Page 1 of Of Pixies and Promises (Fae Guardians)

Chapter

One

“ I f you don’t pick your dicks soon, they’ll be picked for you.”

Nyra ignored the unsolicited advice from her mother’s sister, Colt. Colt was a good friend and a Mage at the Order of the Well. She wasn’t required to have a harem. She didn’t understand.

As a trusted Councillor at the Order, Colt had a purpose. She had a life. She was only here to help with the coronation ball. Soon she would return to overseeing magic use in Elphyne, and Nyra would be left struggling to fit into this tribe alone.

After turning four and thirty this spring, Nyra’s wings still hadn’t created pixie dust. But it wasn’t as though she could control it. The wings dusted who they wanted. The Well had plans, and maybe having a harem—or any mate—wasn’t in Nyra’s future. The sooner everyone accepted it, the better.

Instead of wallowing, Nyra focused on finger painting bioluminescent art on the tree hollow walls in preparation for her coronation.

Pixies bustled about behind them, decorating the vast space and trying not to eavesdrop, but Nyra was done suffering in silence.

As far as she was concerned, having a harem had nothing to do with her ability to rule.

It might affect how much magic she could draw from the Well or how big their tribe might be, but they wouldn’t know until she was coronated.

“Nyra,” Colt said. “Are you listening?”

“I’m listening,” she replied in a sing-song voice and scribbled a mustache onto the character painted on the wall… who just happened to have the same rainbow wings, hair, and dusky brown skin as Colt.

Colt’s wings vibrated in vexation. Wind and dust stirred, ruining the wet paint of Nyra’s work. She scowled and faced her aunt.

“Was that necessary?” Colt’s eyebrow arched as she took in the mustache with a pout.

The expression flared the glowing blue teardrop mark on her bottom lip—her Mage mark.

It was a reminder that Colt was respected in the broader community, and Nyra was still a recalcitrant youth.

“You could have at least painted one on your mother. It’s not my fault you’re in this predicament. ”

Bitterness seethed in Nyra’s stomach. Colt had no clue what Nyra went through. No clue.

Queen Juniper’s figure was painted next to Nyra’s.

Her age was determined not by wrinkles on her skin but by the luminosity of her wings.

They were dull, unlike Nyra’s prismatic, sparkling set.

The queen had the same pastel pink hair and golden skin, but Nyra’s hair floated around her face in wisps that tickled her shoulders.

It was tied in a fancy woven design to prepare for the ball, but strands kept falling out.

The queen’s tresses flowed in waves that gave vibrance where her wings failed.

Her hair never looked messy like Nyra’s.

But those dull wings were a glaring truth. The queen’s magic was fading. It was time for her heir to accept the tithe from the Well in return for protecting their little pocket of Elphyne. This tithe was too powerful for one little pixie queen to contain and required the full capacity of a harem.

“What is necessary,” Colt pressed. “Is that you remember your duty. Time is running out, and if we don’t have a new queen to unite the power of this tribe, then we cannot fight threats to our peace.

The Athyrium Gully Tribe, the largest pixie tribe in all of Elphyne, will be dissolved into your rivals. Is that the legacy you want?”

“Can’t I just run away and join the Order like you?”

“As much as I’d like to have you with me, there are no other heirs. I was the spare. When you came along, I was free to do as I pleased. It is too late for me to return. As a Councillor, I have responsibilities to the entire land, not just this tribe.”

Nyra groaned and rolled to her belly. She rubbed her finger through the bioluminescent algae on the clay ground.

If only it were as simple as painting the glow back onto her mother’s wings, she could remain queen for a little longer.

Nyra wasn’t done exploring and being young.

Four and thirty was virtually a child in fae years.

Her mother’s life was three centuries long, and she would live longer still… just not as the active queen.

“Since your fathers died,” Colt said, but Nyra bared her fangs and hissed a warning. She hated talking about their deaths. Unruffled, Colt continued. “There has been a gaping hole in the amount of mana your tribe collectively farms, and the gully needs to be nurtured.”

“I know, I know.” Nyra sniffed. It wasn’t only her mother’s wings that faded.

The plants were dimming, and the animals in the gully were leaving for greener pastures.

Soon the forest would look as gray as the desecrated dead lands around Crystal City.

She shuddered at the thought. It all started with the attack that stole her fathers’ lives.

The three King Consorts in her mother’s harem had died protecting Queen Juniper during a human-led raid less than a decade ago.

Nyra felt the pain of that loss as acutely as if it happened today.

“Since the great freeze,” Colt said, “and the ruin of the old world, the Well has entrusted the upkeep of nature to us woodland fae. The elves, the oak men, the stags, and pixies.” Colt’s wings dragged as she moved about the cave, pointing to the artwork they’d both painted over the week as part of Nyra’s pre-coronation ritual.

She stopped at a dark human city covered with icy ominous clouds.

“Humanity had custody of this land for generations. But they destroyed it with their metals, plastics, and greedy wars.” She moved to another picture—snowy landscapes and everything white and frozen.

“The wasteland was barely survivable.” She moved to a third image—blue, glowing water bubbling from the ice, leaving magical things in its wake.

Green life. Fae. “And then the Well miraculously gave us a second chance. It connected us on a level unseen for eons. It is because we are connected to the land that we protect it. If we fail it now, we circle back to this.”

Colt patted the dark, destructive cloud looming over the gray cities of the old world.

Nyra shivered. A grey city already existed in this world.

It grew cloudier and darker by the year.

Crystal City was where humanity quarantined themselves and hid for centuries from their mistake, letting the fae do all the hard work of fostering this broken world back to life.

