By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel Page 8

  “Yes.” I wanted to leave it at that, but I could see Quinn wasn’t going to let it rest. I spun around, hiked up my tunic and concentrated. A moment later, gossamer wings not much bigger than my hands sprang up.

  He sucked in a harsh breath.

  “Oh. Yes, I see.”

  Was that mirth I heard in his tone? A low rumble escaped my chest.

  “No, no, I’m not laughing at you,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’m just surprised. I never would have expected . . . I mean, they’re lovely . . . I mean—”

  “I get it. It’s funny. Big, dumb half-fairy with tiny, useless wings.”

  “You’re hardly stupid.” He paused. “We all have things we’d change if we could.”

  “How so?” My wings vanished and I lowered my shirt.

  Quinn tugged at his collar and slowly drew it away from his skin so I could see his tattoo better.

  I exhaled harshly, the air squeezed from my lungs. “Son of a banshee, you’re a witch.”

  8

  “I’m not a witch,” Quinn snarled. “For one thing, witches are women. Last time I checked, I had a dick.”

  “But your markings . . .”

  “Wizard.” He sighed like I was the biggest idiot, and at that moment I had to agree with him.

  “A wizard?” Wait a second. Human males were distinctly non-magical creatures. “There hasn’t been a wizard in—”

  “—A thousand years. Believe me, I know.”

  “Y-you’re a wizard?” I couldn’t believe it. A real, live wizard.

  “Stop looking at me like that. I’m not a wizard. A thousand years?” He cleared his throat, his chin jutting. “Talk about a cliché. I should have realized then it couldn’t be true.”

  “But your markings say—”

  “Look closely. The tattoo isn’t complete.”

  I took him at his word and scooted closer until he was within easy reach. I tilted his chin, ignoring the way my fingers tingled at the touch, and peered at the markings. “You don’t have a familiar.”

  “That’s right.” He closed his eyes, his expression pinched.

  “So you are a wizard, then.” My voice came out a little awed, but wow. A wizard. “You just need a cat or something to access your powers.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  He slid away from my touch and for some reason my dragon didn’t like that one bit.

  “You misunderstand. I don’t have a familiar. Not just at this moment, but ever. As in, I’ll never bond with a familiar. When I did my final trial, I didn’t match with any of the familiar types.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  He sighed, his movements jerky and harsh before he stuffed his hands into his armpits in an attempt to stay still. “There are five familiar types: cat, dog, raccoon, ferret, and rabbit. I didn’t match with any of them.”

  I chuckled. “Rabbits, really? Witches—I mean, wizards—use rabbits to channel their powers? They just seem so . . . fluffy and cute. Harmless.”

  He leaned in, his chin tipped at that defiant angle I was coming to appreciate.

  “Thanks for laughing at my life. Glad it’s a source of amusement for you.” He poked me in the chest. “And for your information, rabbits are by far the most powerful of the familiars. If you see a witch with a rabbit familiar, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”

  While I wanted to take a moment to process the idea of a cute, fluffy little critter kicking some serious magical ass, I forced myself to focus on the rest of Quinn’s words. “So you don’t match with any of them?”

  “Ding, ding, ding. Give the guy a prize.”

  “You don’t need to be so pissy,” I grumbled.

  “Pissy? You think I’m being pissy?” Quinn’s voice dropped to a register I’d never heard before. “You think I have no reason to be upset? You’re right, dragon. My gosh, it was so great being identified at four years old, being ripped away from my family, going through years of arduous training, not growing up like other kids, only to get to the last trial and fail miserably—”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

  “You know what? Screw you, Twig!” He sprang up and stomped off. I rose to go after him. Whirling, he ran back and shoved me. I didn’t budge, but he flew backwards from the impact and hit the ground. Hard.

  I offered him my hand, but he slapped it away. Pushing to his feet, he brushed himself off, glaring at me the whole time. My dragon rumbled in my chest. I wanted to comfort the poor guy. Which was a little weird and even more uncomfortable. I didn’t exactly grow up in an environment where soft emotions were entertained. Show weakness to a clan member and next thing you know, you’re on that night’s menu.

