worried, Calanthe rolled her eyes and rushed her so that she could hug June’s slim shoulders.
“You worry overmuch, snail. I am fine. In fact, I am more than fine. I am in love.”
The minutest of expressions crossed her friend’s face, so quick that Calanthe doubted whether she’d seen it at all or whether it was just a figment of her overactive imagination.
“You will be the death of me, flower,” June’s words were filled with long-suffering warmth.
“Aye, I suspect I might.”
Lifting her chin high, Calanthe held out her arm. “Lead the way, slow poke. I believe I owe you a race.”
June scoffed. “Slow poke, we’ll see about that!”
And just like that, all was right with Calanthe’s world.
~*~
“Head Mistress,” a small voice stuttered from behind the large spider web swing in the corner of The Blue’s mushroom home.
Galeta twirled at the sound. She’d only just returned to the glen, her meeting at the summit of good versus evil had lasted longer than she’d at first anticipated. It made her twitchy to be gone from her post for so long.
But she was glad she’d stayed the extra week, because there was (she’d discovered) a serious shortage of godmothers working for the villains of the world. Which was ironic to say the least, because why should something so despicable earn the privilege of possessing their own godmother? She’d opposed the edict, stating that evil got what it deserved. But she was outvoted. Resource claimed that statistically villains were less likely to do evil when they had a voice of reason behind them.
She rolled her eyes, setting down her valise. Well, that was neither here nor there at the moment.
“Show yourself, fairy.” Quirking a brow, she withdrew her wand from the voluminous folds of her icicle-blue gown. When the shadow failed to budge from the wall, she shot a bolt of her power at the swing, causing it to light up and reveal the worried face of one of her snail Fae.
A short, pixie haired fairy with piercing gray eyes who continued to stare at her feet, even when Galeta cleared her throat for the wee thing to continue.
“Fine.” She snapped her fingers, lighting the lanterns affixed to her mushroom walls. “You have three seconds to tell me what it is you want, Jinger—”
“It’s June, ma’am,” the snail mumbled.
“What was that?” Galeta leaned in. It wasn’t that she hadn’t heard her, it was that she had very little patience for simpering and timidity. Galeta was of the mind that if you were bold enough to break into someone’s home, you were bold enough to speak up.
Taking a fortifying breath and squaring her shoulders, the fairy turned her face up. “I said it’s June, ma’am.”
“Aye.” Galeta huffed, as folded slips of clothing floated from her suitcases to her bedroom dresser. She always hated cleaning up after returning home from an extended trip. “Well, then, why have you broken into my home? Anything that needs to be said could have been spoken at the games tonight, could it not?”
Nibbling on a corner of her lip, June looked as if she was soon to faint. Disgusted, Galeta growled.
“I’ve very little patience for games, snail. Either tell me why you’re here or I shall strip your wings for daring to enter my home while I was away.”
“You… you must promise me that she will not be harmed.”
The words seemed ripped from June, and her constant fidgety manner, was an obvious clue that the snail wished to be anywhere other than where she was now.
Galeta’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Harm who?”
Nostrils flaring, breath scissoring through her lungs audibly, the poor Fae looked as if she was ready to expire any second now. “Ca…Calanthe.”
The name immediately pricked Galeta’s ears. The fairy had the devil in her, had ever since the night of her birth beneath the roses. Calanthe had been a thorn in Galeta’s side for ages, prone to do whatever her emotions led her to, reckless and wild and often
“You worry overmuch, snail. I am fine. In fact, I am more than fine. I am in love.”
The minutest of expressions crossed her friend’s face, so quick that Calanthe doubted whether she’d seen it at all or whether it was just a figment of her overactive imagination.
“You will be the death of me, flower,” June’s words were filled with long-suffering warmth.
“Aye, I suspect I might.”
Lifting her chin high, Calanthe held out her arm. “Lead the way, slow poke. I believe I owe you a race.”
June scoffed. “Slow poke, we’ll see about that!”
And just like that, all was right with Calanthe’s world.
~*~
“Head Mistress,” a small voice stuttered from behind the large spider web swing in the corner of The Blue’s mushroom home.
Galeta twirled at the sound. She’d only just returned to the glen, her meeting at the summit of good versus evil had lasted longer than she’d at first anticipated. It made her twitchy to be gone from her post for so long.
But she was glad she’d stayed the extra week, because there was (she’d discovered) a serious shortage of godmothers working for the villains of the world. Which was ironic to say the least, because why should something so despicable earn the privilege of possessing their own godmother? She’d opposed the edict, stating that evil got what it deserved. But she was outvoted. Resource claimed that statistically villains were less likely to do evil when they had a voice of reason behind them.
She rolled her eyes, setting down her valise. Well, that was neither here nor there at the moment.
“Show yourself, fairy.” Quirking a brow, she withdrew her wand from the voluminous folds of her icicle-blue gown. When the shadow failed to budge from the wall, she shot a bolt of her power at the swing, causing it to light up and reveal the worried face of one of her snail Fae.
A short, pixie haired fairy with piercing gray eyes who continued to stare at her feet, even when Galeta cleared her throat for the wee thing to continue.
“Fine.” She snapped her fingers, lighting the lanterns affixed to her mushroom walls. “You have three seconds to tell me what it is you want, Jinger—”
“It’s June, ma’am,” the snail mumbled.
“What was that?” Galeta leaned in. It wasn’t that she hadn’t heard her, it was that she had very little patience for simpering and timidity. Galeta was of the mind that if you were bold enough to break into someone’s home, you were bold enough to speak up.
Taking a fortifying breath and squaring her shoulders, the fairy turned her face up. “I said it’s June, ma’am.”
“Aye.” Galeta huffed, as folded slips of clothing floated from her suitcases to her bedroom dresser. She always hated cleaning up after returning home from an extended trip. “Well, then, why have you broken into my home? Anything that needs to be said could have been spoken at the games tonight, could it not?”
Nibbling on a corner of her lip, June looked as if she was soon to faint. Disgusted, Galeta growled.
“I’ve very little patience for games, snail. Either tell me why you’re here or I shall strip your wings for daring to enter my home while I was away.”
“You… you must promise me that she will not be harmed.”
The words seemed ripped from June, and her constant fidgety manner, was an obvious clue that the snail wished to be anywhere other than where she was now.
Galeta’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Harm who?”
Nostrils flaring, breath scissoring through her lungs audibly, the poor Fae looked as if she was ready to expire any second now. “Ca…Calanthe.”
The name immediately pricked Galeta’s ears. The fairy had the devil in her, had ever since the night of her birth beneath the roses. Calanthe had been a thorn in Galeta’s side for ages, prone to do whatever her emotions led her to, reckless and wild and often
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