Origin of the Pixies

by FountainPenguin

"I wasn't finished." Setting my glasses down on Cupid's stack of translations, I leaned back on my rusty stool. "The Wolbachia pipientis bacteria changes the entire reproductive system of the host insect. Those who've caught it don't just lose the ability to reproduce with other species. They gain the ability to reproduce parthenogenetically." (Written March 2016 - Ongoing)

30. What Karma Is

A/N - Welcome back, everyone! It took a year, but now that Frayed Knots has caught up to Origin, we are officially off hiatus! Where we left off, Fergus Whimsifinado had recently been coronated Head Pixie the First, and he's due to meet with either Iris Needlebark or High Count Anti-Bryndin for a chat…

This chapter parallels the Frayed Knots chapter "Age-Old Story"

(Posted December 26, 2018)

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What Karma Is

Winter of the Red Petals

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"Something…" I made a dish with my hands, opening and closing them while Rice watched from the foot of my bed, his cheek propped on his paw. "… stiff, but bendable. It needs pouches on the inside that can hold parchments. Like shelves, but sideways. Folders. That's the word. Folders resistant to creases. Does that make sense?"

"Cute concept, bundt cake," he said. "Small market."

I pushed my fist across my groggy eyes. "You don't think it will sell? It was a good product in my dream."

"Nah. Only ink addicts like you need to organize parchment. No one else cares."

"Hm…"

Half a dozen knocks suddenly sounded at my bedroom door. In my pouch, Keefe started and began to squirm. "It's unlocked," I called, but although the knocking stopped, no one came in. I shoved my blankets aside and went to open it. Automatically, Rice jumped down from my bed and trotted at my heels, the square tags on his purple collar jingling. When I opened the door, I was immediately showered with blue and brown streamers and magical bubbles.

"Happy Winter Turn, sir!" hollered half a dozen voices.

"What?" I asked, blinking flecks of glitter from my eyes.

"Winter Turn." Hawkins didn't lower the arms he'd flung into the air. "It's the holiday that means autumn is over and it's winter now."

"I know what it means." Yep, that was definitely glitter. Glitter gets everywhere. I rubbed my eye with the heel of my hand. "I just didn't realize the date was already here. Where are my glasses?"

Sanderson pointed to the collar of my shirt. Right. I fit the frames over my nose and looked around at the eight faces crowding my hallway. Nine. Madigan was there with Springs sitting on his head, while Keefe continued fidgeting in my pouch.

"I said we shouldn't wake you," Wilcox insisted. "It was Bayard's idea."

"I make bad choices every day," Bayard told me seriously.

"Wonderful. Happy Winter Turn to all of you. May we enjoy yet another season that in the cloudlands looks exactly the same as the last one. Now, out." I pointed at the stairs behind them. "I don't have time for this. I have almost 3,747 things I need to do this week. Go outside and find useful chores to do. Take Keefe with you, and give me Springs. Stay out of my office, and don't bother me until Monday."

Longwood hung his head and trudged off, with the rest of my pixies in sheepish tow. Cradling Springs in one arm, I shut the door behind them and made sure it was locked. The nymph went on the bed. Rice watched me head to my closet, then hopped back on my bed and smirked.

"You know, there is a Zodii myth about how curmudgeonly old Saturn hated winter holiday cheer so much, he decided to spend each Late Autumn seducing the Water spirit Sunnie just to keep him too distracted to make snow… Hating winter holidays is kinda considered a snickerdoodle of an opinion these days."

"Oh, shut up," I called from my closet. "I'm serious. I have work to do. It's not my fault it happens to coincide with 'the most wonderful time of the year.'"

"Whatever you say, cherry pie."

I found the pants I was looking for and came out of the closet again. I grabbed my hat from the bedpost and pulled it over my head. "I never understood what's so special about Winter Turn anyhow. As far as I'm concerned, it just means we're entering the last quarter of the year. The seasons change every three months of our entire lives, but they all expect a present for it every time. I thought I'd made my position on free presents clear when I began giving them allowances. Ambrosine and Emery have ruined them. Don't they realize that last week, I took every one of them shopping for clothes? Ungrateful snots."

Rice beat his tail back and forth. "If I remember correctly, isn't there also an adorable winter story to be read around the pretty trellis while the cookies are passed out and the fire burns low?"

"That's for babies," I grumbled, pushing Springs towards my pouch with my hand. "Okay. Get ready to play detective with me. We have a job to do."

He lifted his head. "Huh?"

"There was that robbery in the Pink Castle library last night, remember? A broken ipewood wand with my name on it was left at the scene. I need you to help me prove my pixies innocent."

Rice blinked. "Are they?"

"Yep."

His ears cocked forward. He gave me a strange look, then shook himself out. The tags on his collar rattled again. "Are you even allowed to bring a cù sith into the Pink Castle?"

"Sure. I can't think of a better place for one. It's a building of order and purity, and you're a creature of morals and law. Match made on Plane 23."

Rice stretched out his forepaws and arched his back. "Fair enough. I'll get a drink, then we'll move out, sweetheart."

While he lapped at his water dish, I dressed myself in the gray suit the Purple Robe had created for me. When I stepped from my closet again, Rice paused.

"Hang on. You're not wearing that, are you?"

I looked back at the mirror on my closet door. My hair stuck out of my hat a little weird, so I licked my palm and pushed it under. "What's wrong with it?"

"This is the Pink Castle, baby!" Rice licked his muzzle and bounded up to me. "The Fairy Elder's place of biz-o-ness! We gotta look sharper than strudels."

"I actually don't want to show up at a crime scene looking like I got rich selling stolen goods, thanks. Also, why would I listen to a naked dog's fashion advice anyway?"

Rice leaned his head against my knee. "Because we're friiiiiends."

"I hardly consider us friends," I said, pushing him away. "My understanding is that you'll snatch my body for your own and land me in that doggy suit the instant the opportunity arises."

"Well." Rice folded a modest forepaw over his chest. "We're conditional friends. Anyway, I have a job to do, angelcake. You want me around to scare you into not engaging any other gynes in combat, remember? What's the point if you don't keep me around to wow the crowds with this cute pumpkin-eating face?"

"I took you in as an insurance policy to keep me from killing my pixies without giving them the chance for a fair fight," I corrected. "That shouldn't be a problem at the Castle. Away from my territory, my instincts tend towards protecting my offspring. Not that they'll even be around. I want to get out of here before Sanderson finds out."

"Happy pup, happy trip," Rice quipped.

"That doesn't rhyme."

"Who said it had to rhyme, peach cobbler?"

I rolled my eyes. "Then what do you suggest I wear?" I asked, because I could.

Rice looked through my closet while I checked the to-do list and other notes I'd scribbled for myself the day before. With a few waves of his star-tipped tail, he levitated a few things out and kept them floating for me to see. "This," he said, pointing upwards with his paw. The mess he'd put together turned out to be a floral-patterned navy blue shirt, a white bowtie, and a pair of black pants that probably wouldn't be as tight on me now as the last time I'd worn them. "Thanks to me, you'll be one stylish hot rod in no time. I was born with an innate sense for seductive charm."

"I, um…" I bit my lip. Carefully not saying "I can't wear this," I instead said, "I'm not sure I really want to wear this today. It doesn't seem very professional to me."

"It's in your closet, sugar. Give it a whirl."

"Yeah, but… That's the shirt I wear to clubs when I specifically want to kick back and flirt with damsels. And those pants are for special nights. Not a fan of bow ties. Also, my ex-wife gave me that jacket you've pulled out, so no."

Rice glanced back at me. "Well, you've definitely got the bod to pull it off."

"Do I?" I looked down at my stomach with new eyes. I mean, I had lost weight in the Eros Nest, and some of my muscles actually existed after five hundred years of climbing trees and re-organizing boulders. "Ehh…"

"Trust me." Rice put his forepaws on my calf. "This will attract all the fritzy dames."

"The ideal is that I'll only be outside for ten seconds."

"You'll attract a hundred dames in ten seconds, spice cake. Plus, you're on magic ration. No poofing. You've gotta be outside."

"Pinging." I massaged my knuckles with one hand. "I don't normally wear my nightlife things in the daylight…"

"Uh-huh. Excuses excuses, cookie dough. Show me a cloudlands with a notable sunrise and sunset, and then we'll talk."

I stared at the floral shirt, biting my lip harder. "I'm a head of state. I have an image to maintain."

Rice sat back on his haunches and held his arms up in a shrug. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Yeah… Yeah, you're right. Sure I'm Head Pixie now, but I'm still me. What's wrong with dressing down every now and again? All my pixies are babies. The Fairy Council wouldn't dare strip me of my title. If they can't replace me, they can't touch me." I snatched the clothes from the air and floated towards my washroom. "Eat breakfast or whatever. I'll be out in a moment."

I dressed standing up so as not to squish Springs. Short-sleeved shirt. Casual jacket left unbuttoned. Good. Familiar. As an afterthought, I pulled on the wool boots I usually reserved for dumb rave nights. Why not? Today was an 'I want to dress special for no reason' kind of day. I'd just served five hundred years in the Eros Nest, followed by several days of political stress and interpersonal toil and preceded by working my wings to stubs keeping Wish Fixers afloat year upon year. I deserved this.

"Yesss!" When I left the washroom fully dressed in my casual stuff, Rice held up his paw for a high-four, which I delivered on. "How you feeling, icing drip?"

"Rebelliously stylish." I looked at myself in the mirror again, and this time I grinned. I ran my finger under my cap and pulled out that lone sloppy tuft I'd tucked away before. "Floral print always seems to be in fashion in Fairy World. I'm not complaining. Brings back fond memories. Smoof if I don't love it."

