(Posted February 10th, 2023)
A/N - This chapter and the next both take place during Frayed Knots Chapter 23 "Age-Old Story," in the section Anti-Cosmo describes as "centuries passed, then millennia, then tens of them." H.P. starts this chapter with his youngest being Smith (his 20th pixie) and ends the next with Marconi (his 65th), so things are definitely picking up. Enjoy the read!
On the Notion of Cutting Ties
Summer of the Running Yale
"Is this the greatest of all your wishes? Because if this is all you desire, I believe I can help you… but it will involve embracing Zodii ways for a time. And breaking a few of Da Rules."
"Kitigan, I am more than willing to break Da Rules if it means I save the pixie race. Let's collab."
These words echoed through my skull as Anti-Bryndin wrapped strips of silver gauze around my tomte hand. Since I started cutting my palm, I'd often kept the hand closed in a fist. If not that, then stuffed in my pocket. That way, I didn't have to look at it too often. But admittedly, when Anti-Bryndin took hold and turned it upright with his claws prying at the creases of my skin until he exposed the full injury to the sky… Well. Yep. I couldn't deny the wound had gotten deep after many repeated swipes with my knife. Maybe a little dirty in spite of my best efforts. I didn't want to look. Seeing the rainbow pulses of restrained, redirected magic swirling like fog across my skin would irritate me.
I exhaled through my nose.
Anti-Bryndin and I sat together on the cushy sofa in one of the musty castle dens. I thought it felt musty, anyway, though maybe the Anti-Fairies like it that way. Cold black cinderstone is not to my tastes. Anti-Florensa lingered in the doorway, dressed in her typical guard gear and holding her staff. I sat mostly like a regular person, my legs down in front, except for the uncomfortable twist I had to lend my upper body. Anti-Bryndin felt that this was his castle and he could sit however he wanted to. And he wanted to sit cross-legged, his knee knocking into mine, squinting and scrutinizing my hand. We were, apparently, meant to be ignorant to the festivities raving on in the courtyard outside the window. I found it a lot colder than I like to be, especially indoors. I wanted to start a fire. Of course, only the angels of Earth can bring fire to life without magic, so… that left me reliant on Anti-Bryndin. Yep.
Anyway, the High Count insisted we wouldn't be in here long. I don't know what measuring stick he used to determine that. Every passing wingbeat felt to me like ten minutes, like chimera eyes lurked among the shadows and bore down at me from twenty different angles. Every brush of Anti-Bryndin's fur across my skin made the hairs on my own arms tense up like curling brambles. As he tended to my injured hand, wiping smears of rainbow blood across his own pants leg (or across his forehead when he pushed up his hair)… he had to touch me. Pixie and Anti-Fairy. Hand in hand. I felt every brush of the long hairs curling between his hidden scales. So. That was uncomfortable. I tried to maintain my steady patience, but didn't quite know where to look without staring. I couldn't pretend I wasn't consenting to this close contact with an anti-swanee. It made me involved. It made me a witness. His expert fingers wove the bandage into place, and it was all I could do to avoid curling up my lip. It had been… well…
… It had been a long time since he and I sat together in his castle like real friends. I kept my eyes balanced on the puff of light blue hair between his sharp horns. Waiting. For what, I couldn't be sure. Maybe for him to cast little glances at me as though he wanted to see if I might be interested in staring back. He never looked. So I waited, holding my knee with my good hand. Just staying calm and pixie-like as he did his thing. Anti-Bryndin had an interesting face, I think, with the black goatee marks of a pilot in his species, but lacking the traditional mustache.
"You look funny," I finally admitted, watching him squint at my hand as though it might shoot a geyser in the air. "I mean, in the way you're staring like that… It's just a cut. Not a curse you have to unravel."
Anti-Bryndin ignored this attempt at conversation, remarking only that I was 'leaking karma' and 'precision, not healing spells, is required now.' The way he wrinkled his big nose made me wonder if the castle's stale smells affected him after all, even though he lived here. The interior with its scents of fur and smoke seemed a far cry from the meat, spices, and sugar outside. Okay. I tried again.
"I will admit that I'd envisioned something more dangerous when you spoke about breaking Da Rules," I said, and Anti-Bryndin returned this with a grunt. He neither looked up nor slowed in his work. Shame he didn't have that mustache, or the hairs would be twitching. He'd given up on pretzel-crossed legs. He sat on his own ankle by now, the other leg dangling from the sofa. I wondered how long he'd been upright… See, it's hard to tell when Anti-Fairies look ill, because they're already blue. I've heard they turn purple the sicker they get, which is probably why anti-will o' the wisps are said to have such weak immune systems. Makes sense, I guess… they're off-color mutations like the anti-pixies. Anti-Bryndin kept his attitude polite around me, but huddling away inside while the Seven Festivals were happening out there couldn't possibly be fun. I mean, fun for him. For Anti-Fairies. Fun is something their species pursues and captures in a bottle like a lightning shock.
"Please, Head Pixie. I wish to be called Kitigan by you." He gave the gauze a firm yank, jerking my hand forward. My palm throbbed. I curled my fingers, but he forced them apart again. Still talking smoothly like he had something to sell. Something to prove. Anti-Bryndin brushed the back of his hand across his forehead as though mopping sweat, though I'm not sure if Anti-Fairies… have that under their scales. His eyes lifted to mine as he made the gesture. Yeesh. Ruby reddish, coppery scarlet sort of eyes, staring straight at me like he wanted to ram a rod down my spine just to keep me sitting still. My skin prickled… He said, "And I am aware of the feelings this action causes in you, too."
I flicked my eyes to the hand, then away with a light shrug of my wings. "You're mistaken. Pixies don't experience emotions to the degree that Fairies do."
"This silver bandage. It offends you. That is a feeling."
"Ah." Just that, then. I looked down again. "Yeah. I don't experience emotional ties to it, but it does bother me. King Nuada had a silver hand. By wrapping my hand in the stuff, you're basically putting me on equal level with him. We don't do that in Fairy World. It would get you banned from every shop."
To this, Anti-Bryndin shook his head. "You must have faith. I know that if I tell you 'Swim to the bottom of the deepest lake and be saved,' or even if I said we must steal from mermaids or from a great dragon, you would do this thing without anger. So, do not protest when I wrap your hand in silver. All creatures of the cloudlands know that silver heals hurt best. I believe you can do this. It is for your pixies' sake. It is a step towards saving them. Is this okay?"
Have faith. Don't protest. His words left me gritting my teeth. My fingers felt stiff and sweaty inside the bandage. Not only that, but I still couldn't hold off the thought that he might have an ulterior motive in store for me… Like by restricting my hand so tightly, he might slacken the ties of my attention to it and yank it right off my skin. Loose, elastic bodies that can peel apart under certain conditions is just one of the dangers of being fae.
I pointed out, "It's an insult. I may as well be snapping my wand in front of the Fairy Elder. Or throwing on her signature yellow robes and demanding I get a seat on the Fairy Council. You know she'd pitch me straight through the Giant French Doors of Time for either one." I'd never met the Fairy Elder (Duh), but the von Strangle family took their name from her… I didn't think I'd particularly like to get on her bad side. She was the last born of the Tuatha Dé Danann; Nuada was her king even more than he was ours.
"I am the Seat of Breath and the High Count of the Anti-Fairies. I know much about the ways of healing. I also know much about the ways of talking. Leave me to do this step first before we move to new steps. There is a plan."
My fingers twitched, tightening towards my palm. My hand had been blemished. Impure. Me, an actual ambassador, sitting before the Fairy Council with a silver bandage…
"Now, this will sting when I apply the paste. Hold still, Head Pixie."
"Fairies have been living with and healing from tomte-variety hand injuries since long before you came along, you know." I stared into the corner of the room when I said it, staying cool on the outside in spite of the oozing frustration mounting within me. And especially once the paste he smeared across my palm began to stab my skin. It trickled in cold snakes down my wrist… at the same time pulsing up my arm, across my throat like a rash, and all the way to my temples. I stayed still. Quiet. "I can't let other Fairies see me like this. In fact, if there's a sudden Council meeting for the ambassadors around the corner, I'm dead in the water. I don't know why I let you talk me into this. Ow."
