Page 8 of Romancing the Orc

It also tingles with magic, more magic than I’ve felt since arriving on Earth. It feels like Faerie.

My magic surges forward, reaching for the magical plant life, and a tightness within me eases for the first time in months as they respond. I can communicate with Earth plants to ask them to do what I want, but it’s a muted conversation with limited results. But the magical plants of Faerie—now there’s a different story!

The plane slows, and a clearing comes into view, dotted with large tents. This must be where we’re landing.

I reach for the plants below me, asking them to catch me. Then I release my legs and hands at the same time, falling from the bottom of the plane right as the strut I hold onto starts to move.

Air whooshes past, and in seconds, I’m in the trees, their fronds and vines whipping out to slow my descent. By the time I hit the ground, I’m moving barely any faster than if I’d jumped from six feet up.

“Thank you.” I pat a couple of the closest trunks and feel a wordless welcome. By the goddess, it’s good to use my magic fully again!

It’s not only my personal power that’s back. Magic hums in the ground beneath me, pulses through the plant life, and saturates the air. I was right. This islandispart of Faerie. But how? We’re still on Earth.

Does this mean I can get home?

Lara’s face fills my mind, and I leap to my feet. Whatever this island means for me and my future, none of it’s as important at this moment as saving her.

Even though my tan pants blend in well with my surroundings, the bright white T-shirt does not. I rip it over my head, letting my green skin serve its true purpose.

I am a Wild Fae, meant to thrive in the forests of Faerie. Even if this tropical one is different than the pine woods of Alarria, it’s still like coming home.

Running toward the campsite, I leap downed trunks and skirt short palms with wide bases that resemble mammoth pineapples.

I don’t get far before I run through a patch of plants with dangling clusters of flowers in the brightest of pinks with deep-purple centers. They resemble wild columbine and have one other similarity to home—a flock of sprites rises from them.

Puffs of white hair stand straight up from the heads of the diminutive fae, who have pink skin covered by the deep green of leaf clothing. Most striking are their butterfly wings, which shimmer with a million iridescent colors.

“Orc!” a tiny voice shrieks as a female sprite flies up in front of my face. “How did you get to Fruvalia? There aren’t any orcs in this realm.”

It’s as I thought—this island is indeed from Faerie. I know little about Fruvalia, only that it’s a tropical realm used by fae as the equivalent of what the humans would call a “vacation destination.”

“You aren’t in Fruvalia any longer. This is the human world, Earth.”

All of them start talking at once, and they speak in their normal, quick speed, their voices turning into a chorus of high whistles I can’t understand. When they calm down, their leader says, “How? The doors of Faerie have been closed for three-hundred years.”

“A human witch opened them.” I don’t have time for long explanations and don’t understand the magic involved even if I did. I’m not sure anyone does, not even the dragons, Faerie’s hoarders of knowledge.

“Can you get us to Avalon? Can you return us to the elves?” she asks. “Our ancestors got trapped in this realm when the doors closed. We long to frolic in the fae courts once again, providing joy for all.”

At her wave, a pair of sprites fly closer, carrying a smooth-skinned yellow fruit between them that’s about the size of a walnut. Magic sparkles across its surface—they’ve turned it into Faerie Fruit. Its intoxicating effects are similar to drinking several pints of ale but without any hangover.

“There’s no time for parties. I must rescue my mate.” I point in the direction the plane took. “She’s being held by the people of that camp.”

“Nasty men,” the sprite spits. “Tearing down our trees and making horrible noises and smells. We will help you!”

I eye them uncertainly. Even though they’re small, they’re still fae, with abilities that shouldn’t be discounted. But they’re also too colorful to camouflage, and I say as much.

“Don’t worry about us. The humans think we’re butterflies.” Her tone grows sly, and she whistles a set of instructions to her flock. “We’ll make them eat Faerie Fruit.”

That will certainly distract the humans. Faerie Fruit acts as an intoxicant, and for humans, it makes them either dance until they drop or have sex repeatedly.

The sprites drop what they’re carrying and dart off into the trees, returning with dark-purple fruit that looks like blueberries. Acai. A trainer at the gym always tries to get me to eat the special ones he sells.

Once the sprites make a pile of berries on the ground, the flock flies in circles over it. Magic hums in the air, and colorful glitter falls from their wings, coating the berries.

“We will put these in their food.” The little leader flutters in front of my face and points a tiny finger at me. “Then you will get us to Avalon.”

“I can’t promise that.” Bargains are binding in Faerie. “But I will do everything I can to get you back to Faerie. My home realm of Alarria is quite nice, and other sprites live there.”

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