ASHUELI HAPPENED TO BE kicking a great deal of grass of late. There went another innocent tuft. “No, Yaarah, I do not even begin to understand what that stinking debacle was all about.”

“Mrrr-hrrrm, let’s just see about this, shall we?” His talons prised carefully at the seals.

Varzune said, “This is the contract you’ve mentioned, before, your marital –” he made a gagging noise in his throat “– arrangement?”

“Aye. This is the official seal of Durc Durhelm,” Ash said, pointing to the centre of the scroll. “I’ve never actually seen the text. It’s not as if my opinion actually matters. All the so-called ‘arrangements’ were made by father and his staff.”

Allory put in, “This was the Dark Elf you mentioned before?”

Elven eye roll. “Aye. I didn’t even begin to recognise him, clever me. Although, he’s grown at least a foot taller since … since I remember. And a lot wider. Suggids, how could I not have guessed? The youth became a man. Phew.”

“And then some,” the Jokerbro needled.

“Quite the dish,” Xiximay agreed. Varzune’s smirk instantly turned into a glower. She snickered, “Oh, you like dark, too?”

He snorted, “You have me there, you flaming beauty.”

The Elven Princess hissed between her teeth, “Fine. In the interests of honesty and openness, all accusations of drooling accepted. Although, he wasn’t nearly as important back then. He’s risen to become the leader of the entire Ahlumviar war host, the Ula-Sali’karm – that translates approximately as ‘Overlord.’ Close enough. Which merely adds to the mystery of why he’d even choose to cross blades with me, a Forest Elf. ”

“Except that you beat him,” Sabline hissed. “Thrashed him, fangs and fire!”

“I did.”

“And fetched yourself a kiss,” Yaarah agreed. “Almost.”

“Only a mortal insult in their culture, which I didn’t consider beforehand. Not to mention my gormless mouthing off about how no man would ever own me and how many ways I’d curse anyone who tried to … freaking slithering suggids!” She fumbled the contract scroll before recovering with a low groan, “I’ve really put my foot, my leg and my entire being into it this time. I’m dead. Oh, I’m so, so dead!”

“Why’s that?” Varzune puzzled.

“Because he bought my contract! Him! Ugh! How can I be so stupid? Look, his name’s inked right here.”

Examining the signature, the scholar said, “Hrrr-prrrt, that’s an unexpected turn. Jhoranyal has indeed listed his full names and a handy list of titles, plus beneath, there’s an exposition of his lineage to the seventh generation. That makes it all quite official, I’d deduce?”

“Yaarah –”

“Wait, Allory. Let me work this out. He’s an Ahlumviar and so, according to tradition, he doesn’t marry outside of his tribe,” the Felidragon lectured. “That means he must have purchased your contract with the intent of setting you free, correct? Perhaps, we may conclude that this was intended to be an honourable gift to one he regards highly but can never marry? Although I must say, frrr-hsst, your combat skills truly are extraordinary. The ability to appear and disappear at will makes you a most formidable opponent.”

Ash kicked the poor grass again. “It’s ridiculous. I’m a first-class idiot. Stupidest leaf in the entire forest!”

“No, you aren’t,” Allory put in.

“Aye, I am! And if it wasn’t for you forcing the matter –”

“Eep!” She recoiled as if slapped.

“Suggids! No, that’s – Allory, please, I’m sorry. I’ve a flaming ridiculous tongue – oh?”

Allory kissed her friend’s cheek again by way of emphasis, somewhat startled at this little Faerie who had not immediately fled from a moment of conflict. An azure spark leaped between them, but Ashueli made no complaint, touching the cut on her arm as it began to close of its own accord before everyone’s startled eyes.

“Nice one, Sparkles,” Varzune whispered.

“Hush,” the Scintillant said, with restrained humour. “Riddle me this, Elf girl – you and I can both appear and disappear at will, right? So, which part of your heritage makes you able to literally run rings around the preeminent warrior of a legendary warrior people?”

“Uh …”

“Exactly. Now tell me, who is your mother?”