Anti-Bryndin ignored about half of what I said. I could tell, because he always flicked his ears from side to side when he'd made the decision to focus on something else. Balancing my hand in his own, he said, "I do not pretend to understand the desire and pain of your hand-cutting action, Head Pixie. It is great pain to hurt yourself with. But you are the son of Wish Fixers and I will have faith in your intentions, even if the actions are injury upon yourself."
"Thanks…"
"Yet here inside my castle, I look and see a friend who is hurt… and who is shamed to take the silver healing boon. This means I choose to be the person you can blame for this when others ask. Is this okay?"
I'm not avoidant about accepting blame. In fact, I have the opposite problem: I demand credit to my name for all my actions, even when it makes me a target for criticism in the public eye. Better to go down infamous and hated than forgotten, just labeled unremarkable as you fade into the void. I tried to pull back my hand. "Don't ever assume I'm ashamed."
"You are permitted to remove this bandage when you leave me, then," he said with a careless shrug, wrapping the gauze at the tip.
"I plan to. I don't know why you bother with me, because it's coming off as soon as I'm gone from Anti-Fairy World. I can't be seen wearing this. Dian Cécht himself wouldn't forgive me."
"It is funny that you mention this name," Anti-Bryndin mused, sounding like he didn't find it particularly funny at all. He gave one last tug and tuck of my bandage and finally let go of my hand. The surrounding torchlight flickered claw-like shadows across the gauze. I pulled it to my chest. Then, standing with a brush of hands down his lap, "This is what I wish to talk to you about. This is where we must make a choice. Head Pixie, I can never take you to Tipra Sláíne, for the High Kingdom is a place neither you nor I are welcome among Refracts. Instead of this, I can take you someplace else where I can share my aid. You will need to trust me and my intentions as a friend. Is this okay?"
I flexed my wrist a few times, glaring at him above the rims of my glasses. I didn't dare say anything until I'd thought my words through. It was careful; it's the Pixie way. "You're well-read, then. I really didn't think you Anti-Fairies cared enough about the Tuatha Dé Dannan to know their names… Or their wells and springs."
Anti-Bryndin bowed, wings spread and one arm across his waist. "I am High Count. It is my duty to learn a few studies of Fairy culture, for this is how I know to be aware for you and your preferences in life. Do not forget that I work alongside many fellow ambassadors, just as you do, and they are Seelie. I am not cruel, as my queen mother was. I seek peace and friendship from the Robes and others on the Fairy Council. I like to know why they make the decisions they do, for there are many times these decisions come from beliefs they were raised knowing, which Anti-Fairies are not taught. It is needed that I educate myself to be a good leader of my people, and worthy of my material wealth and my position on the council."
"Yeah, that's fair."
This simple phrase only served to twist his lips into a wider smile. Anti-Bryndin folded and unfolded his wings behind him. The image whacked against my memories, because… that's what he used to look like, standing beside his mother. When Anti-Ember ruled as the bitter and seething High Countess of Anti-Fairy World, driven to lash out in war and flame, Anti-Bryndin used to stand instead of float beside her, gently fanning his wings. He'd keep one claw wedged beneath his black scarf, perfectly uncomfortable and perfectly poised. There's a pretty well-known painting in the museum depicting exactly that, actually. I think it was all a political act. See, right from the start, the prince had a brand image to maintain: the sweet, passive son who disagreed with his mother's fury. It's what Fairy World wanted. It's what swayed them to give Anti-Bryndin a cautious chance at political power. He's lived his entire life as a charming noble.
I'm sure he and his mother planned it all together. I read a biography on Anti-Ember once, and I know she was more a snake than anyone ever realized while she was still alive. Maybe the term 'chameleon' would be more accurate. Anti-Ember played the long game. We don't truly have proof of it and she did die 68,535 years ago (I remember; the year Anti-Bryndin and I had this talk was the year Smith would turn 10; I was 432,011 exactly, the Seven Festivals falling on the heels of my winter birthday four weeks earlier), but I always had the sense that Anti-Ember would leave roots and seeds behind her. I remember I was grilling fish when I heard she'd gone to smoke; it was during the 170,000 years I spent in Cattahan's employment. Sanderson wasn't a thought in my head back then, and wouldn't be for another 60,000 years. Fairy-Ember had always been a daredevil flier. She flew high, she flew fast, and she did all she could to win herself a title half as famous as the one her counterpart wore from birth. She had a bad crash into a mountain the day that ended her life. Rumors abound that Ember did herself in, that she snapped. Not everyone can handle the pressure of living with a counterpart so evil, she kicked off a war that spurred thousands of deaths.
I'm not sure what beliefs I subscribe to: only that Anti-Ember never saw it coming. It's been said a thousand fresh plans to take over Anti-Fairy World were found in her office and disposed of by her son when he took up the mantle. I'd like to believe that's true, but sometimes when Anti-Bryndin stands there staring into your soul…It makes you wonder if he truly went off-script like he's always claimed. Anti-Ember had been rough around the edges and demanding in her requests, but no one ever thought she'd start a war. What beliefs had she taught her son when he was still young and suckling? The war had long been over, but had Anti-Ember's desire to seize control of Fairy World ever truly faded?
The way Anti-Bryndin stood in front of me then, after telling me so earnestly of all that he did to research and befriend his Seelie brethren, reminded me of that much younger figure I used to see in assorted news media: standing too perfectly to be unpracticed, down to every scripted falter and innocent blink of the eyes. He even had a claw at the lip of his shirt now, just like he used to in his adolescent years. Only that smile, that soft smile, had changed. Didn't all of Fairy World warmly agree that Anti-Bryndin had grown from an anxious tagalong into a gracious, cool-headed host whom everyone adored? Hadn't we all been assured numerous times that there wasn't a thought of world domination in his head? That hospitality, making merry with his damsels, and rebuilding a positive view of Anti-Fairy culture were his only lifelong goals?
Sometimes I forget I'm on co-worker terms with the most powerful people in the cloudlands… I forget how carefully I need to watch my words, lest I upset the political balance in some accidental way.
Anti-Bryndin smoothed his blue collar, tracing his hand down to rest in the center of his chest. A sign of innocent surrender, displaying no weapon in his fingers. "This too, I am one who holds place with Winni: the nature spirit who oversees healing. There are many things of medicine that I do know."
"What?" He'd lost me. I'd lost myself in my own thoughts, honestly.
His hands slid sideways, gesturing towards his distant office in quiet understanding. "Now that we have bandaged the place you were cut, I will take you to a place with scrolls of parchment so I might best explain what plan I have formed for your medicine. There are some steps to detail and we will have dates to pick for our traveling. Is this okay?"
At first I said nothing, gazing at my now bandaged hand. Although I'd griped the whole time about the silver, Anti-Bryndin had done well to wrap my tomte wound in gauze that looked plain and white on the outside. The healing surface touched me, but the exterior wasn't obvious even if you stared. Was this an Anti-Fairy brand of medical supplies? Maybe all bandages should be made this way. I pushed my thumb a few times along my fingertips, rustling the folded gauze without touching the gash across my palm. Maybe the silver was working already. My hand didn't throb so much anymore.
Then, "Yes, High Count… That sounds fine."
So we went, I guess. Anti-Bryndin led me back through the halls of his Blue Castle, apparently not at all concerned that he and I were basically alone while his colony partied on the hills outside. I mean, we had Anti-Floresna following us (She'd stood in the doorway while he bandaged my hand). There's that. The High Count seemed assured that in a fight, if she needed to, his personal guard and her bo staff could take me down. Genuinely, I wondered what would happen if she tackled me and we rolled across the floor… I've heard Anti-Fairy bodies are physically dense because their magic is naturally salty and that's why they tend to skirt low along the ground when they glide, but it would be interesting to test in practice, I think. After all, I can be plenty salty too. In words. Maybe if opportunity arose someday, I'd look into it.
In the rear of the Castle, Anti-Bryndin brought me to the High Count's office. He looked wiry, standing before the fancy door, like a mouse. Anti-Ember died a long time ago, but I guess… I always forget how small Anti-Bryndin really is until I see him upright in his own home. I'd heard that looking through the crystal ball adds like half a pound, but it only hit me then how true it was. Maybe he was stressed. He didn't look like he'd been eating as much as he used to, back when he used to preen. Should I ask about that?
