Must Be Magic by Lani Aames Page A

of
rose-pink stone through the wildest part of the vast gardens that surrounded
the Palace. Here, indigenous plants were allowed to flourish and overflow every
available space. The garden was a riot of color and the air scented as sweetly
as a perfumery with every plant in full bloom even thought it was only the
first day of spring.
    Her wedding had been as magical
as any childhood fantasy. Whisked away by Pixie dust to a land somewhere over
the Rainbow—as good a description as any, as far as she was concerned—the
wedding had taken place immediately. No one needed to fill out a form to get a
license.
    She wore a wedding dress straight
out of a fairy-tale, a frothy confection of iridescent white, shimmering with
every color of the rainbow whenever she moved. The longest points of the uneven
handkerchief hem barely reached her ankles, the shortest her knees. She’d been
crowned with a circlet of white and blue roses. And she’d already seen beds of
blue roses, all shades from palest sky blue to deepest indigo.
    Blue
roses were a genetic impossibility in her world.
    How
strange that even as a child she’d never envisioned being swept off her feet by
a prince and taken to his castle…er, palace. She had always pretended to slay
the dragon, find the treasure, and save the kingdom…er, princedom. Yet, here
she was, the only human—as far as she knew—to marry a prince and become a fairy
princess…er, Pixie Princess.
    She’d
slain no dragons—Myghal said they lived deep in Wildwood, the dark and
forbidding forest that separated Pixieland from the Faerie Kingdom—but by
marrying a Prince she’d saved the princedom.
    And the
only treasure she ever wanted was Myghal.
    Princess
Kerry turned to find her husband, Prince Myghal, a few steps behind her. He was
devastatingly handsome in fawn-colored leggings and a billowy-sleeved shirt
made of the same soft-as-cotton but iridescent material as her gown. Their
ceremony had been performed in a Pixie circle, witnessed by most of the good
folk of Pixieland, and presided over by Chancellor Malthe. Myghal’s friend
Sirrin had served as his best man, and Sirrin’s sister had acted as her maid of
honor. They were called by different terms, but the meanings were the same.
    At the conclusion, they’d been
showered with a cloud of glittering, sparkling Pixie dust that had been charmed
to bring them all kinds of good luck, good fortune, and bright blessings. Kerry
had watched the sunlight play off the bits of crystal, knowing in its raw form
it was simply salt mined from the earth in her realm by the Gnomes. That was a
royal secret, of course.
    While everyone had danced to wild
Pixie music and drunk dandelion wine and honeymead, she and Myghal had slipped
away to be alone. The gardens were empty. Everyone, including the gardeners,
were celebrating the royal marriage and the saving of Pixieland.
    “Are
you happy?” Myghal asked as he caught up to her.
    She nodded and melted into his
arms. She was happy, satisfied, contented. This was an entirely different
world, but she felt up to the challenge of trying to fit in and be a princess.
With Myghal to help her, everything would turn out all right. He had said they
could visit her realm any time she wanted. She had family and friends she
needed to explain to…somehow.
    “I wish
Gomit could have been here. Without him, none of this would have happened.”
    “In
time to save Pixieland,” Myghal amended. “I would have made you my wife,
regardless.”
    Kerry
kissed him, a lip-searing kiss that aroused her. It had the same effect on
Myghal. She felt his cock stir through their layers of clothing.
    “Do you
think he’ll be all right? That the Trolls will believe his story?”
    “In case you didn’t notice,
Trolls aren’t the smartest of creatures. Tredje was typical. Mean and
self-centered but dim. They’ll believe Gomit because they believe Gnomes to be
worthless.”
    “They wouldn’t hurt him, would
they?”
    “No, because that