"Fritzy boy is on his way to town! Stride of pride, baby!"

"Don't I know it. I feel like myself again for the first time in millenia. Let's go."

Rice kept pace to me as we made our way downstairs to the manor's front door, him mimicking flirty damsels and me chuckling with my hands in my pockets. Ambrosine barred my way with his walking stick.

"Where are you off to so early in the morning dressed like that?"

"Going for a walk with this goofball," I said, with a meaningful look at Rice. He put out his tongue with innocent excitement at the thought of romping around outdoors. "He needs his exercise. I'm planning to swing by Faeheim today. I haven't done any shopping for Winter Turn presents."

Ambrosine shifted his gaze between me and the cù sith. After a few seconds of silence, his cautious faith in Rice's lie-detecting abilities won out. He lowered his stick and moved aside. I gave him a mock salute on my way out the door.

"It's been sprinkles since I've been to Faeheim," Rice told me, bounding down the front steps three at a time.

Technically I was on magic ration, but today, I decided to make an exception. With a ping, I materialized a gray tote bag on my arm. This, I offered to Rice. "You walking or riding?"

Rice gaped at me for a few seconds, then jumped in the bag. His head and forepaws came out again. "I could get used to this, cinnamon!"

"Don't call me that."

He gave me a strange look, but nestled down without complaint. I buzzed my wings and went off to find Emery. She looked me up and down, then said, "But you're still meeting with Iris today, right?"

"Maybe. Anti-Bryndin also invited me to the Blue Castle in Anti-Fairy World tonight for a High Count and Head Pixie meet-up, so I'm also trying to fit that in."

Emery slid her hands inside the pocket at the bottom of her shirt. "Ooh… Please stay alert and on guard. Anti-Bryndin has a certain way with words. Everyone says he's a master of seduction, and that if he really put his mind to it, he'd be impossible to resist."

"I don't flirt with Anti-Fairies, Emery," I said, lowering my eyelids halfway.

"No, I'm serious." Her eyes widened. "One of my friend's friends attended a social event in Anti-Fairy World once, and she said he was there and that he gave her the creeps. He has a real knack for analyzing people, picking up on their weak points and desires like it's nothing. He holds the Seat of Breath on the Anti-Fairies' camarilla court, I think. Winni." She shivered. "Winni's not just the spirit of Breath, but also the spirit of Communication. I don't know how I feel about you going over there… I mean, rumor has it that he can seduce anyone."

I snorted. "Until he met me, you mean. I think I could give him a run for his money. Also, I want to say that feelings are stupid and you shouldn't have them. Don't concern yourself with your big brother, Emery. He knows what he's doing. Sometimes."

"Just be careful," she insisted, drawing out her wand.

"Whatever." Typical romantic damsel, always anticipating love and lust to come out of every social interaction with a well-dressed man.

So she grumbled more than a little, but still flicked her wand and poofed us off to Faeheim. Rice and I materialized on one of the city's less-frequently used landing pads, on the open roof of a sprawling tourist shop. I stumbled and grabbed the handrail as our respective particles finished ordering themselves again. Thankfully, back into separate bodies.

"Oooh!" Rice slung his forelegs over the bar and sniffed at the air. "I smell sweet pastries! And for once I actually mean a dessert word, because I know what you're thinking. You wanna buy me one? 'Cuz we're such good friiiends?"

"What?" I opened my eyes again, slowly. The shiny cloudstone street lay far, far below me. Beetle-sized Fairies darted about like amoeba in a petri dish. My fingers tightened around the guardrail. "Oh… We don't have time for that. Probably." I stared at the passing Fairies for another minute, and my grip tightened even more. "I wish I could fly. Pixies are strictly a hover/gliding species and it's terrible. I mean, it's pretty much the worst."

Rice glanced up at me. "Too heavy?"

"Not enough internal magic, smoof. You know how Fairies have internal magic lines, or veins, or whatever you want to call them?" I kicked my foot at the base of a guard pole. "Pixies don't have a lot of those. Even maxed out with full energy field contact, it's not enough to let us truly fly. Even using magic while hovering is more difficult than it needs to be."

"You could jump the roofs," Rice offered through a yawn.

"Hm? You mean…" I appraised the buildings again, cocking one eyebrow. "Use the roofs for something other than their intended purpose? Is that allowed?"

"Why not?" Rice tucked his head between his forepaws. "Just be creative."

"Creativity's not really my thing." Still, I hovered there for more than a whole minute, gripping the strap of Rice's tote bag and staring at the flat-roofed buildings before me. I glanced at the drop far below us. I glanced at the roofs once more. "Then again… Jumping's not against the rules. They can't really accuse me of breaking the law ex post facto, right? Other Fairies are allowed to fly. Why wouldn't I be allowed to jump? We all have elastic, quick-healing bodies anyway." I moved a step closer to the building's edge. "Should I?"

"Cream yes!"

I scrutinized my intended landing point. "Dare me to?"

Rice laughed. "Double doggie dare."

"Nothing wrong with a little curiosity. Not like anyone else is up here with us." I set my foot on the guardrail and started boosting myself up. But I stopped. "Wait." I pulled back and put my hand in my hair. "I shouldn't do this."

"Aw, don't be an urvogel." Rice's tail beat against the inside of the bag. "Do the thing!"

"I just need a moment." I lifted Springs from my pouch and set him on the ground beside me. "There we go. Now he won't get jostled. Shaken nymph syndrome is a thing. I think. Actually Dr. Ranen says it's not, but who knows?"

"I have questions," Rice said, peering down from his tote.

"Oh, shoot. You're right. If I jump, how's he going to get across? He can't fly." I looked at Springs. I looked at the gap between us and the next building. I looked at Springs again. Then I picked him up and lifted him above my head. "Never mind. Problem solved. Time this little guy lived up to his name."

Rice wrapped his paws around my arm. "Whoa, hold on, hold on! What the frosted strawberries? Are you going to peppermint cocoa throw him?"

I looked at him again, too, but didn't lower Springs back to the ground. "Why not? It's not against the law. It's actually the better of two options. And nymphs bounce, right? This is literally the point of elastic exoskeletons."

"Well… Uh…"

"He's not your pixie," I pointed out, squeezing the squirming nymph with my fingertips. "He's mine. I don't have a problem with it. I don't see why anyone else should. Okay. Here we go, Springs. Keep your chin up."

Calculating distance comes naturally to a pixie, of course, and Springs landed exactly where I was aiming. On his rebound, he skipped halfway across the roof before crashing against some metal art sculpture thing and bouncing back. I leapt after him, pushing forward with my wings. Even if they lost momentum when I flew too high, at least steering was still an option. I stretched forward with my arms, grasped the new building's rail, and flipped over to my feet. Or tried to. I tipped too far and crashed on my back with a solid wumph.

"Oof… Whoa. Okay. I just jumped a roof as if I could fly. That's the most dazzled thing I have ever done in my life."

Rice slunk from his tote, stumbling from side to side. "Granola, that was a rough spin for an old boy…"

Springs crawled up to my chest and took my shirt in two tiny fists. "Poof poof."

"You liked that? You wanna go again?"

In response, he sighed contently and lay his cheek down on my stomach, like he wanted a nap.

"Well, that's that. I made it. So?" I flopped my arms to the side and smirked at Rice upside-down. "What say you? Am I sparkly or what?"

Rice stabilized himself and blinked. He reached a paw towards Springs and pulled the pixie against his side, even though Springs was mostly bigger than he was. "Yeah. Maybe I should take the tote bag from here, and put this little lemon bar in it. He's light, y'know? I'll carry him and fly solo."

"Oh yeah. I guess you can do that too." I thought for a sec, then shrugged. "Okay. Suit yourself, I guess. Now, what's the fastest way to the Pink Castle, as the pixie hops?"

So we crossed Faeheim in that manner. I got the system down without much trouble, until I reached the point where I could sprint across a flat roof at top speed, leap the rails, and keep going. Rice flew after me, weighed down by Springs. I didn't care. Passing Fairies gave us double-takes. On my next leap, I threw a flip and landed feet-first.

"Open skies! Physical challenge! Glorified stars, how I've missed this!"

When we reached the Pink Castle, the Purple Robe was waiting impatiently for us on the drawbridge. "Uh," he said when I slid down a slanted roof across the street and trotted up to meet him.

"Head Pixie, sir. Reporting for duty."

His eyes went up and down my figure. Mostly my floral shirt. I maintained my confidence, and he must have recognized me by my hat and scent if nothing else. Wordlessly, Purple stood aside and gestured for me to enter the Castle.

"I trust you spoke with your pixies," he said, drifting after me.

"About what? Oh. Stolen stuff. Right. Yeah. No. I didn't really see the need. I wanted to scout out the crime scene first."

He frowned. "Last night, you said you would speak with them first, then investigate our library."

I shrugged and took Springs back from Rice's offered bag. "I forgot."

"Head Pixie." Purple narrowed his eyes at me. "Four exceedingly valuable texts were stolen last night, despite the safeguards around the library and the Castle as a whole. This is a matter of severe importance."

"I know. And I brought help. I seem to remember you like fluffy animals." I pushed Rice across the shiny tile floor with my foot. "All righty. Sniff about and see what scents you can pick up. Focus on cinnamon. Everyone always tells me pixies smell like cinnamon."

Rice paused, one paw poised. His ears quivered. He turned his head. "'Everyone always tells you that'?"

My hands tightened. "That's an expression."

"Mmhm. Careful, sugarpoots. I almost caught you in your lies with that one." Rice lowered his nose and began sniffing the floor as the Purple Robe led us towards the library. We passed a few members of the cleaning staff, but they retreated as they sensed us coming. Once inside the library, Rice slowed down. He frowned, and began moving more carefully. I joined him, floating slowly between the shelves and tasting the air every few wingspans. Purple watched us from the door.