Anti-Bryndin waited while I opened the door for him. Torches and candles flickered instantly to life, their flames a drastic and undeniable gold. His thick black carpet had been accented by a green rug, but the walls glowed with sunshine yellow. Honestly the design in here was always such a drastic shock compared to the rest of the drab castle interior, it always left me reeling. I personally didn't think the colors fit with his mahogany desk, but Anti-Fairies have their preferences. You'll never win an argument about interior design with them, because they'll mutter and spit about karma and energy balance and they'll shift your things around when your back is turned. Half the time, it's worth hiring one to design for you in the first place.
Anti-Florensa stepped into the office behind me, shut the door, and took on her silent, vigilant role as the High Count's guard. In the early days of our friendship, she'd often stood a little closer. I read mixed signals in the air at the sight of her lingering behind. But I didn't voice as much.
Anti-Bryndin had me open his closet, then invited me to take a seat across his desk. I didn't, taking a moment to glance around instead. Big office for a short drake. Plenty of shelves along the walls, but it felt narrow. A little cramped for my spinning wings. Same yellow curtains I remembered from my previous visits, though, and mixed in with leafy plants and bits of green. I locked my stare on a clip of news-parchment framed on the wall. Was this new? I'd never taken a close look before.
"Do… you play the drums?" I asked. Anti-Bryndin, searching for something in his desk drawers, glanced up at me.
"I play one drum."
The ink drawing showed him doing exactly that. One drum. "I never knew that."
"Ah, no? My mamá always said music is good for nobility and for everyone so we may learn great skills, but my wrists and fingers are very weak." This statement was interspersed with the opening and closing of rolling drawers in his desk. "My counterpart is swanee, taking after his father, who is not far different from my own. On his hands he has feathers, not fingers, and they do not bend easily as many do. It affects me. I only play one drum."
I didn't know that either, about his wrists. Was that why he'd needed me to open the doors for him? And did that have anything to do with why he'd insisted that I quickly bandage my tomte hand instead of letting the pain seep over me? Had former High Count Anti-Henrie, whose blood had been no less anti-swanee than Anti-Bryndin's, also faltered in the face of doors? I'd seen the paintings where he always wore robes and kept his hands tucked in his sleeves, but I'd assumed he just considered himself above touching germ-covered surfaces. I'd never realized there might be another reason he didn't use his hands in front of other people. I turned and stared quizzically for a moment, but Anti-Bryndin had moved on.
"Anti-Fairies believe in the philosophies of Thurmondo, in the value of experiment and art. I have contacts who can help us in this project." He unpacked several items from his closet shelf - ink, a second crystal ball, a basket for outgoing messages, a list of contact information - and set them in front of me, talking all the while. "It is as I told you outside in my tent, Head Pixie: I am of the thought that if you bring me these medicine strips which you take to slow your age process, then I can look deeply at them. Expert Anti-Fairies can decipher the secrets that Venus Eros tries to keep her own."
He unfurled a length of parchment over his desk. The end of the scroll dangled towards the floor. Whoa. I couldn't stop staring at the floating, glittering strip of wood that seemed to produce the parchment out of thin air. Did it never end? I'd never seen something that spit blank parchment out before. Especially not one that hovered on its own, unhindered by the need for a constant magic supply.
Did he make that himself or did he purchase it somewhere? I wondered where he shopped for office supplies. I'd have to register myself there if I ever get married again. Which I guess would make me a serial monogamist and Fairy World would scoff and sneer at me, but that's not the point.
"Here is how I plan. I will start to study this medicine in the way we analyze health and food." Anti-Bryndin demonstrated this by inking a shape on his endless parchment river. I think a rectangle, though the sides were wobbly. My pixie brain hyperfixated on its imperfection, on the unrealistic existence of that object if it were an actual structure like he proposed. "If they are edible, I can study hard to learn the recipe and create these things without help."
"Can you? Entirely?"
"I think this is a possibility worth my research time," Anti-Bryndin said, drawing a long horizontal line across his page. He began to detail his rectangle by adding elements to it such as conveyor belts and display windows to allow someone to view what was happening inside the machine. "I am to understand these medicines Venus has given will extend your lifespan past the 18,000 years she first predicted for you. It is not good to rely on her. It is best to be in control yourself."
I floated closer to the desk, leaving the drawing of him and his drum behind. Although I heard the words he spoke, I found myself unable to stop watching Anti-Bryndin's hand. The lines he drew were crooked, the circles lopsided. His penmanship had never been great - which I'd noticed in our past letters and documents - but I'd always attributed it to a poor understanding of Snobbish. After all, the language he'd been born under was Vatajasa. Anyway, it rarely mattered before… We contacted each other more often with the crystal ball than by letter. He had a star stamp and yellow ink to mark his checks with so he never needed to sign his name.
Was that hard? I'd never thought about it before, but it must suck to live life without being able to write cleanly at a quick speed. If I ever have to get someone else to file my taxes for me, I may as well be dead. And how did having poor wrists affect his ability to use his wand? Maybe that was the reason I rarely saw him use it. He must not be able to make a proper McKinley grip, leaving him susceptible to fumbling and counter spells…
"Head Pixie?"
"What?"
Anti-Bryndin smiled at me faintly and double tapped his parchment with a claw. "My concept is simple, but I will ask the great minds of science in my land to create the machines we will need. Take a peek."
I leaned my good hand against the desk, studying Anti-Bryndin's concept. As he'd cautioned me, the drawing lacked details. I think it was less of a firm plan and more of a dream design for how Anti-Bryndin would like to study the product inside. This type of analysis magic was unfamiliar to me, and the proposed factory tech even less so, but I could understand the basics. I'd once bought an Anti-Fairy chocolate factory that was struggling with its sales and turned it into a drug producer for Wish Fixers' medicinal needs. Sanderson was about five and Anti-Cosmo actually worked there at the time; it's actually how we met.
"This looks comprehensive. If this can really dissect the properties of Venus's medicine, I'd love to invest in it. The Eros family is powerful enough without maintaining an iron-clad grip on the secrets of life, health, and bodily decay."
Anti-Bryndin twisted the parchment back towards him, his quill at the ready. "Yes, I agree to this. I think we can do this. There are many Anti-Fairies wise in the ways of food and what it contains. Some parts of food are for health, others for color, others for flavor." Each time he listed off a trait, he drew a dash on the parchment. "Wise ones among my people can find this information. I can work with my contacts, but I will give you colony names and the notes of individuals if you wish to confirm what I say with them. Is this okay?"
"What?" My brain still lagged behind, distracted by the slow and painful way he used his hands to write. I leaned down. My head blocked some of the torchlight, and Anti-Bryndin flicked his gaze up to me. His lips pressed together.
"Ah… This is strange to you?"
I lay my hand on the back of my wingtip chair, staring down at the High Count until his ears folded back. "I don't doubt your authenticity, High Count. I know these recent millennia have been rocky for us, but it's not your responsibility to prove you won't poison or sabotage me. I can find my own contacts if I want second opinions."
Anti-Bryndin hesitated, teeth locked together in the back. "I am transparent?"
I lingered my eyes on his face, tracing the shape of his unusual horns over and over in my mind. Cross-Court friendships could be difficult. And not just because they were socially frowned upon by so many people- especially by the older generations who still remember Anti-Ember and the war that split the sky. It was their entire culture. Their mindset. They're just wired differently than the rest of us. Fairies were friendly. Maybe overly friendly at times, but friendly nonetheless. They stay friends long-term and it's not unusual to network with acquaintances from growing up. It's why I could do things like contact my old friend Leonard on short notice and not worry that we'd drifted apart.
Anti-Cosmo often tells me that the Seelie are subject to rosy retrospection: that our memories are faulty and we too easily overlook the uncomfortable things we've been through. He might be right. Our social norm is to tuck our memories away in lockboxes, sealing them with keys. It's why I hired help from a master of memory magic to write this autobiography, and why Anti-Cosmo's working on his all on his own. Personally, I keep enough of my negative memories to avoid repeating similar mistakes. I pull them out when I need to, but I don't like living with the constant weight of them. I think that's why he's so anxious all the time.
But Anti-Fairies aren't like Fairies. They're clingy, needy, and require repeated reassurance in their daily lives; they consider themselves people who drift apart if they don't hear back from friends on a near-constant basis. When Anti-Bryndin hesitated over his words, I saw exactly what the problem was. I wanted to return to the way things used to be between us, when we trusted each other and didn't dance around our expectations. Sure, I wasn't ready to label myself his courgette again, but I missed some of what we used to have. I think we were both roaming through life more miserable in present day than we were back then, and I wanted to reset us to that position. For a Fairy - a creature whose natural inclination is to pursue happiness and comfort - that would be the logical step in renewing our old relationship.
