses were short, only hitting below the knee so as not to interfere with dancing feet. Each dress was a different shade of blue and looked as if it had been dipped in water, the colors swirling like ink.

And unfortunately for Theo, the three fairies were smiling earnestly at her.

It wasn’t long into her bargain that she found working for a fairy different than living with and being fully indebted to a fairy. And Theo hadn’t formed any imaginary ideas as to what it might be like long-term, either, seeing as the decision to be here was rather sudden. And yet, she was still surprised by the quantity of unglamorous, non-magical moments it involved. What she found was that in most circles of fairy society, as a familiar, she might as well have been on the same level as a pet parakeet. Less, even. Fairies took as much notice of other fairies’ familiars as they did the upholstered settees that dotted the manor. Their eyes would drift over them, only to bounce off like humans were made of springs. Human familiars were almost ever-present, but similar to a nose in one’s peripheral vision, eventually the brain just pretended they didn’t exist in any meaningful way. Humans were, above all, less than.

Except in Theo’s case. She was noticed for her musical ability, fairies seeking her out to hear a particular favorite tune or another. The first time she’d ever played for fairies had been a highlight—and with that, a sense of belonging. But during the months at Cecily’s manor, her harp playing had turned her into a novelty, her talent reduced to a party trick. And when the music stopped, so did her equal social standing among most of the fairies. Worse still, the fairies thought it was adorable. That human who believed herself to be one of them. How cute! How quaint!

Theo knew a backhanded compliment when it hit her across the face. The problem was the fairies didn’t even realize they were doing it. To them, they were being nothing if not flattering, as though Theo’s only wish in life was to bathe in their praise, and they were more than happy to oblige.

So Theo knew what the fairy leading her cheerful gaggle of ladies was going to say before she even said it. And unfortunately for these fairies, Theo had been growing rather tired of it as of late.

Sure enough: “You are just so talented. Honestly, it is remarkable you can play a fairy harp as well as you do, for a human!” The leader of the gaggle said this slowly, with a radiating smile as though Theo were a dog who had just done some sort of neat trick. All that was missing was a pat on the head. Theo’s talents were always qualified with her humanness, like she’d overcome some sort of hardship by being what she was.

Theo stifled the scoff and eye roll and instead matched the fairy’s overcooked smile. “If my harp playing impressed you, you should see how well I balance treats on my nose.”

The fairy, not expecting anything other than a groveling thank you, thank you, thank you, gave her a polite yet confused chuckle, looking to her friends to see if they understood this perplexing creature. Their stunned faces said they did not.

Theo held her expression, if only to see how long these fairies could stand in the awkwardness—a politeness pistols at dawn to see who would fall first. She knew she had won when their smiles deflated to grimaces.

But Theo wasn’t about to let them walk away just yet. “Well, you are welcome to join us anytime. I’ll lend you my harp and you can show me how it’s really done.”

The woman laughed at what she thought was Theo’s joke, her face muscles happy to have a purpose again. “Oh, I don’t play the harp.”

“My mistake,” Theo said with a slow blink and a smile melting with condescension. “I thought since you are a fairy, you must be so much better at it than I am.” Then, with a shake of her head and a high-pitched laugh of disbelief, she said, “I must say, if I were you, the fact that a human was better than me at anything would inspire so much infuriation I don’t think I could find a wall high enough for it to drive me up. I could only dream of having your poise and graciousness.”

The fairy finally caught on to Theo’s real joke and huffed. “I don’t know why you’re being so impolite. Do you not know how to accept a compliment?”

“I do, actually. You just weren’t paying me one. Or maybe I’m just too much of a meager human to understand it. Feel free to give it a go and I’ll really pay attention this time to see if I can find the compliment.” She nodded encouragingly for the fairy to try again.

The fairy scowled and then opened her mouth to speak. But before she said anything, her eyes caught something behind Theo. Or someone. Cecily stepped up next to her familiar, swirling a glass of red wine in her hand. The fairy gave Theo one more pinched smile as if to say, Now you’re in trouble.

“Cecily, your familiar is being quite rude. I was telling her what a fantastic harp player she was, and she said…” The indignation that kept her going sputtered, her anger having forgotten to add coal to the firebox. “She said I must be better than her at it.” Her steam engine of self-righteousness stalled on the tracks.

“Don’t forget my envy of your composure,” Theo added.

Cecily nodded and turned to Theo. “My commendatory Theo, if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times: Refrain from being complimentary to my guests.” Her casual smirk made an appearance as she readdressed the fairy. “I promise my delightfully talented Theo will never say a nice word about you again. Will you, Theo?”

Theo smiled. “No, never.”

“There. Problem solved.”

The fairy’s wineglass must have been made of diamonds to withstand how tightly she was clutching it. Clearly wanting to take the parting shot, she narrowed her eyes. “You should get your little pet under control.”

It did nothing to dim Cecily’s smirk. She cocked her hip. “What you should know about my dear Theo is that you can’t poke the, by your admission, fantastically talented human and expect her not to return the favor”—she took a swig of her wine—“fantastically.”

The fairy stomped off, her confused friends following.

Cecily’s devilish grin remained firmly in place as she and Theo watched them leave the manor. “Well then,” Cecily said with lightness as though she didn’t just send guests scampering. “I believe I saw Beric shuffling some cards. Let’s go and he can deal me in as well.”

Theo walked to the game room, head held high. But the months of this situation playing out before tonight made it increasingly harder to do. The more these “compliments” started piling up, the more she felt like a pet, and the more joy was being sucked out of performing.

Or most things, for that matter.

Once in the game room, Theo took up a seat at the table next to Torian, Cecily also pulling up a chair. Theo wished it was only the musicians and Cecily at the table, but there was one extra fairy dealt in. A handsome fairy, the ends of his dark hair tinged an emerald green the exact color of his eyes.