"Rice?" I called.

"I can scent you," he said, poking his nose doubtfully at the table where I'd met with the Council members before my coronation.

"Pixies besides me."

He came around a nearby shelf and licked one paw. "I've got nothing, chief."

"Seriously?" I glanced over my shoulder. "What do I even keep you around for?"

"Foreshadowing?"

I leaned back against the wall, pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. "Mmmm… Do we have another plan? Purple Robe, where were these stolen texts housed in the library?"

He withdrew a large brass key from inside his robes and drifted past me towards a metal door that looked like the entrance to a vault, but with a keyhole in its center instead of a wheel or elaborate code. "In here." After opening the door, he pointed at a spot on the tiled floor just in front of a padded chair. "That's where the wand was."

The chamber behind the vault door wasn't very large. I stared at the shelf directly to my left for almost ten seconds. "Purple? Can you remind me which texts were stolen?"

"Core Recovery, The Purest Form of Magic, The Three Months Before Counterparts, and Hosting Counterparts: A History," he said without hesitation.

"That's what I thought you said." I pulled all four scrolls off the shelf and held them out to him. "Looks to me like they're all right here."

The Purple Robe snatched them from my hand so fast, I thought he'd leave a scorch mark. He whipped open the scroll that had been tied with the black ribbon and scanned through to the bottom. The golden eyes glowing within his hood narrowed to gashes.

"This is it, but there's pixie magic all over it. I'd wager someone brought it out of here and made a copy."

"Who?" I asked as Rice padded up beside me.

"I don't know." The Purple Robe held the scroll out again, but didn't let go. "You tell me."

I sniffed the edge of the paper, running my tongue along the roof of my mouth. Hm. The Purple Robe was right. It was strangely faint, as though buried under a stronger avian scent over the course of several days, but I could pick up the signature cinnamon tang of pixie magic intertwined with fresh ink. And underneath it, I could also detect…

"Bananas. Mature pheromones." I looked up. "Purple Robe, I-"

"How many pixies produce mature pheromones?" he demanded, staring unblinkingly down at me.

"Well- Just me, but-"

"Head Pixie, did you steal from the Pink Castle's library?"

My hands went to my chest, palms forward. "Of course not. Even if I'd wanted to, I didn't exactly have a lot of time to pull off a scheme like this one. You escorted me everywhere yesterday. Practically." I put my foot on Rice's other side. "I wouldn't lie to you in front of a cù sith."

"Would you, though?" Rice asked.

Purple drummed his fingers against his folded arms. "I can't taste any cloning magic. Someone must have made a copy of these by non-magical means, then returned them."

"But there's no way any of my pixies had the time to copy everything by hand. I saw them all several times throughout the day. Besides, they don't read cursive very well."

"Someone must have made copies," the Purple Robe said stubbornly. "Then they brought the originals back. That's why the scrolls are here."

I stared at him, my forehead wrinkling. "Are you sure these were actually stolen?"

"They were stolen!" Purple's glowing eyes clenched shut. His hands flashed to fists at his sides. His knuckles began to glow violet. "The wand was on the floor! I saw it! I wasn't brainwashed! Anti-Bryndin doesn't brainwash me! I'm not crazy!"

"Whoa," I said, holding up my hands again. "Okay, sorry, Purple Robe. I wasn't trying to pick a fight. I was just asking."

The Purple Robe blinked at me, huffing and shaking slightly, then dropped into the reading chair and covered his face with his hands. "I'm not crazy," he mumbled again. "The scrolls weren't here last night… and I found the wand. The scrolls were surely stolen. I'm not crazy."

"You found a pixie's broken wand with my name on it," I remembered, and frowned. "Can I take a sniff?"

Unhappily, the Purple Robe rummaged around in the inner pockets of his robes again. He found the two halves of ipewood and dropped them both in my hand. I brought them to my nose and tasted the air. The thing about pixies is, our pheromones tend to smell alike, which makes it difficult for Fairies unfamiliar with us as individuals to sort us out. Except me, of course, Head Pixie and all. I pondered over the scents on the broken wand for a moment, because they didn't make sense to me. I could detect mature pheromones… and that weird snowy avian scent… and underneath it all…

My eyes widened.

"Do you recognize it?" Purple asked. Smoof. He'd noticed. I looked at him. I looked at the wand. I looked at Rice. The wand again.

"You recognize it," he accused.

"Purple Robe," I said carefully, "I'm definitely picking up traces of mature pheromones here. At this time, I am the only pixie capable of producing those kinds of scents. But I didn't steal your scrolls. I also don't use an ipewood wand. I use ulkroot for the power draw. That's what I know."

His suspicious stare stayed locked on the back of my head for the rest of our investigation. I had a hard time staying focused on my work.

When Rice and I returned to Pixie World, we headed straight for the cabin nearest my manor. I knocked twice on the door, but shoved it open anyway. Hawkins and Bayard were writing on paper at the card table. Caudwell and Wilcox (in rabbit form) sat on the couch in front of the low-burning fireplace. Madigan watched them from the stairs to the cabin's loft, sitting on his knees. All of them jolted to attention when I came in. I skimmed the row of faces, then raised my voice.

"Longwood!"

He pinged in front of me, his wand drawn. "Yes, sir?"

I pointed at his hand. "Where did you get that?"

He looked at his wand in confusion, then back at me. "From next to my bed…?"

"No. Where did you get it? Originally."

He tipped his head. "Um. Twinkletuft's Wandporium, I think? I mean, I was just a nymph."

I held out my hand for it. Longwood passed it over, still looking bewildered. Especially when Rice sniffed at his leg. I examined the wand's base. As I suspected, the bottom of the handle was covered in gnaw marks. The same gnaw marks found on the broken wand at the Pink Castle.

"Where were you yesterday?" I demanded, clenching my hand.

"Uh…" He shrugged. "Around? I woke up and ate breakfast. You taught us all the new rules and things. Then… I wrestled Sanderson, and then I came to talk to you about being Zodii. Then I went to bed." Longwood glanced anxiously at Rice, then at me again. "What's going on?"

I pointed to the cabin's loft area. "Go to your crawl space, and don't leave until dinner. Wilcox will bring you lunch."

"What? What did I do?"

"Longwood, go."

"What did I do, sir?" he asked again, staying where he was. I crossed my arms.

"I just came back from the Pink Castle. Someone broke in this week and stole a few valuable scrolls."

He blinked. "Oh… That's terrible. So, what does that have to do with me?"

Was he serious? I raised my eyebrow. "The Purple Robe suspects you. You and Keefe were the only pixies there this week besides me. Keefe can barely fly, and you're a kleptomaniac."

Longwood blinked a second time, and frowned. He placed his hand to his chest. "I didn't steal any scrolls. I stayed in that dressing room with Keefe while you and the Purple Robe were picking out your staff. Maybe Bayard did it. He's always goofing off."

Bayard raised his hand. "He's being totally fair, sir."

"Well, whatever. Go to your crawl space until I say you can come out again."

"But I didn't do anything wrong," he whined.

I rolled my eyes. As I pulled the cabin door shut behind me, I said, "I'm sure at some point you've done something wrong while I wasn't watching, so take the punishment for that."

"He wasn't lying," Rice said, poking his head farther from my bag. "Or if he is lying, he isn't aware he is. I can't touch him."

"Mmf." I rubbed my face with my hand. "I just don't know what to do. Half the evidence points to a pixie, but the other half insists that a pixie criminal makes no sense at all. Besides me, there are no pixies with mature pheromones." I looked again at Longwood's wand. "You see this gash down the side where the black paint peeled off to reveal the white wood underneath? The wand the Purple Robe showed me had peeled paint just like that. But that one was broken, and this one is whole."

"Evil twin?" Rice suggested.

"I take offense at the implication," I muttered, and floated inside my manor. We didn't get far before we met Sanderson, who stood in front of my office door with his hands on his hips.

"I have a question, sir."

"Sure, shoot me."

"Where are we going today?"

I paused. Right. Wednesday. "Well. Either to meet with Iris to talk about future angel godkids, or to have lunch with Anti-Bryndin and the other Anti-Fairy nobles. I haven't decided yet.

Sanderson blew a splutter of air past his forehead. "I thought so. That's why I asked. H.P., you have to choose. Aren't we supposed to let people know when plans change?"

"I will soon. I just got back from the Pink Castle. I want a minute to myself." I waved my hands to shoo him off. "Go. We can talk later. Right now, I'm taking my Me Time."

He hmphed loudly and skimmed off. I was pretty sure he buzzed his wings extra loud on purpose just to make a point.

"It's not a big deal, Sanderson," I called after him. "Whichever one I don't visit will realize I'm not coming without me being rude and bothering them over breakfast."

No response. I shook my head and let myself into my office. Rice went on the floor beside the food and water bowls I'd set out for him the day before. Pale light streamed in from the glass door that led outside. My scry bowl sat on one side of my desk, with several sheets of parchment stacked on top of it. I looked over and sighed.

Yeah. Loath as I was to admit it, Sanderson had a point. Technically it was polite to notify someone I wanted to cancel on, even if I had been trapped in the Eros Nest for 500 years and all I really wanted to do this week was kick up my feet and take time for myself. I was Head Pixie, after all. I wouldn't want to damage my brand new reputation right from the start. Fergus Whimsifinado had been a hotheaded punk. Maybe it was time I remade myself. I could push Fergus to the back of my head, and work hard to paint myself as even-tempered H.P. to everyone at all times instead.