But not for an Anti-Fairy.
"Ah, Head Pixie… Our friendship was broken for a time. In some ways, I will push you to seek help because… I value you and the health you seek. But I will not overstep and take command if you do not wish to work on this project with me. I can organize it for you if you desire only one point of contact, with myself as…"
Prickly pause.
"Your friend." Anti-Bryndin shifted his parchment a little, definitely uneasy. His wings and fingers didn't stay still and steady. "But I have information for you if you choose to leave here and not work together with me. I desire that you choose the comfortable path. This is the path for you."
I said nothing. How unfortunate. The Fairy in me wished to brush past the mess the last few thousand years had been. I didn't even like thinking about who I was during my downward spiral, and I definitely didn't like talking about it. I'd have liked to skirt past that conversation in silent mutual understanding that it wasn't an enjoyable topic of discussion. Opening up about any "feelings" I did or didn't have on that matter just wasn't my thing.
But Anti-Bryndin's mental wiring didn't allow him to do that. Or at least not easily. He couldn't pick up on that silent agreement, because his relationships were built upon blatant physical signs. Um… I hovered behind my chair, trying to decipher this situation from his point of view. I'd been around Anti-Fairies a lot in the past few millennia. I knew a lot about their culture. I could decipher this.
I knew he wanted something from me. He needed visible evidence of commitment, like service or gifts. Those things meant more to Anti-Fairies than they typically did to Fairies, and if I wanted his help on this project…
If I wanted the High Count's long-term commitment while I rebuilt this relationship and worked to save my pixies…
I stared impassively at Anti-Bryndin until he faltered and looked away. His talons tightened around the base of his quill. I didn't say anything for a moment. Sometimes, when I'd sat back and thought about the Barrier that divides the cloudlands, it would slowly dawn on me that their world is so incredibly young. I'd existed in this universe longer than the skies were split between purple and red. All my life, I'd been older than the name Anti-Fairy World. Did I really have to bend to these young expectations of their culture? The Anti-Fairies were still trying to figure out how to define their own proper government and laws for the first time in history. They had the basic blocks in place (originally set during the time the Blue Castle was home to scholars and school children), but they were still learning. It's why their world generally made for such an unpleasant and chaotic place to be. It felt almost insulting to know Anti-Bryndin still hesitated, waiting for me to abide by a social expectation that he personally desired even when it wasn't local law.
But… I thought of my pixies clinging to existence with purple magic in their lifeforce. And I wondered what held me back. Anti-Bryndin had never shown me any signs that he held to Anti-Ember's dreams of conquering Anti-Fairy World. I shouldn't judge him for his mother's errors; not when he'd been nothing but steady and polite to me throughout our entire friendship. My fingers curled, half in my skin and the other half stiff from gauze.
I took my seat across the desk for the first time, clasping my hands in front of me. Gently- the right one stung when they touched. "High Count, I've been aggressive in my approach, like a Seelie Courter. I sought you out with no warning, distracted you at a time of ceremony, and have capitalized your attention since I came here. I don't think you and I can be courgettes again, because I think our needs are too different to be satisfied by considering ourselves a close partnership. That said, I am interested in being friends again. I don't want an Anti-Bryndin who feels the need to provide alternative solutions to my problems that leave him out of the interaction, just in an attempt to make me comfortable. I want to see the Anti-Bryndin I used to talk to and eat with at the Council meetings. I want the Anti-Bryndin who cherishes his son and daughter, who never gives up on his culture or politics, who does everything he can to portray himself as a humble and level-headed individual in the wake of his mother's dramatic destruction… and I miss when you were comfortable enough to show me around the festivities… or offer massages. I'll admit that." I paused, breath tight. "I liked feeling secure in the knowledge that I could invite you to Fairy World and you would actually want to come. I want our friendship back. Tell me how I can make this better. Consider it done."
I thought this to be eloquent phrasing, but Anti-Bryndin sighed. His eyes flickered down to the desk this time. He leaned his fingertips to his temples and stared, frowning, at the unfurled scroll in front of him. He'd written down a few names and half a scry bowl serial number. People he thought I might want to make the effort to track down and interview personally, all to avoid contact with him.
Or maybe he was the one who felt it best if he avoided contact with me.
"I am in conflict," the High Count finally said, and my wings sagged behind my shoulders. The sunny yellow office room felt a lot less cheery. He wiped the nib of his quill clean and tucked it back in its holder. I lifted my wings again just before he swished his attention back on me. Anti-Bryndin rested his chin on the heel of his hand and looked me up and down. "We disagree on many things. I will give you advice and aid, and I have asked several times in recent statements that you will call me Kitigan, but I am not certain we can have full trust in each other at this time."
"Oh," I said, and my wings prickled once more. I didn't entirely like the direction this conversation was going. Nonetheless, I stayed in my seat. "Are you willing to elaborate, Kitigan? I'll… try to be more free with your private name. I call you by your title as a sign of respect."
"Respect I have. I desire intimacy and affection in referring to me by my name." So saying, Anti-Bryndin inflated his cheeks briefly, then brought his palms together as though they made a boat. This, he tilted in my direction. "I did like to see you many times, and I liked to talk with you. I desire this again. But also, I have felt pressured and judged by you in the past. This is what we need to change if we will fix this friendship."
"Okay… Yeah. I get that. I haven't forgotten you explained how you were offended by the implication I only value your friendship because you're High Count. You thought I didn't care about you as a person and I just wanted to schmooze your titles. I'm aware of that now. I'll be better."
"How will you do this?"
He asked the question in a flawless blend of innocence and serious desire. I considered his words for a moment, my fingers drumming on my knee, then said this: "I'll talk to you more about things you care about personally and invite you to activities where titles are irrelevant. This was never about being High Count. I came to you with my questions of Venus's life-extending medicine not because of politics, but because you're my friend."
"That is true." Anti-Bryndin gazed back at me, calculating behind his copper-colored eyes. The candlelight rippled across them so they shone like sparking lava. I heard them crackle as magic whirled inside my skull. "I have called you 'Head Pixie' for a great length of time. Should this continue?"
"I don't mind it. It's my title and my name and I respect it. But if you like, you can also call me H.P. All in all it's my preferred address; only my father and ex-wife call me by the old one, and those days are long behind me. I don't particularly associate with my birth name anymore. Even at Fairy Con, they list me as Head Pixie in the books now."
"H.P.," Anti-Bryndin repeated, like he wasn't sure. "I see this. Now, if we are friends again… Can you value my relations with Anti-Elina, Anti-Zoe, Anti-Florensa, Shamaiin, and have no jealousy?" At this, Anti-Bryndin leaned across his desk. I tried to keep from blinking at his piercing stare. Thin hairs trembled on his cheeks, prying from his scales as though aiming to claw their way free from his skin. Spider-like. "Can you accept if I tell you I am busy because of them or my work as High Count, and cannot always change plans for you?"
I didn't reply. He wasn't finished.
"There were times in the past that I felt exhausted from work, and had to hide this from you. I knew if I requested change or cancelation, this would hurt you. If we become friends again, I wish to be more open about myself and my life. I wish to tell you when I am excited to see Shamaiin, or I wish to get advice on gifts for my wives. I wish to feel it is acceptable to spend time with them, and you, and that you will not count the minutes or hold me to schedules that are difficult to promise. Will you respect this in me? You will not find reasons to resent me for these things?"
Cold, quiet jealousy smarted in my hand when I envisioned the High Count fawning over the Purple Robe with charcuterie boards, personal scrying crystals, and massages the way he fawned over me. He'd told me before that he and Shamaiin grew up together practically as neighbors: Shamaiin lived right across the Barrier and the two of them had been friends since childhood. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if Anti-Bryndin claimed he'd known the Purple Robe longer than his own wives, because it was probably true. And what right did I have to speak up anyway? It's not like he would brush the others aside just to make me a priority. And if I couldn't commit myself to making him a priority in my life, the way I'd wanted to make him when we were courgettes, I couldn't ask that of him either. I couldn't expect frequent communication like we used to have. It might be nice, but maybe dangerous.
