Page 37 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

The very idea of keeping the dryad was ridiculous and antiquated.

Fairies of old did such things. It was a moniker our species had yet to completely shed.

Threats of being whisked away to Fairy, never to be seen again, were stories other species told around campfires and during thunderstorms as a way to frighten children.

As with most stories, such tales held more than a kernel of truth.

Stealing another was outlawed centuries ago.

Of course, there were ways to argue that particular law, starting with the very definition of stealing.

My mind wandered down twisting legal paths. I began formulating a viable argument challenging the definition of stealing. My mind splintered, exploring different avenues, following each and every one to their inevitable conclusion, eliminating the paths that led to perceived failure.

I barely contained my physical jerk when Todrik’s smaller hand landed on my arm. I stared at the spot he’d struck me and asked, “Did you just slap me?” I could not believe the audacity of this tiny dryad.

“Don’t act so offended.” Todrik crossed his arms, chin jutted out and eyes narrowed. His foot tapped against the carpeted floor. “You aren’t even paying attention. That’s so rude.”

My lids did a slow blink. “And you believe that gives you the right to touch me? A fairy?” Who did this dryad think he was?

My icy tone should have sent shocks of fear rushing through Todrik. He should be falling all over himself with apologies. Instead, he rolled his eyes and huffed. “Your species doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole.”

I quirked a brow. “That is a matter of opinion.” Power cloaked many ills, including personality flaws. One did not have to play nice when one had the ability to utterly destroy another.

Todrik shrugged. “Maybe. But I call it like I see it. Jamila taught me that.” Poking a finger at my chest, Todrik accused, “Power doesn’t equal the right to live and treat others like dirt. My life is just as important as yours.”

I sneered while pushing his finger off my chest. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely.” Todrik seemed very sure of himself. This Jamila he spoke so fondly of certainly hadn’t done Todrik any favors by filling his head with such altruistic bullshit.

It was time to teach this tempting little fool a lesson. A dryad should have known better than to berate a fairy, especially one with my affinity. I threw my magic Todrik’s direction. Plants of all kinds bent to my will, and dryads were no different.

My magic slammed into Todrik, wrapping around his own. I furiously invaded Todrik’s core, all too ready to wrest control from him and bring this dryad to heel. I had a plan. I had a mission. I had a goal. I had—my breath caught. I’d barely brushed up against Todrik’s magic, and I faltered.

Warmth . Deliciously glorious warmth. But it wasn’t just warm; it was like falling into a vat of honey. My magic didn’t want to control Todrik’s. It wanted to swim in its divinity. For lack of a better word, my magic shivered, rolling over on its back and exposing its tender belly to him.

My eyes slid closed as my body went lax.

I’d never experienced something like this before.

It was simultaneously frightening and exhilarating.

I wanted to run, and yet I never wanted to let go.

My emotions were at war with my pride, and I had a frightening feeling which would win if given enough time.

Yanking my magic back, the lost connection made me stumble, and I had to grip the reception desk to remain upright.

“Hey, are you okay?” Todrik took a step toward me, and I immediately held up a halting hand. I had no idea what I would do if he touched me again, and I was embarrassed enough already. “I’m sorry. I…” Todrik sank his teeth into his lower lip, his large pale green eyes staring up at me with concern.

“It is nothing.” That was such a stretch as to border on lying. Fairies didn’t lie. We didn’t need to. However, that didn’t stop us from twisting the hell out of the truth. “I am fine.” Also a stretch, but I fully intended to be fine in the future.

“Oh. Okay.” Todrik took a step back. His mouth opened and closed as if he were contemplating what to say. Given Todrik’s unaffected appearance, it would seem his magic did not have the same reaction to mine, and that thought irked me.

Less shaky and feeling more like myself, I relaxed my death grip on the reception desk.

I should send this little dryad on his way.

While I may not understand what his presence did to me, it was clear being around him did something .

I longed to reach out to his magic again, but at the same time, the thought frightened me.

Such an insignificant being should not affect me in such a way.

Todrik was a liability. Whether he knew it or not, Todrik held power over me, and that was unacceptable.