I guess that settled that, then. If there was anything I needed to change about myself, the first thing on the list was probably my procrastination habits. Mmf. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy stimulating my mind by doing useful stuff. I just also wanted to pour myself a sparkling glass of orange cream soda from time to time, or play a board game against a so-called expert. But… even if I didn't like it much, I should make myself anew. Work now, rest later. I'd get around to collapsing in bed while kicking up my feet and smelling pleasant flowers someday. Eventually.

I leaned over my desk from the side opposite my chair, staring down into the scry bowl water. Iris. Anti-Bryndin. Iris. Anti-Bryndin. Both needed a scry, probably. But which one should I contact first?

Unable to make up my mind, I withdrew a click coin from my pocket and balanced it on my thumb. Crowns for one, swirls for the other. Wait. Who got the honor of being crown side? Did that show favoritism? Did choosing which one was which answer the question of which I valued more already? I mean, why bother flipping it then?

"That's rich," I muttered, staring at the green coin in my hand. "After five hundred years, I'm allowed to make my own choices again. And I kind of hate it."

Anti-Bryndin was half-anti-swanee, half-anti-fairy. He had his mother's simple anti-fairy crown. Iris was an alux, with a ridiculously oversized pink one encrusted with gems. The crown on the coin looked more like Anti-Bryndin's, so I decided to go with that. I flipped the coin and let it fall perfectly in the center of my palm. Crowns. Great.

I scryed Anti-Bryndin to ask if we were still on for lunch (Well, dinner in Anti-Fairy World), and when he answered, I braced myself for the worst. As expected, he didn't revoke his insistence that I "arrive for celebrating my honor among good company this Winter Turn."

Okay, fine, I thought, narrowing my eyes. Have it your way, doofus.

"If I come, I'll need to bring my young pixies. My father and sister both had to leave for work. My drones can't stay here in the village by themselves, and I can't find anyone to sit them."

Anti-Bryndin was silent, teeth nervously set. His eyes tracked left, then right across my face. "How many pixies will you bring?"

"Ten," I said firmly. No one welcomes ten unexpected guests to their party the day of.

"Then I will see you with ten pixies for dinner," he said, and ended the call.

Oh. I stared at the blank bowl for a few more seconds, then turned to Rice and pointed at it. "Did you hear him?"

Rice had settled on a cushion in the corner, chewing on a rubber steak. At my words, he glanced up. "Sure smoof. I'm not jealous."

"He's okay with this. I'm in shock. I mean, I'm not complaining. Any day I don't have to feed them is a good day in my book, so if he's hosting all of us then it's worth going just for that." I glanced at the ceiling, rubbing my cheek. "Winter Turn supper… I wonder if I'm the only Fairy he invited, or if there will be other gynes there. It's easier to resist the impulse to fight when we're in neutral territory, and I insisted we include 'Don't murder the Head Pixie' in Da Rules, but… I think I'd be more comfortable if you came along to make everyone think twice before they strike. Want to?"

Rice considered my offer, the steak squeaking between his teeth. He let it drop on his forepaws. "Either go with you and feel awkward, or stay here and feel lonely. Tough call, but I like to live on the edge. Count me one of your crew."

"Then I'd better get dressed. And then I'd better dress the others. I actually noticed Madigan today, and he was still in his pajamas. That's probably not fine."

"Wait, where are you going? Don't you still need to cancel on that Iris person?"

I glanced over my shoulder, but left my office anyway. "I'll do it later."

Rice squished his rubber steak between his paws. "Uh, and how are we even getting to Anti-Fairy World when you have no tram system, you're on magic ration, and your dad and sis aren't here to do the honors?"

"Oh, smoof. Don't stress it. I'll figure that out too."

In the end, I gathered my pixies together just outside the manor and unrolled something I'd found in the upper hallway closet: An old flying carpet with its blue threads faded into gray. "See?" I told Rice, sitting back on my heels. "I knew I'd think of something. Ambrosine gave me this for my 100,000th birthday. I'm glad he kept it all these years."

Rice lifted his leg… and scratched his ear. "We're gonna be late by a million decades."

"No, it's fine. Everybody on." When my pixies sat on the carpet, I counted their heads and frowned. "Wait. I'm missing one. Where's Madigan?"

"Here, sir," he said from behind me. I jerked my arms away and glanced back to see him floating there, sucking on three of his fingers.

"Geez, stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Blending into the energy field. Never mind." I pushed up my glasses. "Just get on the carpet."

When we finally did arrive at the Blue Castle, mostly on time, we were greeted immediately by a dozen Anti-Fairy volunteers, who assured me they were more than happy to keep my pixies were fed and entertained. At first I resisted, but they talked me into it after urging me not to bring extra guests into a very small and exquisite dining room. They promised they wouldn't be dragging my offspring out to any soul-sucking abysses that dropped down to the lowest point in the universe. So, with some reservation, I handed over all my pixies (except Keefe in my pouch) and headed through the statue-spotted courtyard in search of the front door. Halfway there, I halted.

"Why'd you stop?" Rice asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Mm. Thinking about stuff." I tore my attention away from a remarkably realistic statue that looked to be an anti-leprechaun in pain. "I just became very aware that I can't draw. I'm no good at art. Makes you wonder about the future."

"Eh?"

I shoved my hands in my pockets and floated slowly through the courtyard, head bowed. "What do you think is more important? Writing or art?"

Rice paused to sniff at a cobweb spread between the legs of a noble warrior's image. "I dunno. Is that a fair comparison to make? They're different cookies."

"If the Anti-Fairies were wiped off this planet, future people would be able to learn a lot about them by the art they leave behind." I grimaced. "Do you think anyone will remember pixies?"

Rice peered curiously up at me. With every step he took, the tags on his collar bounced against his chest. They glinted blood red in the low sunlight. "Remember what? Your architecture? Your looks? Your culture?"

"That's my point. Rice. Venus Eros said my pixies might be purple-borns."

That froze him. For three seconds, he stared forward. Then twisted half around. "What the nougat? That can still happen? I thought purple-borns were a thing of the old days, back when three counterparts raised their kids under the same roof, and jump-locking got more Fairies killed than sugar."

"I reproduce asexually." Leaning against an anti-ishigaq statue, I folded my arms around my stomach and stared up at the red sky. Black clouds oozed across it like fat snails. "I didn't know. The Triplets didn't know, so they never shot me with one of their dopamine arrows to assure it. I was just… going through life when I fertilized them. Half-fertilized them. Whatever. So that's it. My pixies are going to die with me. My race will die out. Give it a few decades and we'll be completely forgotten."

Rice watched me for a quiet moment. "So you really don't think they're fertilized with yellow magic?"

"No. There's no way. And Venus Eros gave me 18,000 years to live if I cut back on magic usage. I mean, she invented me a secret medicine to take, but who knows if that will help." I floated over him and continued on my way. "Sorta makes you wonder what the point of all this is, huh? Playing nice with ambassadors like the High Count. Voting for policies and people. Sending my pixies to school when they'll be dead before exam season. Seems stupid. It'll take longer than 18,000 years for Fairies and Anti-Fairies to make peace again. Wish I could be there to see it." At the front steps of the castle, where I found the double doors thrown open, I checked back to see Rice sitting in the grass, examining his paws. I lowered my voice. "I want to be a whole page in the textbooks someday. Not just a name on a census list. But there's nothing I can do."

Ironic, isn't it? All this magic at my fingertips… but the one thing I want, I can't have. I held my hand near my face, examining the creases with detatched care. I traced my thumb over one of them. When I pressed down, a soft rush of glittering magic swirled up from the center of my palm. And blemished King Nuada was forced to step down when he lost his hand with honor, I thought ruefully, then shoved my own away again.

At that very moment, I spotted Sanderson flying towards us from the other side of the statue garden. When he reached us, he straightened primly and tilted back his head. "I told the Anti-Fairies I was your alpha retinue drone, sir. They said I could come."

"Oh, definitely. I haven't had a proper retinue in so long, it slipped my mind to ask. Sharp thinking, Sanderson."

He nodded, still unsmiling.

The three of us stepped through the double doors, and I immediately felt the energy field shift. I glanced at the beams criss-crossing the ceiling. Hm. Teleportation block. Class 4, if I wasn't mistaken. Interesting. A head of state would still be able to ping within the first three layers of defenses, even if they were prevented from pinging inside the building itself.

The corridor before us split into two. To my left, black stairs decorated with a thick blue carpet sloped up to the second floor. Immediately ahead, it led past a row of sculptures to a trio of statues in an alcove. Blocking this hall, however, was an anti-fairy drake half a head shorter than I was, with cropped black hair and a sturdy jaw. He guarded the open dining room door. The anti-fairy looked at me for about two seconds before his face turned as red as the thick cloak around his shoulders. Tough to do, when he started out so blue.

"And you must be Anti-Buster." I reached out with my right hand, then switched it for my left. "The High Count's personal follower drake and therefore the First General of the Anti-Fairies as a whole, if I'm not wrong. I've heard a lot about you over the last several centuries. I look up to you greatly. You're an inspiration of patience and tact everywhere."

Anti-Buster's face remained flushed, but he never broke his cool eye-contact, nor removed his arms from behind his back. "Erm… My apologies, sir. You see, I never shake unless I'm in a committed relationship."

I lowered my hand, kicking myself for not having brushed up on Anti-Fairy culture before I'd come. I'd been meaning to for ages, but between China, my pixies, and the Eros Nest, I just hadn't gotten around to it yet. One of these days.

"Sir?" Anti-Buster said as I started to move into the dining room. He gazed at me, a visible lump bobbing up and down in his throat. His lips moved, but it took three tries before any words came out. "That's quite the… impressive karmic weave you have there. I take it you were born in a Soil year?"

"Fallen Mountain," I admitted.