  But Quinn wasn’t a dragon. Did that mean he’d want me to comfort him? I searched for something that would make him feel better. I settled for, “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? Why should you care?” His voice was just a smidge short of screaming, spittle flying from his lips. “You got an indentured servant out of the deal. It must be so great for you.”

  Evidently, I said the wrong thing. What did dragons—or fairies for that matter—know about human emotions? But I did know a thing or two about being unfairly accused.

  “I didn’t ask for you, if you’ll recall. Brandsome offered you up. In fact, he manipulated me into it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, smoke swirling from my nose. Then it hit me. “Wait, I assumed you were indentured because . . . well, I don’t know why actually.”

  Okay, so I kind of assumed he was a thief or messed with the wrong magical creature. He sure put off enough attitude for it.

  Good thing he couldn’t cast spells or I’d be a pile of ash in the grass. Quinn’s fists clenched and unclenched in a rhythmic motion.

  “Training to be a wizard is expensive. Befsarry Academy of Magic paid for my room, board, materials. Everything I needed. All expenses paid because as you said, there hasn’t been a wizard in a thousand years. But when it turned out I wasn’t a wizard after all, all those expenses became due effective immediately. My family didn’t have the coin, and honestly, even if they did, they wouldn’t have paid it. My failure mortified them.”

  “So the school sold you into servitude to recoup the gold,” I said.

  He nodded tersely.

  Wow.

  “To Brandsome?”

  Another nod.

  “Three years ago, right?”

  “I was twenty-one, the age of majority for witches and wizards.”

  “But how did they not know before? I mean, you were identified, right? So you must have magic potential.”

  Quinn crossed his arms over his chest. “All humans have magic potential, Twig—”

  “No, they don’t. That’s why there’s only been witches for the last thousand years.” I’d learned that from one of the tutors my father insisted on hiring when I’d first arrived in the Elder.

  Quinn sighed. “You’re half right. Humans aren’t like fairies and other magical creatures. We don’t have access to our magic from day one. We can’t even harness it until we’ve hit the age of majority and bonded with a familiar. But we all do have at least a little magic—even males. When they evaluated me, I tested with a high probability of magic. It’s not an exact skill though. It’s an educated guess.”

  “So, you’re saying they guessed wrong?”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “But you’ve been training since you were a kid. How could they not know?”

  “Because we practice the steps needed to do the spells, but until we bond with our familiar we can’t actually do the spells.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “Almost as much as my life.”

  “I-I really am sorry.”

  Quinn shrugged.

  “I can’t shift,” I blurted out.

  “What?” He narrowed his eyes. “But I saw your claws.”

  Why had I said that? I scrubbed a hand over my face.

  “I can’t fully shift. It�
�s the reason I was expelled from my clan. You aren’t the only one whose family didn’t want them anymore. And you saw my wings. I can’t fly, I can’t shift. So I know what it feels like to be a failure. Too big for a fairy, too puny for a dragon. That’s my dragon name by the way. Twig the Puny. Great name, huh?” Shut up, shut up, shut up an inner voice shouted, but I ignored it. Obviously. “Twig the Puny Starfig.”

  Quinn just stared before he burst into laughter. He laughed until he bent in half and could barely draw breath. I flinched. This was why I never shared my story. This exact reaction.

  “I-I’m not laughing at you, I swear.” Another round of laughter ensued.

  “Could have fooled me,” I muttered.

  “Aren’t we a pair?” he gasped between chortles. “A half-dragon-half-fairy who can’t shift or fly, and a wizard who’s really no wizard at all.”

  I approached and patted him on the back. Poor guy was losing it. I waited for him to wind down.

  Quinn wiped at his eyes, hiccupped loudly.

  “Guess I needed that.” He leaned into me, his hand resting on my chest. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” My heart thumped against my ribcage. Our eyes locked and I reined in the urge to taste his mouth.