Ash folded her arms with a vehement hiss, turning her back upon their small company. “Somebody stop me before I … I know where you’re going with this, Sparkles. You’ve met her. My mother is Zinueli Sylvanchild and my father is Durc the jerk, whose loving name is scrawled all over that suggid-sucking contract!”

Her every sparkle shook as she queried, “Is he? Are you certain?”

She screamed, “What are you even saying? Don’t you see how hard this is for me? How the spitting hells am I supposed to rescue this – this pile of suggid spit and puke I’ve prepared for myself? I’ve insulted Jhoranyal in so many ways – it’s beyond insult, actually!” Not too far off, the rugged Elf’s shoulders hunched together as he clearly overheard her tirade. “I’ve dragged him into something impossible. This can only impugn his character and reputation which, to a Dark Elf …”

Stolen story; please report.

She shrugged as if to suggest catastrophe.

Allory sparkle-slapped her friend.

She did not know what came over her, but she just did it. The Princess’ eyes popped wide open, but she shut her mouth and queried her accoster with one upraised eyebrow.

“A – Ash, I really – I’m sorry,” Allory spluttered. “I don’t – I never – right. Let me try to make sense of this. Maybe he wanted this contract. The only explanation that truly makes sense is if he knows something about you that you do not, and that something also explains how you just managed to kick his handsome butt right out of that tree!”

Her friends all exhaled as one.

Ashueli nodded. Slow puff of the cheeks. “You’re accusing my mother of having an affair? I … guess … right. You must be on the right branch, Sparkles. I – uh – go on?”

She continued, “Plus, consider this. Would Jhoranyal, with all his infuriating Dark Elf honour, ever break a contract? He can’t just sell you on or drop you like yesterday’s nectar gourd. It’s an unbreakable nuptial contract, Ashueli! That’s … that’s about as serious as it gets, I’d guess?”

Ragged sighs all around. True again.

Extracting his muzzle from the densely written scroll, Yaarah purred gloomily, “His name’s signed in all the right places with unbreakable magical seals, mrrr-brrr, but there is one intriguing detail I discovered whilst quickly scanning the text, down here in subsection four paragraph fifty-seven point two, to wit … ah, silly scholarly language. In plain terms, this contract is not deemed to be binding until payment is made by the signatory, in person and in full at Durhelm Castle, upon which occasion our lovely Ashueli shall be handed over to her new husband with – ahem – full conjugal rights.”

“I … uh?” she spluttered, colouring until her skin tone resembled overheated brass. “That’s actually inked on the … seriously? In full detail?”

The Golden Purrmaine nodded.

“That doesn’t mean conjugating verbs, in case you’re wondering,” Varzune supplied.

Ash growled, “Thanks, Jokerbro. Yaarah?”

“You are not sold yet, my friend,” he explained stoutly. “Almost, but not quite.”

Xiximay snapped her fingers. “Which means, correct me if I’m wrong, that his honour is almost but not quite wrecked?”

“Ooh, nice one!” Allory tinkled.

Yaarah purred, “She’s right, brrr-trrrt. Technically, you haven’t quite dragged his honour through the swamps because he isn’t yet your owner. The transaction is incomplete. If he hasn’t made payment, that is.”

“An honourable Dark Elf would have to complete the transaction,” Ashueli pointed out.

“Mrrr-hrrr, that does complicate matters.”

Zzuriel said, “Here’s a thought. You marry him first under different conditions?” The Elven Princess began to protest, but upon a loud hiss from Sabline, allowed the Diamond Fae to finish. “I know. Maybe I’m wrong, Ashueli, because you’d still have the honour problem, just in a different form. Besides, right now, he thinks you’ve cursed both him and his entire Elven nation.”

Ash scuffed at the grass with her toes. “Not helping.”

The Diamond Fae began to hang her head, but Xiximay reached out to grip her arm. “We welcome all ideas in this council, no matter who they come from. We know your heart is true.”

Plink went an icy teardrop.

Varzune smacked his fist into his palm. “He’s not getting you and that’s final!”

Sabline snarled, “Aye, well spoken, by my fires! That man should be kneeling at your feet, begging you to marry him! I will not have anyone dragging you off into some unhappy travesty of a kept marriage arrangement – oh?”