"That would explain it." His eyes latched onto the left side of my neck. His tongue poked out from between his lips. "It's my duty to inform you, sir, that were you to extend your karmic blessing to the High Count after you sit, it would be an incredible honor. And," he added, rushing into this next part, "should he turn down the offer, then it falls to the First General to take you up on it, s-sir, of course…"

"Good to know," I said, not totally thrilled about the way he was ogling me. I think he was drooling. There's this Fairy phrase called "being a creampuff" which means checking someone out with the satisfied expression of a cat who's gotten into the cream. That's what Anti-Buster looked like, his fur prickling in the equivalent of a blush and his eyes enormous. He pressed a little too close against me for comfort when he swung open the door to the dining room. Big place, with two dozen Anti-Fairies seated around a long table in the center. A fire burned in an alcove in the far wall. Green fire. Ghostfire. Interesting. Anti-Bryndin sat waiting for me in the huge bat-winged chair straight across from the door. Fingers intertwined, chin resting on top of them, smiling patiently.

"It is with great honor," Anti-Buster announced, nudging me forward with his knee, "that I present the Head Pixie." He traced his eyes up and down me, then turned on Anti-Bryndin without breaking eye contact. "His karmic weave is at equilibrium this time of year."

Anti-Bryndin. Went. Rigid. Thirteen heads whipped around to stare at him. His smile was gone, face drained. Immediately he was up and out of his chair, his hand planted over his chest.

"Oh! Oh, I apologize for this. I did not know! Here. Here, you take my seat as head of the table."

"Uh…" I glanced at Anti-Buster for ideas. He stared at me the way Sanderson stared at new sheet music, his fangs visibly protruding. Not too helpful. Okay. When in doubt, make stuff up and do it with so much confidence, no one can tell you're rattled. I straightened my wings. With all the regality I could muster, I made an exaggerated sweeping gesture towards the winged chair with my arm. "I bequeath the position to you, High Count. It's your place, and I don't wish to intrude."

Silence fell over the dining room. Several members of the camarilla took sudden interest in the tablecloth. Anti-Bryndin looked desperately at Anti-Elina. Then he looked at me again. His wings shook. He clutched his scarf with both hands, gripping the folds rather than fingering the button. His contorted face suggested he was trying to decide whether he'd rather cry, or die.

"He stares at me," Anti-Bryndin whispered in Anti-Buster's general direction, not exactly whispering it. "Help."

Anti-Buster at last cleared his throat. "Head Pixie, it would be an honor if you would sit at the head of our table to dine."

Uncertainly, I floated all the way over to it, with Sanderson hopping at my heels. Anti-Bryndin realized his mistake at once. He scrambled behind the chair, pulled it out, and waited until I'd sat down before he eased it into place. One he had, he stepped to my left.

"Is that nice?" he asked, wringing his hands. "C-can I find you new nice things?"

I hesitated. What had Anti-Buster said at the door, again? He was looking at me now, expectantly. In fact, the entire table of Anti-Fairies was watching me, like children in front of a stage waiting to see a show. I recognized Anti-Emery and Anti-Praxis, she wearing an orange ribbon around her neck and he a navy blue one, though the rest were mostly unfamiliar to me.

I took a few seconds to think over my words, then folded my hands on the table in front of me. "The respect you have shown me is appreciated, Esteemed High Count. If you will accept it, I would like to offer you my karmic blessing." Whatever that meant.

Anti-Bryndin looked like his legs might give out beneath him. He staggered sideways, and Anti-Buster caught him by the arm. The glance he shot me was nothing short of jealous, though he smoothed it out as quickly as any pixie. "Of c-course," Anti-Bryndin stammered out. He bowed, holding his palm over a spot on the right side of his chest.

He waited. After a few seconds of bowing, he glanced nervously up at me. Again, I flicked my gaze to Anti-Buster, who stood behind him. Anti-Buster held up his right hand and crossed the middle and forefingers. Once he confirmed that I had seen what he was doing, he placed the hand behind his back. Presumably, with the fingers still crossed. So I copied his gesture.

The reaction was instantaneous. Even I could sense a soft shift in the energy field, even though from my perspective, nothing had changed. Anti-Bryndin's jaw dropped. Every Anti-Fairy at the table shuffled their wings or scooted their chairs closer, craning their necks and twitching their ears. A few mutters slipped out, then hastily shushed again. Anti-Bryndin's legs finally did give way beneath him. He collapsed to his knees, and stayed there to gawk up at me.

"That bad?" I asked, still holding my fingers together. His eyes weren't glowing with field-sight, but from the way he stared at me, his attention fixed on the space just above my head, I had the impression that he could see… something. Some kind of Anti-Fairy parallel of field-sight, I guess. Karmic weaves?

Apparently, mine was that impressive.

"I- I-" Anti-Bryndin stammered. Behind him, Anti-Buster gave a smug tip of his chin, plainly relishing in the fact that he had maintained his composure enough to remain standing. Anti-Bryndin's hands shook as he brought them to his mouth. But, he managed the strength to climb back to his feet. He straightened. He looked at me, then down. He adjusted his belt over his shirt. He fiddled with his scarf. The whole time, I kept my fingers crossed behind my back, watching with accidental curiosity.

After he'd finished smoothing out his clothes, Anti-Bryndin raised his head and leaned forward. His open mouth closed in on the left side of my bare neck.

I froze.

Wait. This wasn't in my plan.

This wasn't in my plan at all. Was he actually going to-? Uh. Had they ever mentioned this in school? I'd heard that Anti-Fairies licked up the blood of their enemies in times of war, usually from their necks like this. We called it an "Anti-Fairy kiss," although I suppose in modern times the phrase has morphed into a euphemism for, well, hickeys and stuff. The phrase "karmic blessing" was unfamiliar to me. Wait. If I was a guest of honor, why would Anti-Bryndin treat me like a beaten enemy? What did that mean? Was I supposed to be insulted? Flattered? What should I-

His fangs sped across my skin too fast to register until it was over. By the time I realized he'd just broken skin, he was already rasping his tongue just above my collarbone, like a dripping wet rag wiping frost from the windows on an icy day. Oh. Uh. Okay. Was there blood? I couldn't smell blood. Sanderson remained very still (albeit confused), and he didn't tense up or overreact. Pain? I couldn't feel any. Just the cold touch of squishy tongue.

Lap. Lap. Lap.

Dazed, I tightened my fingers around the edge of the table and tried not to lean away. Mm. This was… probably normal for Anti-Fairies. Everyone on the camarilla court was acting like it was normal. I was Head Pixie now, ambassador of my species. There's no way the High Count would really hurt me… It's not like you can trot up and do that to the Head Pixie. That's just illegal.

A warm, sharp probe pricked at the center of my forehead. My automatic instinct was to hold still, neither flinching away nor pushing back. My eyelids flickered. The camarilla's dining room melted away. For an instant, my hazy brain registered thick gray carpet beneath my back, with dozens of shelves pressed around me in a small round room. Every shelf had been stuffed with stacks of parchment and bark-strip books. A simple padded reading chair sat beside a glowing purple plant in a gray vase. A spiral staircase swirled up to a second floor. Dim light flooded in from above. A raised square platform took up the center of the floor. Exactly in the middle of it sat a familiar blue laser gun contraption, folded up at rest just like the one inside my forehead chamber.

The image disappeared as Anti-Bryndin's tongue left my skin. When he pressed again, it came back. Somehow, though, I managed to shift my gaze over to him. He watched me with one amber eye, lapping softly. The probe in my forehead pressed a little deeper. His long toes wrapped around my shoe. The end of his tongue glowed faintly green.

Want to? he asked in silence.

He meant sharing magic. My fingers clenched the table more tightly. Since my pixies were still too young to perform a proper deep preen, sharing magic wasn't exactly Anti-Fergus' thing, and China and I had fallen out of sync with one another long before we even divorced, it had been several millennia since I'd shared magic with anyone. I was out of practice for sure.

… Eh. Why not? He was High Count of the Anti-Fairies, after all. Not everyone gets to brag they shared magic with the High Count. So I surrendered, and allowed him to finish his mind-meld.

When I blinked again, I found myself flat on my wings in that imaginary ghostly gray reading room. A glowing pink figure pressed his nubby hands down on my shoulders. He looked pretty smoofing pleased to snuggle against me and continue his soft licks along my collar. Anti-Bryndin, of course. His features were indistinct in this form, his spirit-body as smooth as clay all over. No nose. No ears. No eyes. I'm sure I looked much the same. Once he rasped his spirit-tongue across my spirit-skin, its pink color changed to purple. A certain tingle ran across my thoughts, like a zap of energy. While our bodies remained securely on Plane 8 of Existence, our souls had shifted to a temporary pocket dimension where Fairy field-sight and the Anti-Fairy mind-meld met as one.

My eyes wandered to the shelves of books around us. Familiarity itched in the back of my head. I'd visited this place before. At least, my mind had. Not often, but…

… Oh, yeah. This was my pocket dimension. I'd been here twice with China and a couple times with my old drones before. Anti-Bryndin's calming licks had put me under a similar trance.

"Natural yellow bonding magic," I murmured, skimming my purple spirit-hand across the grass. "Smoof, that's the good stuff even Eros arrows can't give you."

Shame all it did was remind me I hadn't been in a yellow mood when I surely fertilized my eggs all those years ago…

Several minutes passed in silence, with Anti-Bryndin nuzzling his butter-smooth head against my chin. As the seconds ticked by and our mental link deepened, he gradually took on a more solid, recognizable form. His pink color faded to blue. Big ears and curly hair sprouted on his head. He traded his waxiness for fur, and eyes and stuff. His wings unfurled at full length. I guess for him, my mental self was solidifying too. I managed to keep a straight face throughout it, even though I will admit I did close my eyes tight towards the end.

