In a world of elves, beastfolk, nymphs, and undead, we humans are the bottom of the barrel. We possess neither exquisite beauty, nor fearsome strength. The only advantage we possess is sheer numbers.

"Good day, Elise," I greet a fey trader.

"And you," she replies with a smile. Her cloak seems less bulky today. She shrugs it off her shoulders, flashing an elegant, tightly bound emerald corset.

"Here to buy?"

"Depends. It's for the courts, and they're feeling picky." She surveys the dirt road leading deeper into town. "I may have to go visit that damned alchemist, too."

I wince. "Sorry. I know you two had a falling out."

Elise shrugs. "If I knew she felt that way about fairies, I would have told her outright that I wasn't a full-blooded elf. Of course, if she hadn't sprung that trap on the bloody prince, she'd probably still have those fingers."

Giggles creep up my throat. "I've heard the story, but it's still funny. So what are you hunting for?"

"Other than a new ravishing human lover?" She waggles her eyebrows with comic exaggeration, eliciting more giggles from me. "Sleep tonic, truffle oils, silk cording, and iron cuffs."

"Iron cuffs? For a fairy?"

She rolls her eyes. "New fetish, I think. It's not that she couldn't get the iron, it's just hard to convince a sidhe to work on something that liquefies their skin before reaching melting point."

I grin. "Ok. Well, the blacksmith will definitely have manacles. You know where to find silk. The truffle oils should be doable; we just got some halfling merchants that have every kind of mushroom imaginable. The sleep tonic, though…"

A sigh escapes Elise's lips. "I know, I know. The damned bitchy alchemist." She scowls, and sets off towards town. She tosses a copper coin behind her, payment for the information.

I catch the coin. Fey metalwork is absolutely beautiful. The curls and script shine brightly in the morning light, not a speck of grime on them. I'll never understand how everything the fey touch is so clean.

The shopkeep growls from behind me. "You know I don't like you mixin' with them elves. Ain't right."

My face carefully transitions into a polite mask of neutrality, and I turn to face the older woman. "Yes ma'am."

"They're tricky. It's what they do, all them allusions an' such."

"I'm sorry. She just pays me for information, I try to keep on her good side. As a business relation, you see."

She grunts and wanders back in the shop.

I let my gaze meander back in the direction of Elise, the beautiful fey tradeswoman. I would give anything to be as beautiful as her. Her graceful movements, glittering eyes..

But no.

My handwork reclaims my attention. I will never be that lovely. If I'm lucky, I'll be married to a nice merchant in the next couple of years, and I'll get a small house to keep. I can be comfortable, if never rich and beautiful. There won't be emerald corsets, but I can get some new hazelnut ones. Maybe a white one for the wedding. And after the wedding, if I can find some spent rouge, I might be able to dye it a really light pink. That will be the prettiest I will ever be, in that little pink corset, scrubbing my husband's clothes in a stream with a bun in the oven.

"GIRL!" bellows the shopkeep's husband from the window above the shop. "Up here! Now!"

I wince. He's probably heard about Elise's visit, and wants to make sure I get the message. I leave my needlework on the table outside the shop, and meekly head upstairs.