"I'm content to be your fellow Council member and friend, Kitigan. We both lead our respective races. I think there's a certain brotherhood in that."
Anti-Bryndin nodded… Firmly, yet hesitant at the same time. He blended both expressions on his thoughtful face, but didn't hesitate in the nodding. "H.P., there is one more thing. I say this because preening, while it is a great honor to be given the Head Pixie's preen, is not all that I would desire in my truest friendships."
I think I knew what he wanted before he even said it. I met his gaze, unflinching, and readied myself to answer. "Go on."
This earned me another nod, mixed in there with a careful inhale. His talons pattered into place as he linked his fingers. "You are under no obligation to see me for this, for it is shame and sin in the eyes of the Fairy Council although welcomed by the spirits. I understand this can be fearful to you. But you asked this upon me in the recent past, when I was frightened and rejected you. It was… fearful to me, and pressured, because your wish was to go against Anti-Fairy tradition and to engage in customs in a mistaken way. Now I ask it of my own wish: Would you consider meeting me to exchange contract in the Anti-Fairy way?"
The Anti-Fairy way… The sociosexual way. I felt a spark in the energy field as Anti-Florensa voiced a nosy question in her mind, but said nothing. She stayed still behind me, only slightly shifting her staff between hands.
Anti-Bryndin tilted back his head, and I knew then that he was serious… Completely committed to the idea. Enamored with me? My personality? My charm? I like to think so, though I know it's been said I have a big head. He finished with, "I desire your honest truths, and we Anti-Fairies believe that to show your intentions at roost is the purest mindset of all. This is honesty. I embrace it. I can help you make adjustments for your pixie body, unless you desire to take your Anti-Fairy state again as you did before when we met… but I wish to share contract. We have confusions to clear. Is this okay?"
I really am what Fairies call a "creampuff," aren't I? Maybe I should have been more repulsed by the suggestion than I was. I guess it's hard to feel that way sometimes… when you feel equal attraction towards both Fairies and Anti-Fairies, and it's because you feel no attraction at all. I considered my position, resting my chin for a moment on my thumbs. Was I supposed to resent his proposal? Because I didn't. It didn't bother me at all.
To this day, I still don't know exactly what that means or how exactly I define myself. Our culture decrees that cross-Court relationships should be as frowned upon as romance between godparent and godchild, or a fae with a wild animal. The Anti-Fairies themselves believe they were spirit creatures once upon a time. Their animal natures, their alleged bloodlines, are vital to their culture. If I follow Daoist teachings and Da Rules, both say I'm meant to scoff at them.
But it's difficult. Because… When someone you want to befriend offers you acceptance and forgiveness - even those who don't hold the power to save your race from rapid extinction - then it's difficult sometimes to walk away.
"I won't refuse you." I said, leaning back in my chair. Hm. I pressed my forefinger to my lip, and tried to hold back the swell of distaste creeping up my chest (a remnant of my Fairy upbringing even if against my pixie nature). "I don't often review my past actions and decide they are worth regretting, but I do know some of my expressions towards you in recent millennia have been… in poor taste."
Anti-Bryndin raised a brow, saying nothing. I continued, gaze firm.
"I was in crisis. I overstepped our friendship so I could use you to explore an interest in Anti-Fairies I didn't understand myself. You were uncomfortable with it. I pushed you past your comfort zone. I won't do that again. I realize now that sociosexual behavior is different from blitzing and it's not fair for me to treat it the same way Fairies treat mating. Sociosexual communication is to you what preening is to me. This is how you show honesty in a deeper way than surface-level words. When you're ready to invite me to share my perspective on our relationship, I'll follow your cultural expectations. What I did was wrong. I won't demand or argue again. I'll respect your zodiac and the ceremony behind the act… not pursue the pleasure of it."
For the first time since he started bandaging my hand, Anti-Bryndin smiled at me. He sat back in his chair again and his wings no longer hung so stiffly at his back. They spread to either side, relaxed and welcoming as though he'd held out his arms. "I admire your gesture, Head Pixie. I am not ready to take your favor as a gemstone on my tongue, but I will take this offer seriously and set a time for us to meet. The contract will be made. Is this okay?"
I stared down at my bandaged hand and nodded. Slowly. "Yes, Kitigan."
A core part of being a pixie, I think, is placing the safety and longevity of our minuscule race above the wants of an individual, especially ourselves. To be Head Pixie is to take on that and more, embracing the mantle of duty and expectations. The Anti-Fairies, I suspect, will not always be our consistent allies. Times will change. Politics shift. I think it's a noble and valid goal for Pixies to stand as a politically neutral race, albeit impossible to remain true neutral in all respects. I see us as a people who will ally with Fairies and Anti-Fairies interchangeably as they shift their preferences from chaos to order. Back again, back again, taking turns while the pendulum swings.
But at the time Anti-Bryndin extended his hand to me, I had no reason not to favor Anti-Fairy friendship. Jorgen was young; only his mother Adelinda hovered on my radar, and she and I never saw eye to eye. King Northiae I saw only on occasion, as he generally had his hands full double-dipping Pink Castle security with the world of politics (not to mention his passion for hunting goblins, foop, and dragons). So many Fairies had mocked me for my awkward features and square wings, pushing me away. Anti-Fairies didn't always look past that, but I still felt they made much better company.
The War of the Sunset Divide had faded behind us. I didn't know then what lay around the corner. I knew only Anti-Bryndin, and he was my friend.
Then he asked more of me than physical intimacy. Anti-Bryndin linked his fingers below his chin. He broke eye contact at the same time, yanking my focus back to present time. "Ah. Now, this machine we must construct is only part of my goals. For the other part, I would like to travel with you. We must go to the Anti-Fairy city of Shadeblink, where the Fire Temple is. This is where we did bury the core of my mamá. I must commune with the spirits there and draw upon the strengths and passions of Saturn, who rules in warrior ways. Then we will return to Godscress so I may speak with Winni. I have much communication to consider, and there are teachings of healing that I wish to review so I may help you best. Is this okay?"
I frowned, forehead creasing. "Seeking aid from the nature spirits of your Zodii temples goes against everything I was raised to believe in. I was always taught the spirits are violent and will attack the cloudlands if they are ever set free. I'm not sure that's a risk I can take."
"You said you would break Da Rules for your pixies," Anti-Bryndin coaxed, tilting his head. "It is against that book to disrespect the Eros family, but you are okay with taking medicine from them."
"We're ending a monopoly. That's just business."
Anti-Bryndin shrugged his wings so high, the little claws on their tips clicked against the lower part of his horns. "I do not see why religion should stand between you if Da Rules can be broken. There are many Anti-Fairies who visit the Breath Temple for healing, and they always leave perfectly safe again."
This, however, did not sway me. "I've heard your people kill each other in the temple. With inrita knives. Are there ways to avoid that?"
"My people regenerate; that's why we do this."
"And I won't revive, you know."
"Then I will not slay you. Will you trust me?"
Did I have much choice? I studied the parchment unfurled on the desk between us. Though Anti-Bryndin's words were sloppy, I could tell at once that he'd been making careful calculations. Maybe it's a stereotype for good reason when everyone says that Anti-Fairies are better at math and science than any other cloudland race, even the alux'oob. The Fairies may embody creativity and the arts, but the Anti-Fairies really took innovation and industry by the horns. I think I came to the right person to get help.
"This machine is the perfect plan," I said. "And you thought it up fast. I'll have to consider working on more collabs with Anti-Fairies in the future. I'll go to the nature spirits' temples with you. Just as long as you don't expect me to worship them or break them out of their chains or anything like that. I'll control my tongue when you speak about your other friends and partners… I'll be better."
I was ready to do exactly that. Maybe I honestly did want to 'be better.' I might be busy, I might have my hands constantly full of young pixies and budding business strategies, but… I could afford to be better. Maybe that would be my goal this year. It was the Seven Festivals now… There would be no better time to start.
Anti-Bryndin leaned farther back in his chair, stretching one arm above his head. With the other, he cricked it out. "This was no trouble! I am glad I could be of help to you, Head Pixie. Ah, you very recently had a crowning year of birth, did you not? My help can be my gift to you."