Nyra’s upper lip curled with bitterness.

Humans stole her fathers, and now they wanted to steal precious resources buried deep beneath the gully.

Well, they can’t have it. Whether or not Nyra found a harem, whether or not the Well accepted her as the new queen, she would give her dying breath to keep humans out of their territory.

She would find a way.

“Nrya—”

“Enough!” Nyra gnashed her fangs. Her wings fluttered and lifted her to a standing position. “I’ve heard enough, Colt. My duty to my people isn’t the problem.”

Pity entered Colt’s eyes as she glanced at Nyra’s wings. “Still haven’t created pixie dust?”

Nyra’s gaze dipped. “No.”

“You need to give some dicks a chance. Dusting might occur on the outside, but it starts within.”

Nyra’s brow arched. “You think that’s the problem? That I don’t want it or haven’t tried?”

Colt shrugged. “Is it?”

“I’ve danced in the sky with half the single males my age. Believe me. Wanting and trying is not the problem.”

“The Well-blessed human Seelie High Queen is an incredible healer and mated to a shifter. Perhaps if you visit the Summer Palace with a gift, she might have an elixir or something to fix you.”

Great. Now I’m defective.

“No,” Nyra snapped. “If my wings aren’t making dust, then none of these miscreants are my mates. That’s all there is to it. And I’m not the type to wait for them to find me.”

“Why not let me or your mother pick your consorts? Then you don’t have to worry.”

“I don’t need you to pick my dicks.” Nyra sighed. “I may never go into heat without pixie dust. Without an heir, what kind of queen am I?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Start protecting the gully on my own.” Nyra’s wings fluttered, and she walked to the cave exit.

“Wait, your dress!”

But she was done listening to all the reasons she was failing. She needed to get out of there.

Nyra stepped out of the tree hollow, her wings vibrated, and she became airborne and weightless. She shifted from dragonfly size to full-fae size in a blink, uncaring that she drained most of her internal well to do so. She still had enough mana to protect herself should she need it.

Colt didn’t follow, which meant she either had no mana left to grow in size or had decided it wasn’t worth another argument.

Good.

Nyra needed to be alone.

She flew through the ferns and lush green underbrush, then up as she twined around the tall trees.

Her flowing ballgown caught on a branch.

Nyra heard a distinct rip and winced but kept flying until she burst through the canopy into sun-warmed air.

She inhaled deeply and faced the bright orb.

A flock of parrots flew by as she basked, pelting her rudely.

She hissed and snapped her fangs. If she were small, she’d have spiraled and potentially lost equilibrium. But she grinned as she caught them flying in formation. It looked wonderful. Freeing.

And exactly what she needed. Throwing caution to the wind, she joined them—shrinking back into dragonfly size so she could coast in their slipstream and forget about the world.

Whoops— there went another chunk of her mana stores.

But there was no substitution for the wind beneath her wings and her troubles behind her.

A curl of smoke wafted from the forest nearby. Peeling away from the flock, she spread her wings and corkscrewed down to survey the land as she dropped.

That smoke was too thick for hunters—both human or fae. Was it a catastrophe? A wildfire? She concentrated on her connection to the gully and immediately felt something was wrong but couldn’t understand why.

She buzzed closer, coasted, buzzed forward, then a horrendous crash vibrated through the gully. She startled. Trees screamed as they were cut viciously from their root systems. Someone was logging. No, it was worse than logging—they were reaping. Raiding.

“Humans ,” she hissed.

It must be. Fae would work harmoniously with the trees. Elves magically grew plants for furniture and buildings to not hurt the forest. That scream—it could also be Oak Men. They sometimes looked so similar to the trees that it was hard to tell them apart. A human would have no clue.

Keeping her small shape to avoid detection, Nyra flew closer to the disruption.

It definitely wasn’t loggers—although they’d cut down a few trees to make space.

The sound came from a metal machine on wheels.

It had a manticore’s tail that reached over its head and dug into the ground, tearing it up to expose what lay beneath.

Digging?

Taking?

That was the source of the most pain. A group of humans stood around the hole. Some worked on unearthing while others stood guard. Some cut wood from the tree they’d felled and piled the offcuts into an awaiting vehicle.

Nyra’s eyes narrowed. She barely held back her snarl.

These were the same kind of humans who’d killed her fathers.

Metal was forbidden in Elphyne. It blocked the flow of mana from the Well.

It wasn’t so bad in its raw mineral form, but no magic flowed through it when processed.

Only Guardians—the ruthless warrior protectors from the Order of the Well—had the power to use mana and still hold forbidden substances.

But they were far away from here. Getting a message to them in time would be impossible.

It looked like this group of humans was halfway through their job.

A spark drew her attention to a blond, long-haired soldier wandering from the main group to light his cigarette.

Dressed in dirty khaki and with his hair tied, the man looked like something dragged from the inkiest pits of the Well.

He moved with the coiled danger of a predator.

Probably thought he was entitled to do as he pleased because of his brute strength.

She scoffed. All humans thought they were entitled to do as they pleased.

Nyra’s temper soared when the soldier flicked ash onto the ground.

Didn’t he realize how irresponsible that was?

She should burn his head to see how he liked his furry bits smoldering.

Someone needed to teach him a lesson. Attacking this group was stupid on her own.

But maybe she could pester this lone guard…

just a little before heading back and sounding the alarm.

If she couldn’t do this alone, how could she plan to rule the tribe without a harem?

Yes, this would be a good test, Nyra thought. If she failed, she would stop waiting for her wings to create dust and let Colt pick her consorts. At least Nyra’s mother would be happy.