Page 112 of By the Fae

“Nope. Not a chance. We don’t have any Life Stones left,” said one Elder, as we entered the building and confessed our plight. Garth, I think his name was. “Brenda used them all on her bloody dobermanns.” He sucked in a breath. “Ooh, centuries ago now. Didn’t you, Bren?”

An older fae woman looked up from her newspaper, her hair pinned atop her head with what looked like the entire contents of a full box of pencils. “Sorry about that, Hun. Did you need one for any particular reason?”

“Oh, just that the woman I love is human, and I’d like to keep her alive as long as me.”

“Yeah, that’s a doozy,” she said, immediately turning back to her newspaper. “Have you tried not loving her?”

Urgh, fae! I got it now. We were an infuriating, cold-hearted, standoffish bunch. Why Holly ever wanted a fae boyfriend, I had no idea.

“I have, believe it or not, already tried that. It didn’t work. We’re fated.”

She looked up again. “Oh, poppet, what a shame.” Then turned to the fae man. “Seen my pencil, Gar?”

“So, there aren’t any Life Stones? None at all?” I said, torn between laughing hysterically until I broke down into tears, or skipping the laughter entirely and simply crying myself into a coma.

“Yep, they’re all gone. Do you want a coffee?” said Garth, getting shakily to his feet.

I scrubbed a hand down my face.

“Yeah, I’d like a coffee,” said Bailey. He looked at me. “What? We’ve walked for a million days to get here. Least we can do is get an iced mochachino.”

“Ice machine’s broken,” Garth said, tying a green apron around his waist.

“Fuck my life!” Bailey cried out dramatically.

“What kind of mushrooms did you feed me last night?” I asked him. “What the heck is going on?” I looked at the room at large. Half a dozen elderly fae blinked up at me with varying degrees of alertness.

“Come on, surely there must be something we can do about his mate?” Mal said, spreading his wings out behind him. A far more intimidating looking gesture than I knew Mal capable of.

“Human, you say?” This came from a weather-beaten man in the back. If memory served me correctly, his name was Denver.

I nodded. A bubble of hope blossoming in my stomach. Whining, he pushed himself to his feet and doddered over to me.

“Here you go, son.” He deposited a rough purple stone into my hand. It was wrapped in a leather cord. Not the leather used to tie our contraceptive Harness Stones to our wrists, but Fae Leather. Unbreakable. Once it was on, that was it. It had to be cut free with a silver dagger.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Amethyst,” Denver said.

“Just an amethyst?”

He laughed. “Just an amethyst,” he said, igniting a chorus of croaky old-people laughter. “Just an amethyst. Son, you don’t need a Life Stone. You’re Courtly Fae. You’ve already shared your magic with her, no?” I stared at him. When I didn’t answer, he continued. “How long have you known her?”

“About six months,” I said to my filthy trainers. It sounded like an obscenely short amount of time. Especially to a fae. But it hadn’t been six months, I met her thirteen years ago. Did I know back then that we were fated? No. How could I? I only remembered this dorky little human, and her dungarees, and feeling irritated with myself for thinking she was adorable. I then promptly forgot about her. Until the moment she stepped into our Friday team debrief. August introduced us all, and Holly shook each of the designers’ hands in turn. I couldn’t account for the way my heart crashed against my ribs, or the electricity that shot straight up my arm, or the way from that moment on, I could not extricate her from my thoughts.

Denver nodded, as though he expected to hear nothing else. “And I presume during this time you’ve shared your magic with her?” I must have been frowning because he repeated himself. Louder and slower, as though I was new to the language. “You’ve shared your magic with her, no?”

Shared my magic.

Shared. My magic.

It hit me then. “I’ve healed her if that’s what you mean. I’ve glamoured things for her.”

“Obviously, that’s what I mean, child.” He let out a sigh. “And when you healed her, did you take away her pain, or did you transfer it to yourself?”

My mouth fell open, but I’d lost the ability to speak. Mal’s hand closed around my tricep. “Of course,” he whispered.

“Every time you’re with her, physically, you share part of your magic,” Denver said. “Whether or not you mean to, she takes it from you. Like a sponge. Or a leech. But only a true mate has this ability.”

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