Locklan.

It wasn’t unusual to see Lock at Cecily’s parties, him being the fairy’s younger brother and all. When Theo first arrived, he’d stayed away from the manor at her behest, as Theo was upset about being kept in the dark regarding his secretive inclusion in her plans. And if she was being honest, she was embarrassed when she found out the truth—that everyone around her had known something she didn’t. Because of him, her pride in herself and her accomplishments had been tainted. He didn’t need to flirt and compliment her—that was never part of Cecily’s plan. Back then, he had explained that it was because he really did like her. But now, all it did was put their friendship on shaky ground because she didn’t know where they stood. Even if he had been truthful, Theo wasn’t sure she was ready to let bygones be bygones. But after a few months, Cecily insisted Lock be invited again. Lock had tried a few more times to have a meaningful conversation with Theo, but whenever he did, Theo would excuse herself and spend the rest of his visit in hiding. Up to that point, Cecily had voiced both relief and excitement that Theo was no longer holing up in her room, burying herself in blankets like a depressed hibernating hedgehog with that level of personal hygiene. So when Theo started avoiding parties again, Cecily made it clear to Lock that his continued enjoyment of said parties was contingent on leaving Theo alone.

However, Theo and Lock shared friends in Beric, Torian, and Lowen, which made him sadly unavoidable, especially when the cards came out. She’d never had friends before this fairy group and, aside from Cecily’s former familiar, Kaz, never had anyone who was genuinely interested in her. And she tended not to think about him too much, lest she fall to pieces in front of everyone. On occasion, she did talk with other human familiars, but being set apart by fairies hurt her here, too, as the familiars didn’t quite know what to do with her. They didn’t hate her, nor were they mean in any way, but were standoffish enough that it was difficult to make friends with them.

So, even though she no longer carried the torch for a romantic relationship with Lock, she found herself missing their friendship. Unfortunately, she did nothing to foster communication with him, and instead their conversational highlights ranged from I do believe it is your turn to Pardon me, I need to use the restroom.

Not this evening, though. Like the last few weeks, the chatter tonight centered on the latest gossip. And it was no wonder no one could stop talking about it—it was a doozy.

According to the rumors, the missing fairy princess had been found.

Theo had picked up bits and pieces of information about the former royal family in the last few months of living among fairies. Tace of the Oak Fairies was the current regent, who was uncle of the late King Redren of the Oak Fairies. Up until roughly a thousand years ago, King Redren ruled the fairy realm with his wife, Queen Lilliana. And by all accounts, they were well-loved and oversaw a peaceful kingdom. They had two children, Princess Amabel and Princess Iara.

But the king’s reign came to a sudden and shocking end one random night.

While Redren and Lilliana were getting ready for dinner at court, the children playing together in the nursery, a maid came around to light the fires for the evening, as she usually did. Everything had apparently been normal: The wood had been stacked neatly into each clean fireplace, according to the only staff member who managed to escape. All the maid needed to do that evening was simply snap her fingers and conjure a fire in the already-made piles of wood. With ease and efficiency, she lit the fires, room by room, starting with the nursery and ending in King Redren’s suites.

What no one realized until too late was that the wood—oak logs, typically—in the fireplace had been replaced with yew. And yew was incredibly toxic to fairies. Even the faintest whiff of smoke was enough to make a fairy quite sick. Unfortunately, the chopped-up yew was indistinguishable from the normal wood, likely causing the maid to light the fires without doing a thorough log identification. What she also failed to notice, for much the same reason, was that the flues had been closed.

Since the maid was good at her job, she had the fires blazing within seconds.

The family was the first to succumb to the smoke. Next, guards who had been positioned outside the family suites quite literally dropped dead. Another guard, seeing his colleagues lying down, knew enough to realize they weren’t both taking simultaneous naps and ran to get help. Another guard rushed toward the suites but was also overtaken by the effects only minutes later.

By the time anyone figured out what was happening, it was well beyond too late.

Everyone died. Supposedly.

Tace, the only person in the direct line of succession, suddenly found himself in charge of the kingdom and the current crisis. He evacuated the palace and called upon elves, dwarves, trolls, and any other creature not affected by yew to come and help. Anyone who could enter the family suites was sent to put out the fires and open every window. No fairy could even go near that entire wing until the smoke was well and truly cleared.

When fairies were finally able to enter the nursery, knowing the horror of what they would find, they discovered only the little body of Amabel lying on the rug, toys strewn around her, and the nanny in the rocking chair nearby as though she had just fallen asleep.

But Iara was nowhere to be found.

Word of the missing princess spread throughout the kingdom as fast as the yew smoke in the palace. Search parties were organized, everyone galvanized by the thought of being able to do something in defiance of their complete helplessness at the situation. Hands needed to be useful, words needed to be filled with soft, delicate hope that maybe all was not lost. But by that point, it had been almost a full day and any hints as to her whereabouts were gone.

Iara had not been located in the subsequent thousand years, but many believed that the true successor to the throne was still out there. Since enough fairies held on to this hope, Tace was never able to claim the throne as true king. Instead, he was made regent, keeping the seat warm for whenever Iara might decide to grace the fairy kingdom with her presence.

Of course, foul play was initially suspected, but blame was difficult to distribute, seeing as every potentially responsible party also died in the incident. The maid who had lit all the fires died shortly after leaving King Redren’s room and was found slumped against the wall, the lingering smoke she had inhaled in each room finally doing her in. No one could trace who may have put yew in the fireplace, and no one could find anyone who would want to. Naturally, Tace was first on the list of suspects, but even when his path to the throne was clear, he did no. . .