I should send him away. More than that, I should strike him from the earth.

Fairy law prohibited random killings, but I could always argue the dryad was a threat.

Of course, that would mean I found such a benign creature threatening.

I did not think my pride would ever recover. Such an admission would lower my status in Fairy. I would rightly be viewed as weak.

No. I would not slaughter the dryad. I attempted to convince myself the only thing holding me back was a combination of Fairy law and my pride. I didn’t like the way my gut clenched at the thought of harming the dryad or the empty pit his absence was sure to leave behind.

Let him go, part of my mind screamed while an equally loud voice yelled, Keep him. At a loss, I stared into the empty space of my office and said, “Come back tomorrow and we will discuss your case.”

I didn’t wait for further comment. Without a look back, I opened an atmospheric tear and walked through, hoping that being back in Fairy would soothe my pounding hearts and settle my frantic mind .

T odrik

“And he just left?” Lilibeth asked. “That doesn’t sound like any fairy I know.

Not that fairies don’t up and leave like a fart in the wind, just…

not the way you’re describing.” Her lips turned into a frown while her large, brown eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Are you certain it was Hamish McIntyre you spoke with?” Lilibeth leaned back into my trunk, her gaze upturned toward my branches.

“As certain as I can be,” I answered. Brownies were one of the few creatures I could speak to while in my tree form. Lilibeth had been Jamila’s friend and often sat alongside my witch. Lilibeth was the one that found me after my first transformation, cradling Jamila’s corpse, her soul long gone.

“Hmm…curious.” Lilibeth ran her fingers through the grass growing near my trunk. “I wish I could help more. A lot of folks think that because brownies and fairies are made up of magic, we understand each other. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

My branches dipped with my internal sigh.

The sun felt good on my leaves, and the wind was gentle as it tugged at my blossoms. My blooms were no longer at Gaia’s whim.

They bloomed when I wished. Some days, I let them loose, filling the air with their sweet scent.

Other days I was content to allow a simpler version of myself.

Evidently, today I was in a mood to show off.

I told myself it had nothing to do with the memory of how Hamish reacted to my blossoms.

“Do you think he’ll take your case?” Lilibeth held up her finger, allowing a swallowtail to land on her dark skin.

“I don’t know. He left in a hurry with only the promise of meeting tomorrow.”

Lilibeth was silent for a beat before she kindly asked, “Do you want me to go with you this time? The arrogant fairy might think twice if he knows a brownie’s on your side. ”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think this is something I need to do on my own.” I wasn’t a complete fool and added, “Pulling you into the fray will be plan B.”

Lilibeth nodded. “Always wise to have a backup.” She grew quiet again.

Her weight was slight and nowhere near burdensome as she leaned against me, her gaze taking in the peaceful woods and gently sloping dip leading to the woods.

Wildflowers bloomed across the rolling hills leading to the denser vegetation.

This hill was where my seedpod landed. It was where Jamila found me when I was but a tiny sprout.

I’d been so out of place here. The wind had been harsh and the winters cold.

If not for Jamila, I doubt I would have survived those first few years when my bark was more tender and my roots too shallow.

She’d sheltered me when it was cold and offered water when Gaia withheld her bounty.

In every way imaginable, I owed Jamila my life.

“It truly is beautiful here,” Lilibeth mused.

“It’s easy to see why Jamila loved this spot.

I can’t believe her children sold the land.

” Lilibeth shook her head. “She left them enough. There’s no good reason beyond greed.

” My own thoughts echoed the disgust lacing Lilibeth’s words.

“If Jamila had known this was what they’d do, she would have left the land to me.

” Patting my trunk, she added, “If she’d known what you’d become, she would have left the land to you, Todrik. Of that, I have no doubt.”

But Jamila hadn’t known. Her love, followed by her death, gave birth to the being I was now.

That was the way of things. It was how some dryads were born.

Magic alone wasn’t enough. Love was needed as well.

Some believed love was the strongest magic of all.

Maybe that’s why spells, charms, and potions weren’t enough.