Page 2 of By the Fae

“So, what’s wrong with it, then?”

“It’s the same game. As your last one. And the one before that.”

“Yes, it’sMagic Thief Seven,” I said, attempting to rein in thewell, duhedge to my voice.

She sighed and removed her glasses, letting them dangle from the glittering chain around her neck. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Magic Thief Sixwas the best performing game of last year,” I said.

I saw the figures. Sat through almost every one of our accounts meetings. My game took more in revenues than anyone else’s. Made the company more money than any other designers’.

“The industry is changing. Our gamers are changing. It’s not only fae men playing these days. Our fastest growing demographical change is among”—don’t say it—“human women.”

I scrubbed my hands down my face.

“They make up fifteen percent of our users,” she said.

“That’s a minority.”

“A minority that is exploding in growth. A minority that we are completely ignoring. And if we ignore it, it simply becomes an opportunity for our competitors.”

“Is that why you hired . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say her name, “The human?”

“It’s part of the reason. The other part being that Holly is the very best at what she does. But we’ll get back to that in a second.”

Oh, let’s, please.

I was trying, really trying, not to huff like a petulant teenager.

“I’m going to let you in on a secret,” August said, leaning closer as though we weren’t the only two people in my office. “Glamour is merging with Human X. The number one fae games developer, and our biggest rival, is merging with the number one human games developer. It’s a multi-million silver deal. I planned to bring it up at this week’s team debrief, so consider this your heads up.

“We need a new game. Games. Something that can rival anything they can produce. They will have teething problems, of course. Fae and humans have a . . .” She paused, apparently searching for the word. “Fraught history. We haven’t always been the best of bedfellows. It will take them a while to settle into their new routines, get used to their new business partners. It gives us a head-start.”

I blinked at my boss, my lips pursed tight just in case my fae mouth ruined everything once again.

“Goldie, I want a new game from you. Something completely different. One that taps into our growing market. I want something that will appeal to humans. And more than that, human women. These shoot ‘em in the face games are all fun and frolics, but we need something with more . . . heart. Something with more feeling. More humanity.”

Maybe I could freelance.

“The Remy Games Expo is in two months. I want you to have a game ready to present then. The industry’s changing, and if we don’t adapt, we will get left behind.”

“And if I can’t do it?” I asked.

“Then it might be time to review your contract with us.”

She said it just like that. Don’t make the game, and you’re sacked. It was one of the things I liked best about August. Her honesty. Not that any fae could lie. But we could certainly dance around the truth. She never bothered with any of that. She served it as it was.

“Look, it’s not just you. I’ll be putting this to all the guys on Friday. And I know you can do it. You’re one of the best game designers I know. I’m not saying that because I’m your boss. I really mean it. But we all have to make changes.”

August grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back down to the couch next to her. When exactly did I get to my feet?

“I’m going to forward you the results from the past six months of focus groups to get you started.”

I nodded dumbly. What were my options here? 1, get fired or 2, make a game designed to be played by feeble, argumentative, love-obsessed beings. A game designed to be played by . . . her lot.

“And Goldie, don’t forget our secret weapon.”

Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening. I shook my head. I already knew what August planned on saying and it was unequivocally, categorically, determinately not going to happen. Would it have been too childish to put my fingers in my ears and go lalalala?

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