"Yeah… I turned 500,000 right before Abernathy and Smith were born." When I really thought about it… So much had changed in such a short time. When I'd started hanging out with Anti-Bryndin long ago, I'd only had a handful of pixies. Keefe and Springs were still infants, hand in hand with Graham. Since leaving the Eros Nest, I'd had… how many? McKinley. Ralston. Walters. Thane. Palomar. Cinna, Kaufman, Saddler, Abernathy… Smith… The Pixie population was growing fast. I glanced down at my bandaged hand and clenched it in a fist. Once my wound healed, I'd start draining magic again at an alarming rate. My senescent years could be right around the corner. 6,000 years ago, Dm. Venus had warned me I had only 18,000 years left to live. The numbers were dwindling and that didn't leave me with a lot of time to get my affairs in order. 12,000 years is barely the bat of an eye.
"Preen with me," I said. The words popped out before I fully registered them, but I didn't try to grab them back. Maybe I should have. Anti-Bryndin's smile dropped into dust.
"What?"
Fair question. I might have lost my focus too if a business partner sprung that on me with little to no build-up beforehand. I stayed steady, my hands resting on my knees. "It's been some time since we preened together. While my life hangs in the balance, I don't want to procrastinate this. Give me dominance licks while I'm in your territory. I want to submit to you, as a thanks for what you're doing to help me."
I wondered if I should tell him the preening didn't have to be done in the middle of his people's festival season. But the memory of him being late the day we planned to go to Mag Mell kept haunting my mind. If the Purple Robe came between us… there was a serious possibility Anti-Bryndin might forget me, or we'd have busy schedules, or the rules on crossing the Barrier would become more stringent, and I might die without ever sharing licks with him again.
Anti-Bryndin hesitated a few seconds longer. Then he slightly shook his head, drawing in a breath. "Yes, yes. I agree with this thing you have said, for preening is important in politics and it should be done. We can do this today, while you are here. It is no bother." He stood; I mirrored him. The candles fluttered at us both. "I will find someone who can prepare the chamber. The water one, I think, for many visitors to the Seven Festivals were eager to see the lava pools. Ah, do you have pixies you need to have watched?"
"No. Longwood is touring the festivities with…" I paused before saying China's name. She worked with Anti-Bryndin because she was an architect. Did I want to identify her specifically? Call attention to her? Not really. Maybe for her own sake, too. "He's spending the day with an ex of mine."
"You limit yourself in such language," Anti-Bryndin said mildly, but didn't comment more. He sent Anti-Florensa out to find someone to prep the water chamber for us. We wrapped up our conversation in his office and he slipped me the contact information for the Anti-Fairies he planned to work with on this project. Helpful, and considerate. I could appreciate his intention even when I didn't want him to actively avoid me. The way I see it, it's far more convenient to collaborate with someone I know and trust than it is to chase migrating colonies across Anti-Fairy World and risk being turned down by any of them in the process. Working with the High Count would be the smartest option.
But then… I don't know why I clung to my reservations. Anti-Bryndin isn't hard to talk to. He let me sit on the corner of his desk, watching as he drew and wrote on his parchment. Maybe I didn't mind the Anti-Fairy tradition of small talk so much after all. It took a weight off my shoulders to unwind. We chatted about my pixies and his two kids. We talked about the Council and the upcoming Anti-Fairy migration. Then we got the signal from Anti-Florensa that we were okay to proceed to the water chamber. I moved down the hall with my wings twitching. This would be my first time preening with him in an age. But after Anti-Bryndin tugged the door shut behind us and turned his full attention on me… Well, he doesn't hold back. My anxieties melted away.
Maybe it isn't so bad to renew a friendship every now and again.
Anti-Bryndin and I spent the week together, give or take. I'd allowed Longwood a decent festival experience with China. With my tomte hand, I didn't have an easy way to travel back and forth across the cloudlands anyway. Anti-Bryndin had plenty else he needed to do beyond entertain me, but I ate marshmallows, strawberries, tried some of the best hot chocolate I'd ever tasted, and even had the chance to strike up conversation with Anti-Florensa. I don't think she's ever had a close relationship with her sons, and apparently their father died when both of them were young. This checked out with what I'd gathered during my chats with Florensa Prime at Fairywinkle's border. Honestly we spoke so much of her family's counterparts that Anti-Cosmo himself probably would have been insulted, but I found it eye-opening. We were leaning against one of those balconies with the sheer curtains, she facing down at the drop below while I studied the stars above. I'd almost finished the last of my hot chocolate. I tapped my nails against the mug.
"I had no idea that Florensa tried to beg Anti-Bryndin for a loan… She never told me. She had some nerve in seeking out your husband."
Anti-Florensa shrugged at me, curling in her wings. She'd gone for cherry soda, which she cradled in a tall glass between her claws. "Well, Anti-Bryndin can uphold boundaries once he sets them, but he's still soft inside. Her husband left her with mountains of debt. She wanted the funds; she simply wouldn't take her fate with folded wings. Why, her oldest even turned crooked in search of money to make ends meet, you know. He's got a slippery tongue."
"I appreciate the tip, but I highly doubt this Robin will get through my defenses." In jest, I lifted my mug in her direction, like a toast. "When I lived on Earth, there was a time I made a living catching con men. Now tell me… How did it happen that your son got into the Fairy school buildings? He's not particularly smart or talented, is he?"
(I hear you scoff, but it's not like I knew you well back then.)
"Our custom is to educate the drakes so they can fend for themselves when they leave their birth colony," Anti-Florensa intoned. She gazed across the cliffs and mountains, the soda glass dangling from her fingertips. "Anti-Cosmo already liked school. Convincing them to stay in it wasn't hard, even if I do think what they teach there is biased towards Fairy children. Rubbish."
"It is. I don't think we had any Anti-Fairies in my cohort. Well, good on him." Idly, I sized up the empty hot chocolate mug in my hand. Anti-Florensa watched me. Then she grabbed her bo staff then and held it in my direction.
"Want to drop down there and spar?"
"Hm. Yeah, all right. Let's go. I won't hold back just because you're a damsel. Adelinda von Strangle always went tough on me and I won't make allowances for you either."
"Fine by me."
I think I liked talking to Anti-Florensa because I felt I could trust her to keep romance out of our relationship. I'd had that once with Magalee when we were in school, and it's probably why I enjoyed talking to Anti-Cosmo when he used to run errands for Anti-Bryndin too. I guess I had that with Emery too, underneath our sibling rivalry. There's a certain enjoyment to be had in being a nuisance and finding someone who doesn't just tolerate your snarky tongue, but encourages it. I think when the mood is set for flirting, people make more allowances than they would for friends. Then the truth comes out and you weren't funny after all, only bitter, only cruel.
I think China saw me that way. I was tolerated. Iris relied on me for the help I could offer with her paperwork, her dreams. I admired her persistence in pursuing her godparenting goals, but she'd made very clear she didn't feel comfortable around the genuine me. Over the millennia, I only saw Anti-Florensa here and there and our conversations were infrequent - and even then, focused mainly around her life as a guard and my position as Head Pixie - but she's an interesting woman. Anti-Cosmo has mixed feelings about her, and I don't agree with the harsh methods she employed in raising her son, but sometimes you really do need to throw caution to the wind and have a little spar with the High Count's personal guard. She's well deserving of her title. She makes even experienced gynes work up a sweat in the arena.
My first night in Anti-Fairy World was spent in the castle, which became two nights, then three. I kept searching within myself for the energy to visit Anti-Fergus, as I'd originally intended to, but I couldn't muster the strength to track down his new hiding place. I quizzed Anti-Florensa a few times throughout the week instead. Had she ever met Dame Artemis before? Did she agree with Anti-Bryndin's analysis that Dame Artemis was somehow moonlighting as the chimera queen? When I asked, Anti-Florensa folded her arms, leaning back against a tapestry that bore the Anti-Coppertalon family crest.
"The queen? Why, no. The chimera, in the state they used to exist in, went extinct thousands upon thousands of years ago. There are none left."
"That seems to be a common belief in Anti-Fairy World, but there are literally chimera living on Plane 12. Your people don't go there… do you?"
This earned me an annoyed shrug, spiny wings flapping twice. "The Hush World contains ruins from the past. Traipsing about where they used to live shows ingratitude for the land they gave us long ago. We use only what we need and don't take more from the spirit bears than that. The only ones living up there at this time in the cycle are minor nature spirits and outcasts of our own race. I think it's not out of the question for this 'Dame Artemis' you are so concerned about to be an outcast who swayed nature spirits into hanging onto every dripping word she speaks. She may not be a natural queen, but perhaps she has a silver tongue alongside golden wings."
