Page 45 of The Pactbound Angel (The Soul Mirror Duet #1)

The Fey Dragon Dealer

Just one more to go.

Anticipation, fear, and more than a little anxiety, made my steps heavy. It was plain the last mischief hag was the one who stole from Raewyn and me. The one who took my creativity and my sister’s beauty like they were nothing.

Years ago, I asked Raewyn if her scars ever bothered her.

She told me they didn’t, but that my scars did.

I was confused, as I didn’t have scars. She said that the scars on her skin were much easier to deal with than the scars on my heart.

What’s outside can be covered, but what’s inside always bleeds.

It’s past time to stop the bleeding.

Would we be enough to defeat her? Unlike the others, this one was in the middle of a city, possibly surrounded by followers or supplicants. Would we have to deal with more than just her?

These thoughts, and more, bent my spirit and my shoulders.

We traveled on the dirt road, thankfully dry but no less dusty, with thick forest on either side.

Heavy winds whipped through the red, gold, and orange trees, tossing the leaves and branches about wildly.

Raewyn ended up pulling her long hair out of her mouth more than once, eventually having to borrow a length of leather to tie it back like I did.

The birds were noticeably quiet. I looked overhead and spotted dark clouds on the horizon, in the direction we were traveling.

A storm is coming.

Above the howl of the wind, I heard humming ahead. And what sounded like animal cries.

We rounded the small bend to see a short fey standing next to a large cart pulled by two blue-colored mules.

The fey’s hairy goat-like legs ended in black hooves and his upper body was humanoid and bare, except for the multitude of bone and ivory necklaces tangling in unruly and copious amounts of chest hair. Capra fey.

Several elven soldiers, all dressed differently, milled about bored while they all hummed the same unfamiliar tune.

Mercenaries. Almost certainly.

Inside the cart were a dozen small wicker cages, stacked up three high and each filled with a strange and fantastical animal I’d never seen before. They all were crying and mewling pitifully. Suffering.

Halting, it took a moment for my brain to catch up to exactly what I was seeing. The shock of it blanked my thoughts. Until it didn’t.

My hackles rose up like a swift tide, and my hand flew to the grip of my sword.

Fucking Dark Drop.

Red anger made me assess whether or not I could take the entire band myself. I counted ten mercenaries, all well armed and very large, and the bastard fey who appeared to be the leader.

M.A.L.C.O.L.M. could take a few, same as me. Ramiren, maybe one or two. Raewyn, maybe one or two. Georgina? I‘m not sure…

Then, a hand on my arm, Raewyn’s hand, made me stop to really consider the situation. Georgina is not a trained warrior. Ramiren has some training, but it’s not his specialty. Raewyn is no shrinking violet, but that matters little against a practiced blade wielded by someone whose job is violence.

That leaves me and the automaton.

I can’t do that to them.

A deep breath allowed me to calm myself enough to think clearly. We can’t win by brute force, and even if we did win, we’d get hurt, possibly killed.

“I said, get in there!” the capra fey yelled at the creature before him.

It looked like a tiny dragon, except for the vibrant pink and purple butterfly wings that sprouted from its back.

Its white iridescent scales shimmered even in the dim light as though lit from within.

Its tiny spiked head lowered at the harsh command, and its ears pulled down as though afraid.

It mewed like a cat and slunk into the cage as the fey slammed the door shut.

No. We have to win in another way.

I shot Ramiren a hard look that hopefully conveyed my intentions and approached the cart, the others following behind. Raewyn squeezed my arm and whimpered, “We need to-”

“I know.” I called out to the group, “Sir, what are you doing?”

It was supposed to come out as a simple, curious question, but my anger hadn’t entirely receded. Even to my ears, it sounded more like an accusation than an inquiry.

The capra fey wheeled around and grabbed a pitchfork from the side of the cart, waving it at us. “No closer! These are mine!” The elven mercenaries woke up from their stupor and rushed over, forming a semicircle around the fey with their weapons half-drawn.

I stopped in the middle of a step at his threat. There wasn’t enough coin on me to purchase them all. We couldn’t take the mercenaries and steal the animals. And we couldn’t just leave.

Instantly, it came to me.

Feint like Ramiren .

“I have a longsword. My broodling friend here has a rapier. My sister really likes animals, and this gnome has an angry automaton. Do you truly think a pitchfork and some hapless thugs would stop us if we had planned to take everything you owned?”

“Might be. Might be your weapons are for show, aye? Now, what can I do for you, whore?”