  “For trying to cheer me up. And sharing your story. I know that can’t have been easy. I really wasn’t laughing at you.”

  “You, ah, ready to go?” I cleared my throat and stepped back before I did something I couldn’t take back. Shouldering the knapsack, I then placed my hand on the center of the carpet. At first nothing happened. Then lilac sparks shot from all sides of the rug. It jerked and shot out from under my hand and straight into the air, only to crash back down and crumple in a heap at my feet. I straightened it out and tried again. This time nothing happened. I tried again and again, but the rug didn’t move. Even when I used what little fairy magic I possessed, the carpet stayed limp.

  Fuck my life.

  9

  “You sure we’re going the right way?” Quinn’s head swiveled as he took in the vastness of the Expanse.

  Sand as far as the eye could see in all directions. No trees, grass, or animals. Nothing but white. At first, it was almost pretty in its starkness, but hours of the same dull landscape left me feeling grumpy. Someone could get lost and wander around here forever.

  I grunted and kept moving steadily forward. Fortunately, today wasn’t overly warm, though sweat still covered our faces and each step felt like slogging through quicksand.

  We’d been walking for several hours now and the sun was beginning to set. Good thing I packed the large water skin. Still we were going to be mighty thirsty by the time we crossed out of the desert.

  “How do you know we’re moving in the right direction? For all we know we’re moving in circles.”

  “We’re not.” My voice was rough from inhaling small clouds of sand as we walked. Even having a piece of cloth around my mouth and nose only did so much. We continued to walk along in silence until the sun almost completely slipped beyond the horizon.

  “Do you think there’s any chance of Brandsome paying me?” I asked, just to have something to say.

  “Honestly? Once he has the horn in his possession, you’ll have a much harder time resisting him and will probably be suckered into canceling the debt. It’s the way his magic works. I’m surprised you shook off the effects so quickly when he left the room, but then again, he didn’t have his horn and I gave you meadowmint.”

  “And if I cancel the debt, you’ll be returned to him.” It irked me that I could fall so heavily under some creature’s magic that I could be coerced to work against my very nature. That was some powerful juju. I held lots of defenses against most types of harmful magic, but I guess infatuation wasn’t considered harmful. Until now.

  I was so lost in my thoughts I almost missed Quinn’s shudder.

  “I’m sorry.” I seemed to be saying that a lot where Quinn was concerned. But saying it aloud caused a tightening in my chest. I knew what it was like to be mistreated. And Quinn was just a human. No magic to protect him, no magical healing properties either. That’s probably why Rainbowpebbles wanted him. That little fucker loved to inflict pain.

  Quinn shrugged, but he tugged at his collar again as though he couldn’t breathe. “You might resist Brandsome’s charms if you use meadowmint. I’m not really sure. I know his magic doesn’t work as well against love. He hates happy couples. His favorite thing is to break them up. Sees it as a personal challenge. But otherwise, it takes a lot to resist him.”

  “So how do you do it?”

  “Constant exposure and a pocketful of meadowmint. He also doesn’t bother to try to charm me. All the eyelash batting is reserved for people he needs to enthrall. He . . . owns me. He doesn’t need to pretend with me.” Quinn’s jaw clenched when he said it. “Besides, he gets off on my resistance. He only magicks me when it will be most humiliating.”

  My heart stuttered and my dragon hissed in my head. What the fuck kind of messed up unicorn perversion was that? I took a deep breath so my tone wouldn’t be harsh when I asked, “But you’ll eventually be free, right? Indentured servitude isn’t meant to last forever.”

  “With the amount I’ll have to pay him, I’ll be a very old man before that happens.”

  “Oh.” What did I say to that?

  “Are we going to walk all night?” Quinn stumbled behind me, and I stopped to steady him.

  Dark circles ringed his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

  “No, we’ll rest here, then leave at first light.” I threw down the smelly carpet I’d hauled with us the whole way. I also carried sticks I’d broken off from a tree before we’d entered the Expanse. Using them to build a lean-to with a little twine to keep it all together, I laid the rug over the top. Not a bad makeshift shelter . . . if one didn’t mind the smell of manticore dung.