Finally, Anti-Bryndin gave the place he'd bitten me a few last gentle licks and pulled back his head. His probing thoughts withdrew from mine. At my next blink, I was back in my chair at the dining table. Anti-Bryndin stood beside me. He clasped his hands at his waist, and bowed with his hand resting over the right side of his chest as before.

"Thank you, Esteemed Head Pixie," he whispered. His tone was affectionate. Full of awe and reverence, even. "That is a very good blessing. I will be smart with it and use it with excellence."

I nodded stiffly, unable to find the words to speak. I didn't feel lightheaded, but I did feel… drained. It was the sort of sensation you got in your stomach and lower regions when dropping off a high building, or plunging out of the cloudlands and falling towards a glacier, only it was in my chest. It was a cold ache and a singeing sting wrapped into one.

Anti-Bryndin flashed his blue tongue around his lips, then sat in the seat to my left, leaving me at the head of the table with Sanderson beside me on the right. Anti-Buster retreated to stand beside the fireplace. Anti-Elina clapped her hands, and the meal began. Out of maybe nowhere, half a dozen servants arrived with platters full of meat and fruit. Others brought bread and goblets of wine. Someone set a bowl of corn kernels directly in front of me, complete with a fat spoon. When I nudged it to the side, Anti-Bryndin snapped to instant attention. He jabbed one claw at my dished.

"Do you not like corn?"

"I only eat it on the cob. Pass the rolls, please. Definitely not the honeywheat ones. Thanks."

Beside me, Sanderson put one knee up on the table, stretching out his arm for a bowl of blue beans.

"Chit chit chit chit chit chit!" When he looked at me, I pointed at his chair. "Hey. Hey. Off the table. Down. Down. Stay. Behave. Anti-Fairies pass things around to their dining partners. We don't reach for them. We ask nicely."

Anti-Bryndin dropped his roll. It bounced off his plate and into his lap. "Ah, you speak Milesian?" Before I could answer, he began rattling off a long string of words that blurred together until even my mind was dizzy.

"Drat." I raised my hands. "High Count, I'm sorry. I took sixty years of modern Milesian in upper school. There are some disciplinary phrases that don't have the same ring in Snobbish, so sometimes I fall into them when I scold my pixies. I'm afraid I'm not fluent in the olden tongue you're using. That's all Yugopotamian to me."

"You speak Yugopotamian?" he asked, and flipped languages without missing a beat. I gave up. Why resist? Logic was useless here. Better to conserve my breath and give him what he wanted. Stroking Sanderson's head, I listened to the High Count ramble, nodding and "Mmhm"ing at times when he paused and looked at me. I had no idea what he said, and could only hope it wouldn't come back to knot my lines.

Halfway through our meal, when appetizers and salads had been exchanged for soup and sandwiches, someone began to bang a fist against the dining room's double doors. I glanced over. Anti-Bryndin's ears flicked back and forth, but he insisted I ignore it. So I did, even though it was annoying, until I couldn't anymore. Because all of a sudden, both doors blasted inward to reveal a furious anti-fairy standing there, wand extended and smoking. Surprise of surprises, it was that one juvenile with the long nose, blue hair, and green eyes. Under his arm was Rice, and on his shoulder perched a hissing, arch-backed cat sith. His lips were curled back in a snarl, long fangs flashing, and he barked out the first half of an accusation before he noticed me and stiffened. He dropped Rice to the floor. His ears went down.

"Oh," he squeaked. His eyes darted over to Anti-Bryndin. His hands curled towards his chest. "You have company."

"This is the truth," Anti-Bryndin said crisply, sliding back into Snobbish again. Good- maybe I could hold him there.

"Please don't let coin sith in my study," the juvenile whispered, and fled down the hall. He left the smoking hole in the door. I stared after him until his rapid footfalls changed to wingbeats. When Rice slunk sheepishly over to me, I scooted back my chair so he'd have room to hop up in my lap.

"You know, Anti-Bryndin, I don't remember if I ever actually learned that kid's name."

"Julius." Anti-Bryndin blew on a sip of purple soup. "They will not leave the colony too soon. I wish for their 150,000th birthday. When their hormones come, they will leave then. That is the way of drake Anti-Fairies, to leave their homes and look for new folk to join with. Good. I have watched them for a long time and I no longer want them here."

"He's that annoying?" I was impressed.

"Oh, yes. They are the bad seed, and the day of chasing them out will be a glad one." Anti-Bryndin placed two fingertips on the table and swiveled himself around. He kept the spoon pressed to his tongue. "Anti-Buster? Tell the Head Pixie the things you see in Julius' karmic weave."

"Yes, sir. Would you prefer I begin with the death they'll bring to the cloudlands, or the destruction?"

"Hmm… Maybe you can start with the curse of endless drought."

"Uh." I took my hand from Rice's fur and flickered my fingers in the air. "Hi. Seelie Courter here. What exactly is a karmic weave?"

Anti-Bryndin brought his wine goblet to his lips and waved his hand towards Anti-Buster. Anti-Buster bowed his head, stepping closer to the flickering green fire.

"Souls are immortal and cycle through reality until it exhausts their flames of energy to a mere candle flicker, but a karmic weave tells the story of a single lifetime. All living things are born with a karmic weave, sir, which solidifies around them by adulthood and tells one's future as is written in the stars. Tarrow, also identified as the Cosmic Jellysweeper, is the ancient nature spirit who embodies reality, destiny, and fate."

Oh, yeah. The jellyfish guy. I remembered that much from my Anti-Fairy Studies cycle back in upper school.

"I am First General of the Anti-Fairies, and it is my sacred duty to stand impartial on all matters that concern the camarilla court, unless I should be called upon to break a deadlock between them. When I take his blesséd garment upon myself, I am able to perceive the karmic weaves of all creatures at all times, and not merely when they open the conduit to the soul by crossing fingers behind their back." Behind him, his fists clenched. "Contrary to popular belief, the threads of destiny found in the karmic weave are no prediction, no absentminded estimate. They are a true tool for perceiving one's destiny as Tarrow intended. Sinsa d'saatar. Sin'tari zodiiasco. Sin'tari tõkklavie."

I raised one eyebrow. "Mine too?"

"Aha," Anti-Buster mumbled, wringing his hands. He licked his lips. "Yes. You're an influential power, Head Pixie… or if you aren't now, you will become one before the destined end of your life, at least." And here, he raised his head, and looked at me in a slightly puzzled way. "Only a single short string of knots, and not a single one of them frayed. Unusual for a weave of your size. I've never seen someone so influential remain so pure and honest throughout the course of their life before. Not even Anti-Bryndin."

Anti-Bryndin shrugged in agreement, sipping his wine again. Anti-Elina pushed a large chunk of meat around her soup in silence. The rest of the camarilla lowered their heads and continued picking at their food. Almost in unison, their ears all flicked forward so none were swiveled in our direction anymore. I kept my hands resting beside my plate, gazing at Anti-Buster without blinking. "'Honest' sums it up pretty well. I've never been one for lying. I always speak from the core."

"This is very true, sir. Politeness is an admirable virtue, but the raw truth in your speech has earned you Tarrow's present favor. The nature spirits are deities of multiple facets, and it is the part of him which embodies reality who smiles upon your life."

"What can I say?" I raised my wine goblet in a mock toast and brought it to my mouth. "I call 'em like I see 'em."

Anti-Buster's eyes wandered to my chest. "While it's clear you will be a fine Head Pixie, I think I speak for all my race when I say we'd be honored if you were born an Anti-Fairy. You would have made an excellent First General, I'm sure."

I analyzed his tone, but he didn't sound jealous or disgusted. Merely factual. I placed my goblet on the table again, and hooked my thumb at the blast mark in the door. "And I take it from that kid's unappealing behavior that his weave doesn't look half as good as mine."

Anti-Buster turned thoughtfully to follow my finger. "Yes… To put it mildly. In their youth, the destiny Tarrow offered that soul in its Julius incarnation was clear. Exercise often. Train as a homeostasis specialist. Master the taming of demons. Teach others the skills they'd honed. Preserve the genie race. Raise two pups. Weep for the grandpups that were lost so young." He glanced at me again. "But Julius has tampered with the original course charted for their life. Several times. Acting against destiny is a slippery slope that only grows. Every action results in further paths to take, and no mortal can calculate in advance which way they will choose to go."

That sounded like regular life to me. I finished off my serving of wine and set the goblet off to the side so one of the servants could refill it. Anti-Buster touched an invisible part of the air with his claw.

"Take this thread, for example. Should they follow this fate, Julius will flee to you shortly after adulthood, and beg you take them in. In this one, they marry a ruthless widow and lock their son inside a cupboard until the child snaps. They could have chosen to become an architect and bring Anti-Fairy World into a new era of design. Here, they claim wives and multiply until they bear enough progeny to form an entire colony. In this one, they serve on the camarilla as Sunnie's bitter avenger, hardened by war. And here, they overthrow the Anti-Coppertalon family, abandon their children, murder their wife, and slay a god."

I nodded and used my finger to push an annoying bean on my fork. "So basically, you can see into the Negaverse from this plane of existence."

Anti-Buster closed his eyes, drawing his mouth into a thin line. "In a crude manner of speaking, yes. All unchosen fates must end up somewhere, running parallel to their source until reality reaches the Great Loop of Time and begins anew. For whatever reason, the spirits have chosen to store such things on Plane 16. When a karmic weave has split destiny into multiple fate paths, we call it 'frayed.' And the frayed knots in Julius' weave are the worst I've ever seen. Perhaps the worst in history, though no one has ever kept records regarding that sort of thing. Such a fine weave it would have been, as stunning as the midnight sky, long and swirling about the ankles…" He exhaled. "Their creative curiosity shall be their own undoing. A shame."