"She's maybe 25,000 years old, tops."
"Well, I don't know about that, then. I just don't agree she could be chimera."
So that was roughly the end of my investigation on the matter. The Anti-Fairies I spoke to refused to believe the evidence I presented about the chimera, and the Fairies I spoke to had never heard of this nix refract in their life. But eventually, I did leave the Blue Castle's bubble to look for Longwood and bring him home.
It was by no accident that Luna's Landing carried the name "The city in the crater." It took much longer than I would have liked to travel between the Blue Castle and the crater's edge, but Anti-Bryndin walked with me, hands linked behind his back. His presence made it all the more bearable. Dozens of Anti-Fairies soared above the city today, weaving in spirals and spreading sparkles with their wands. My pixie body, lacking magic, would never have the ability to join them in free flight. And frankly? I didn't want to. The sky had never called to me. I'd always been perfectly content to hover, and always would be. But I lingered on the upper path for a moment anyway just to gaze down at the glowing crystals, storefronts, and rows of blue-black tents. Fairy World's mountains were few and far between, and the Sunrise Skies stayed bright even during times of low-star. You didn't get picturesque 'glow in the dark' views like this one back home.
"It is lovely," said Anti-Bryndin, leaning against the guardrail beside me. I glanced sideways, watching his eyes trail across the cold landscape below. He opened and closed his wings slowly against his back, like a moth clinging to a leaf. "This is a view of my home that I always treasure… It is one of the places that has such value to me. I often hear Fairies say that they would never live in Anti-Fairy World, and that Anti-Fairies are jealous of your brighter skies. I do not think this is always true. There are ugly sides of Fairy World, and the cloudlands does not discriminate its wonders to only one side of a Barrier made by mortal fae. Hy-Brasil can be crowned in beauty too."
"I agree with that," I murmured back. We were silent for a time. I waited, half wondering if any passing Anti-Fairies would notice their High Count watching them and fly over to gush at his heels. Not to be sexist, but the damsels in particular I thought might schmooze for opportunity to rub shoulders with their king. After all, he's supposed to be the epitome of desire, isn't he? Isn't the stereotype that most of them daydream the High Count might someday take them to roost? I spied a few curious glances, but no one gave into that temptation. Anti-Bryndin didn't seem to watch their chests or rear cheeks either, focused instead on the city as a whole. Impassive. I kept my eyes off his face and watched the city with him. I didn't mind he wasn't in a rush to replace the scent of my preening pheromones with a damsel's perfume. I think it was classy that he didn't flaunt it or flirt at all.
"Thanks for preening with me again," I said, still not locking eyes with him. "It's been a long time. I missed our old comfort level."
"I should thank you, Head Pixie… You are the only Seelie I have ever known to extend his tongue to an Anti-Fairy and speak of it in public, unashamed."
Oh? Not even Shamaiin, then, even now… Not even Shamaiin. I watched the way Anti-Bryndin massaged his palms against the guardrail, his talons flexing. I pressed my own fingertips to my mouth. I probably shouldn't have smiled when he said it. That might be conceited of me. But the nature spirit of Communication supposedly lives inside his head, and everyone always did say that Anti-Bryndin could charm the wax off a candle and still get the flame to beg for water. He knows exactly what to say. "Well, it's not every Anti-Fairy who's willing to extend the ceremonial parts of his own culture to a Seelie Courter either. I don't appreciate that offer any less than you appreciate mine. Just scry me when the time is right."
"Hm," said Anti-Bryndin, mild and thoughtful. He knit his fingers beneath his chin, staring down across the city in the crater. "I will try to do this soon… That time, I think, will not be too long. I only have a few things to order. Maybe a few days, or a week. Yes, it should be Saturday. Then we can make pilgrimage to the Fire Temple."
It really was a charming city. I felt stereotypical, like a drake from one of Kalysta's novels, when I caught myself staring thoughtfully at Anti-Bryndin's profile instead. Redirecting, I said, "It means a lot to me that you're willing to give me a second chance, considering how forceful I was at my low points some time back. You're a good friend."
Anti-Bryndin stretched out one wing to brush my shoulder. Smiling, elbows still resting on the guardrail. "You are also, Head Pixie. I think you will always be a friend of mine."
We parted ways then. Anti-Bryndin climbed on the guardrail, then dove into the city with his wings spread. He had High Count duties to attend to. I descended the sloping path more carefully, trying to stay low enough that I could hold the rail but high enough so as not to dirty my shoes in the black soil. Luna's Landing remained as bustling as ever. Anti-Fairies avoided me expertly, but I still felt on the verge of being knocked to the ground.
My search for China and Longwood lasted half an hour even with helpful guidance from the festival attendees. I didn't see any anti-pixies mingling in the crowd. Just Anti-Cosmo once, briefly, sitting on a post at the edge of a sparring ring. It's the blue hair- he stands out in a crowd. And I should maybe clarify this was back before he swore off meat. Anti-Fairies don't spar by nature, so it's no surprise the ring was empty. I'm sure it was meant for Seelie visitors like me, but it certainly wasn't getting any use today. Actually, Anti-Cosmo saw me first. He flapped his wings in far-off greeting, looking a bit flustered to think I had caught him eating festival food instead of tea and crumpets, and that was the last I would see of him for ages. I have to acknowledge that I saw him there or he'll whine I don't make the effort to remember him.
It was late in the afternoon (local time) when I reunited with China, who was pushing Longwood gently in a hammock erected between two black trees. She'd spoiled him with local food and pastries. I was still a few dozen wingflaps away when I noticed all the green and silver glitter painted on his face. Longwood hopped out the moment he sensed my signals in the energy field. When I pulled in to land, he was standing still. Quiet. He carried a sequined bag over his shoulder and, apart from his perfectly blank face, looked wide-eyed, chipper, and utterly pleased with himself. Frankly, he looked like a nymph who'd just tasted chocolate for the very first time.
"I didn't see you at all this week," said China, lifting both brows at me. "Did you have a good meeting with the High Count?"
I had no doubt she could pick up on his scent and the way it clung around my frame. I stared back at her, lips tight. "Yes. And it was satisfying." Then, looking Longwood from head to heels, I said, "It looks like you got into the festival spirit. I hope you're ready to go back to work tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
I saw no reason to wait around. I had nothing to say to China. Particularly not when, after dropping off Longwood earlier that week, she still took pride in calling me by an old name. I began walking away, towards the sloping path that would lead us out of the crater Luna's Landing lay in. Longwood turned back, opening and closing his skinny fingers to bid good-bye anyway. I did tell him he could keep the sequined bag, but only so long as he kept it in his cabin. It wasn't appropriate for the workplace or for the Pixies Inc. brand.
"What did you and China do throughout the festivals?"
"Mostly talked, sir. Mostly about Zodii things."
I set my teeth tightly the entire way home. Zodii things? Could China truly not respect my authority over my pixies - my species - even after the divorce? She had to sink her webbed fingers into everything. But when we entered Pixie Village and I saw Palomar perched atop the village sign, kicking his stubby legs, I felt my wings relax. He sat perfectly silhouetted against a shimmering field of stars. When Longwood and I stepped out of the tram station, his eyes brightened. He slid down from the sign, his untucked shirt fluttering, and ran over to me.
"H.P.! H.P., you're back!"
I always found it easy to feel good around Palomar, at least. He carries a natural bubbly positivity, approaching everything in life with a kind heart instead of judgment, jealousy, or complaint. "Palomar," I said as he stumbled over his own feet. I lowered myself to one knee and caught him as he threw himself against my chest. Ruffling his hair, I finished as I always did with, "My favorite child… Did you miss me?"
"Yes! I learned to write my name while you were gone."
"You did?"
"Skyna taught me how. She did! It's Charlie!"
"That's right; you're Charlie Palomar. You're a clever thing, aren't you?"