Nice blush, Ash! Back to the burnished bronze, hotter than ever.

That grass really was getting a beating now.

“Not the worst prospect, saith the rosy-cheeked Elf?” Varzune grinned, drawing a loud purr of agreement from the Dragoness. “Hey, I track with you, sisfae. I mean, sis-Elf. After all, he’s nearly half as handsome as me.”

Sabline bunted him with the flat of her left forepaw. “Silence, Jokerbro.”

“Just pointing out what you women are all thinking.”

“Call me a woman again,” the Sable Sabrefang threatened a certain part of his anatomy with her talons, “and I’ll turn you into a lifelong soprano!”

Varzune backed away in a hurry.

Allory said, “What does the contract state about the ownership aspect, anyways? Any chance a clever scholar could muck about with the wording to soften it? With some … sparkly help?”

Yaarah cleared his throat loudly. “Sparkles! Are you suggesting –”

“You’re already a cart thief, my friend. Call this a touch of scholarly assistance for a friend in need? We could make some minor adjustments to the wording, perhaps a few deft improvements …”

“You are worse than despicable,” he coughed. “Give me a minute, I thought I spied something interesting farther back … hmmm – aye, right here. Mrrr-prrrt – how – oh, that’s fascinating! Stop breathing so loudly, you lot. Scholar at work here.”

Never a better time …

“Did you notice that I’ve turned into an Elemental Fae, Yaarah?”

The Princess snatched the scroll out of his paws as it came within a whisker of being immolated by his outburst of fiery disbelief. The sweet Felidragon uttered a few strangled sounds, not one of them intelligible speech. Really, he was the best.

Beaming at him as only a being of pure sparkles could, Allory chirped, “I think you’ll find that technically, I’m called a Scinntarinae. That’s an Elemental form of Scintillant Fae to the uninitiated.”

A slow, very silly smile spread across the Felidragon’s face. “I knew it! The Dragon is always right –about your elementary awesomeness, of course.”

His left ear gained a deserved tickle for that.

Sneaky scholar!

“Now, hold that thought, Sparkles.” Everyone chuckled as the Felidragon prodded his all-knowing muzzle into the length of the prenuptial acquisition contract, rubbing his whiskers occasionally as he muttered things such as, “Depends what you actually mean by an acquisition,” and, “Aha, very clever, these scholars of Durc Durhelm’s. Aye, but the precise nature of those rights are left broadly unspecified, of course. How unfortunate!” Midway through the densely written scroll, he chortled happily, “Oh, I’m a wicked Felidragon, I am. Murrr-hurrr-harrrgh! Bad, bad kitty!”

That raised more than a few eyebrows, which Yaarah failed to notice as he was far too busy applying his brain matter to the conundrum represented by the contract.

Ten harrowing minutes later, the Golden Purrmaine drew himself up to his grandiose best and announced, “No need to change anything.”

Cue a round of amazed stares.

Only a feline could possibly have looked that smug.

He stroked his whiskers sagely, murmuring, “Shall I explain now, or shall we save it for when you explain to your contractually guaranteed husband how you’ve just acquired him? Upon payment, that is. Not even upon marital consummation. The instant payment is made …”

Ashueli’s eyes flew wide at Yaarah’s flat-pawed gesture of finality. “Are you being serious?”

“I’d swear it upon my fires as a Dragon. Princess Ashueli, this contract can be read several different ways, not one of which is less than highly detrimental to the signatory.”

“Are you going to make him sweat?” the Elf gurgled, sounding altogether happier than a few minutes before.

“A great deal.”

Throwing her arms about his neck, she cried, “Yaarah, I could kiss you! Sorry, Sabline.”

Varzune put in dryly, “I thought Allory was the only belligerent kisser around here. I just want to register that I’m available, Princess –” Xiximay punched his left shoulder but he continued “– no? Oh, my sap, you’ve just offended my honour.”

The Phoenix Fae wound her arms about his neck and inquired, with a charmingly lethal smile, “What about my honour, o sweetest nectar of my soul?”

The Chameleon prankster managed not to die. Barely.