I checked his red cloak out up and down. "Huh. I've never heard of anything like that before. Can I try it on?"

"Absolutely not," sniffed Anti-Buster. "Tarrow's garment is a sacred treasure gifted to the Anti-Fairies back in the ancient days when High Count Anti-Kahnii first set foot-"

"Sure," Anti-Bryndin chirped. He motioned to Anti-Buster with his hand. "Let him share the cloak now, please."

"Pardon?" Anti-Buster grabbed the sides of his cloak and wrapped them defensively around his front. His eyes darted from me to Anti-Bryndin. "High Count, he's a…"

"I trust the Head Pixie, Anti-Buster."

"Heck yeah you do," I interjected. Anti-Bryndin chuckled and gave my hand two pats.

"The Head Pixie can wear it for a moment. He will not damage or run away with it. We can trust our friend. He is honest. Is this okay?"

Anti-Buster bowed his head, hands clasped at his waist for a moment. Then, slowly, he unfastened the white jellyfish clasp at the throat of his cloak. "Yes, High Count."

Once he'd removed it, he held it out to me in clear indication that I should stand so he could place it around my shoulders. I did. The cloak lacked wing slits in the back, but other than that, it fit perfectly.

Immediately, my vision filled up with pastel loops of glowing yarn. They crossed through the air like spider webs, trapping me in place. Some were stunning red. Others sickly green. Some had fat black knots. Others had small pink ones. I glanced down at myself, wearing some sort of magical royal robe, I guess. My gaping sleeves were woven of rainbow threads that faded from one color to the next. The robes went all the way down and covered my feet. My intent had been to look around at the others in the room - Anti-Bryndin and Sanderson, mostly - but every individual thread on my person competed for my attention. When my eyes passed across them, they screamed and rattled.

All that sudden information made my head swirl. And I could feel warm breath hissing down my neck, too, and several low voices muttering in my ears. "Yikes," I said, and pulled the cloak off again. "That's a lot."

Anti-Bryndin chuckled. "The taste is acquired, I have heard."

"I'm a simple drake. I don't want it. You Anti-Fairies have your culture. We pixies will stick to ours. Just relay any information I need to know and we'll get along fine."

Once I returned the cloak to Anti-Buster, Anti-Bryndin stood and clapped his hands twice. The other members of the camarilla court looked up. He glanced about and smiled. "Dinner is finished. Everyone, proceed to the den. It is time for presents now. Then shall come dessert."

Thankfully, I found my pixies already waiting in the den, with any dishes they may have used cleared away. The den was large, but so many Anti-Fairy pups and juveniles were with them that they spilled into the neighboring room, even though most of them were roosting from the ceiling and that doubled the amount of people who could fit in such a space. Squeals and chatter filled the air. Several long couches ringed the center sitting area, while bookshelves stood around the outer edges. I made eye contact with the blue-haired Anti-Fairy who had exploded the dining room door, and he dropped his gaze, clutching a cat sith to his chest. The anti-qalupalik damsel beside him placed her hand on his shoulder. I really tried not to, but the only available space to sit in the room was on the end of the couch, immediately beside him. I was Head Pixie and I deserved to sit down, so I picked up Keefe and Springs and then sat.

"Fancy seeing you again," I said.

"Silver blessings," was his simple reply. He eyed Springs suspiciously, keeping his arms firmly wrapped around the cat sith.

Most importantly, the trellis over by the fireplace had been decorated with dozens of woven garlands and hung with twinkling blue and brown paper lanterns. Dozens of presents lay beneath it. Chatter hushed (in spurts) when Anti-Bryndin floated into the room with Anti-Buster close on his tail. The two of them began handing presents to the nobles on the camarilla court, who distributed them to individuals by name. Longwood started to walk over to the trellis as though he expected a gift himself, but I took hold of his shoulder and pulled him back.

"This is their ceremony. We're guests."

As the stack of presents beneath the trellis diminished one at a time, we watched in silence. Hawkins looked up at me. "Did you get us presents for Winter Turn, sir?"

Before I could answer, Anti-Bryndin looked up and motioned to me. "Do you have ten pixies? I have ten presents for them."

"Presents?" I repeated. "You mean for…" I pointed down at Sanderson's head. "Them?"

"Yes."

"Why would you do that?"

Anti-Bryndin just sort of looked at me for a second, his nose scrunched. "It is Winter Turn. Do pixies celebrate Winter Turn?"

"Well. Yes."

"Then that's why you get presents. Ah, they are all almost the same, so I think you should open them all at the same time. I will pass out now." Anti-Bryndin pursed his lips. "Which one of you is the oldest?"

Sanderson looked at me. I dipped my head. It was all the encouragement he needed. He scampered across the room and lifted the present from Anti-Bryndin's hands. Anti-Bryndin ruffled his cowlicks. "Good Winter Turn to you. What is your name and zodiac?"

"I'm Sanderson of the Charged Waters," he said, squishing the package between his hands as he tilted it from side to side. Whatever it was, it appeared soft beneath his fingers. I cleared my throat.

"Sanderson, it's polite to make eye contact during a conversation."

He thanked Anti-Bryndin appropriately and retreated to my side, still crinkling the wrapping paper. Anti-Bryndin handed out presents to the others in turn. Longwood brought Keefe's and Spring's respective gifts over to the couch where I sat with them on my lap. I wedged their fingers underneath the wrapping and allowed them to pick and tear at it as they would. When all the gifts were open, it was clear that each box contained a different plush insect toy. Of course, Anti-Bryndin didn't know my pixies.

"Wilcox," Bayard whispered, "did you see how shiny the paper is on the inside?"

"And it tastes good too."

Hawkins giggled and tore off a strip of foil with his teeth. "This is the best Winter Turn I've ever had!"

Anti-Bryndin floated over to me, one hand in his fluffy hair. "Um. They like the paper more than my presents?"

"Keefe appreciates you," I pointed out, watching him chew on the front leg of his fat plush bumblebee. "But for most of them, the paper was their present. For now, at least. When they've torn and chewed it up, they'll turn their attention to your gifts. We'll see how long these teething toys last then."

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Ah… Was it an offense to give them insects for their gifts? I did not know what to get them."

"You did fine. Thanks, High Count."

Sanderson tapped my shoulder then and held his toy up for me to see. "I got a ladybird."

"That you did. That's the patron insect of the kobolds. Very nice."

He nodded and hugged it to his chest. "It has twelve spots on its back."

"So true."

"I got nothing," Rice whispered to me, lifting a paw near his mouth. I nudged him in the stomach with my shoe.

Anti-Bryndin wagged a claw near my face. "And do not think that I forgot my present for you, Head Pixie."

I blinked. "What? Really?"

"No, I remembered!" Here, Anti-Bryndin passed me a long, thin package bundled in shiny silver foil. I handed Springs to Sanderson and put Keefe in the lap of the anti-fairy beside me and, while they watched, unfolded the wrapping paper from one end. Inside was a white box. I removed the lid to reveal an elaborate set of crystal cutlery with braided handles and intricate decorations, including spoons of several shapes and sizes. Ah. The traditional Anti-Fairy dining experience. My eyes caught sight of the name engraved along the scoops: Head Pixie in golden script on white. I whistled softly. On short notice? Must have cost a fortune.

"I, um… Wow. I don't know what to say. This is dazzled." I lifted my eyes. "I didn't get you anything."

Modestly, Anti-Bryndin flapped his hands downward. "This is no concern. There will be other season holidays in the future, and if you wish, you can bring me things then. I have received many presents before. I give this gift to be nice to the new Head Pixie, but not because I expect one from you in return."

"Well, thank you, High Count. I appreciate it." I made a mental note to engrave his title on something notable in the future. Eventually. That'd be polite.

Anti-Bryndin smiled. "While your pixies are busy with paper and toys and being watched by others, I can show you the other places in the Castle now. You have never seen it?"

"Only in texts and tablets," I said, replacing the lid on my cutlery box. Automatically, I handed it to Sanderson, who stood beside me, but I pulled it back. "Wait. I don't trust you not to hurt yourself. I don't know where to put this."

"I will hold it," Anti-Bryndin offered. I gave it back to him, and he poofed it off somewhere. Then he smiled up at me. "Now we will go. Your pixies can stay with my Anti-Fairies. Julius, you're in charge of them."

The anti-fairy holding Keefe and the cat sith snapped up his head. "What?"

Without waiting for my reply, Anti-Bryndin grabbed my right hand and pulled me off the sofa. I winced internally at the contact, but refused to let my hesitation show upon my face. We raced through the halls, and jerked to a sudden halt at an enormous scallop-shaped door.

"This is the shallow preening room," Anti-Bryndin informed me. "It is meant for meeting with important figures, and for shallow preening with Fairies on short notice, perhaps. We do not make much use of it."

He looked at me expectantly. I raised my eyebrows, allowing my eyes to wander over the massive door. "Dark. But pleasant."

"Yes. I will show you the deep preening room now." Anti-Bryndin pulled me into the hallway again. I strained my wings to keep up with him without flopping forward on my stomach. "We Anti-Fairies do not preen together, but when Fairies come to visit, sometimes we do. We make use of this room in two ways: both to express the deepest bonds between a Fairy and an Anti-Fairy, and also for Anti-Fairies to strengthen their bonds with each other in a special social place."

As we whizzed through the corridor, I pressed my brows together. "You have a multipurpose preening room?" I tried not to let the thought disturb me. It made sense. They were Anti-Fairies. They lived in crowded colonies. They didn't preen often, and logically, they wouldn't want that unused space to just go to waste.