I channeled my mother with what was hopefully a menacing smile.

“If I may…” Ramiren stepped forward, and extended his arms to his sides, both as a greeting and to show he had no weapons. “Friend, perhaps we might come to an arrangement. I am guessing you capture and sell these animals?”

“Aye, and what’s it to you?” He lowered the pitchfork slightly and eyed Ramiren with a squinty glare. “You mean to buy?”

“I have money! I have lots of money!” Raewyn exclaimed behind me.

The fey’s eyes twitched Raewyn’s way, and he grinned, his teeth showing more gold than white. “Yeah? Well, isn’t that nice. I don’t deal in money, bitch. I deal in favors.”

“Then, how would the favor of the King of Tanta sound, hm?” Ramiren said, his tone enticing.

The fey’s pointed ears perked up, and he fully lowered his pitchfork. “Might do. Might do. How would you go about giving that to me, hm?”

Ramiren replied smoothly. “I am a pactmaker, fey. I have a favor owed to me by that very same king. I would be willing to transfer that favor to you via a contract.”

“Pactmaker, eh?” The fey looked around at his mercenaries. “No funny business, hear.”

“Of course not. Now, the question remains. What would that favor be worth to you?” The magical scroll puffed into existence again, the one he used to jot down Leraska’s directions and my own pact details, and began to record everything said with an invisible hand .

The fey looked back to his cart and hummed. “Your group may choose one.”

Raewyn whispered, “One? Just one?” I looked back to see tears brimming in her eyes.

“I accept those terms.” Ramiren stepped forward. “Though a pact requires payment to the pactmaker. Give me another, and I will deem it paid.”

The fey gritted his teeth at Ramiren. For a moment, I thought he would back out and refuse, but he finally nodded. “Fine, but only if the red bitch and the dumb whore choose them.”

Ramiren kept his face placid as he inclined his head in agreement.

“The King of Tanta’s favor for one of Raewyn’s choice and one of Nathalia’s choice.

As we are giving a favor, an intangible item instead of something appreciable or a service, the pact cannot be dissolved.

If you are agreeable, the pact is sealed. ”

The fey replied, as though he had been waiting to say the words, “Aye. The pact is sealed.”

Ramiren’s eyes flashed like a campfire. “I assume you are aware of the consequences of a broken pact?”

“Aye, I’m aware.”

Ramiren looked back at Raewyn’s teary face. His voice and eyes softened. “You choose one.”

“The little white dragon. With the butterfly wings. Please,” Raewyn said quietly.

“The white dragon is the first,” Ramiren said, turning back around.

“Oh, the fey dragon?” The fey looked over his shoulder at the cart and seemed to consider a moment. “Good. That one gives me trouble anyway. And the second?”

Ramiren looked at me. “You choose.”

I would sooner choose a favorite book. All deserve protection. Including animals.

My eyes washed over the animals. Some looked at me. Some looked at each other or their surroundings. Most kept their eyes on the fey, their tormentor. All of them were dirty and hunched, stuffed into too small cages for far too long.

The fey stomped his hoof into the dirt like a child. “Hurry up, whore.”

I need all of them set free. But how?

Ramiren murmured to me, “You can choose anything in front of you, Nathalia. Anything .”

But the only thing in front of me is…

Oh.

I wondered if it would work. I prayed it would work.

My eyes dropped to the fey glaring at me. “I choose you, capra fey.”

He straightened and screwed his face. “Eh? Are you simple, too? I said ‘choose one animal’ .”

“Mm. No, you said ‘choose one’. You did not specify the animals. I choose you to take.”

“Hmm, it seems she’s right,” Ramiren intoned in what I knew to be artificial surprise, looking over the hovering scroll as he tapped his bearded chin.

“You did not specify an animal in the cart.” Ramiren let that statement hang in the air as he turned his attention to the fey in front of me.

“You simply said ‘choose one’ and failed to define what we were to choose.”

The fey sputtered, “Well, that’s silly! You knew what I meant!”

Ramiren hummed, still reading over the scroll. He spoke absently, “Perhaps you thought we, being not fey, were easy pickings. After all, if we failed to specify correctly, you could have handed us whatever animal you liked.”

The fey looked at his mercenaries, who all shrugged. He turned back to us and shrieked in rage, “Double crossers!”

Time to pounce. “No more than you tried to do to us. I will, of course, take the rest of the animals in your stead.” I smiled widely, hopefully not betraying my utter glee.

“Whore! Dumb, stupid whore!” The fey’s face had turned a curious shade of purple.