Longwood made a scoffing noise and started off towards his cabin, trudging through the stiff purple grass. I called him on it and he did, at least, apologize, and I generally didn't hear him scoff at me again after that. I carried Palomar to his cabin for a nap and thought about my time in Anti-Fairy World. Maybe I shouldn't compare my wealth to that of the High Count. But I found it hard not to. Anti-Bryndin had rooms in his home. He had so much natural landscape around him that he enjoyed lavafalls, mountains, hiking trails, rivers, trees, lakes, and a stunning view of Luna's Landing in its crater. I might have blocky mountains and cliffs, but Pixie Village wasn't anywhere near as expansive in its landscape. Not yet. I needed to focus my attention on building upward, maximizing my use of the space we did have. And on top of that, I don't think Anti-Fairy World has taxes.
Anti-Bryndin had a preening room for entertaining guests. Three of them I knew about and possibly there were more. He had his pick to set the mood, set expectations, have his privacy even in a busy castle… and I really didn't. My buildings had been designed with work and sleep in mind, plus we had the outdoor terrace for eating. After Emery and Logan moved out ten years ago and took up residence in their woodland cabin, raising Smith, well… I hadn't remodeled her bedroom. I'd just started using it for storage. Maybe this would be the year I changed that. I needed a design. But I couldn't just scry China and ask her for advice.
I stared around the little drone cabin, stroking Palomar's hair and rubbing my chin with one hand. "Hmm…"
Emery's old bedroom had blue wallpaper. It wasn't my favorite color, but I could work with that and make adjustments over time. The next day, while the rest of my pixies were heading to the docks to unload boxes of paperwork, I pulled Hawkins aside and requested he write up a budget. I named every item I could think of for the preening room and he had a natural affinity for calculating prices in spite of market fluctuations, so we were done in less than an hour.
"These are the prices I expect for store-bought items, including the shipping fees." Hawkins told me. He circled the top of his list, then moved his quill to the other side. "And under the surface, this is how much it would technically cost us if we whip everything up with magic. And here, I have the price for buying the items in store and transporting them on our own."
"Okay… I see. We won't use lamps or candles. The lighting will be natural. The window glass must be as clear as possible. And it will be stained glass."
Hawkins held up his papers. "Stained glass isn't in our budget, H.P."
"Really?" I took them back from him and checked his notes over. Right. "I suppose not. That's a shame. I wanted stained glass. I suppose we'll have to work our way up to that."
The youngest pixies and I worked on clearing Emery's old room of boxes, fabric, and broken chairs. Hawkins, Wilcox, Sanderson, and Longwood checked in with me at the end of the day, wary and awaiting praise for a job well done. The fairy drones came with them. From what I heard (from Luis and Dewdrop, anyway), Longwood had navigated well in a position of management. Everyone knew how to settle into work and what to do. He helped unload the boats and served food and drink to everyone alongside Juandissimo. Sanderson had listened to concerns, balancing his time answering them effectively with his own duties. Even Wilcox rushed forward, thinking fast to tie up a cloudship that started drifting from the dock, and acted again later on to help Thane when a crate fell on his head. My pixies were growing up. Sanderson was 9,000 with the rest each 500 years behind in their turn. They might still be young, but they were adapting well to a wild, scary world.
I showed them all what I had done with Emery's bedroom. I think they knew enough about preening to understand the gist of it, that it was a more meaningful form of exchanging pheromones than the licks I gave them on their forehead, but I kept my word choice light anyway. "I would have liked silk robes," I told them, gesturing to a blank place on the wall. I wanted to put hooks there, but what was the point without anything to hang? "But silk isn't in the budget right now. I suppose we'll have to make due without."
Hawkins nodded. "I think silk is nice, H.P. It's good to dream."
While luxury called to me, keeping within my spending means would be the most important part of all of this. Maybe silk would get to be my special treat when I visited Anti-Bryndin. Here in Pixie World, I could think of something else.
"What about pajamas?" Sanderson suggested, peering past me at the room, and I turned.
"Pajamas?"
Sanderson put his hands in the air and walked out of the room. "I'm just saying, pajamas are soft and make a good alternative to silk when we're on a budget. But no, let's poke fun at Sanderson and all his ideas. It's fine. Not like anyone cares."
He was going through a phase. I guess that's typical of youth who are learning to grow up. I looked again at the preening room I'd prepared. It wasn't much right now. Just a small second-floor room of a scrawny manor home, the colors slightly clashing because it was built up out of leftover parts. But it would do for now. I'd procrastinated on this project long enough, preening the fairy drones in uncomfortable places like the hallways or on benches or in the little library. Now I could deep preen again and receive other ambassadors in a less awkward way. Since I took Rupert to live with Cracklewings, Luis had become my alpha drone. Maybe this very week, I could meet with him here.
I did bring Luis upstairs after that to show him the minor decoration I'd done to the place. Dewdrop and Juandissimo followed behind, brimming with curiosity. It wasn't anything special. Just a room with a preening palette and a window. But everyone agreed it looked nice. I think it made Luis feel a lot more comfortable in my presence. From what I'd gathered, Reddinski had regularly barked orders at him, often even refusing to let him leave a room before he was satisfied with a preening session. I'd set my own preening room up with drones in mind, not myself, by including several places to sit and move around the room, out of my reach. Just in case. Luis said he was looking forward to deep preens. So I think it worked out. I wasn't even trying to impress Juandissimo, but he offered up his own share of compliments.
"Personally, I have not experienced deep preening before," he said, turning circles in the room. "I only had shallow licks growing up as a child under Boss Reddinski's hand."
"You don't have to call him 'Boss.' As far as I'm concerned, he's abusive. He doesn't deserve to associate himself with the proper titles of gynes and drones and he doesn't deserve your respect."
Juandissimo acknowledged this by rolling his head one way, then the other. "Perhaps, yes… But I have called him Boss all my life, the way you introduce your pixies as 'Mr.'"
"Yes. It's the preferred title over 'Drk.' to indicate I absolutely intend to fight for them and I'll seek answers if they wander off without me knowing."
"I see. And I admire the culture even with my lack of experience. I think the efforts you've made… Well, I think they are decisions I respect and support. I thank you for treating my father with a gentle hand."
"I try not to be forceful," I said, studying his face. Juandissimo gazed back at me, cool and unmoving. "When I was younger, I never saw myself as someone who would care for multiple drones because I thought it would be a struggle to live with anyone besides myself. If you have any thoughts or advice, you're welcome to share."
"Ah, you would know the ways of gynes better than I do, señor… I only hope that you are happy with yourself." He glanced pointedly at my bandaged hand when he said so.
"I'm healing."
"I will help as best as I can."
I thought the preening room, even if it was simple in design, represented a good step out of the downward slope my life had been riding for so long. But after they all left the room, I found myself standing in the doorway, one hand on the frame. Just staring. And thinking.
I had 21 pixies to my name right now (20 who weren't living in the Eros Nest), and two options lay before me. Either the 18,000 year countdown that Venus had placed on me millennia ago would run out and take me with it, or… it wouldn't. Maybe she made a mistake, or maybe her ongoing research would turn up a way to extend my lifespan on a guarantee, or maybe Anti-Bryndin and I could manufacture my medicine strips in a more affordable way. From where I stood, I could see my reflection in a neighboring mirror.
I'd sprouted my first bright white streak this week. I was barely 500,000. My hair should not be taking on that color. It made it all the more difficult to deny my encroaching fate when I could see it creeping towards me 300,000 years too soon.
But if I didn't die off young, then the only other fate in store involved me and my pixies growing older together. One day, Sanderson would take on the title "alpha drone." Someday it would be him, not Luis, whom I held close and preened with gentle licks. The same huffy pixie who griped when I didn't praise his pajama suggestion would grow up one day. Just the thought of Sanderson skimming about the village on his adult wings left me feeling like the world wasn't as stable under my feet as it had always been before. Let alone the mental image of him waiting in this very room, prim and proper, for me to make time to preen.
Assuming I survived the next several thousand years, how much longer did I have with my eldest pixies before I blinked and they were grown? And after the eldest, Keefe, Springs, Palomar… Saddler, Abernathy… Smith…
I didn't think I'd ever be ready for that.
A/N - Text to Text - I have been waiting 6 years to explicitly confirm that Anti-Bryndin doesn't open doors in Origin or Frayed Knots; he has other people do it for him. He also has a hard time with jars, silverware, writing neatly, hanging from a ledge or branch with his hands, and using his wand. Consequently, this is also the same weakness that Anti-Cosmo claimed in a previous chapter he would reveal to H.P. in exchange for his loyalty. Hm…