  Wrinkling my nose, I waved Quinn underneath, and I again removed my knapsack to dig around for food and water. There wasn’t much jerky left, so I offered him the last piece. He looked surprised, and only when I nodded did he take it. I pulled out some bread crusts for myself and divided up a handful of storm nuts. We continued to eat in silence, the sounds of night slowly surrounding us. It was actually really nice.

  “There aren’t any monsters in the dunes, are there?” Quinn squinted around, only it had grown too dark for him to see more than a couple inches in front of him. My vision was a bit better. Weak by dragon standards, but still enough that I could see far into the distance.

  “Not that I’ve ever heard.”

  “I heard there’s a creepy pirate ship patrolling the Expanse.”

  “A pirate ship? On the dunes? What, with wheels or something? Or maybe the ship has wings?”

  “Ha ha.”

  “Where did you hear such a ridiculous story?”

  “Don’t remember. Probably at the Steamy Bean. Brandsome and I spend a lot of time there.”

  “Huh. Well, I think that’s just some fool spreading rumors. Seems like I would have heard of a pirate ship. Or seen one, with all the times I’ve flown over this particular desert.”

  With the moons rising came the cold. Quinn shivered. I’d packed a thin blanket, but it wouldn’t be enough. I wrapped it around his shoulders anyway.

  “You’re going to be cold.” Quinn opened the blanket so I could drape it around me too. Only my shoulders were way too big.

  “Nah, I’m okay.”

  He scooted closer until he leaned up against me.

  “Let me at least share my heat. It will keep us both warm.”

  “Fine.” I said it like I was put out, but secretly I was more than happy to press him against my side. And not only for his heat.

  I just needed to keep my thoughts from turning too amorous. Not easy since even through the darkness, I saw the contentment in his face as he snuggled into me. He probably didn’t realize I could see him or I’m sure he wouldn’t look so at ease. I hadn’t really considered it before, but Qui
nn wore a perpetually wary expression on his face, even when he smiled. I suppose being Brandsome’s indentured servant would put that look on anyone’s face.

  I slung my arm around his shoulders and dragged him even closer. I swear I heard a soft sigh. Either way, my unruly cock stiffened. Ever since I ran into the unicorn, I was one stiff breeze away from popping wood. I deliberated asking Quinn whether I’d need to get laid to get it out of my system, except I didn’t think he’d take it the right way. I enjoyed this too much for him to pull away.

  “I know this sounds weird, but I feel so comfortable with you. I wish you were my master.” Quinn practically sat on my lap now, his arms wrapped around me.

  I placed my chin on top of his head, inhaled his sweet scent, the faint smell of meadowmint lingering on his breath.

  “I don’t want to be anyone’s master. Humans think dragons are barbaric, but we don’t keep slaves. Indentured or otherwise.”

  “No, you just eat them.” Humor laced Quinn’s voice so I didn’t get offended. Besides, he was right.

  “Too true. Apparently humans are particularly tasty. Why do you think I encouraged you to wash off all that crap Brandsome made you wear? Tastes terrible.”

  He gaped at me for a minute, before he lightly elbowed me in the stomach.

  “That’s not funny.”

  I chuckled, giving truth to his lie. Totally funny. I mean, my mom would be horrified to see me snuggling and joking with a human. Dragons might have struck the Cairnsdaught Accord with humans, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t love to crunch up a few. I didn’t have that urge at all. In fact, I felt rather protective of Quinn. And wasn’t that a kicker? A dragon who wanted to protect a human.

  “If it makes you feel better, I like you better without all the face paint and perfumes.” I inhaled his scent. Mmm.

  It was his turn to snigger. “Because I’m tastier that way.”

  “Because you’re perfect the way you are. You don’t need all those enhancers.” Now, why did I have to turn the conversation serious? Quinn went quiet and my cheeks felt suspiciously hot.

  After a moment, he tightened his arms around me. “Thank you, Twig. That was a nice thing to say.”