I have to admit, when Anti-Bryndin described the preening room, I was not expecting to find a big room full of seven pools of lava. A few Anti-Fairies even floated about in it, their heads bobbing above the surface. I blinked.

"Wait a second. You Anti-Fairies die when you fall into boiling liquid chocolate, but you can swim in lava?"

"Yes, in the magic-touched lava. So can you. Lava which is created by magic does not kill a creature of magic."

"Oh, duh. I knew that." I looked at the lava for a second, then poked my toe in it. It was incredibly hot, but when I pulled back, the tip of my shoe wasn't even singed.

"It is relaxing on the muscles," Anti-Bryndin explained. He leaned over the pool, folding his arms. "Perhaps you would like to try it someday."

I gazed at the rippling red and gold surface, and at the embers young Anti-Fairies brought up in their cupped hands each time they scooped. "I actually might. We don't have anything like this in Fairy World."

"Yes." Anti-Bryndin's expression saddened. He turned to the lava again, linking his fingers together at his waist. "It has always been an Anti-Fairy tradition. We shared it with Fairies once, when our skies and worlds were united as one. This was before the war. When Fairies chased us from their borders, we were separated from the dipping pools we left behind. These nice places were destroyed by Fairies who wished to forget Anti-Fairy touches on their clouds."

"Oh," I said, still looking at the lava. "That's a shame. Well. Maybe someday, Fairies and Anti-Fairies will be able to get along again. Relations are only raw right now because the war lives in the memories of the older generation. I think veterans on both side probably taught their children to be hateful. We might have to wait another generation or two to progress back to where we used to be. My father and I disagree on this, but I don't think Anti-Fairies are an inherently evil people. I think you're just different than Fairies, and a lot of Fairies aren't willing to understand your customs or get to know you. I for one would like to see the Barrier brought down again. My family's fortune paid for it to go up. I'd love to be part of the force that tears it down."

For another few seconds, Anti-Bryndin stared thoughtfully over the pools. Then he turned his head to me, screwing up his eyes when he smiled. "I would like to see that day come. If we are friends, our children and grandchildren can also be friends like us. This would make our peoples happier, I think."

"Yeah, we'll see what happens in the future. I think progress is inevitable."

"Ah, you believe it will be destiny to unite us all again?" Anti-Bryndin smiled and pulled his scarf tighter. "I like the way you speak, Head Pixie."

[Author's Note: Just to clarify, 'children' is used metaphorically in the above context. As Head Pixie, I sire offspring. I have no sons.]

Anti-Bryndin led me across the courtyard and through the winding castle passages again, pointing out all the details he found interesting. I have to admit, I'd never realized columns and pillars had such extensive backgrounds before today. Fascinating, really. Anti-Bryndin knows how to tailor a conversation to the interests of his guests.

Eventually, we found "Julius" Anti-Cosmo in the courtyard, his hands on his knees, giving my enraptured pixies a few instructions. At his signal, they scattered in different directions. By the time I reached his side, Caudwell was shouting that he'd found a desired flower, which Anti-Cosmo praised him for.

"You're really good at entertaining kids for a juvenile," I told him.

"Oh, you know what they say. Nine's a handful, ninety's an armful, wot?"

"Ten."

He looked at me in alarm. "Ten? I counted nine."

"Behind you."

Anti-Cosmo looked down, then jumped out of his fur and clapped a hand to his chest. "Ah! I did not hear you coming, child."

"I found the weed," Madigan said, holding a flower up to him.

"Excellent," he said, still looking rattled. His monocle had tumbled from his face, dangling on its cord.

We gathered my pixies on the flying carpet again as before, but I wandered back through the courtyard to the open doorway. I found Anti-Bryndin there, speaking to Anti-Buster in a low voice. Their ears flicked towards me as soon as I strayed near. I lifted my hand.

"Hi."

Anti-Bryndin blinked at me. "I thought you went. You are staying? You want something?"

I scratched my head. "It seemed proper to bid you good-bye."

"Oh," Anti-Bryndin said, putting his head to one side. "In the language of the Anti-Fairies, which is Vatajasa, which is my language of birth, we do not have a word for this 'Good-bye.'"

"Oh. Well, to be honest I was kind of expecting a good-bye kiss, like the one you gave me at the Council meeting." I slid my hands in my pockets. "Is that how the High Count says good-bye to ambassadors, or did I misinterpret something?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

He continued to look at me. "I don't follow. We had our meal. That was agreed. It's good-bye."

I upturned my hands as he started to drift away down the corridor. "So do I just kind of leave, or do you escort me to the nearest border crossing station? And why did you kiss me at the Council meeting?"

Again, Anti-Bryndin stopped and looked at me. "You want to be kissed before going away?"

"Well- I really just want to know if that's what Anti-Fairies do."

"Fine. Here is your kiss." Anti-Bryndin flew out and pecked me absently on the lips. "Enjoy your leaving time." Then he zipped inside again. I heard him chirping instructions for Anti-Buster to open a door somewhere far down the hall. Anti-Buster dipped his head to me before trotting off to find him.

I scratched my head. Okay. Note to self: Anti-Fairies don't see kisses as intimate things. That might be very useful to remember.

When I returned to Anti-Cosmo, he was circling my pixies on the flying carpet, muttering "Nine, nine, nine," behind his fangs. I pointed behind him. "Ten."

He looked, and almost fell over in shock a second time. His hands went up near his face, palms facing each other. "Gihk! Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" Madigan asked, holding his linked hands behind his back.

"Hey," I said to Anti-Cosmo. When he looked at me, I tilted my head. "I guess I'm leaving now. Anti-Bryndin told me Anti-Fairies don't say good-bye, so this is going to be awkward in about five seconds."

"Well, we might verbally bid farewell when speaking with Fairies, but there's no precise word for it in our ancient language, Vatajasa, so no. It's our tradition to believe we will encounter one another again, even if it's in a future lifetime, so we say something that would translate as 'See you again soon' instead."

"Cute." I eyed him suspiciously. "Is this usually accompanied with a kiss?"

Anti-Cosmo looked at me in horror. He took two steps back. "I beg your pardon?"

"I was just wondering. Anti-Bryndin kissed me at the Council meeting and never explained why."

His look of horror didn't fade away. Slowly, he tapped an imaginary yellow button on an imaginary crocheted scarf around his neck. "Er… Did he perchance kiss you after fingering Winni's favor?"

I paused. "I suppose so."

"What did he ask?" His claws went to his mouth. "No. No, he wouldn't. Not if you're Seelie."

"He invited me to dinner," I said, trying to remember the details. They seemed so long ago. "I tried to turn him down, but he literally didn't give me a choice. So I gave in, and then he kissed me. What was that about?"

Anti-Cosmo glanced around. His fingers fiddled with the front of his shirt, claws clenching at the symbol of the Water year embroidered on one side. "I'm not supposed to say…"

"Anti-Cosmo," I said, watching his ears twitch. "Does the Anti-Fairy mind-meld also give Anti-Fairies the ability to mind mold? Because if your race has mind control powers, why the smoof do you let yourselves get pushed around by the Fairies?"

"What are you talking about?" He reached for the center of his chest. "The Fairies tell us where we fit in their caste system, and we accept that because they said so. We don't let them push us around just to keep the nature spirits favoring us. Everything is fine."

I took off my glasses. "You would trade away a high standing on the social ladder on the chance that the neurotic nature spirits who have been locked up for millennia might like you?"

Now he just looked confused, his eyes crossed together and focused on the end of his long nose. "The nature spirits are above the Fairies. Why shouldn't we prioritize their favor?"

My glasses went back on, and I shook my head. I would never understand Zodii beliefs or the way they put gratification on hold to risk everything on lucky coincidence and unanswered prayers, that was for sure. "So, about that kiss."

Anti-Cosmo cleared his throat. "Well… Winni's favor is a tool of persuasion. When Anti-Bryndin touches it, any deal he makes is magically binding, as long as the other party agrees and it's sealed with an exchange of effervescence, such as a kiss. You know." He tipped his head. "Like what the Cave of Destiny prophecy says about Saturn's Fire Wand."

Why does the man kiss people when there is a less intimate option is my next question.

"I can do that too," I pointed out. "We pixies chew on magical wood and parchment sometimes. When we spit saliva that's been recently exposed to those things on our right hands and shake, our handshakes are magically binding. I've experimented. Since effervescence gathers thickly in the right hand, it's the same thing Anti-Bryndin's doing. Except he uses his mouth directly instead of spitting on his hand, which I suppose makes sense given your pompous traditions. Technically, pixie kisses would be a magically binding way to seal a deal too. We just don't kiss that much in our culture. The High Count must have chewed on magical paper before he kissed me. That explains it."

"But he doesn't do that! It's Winni's influence." Anti-Cosmo was starting to get more color in his face. He clenched his eyelids and swung his fists down. "It's real!"

I sighed. "Kid, magical mind-control doesn't work on magical creatures. Believe me, I was in my right frame of mind the whole time I was talking to him at the Council meeting. Pixie taste buds are overly sensitive. I'd have noticed if he drugged anything on the refreshments table."

"It's not- it's not mind-control. He just… makes you understand what he wants. It's mental communication. Winni's the Communication spirit, and Anti-Bryndin carries his favor." Anti-Cosmo searched my face, then let his shoulders drop. "It's hard to explain to someone who isn't Zodii."

I shrugged and floated down the Castle's front steps. "Well good luck with that, then, because I'm strictly Daoist. See you again soon, kid."

---

A/N: Text to Show - Wanda hit Cosmo in the head with a cinder block multiple times in the Season 1 episode "The Same Game," so I've always imagined Fairies to be extremely elastic. Don't worry too much about Springs. He's probably fine.