Sorem stretched when the morning came. Catching the naked body before it slipped away wasn’t always easy.

“Gotcha.”

Usually, he could get a laugh. Today, too, nothing.

“There’s no sense in dwelling on it.”

Two kisses on the nape of Marva’s neck had her turning over in his hold. For the last year, she’d hardly slept. He’d traveled out with her in search of the real Fairy King, but it was to no avail.

For a brief moment, when he’d thought she’d told the truth, he’d been proud. But when the gravity of the lie dawned on him, he was ashamed to say that prideful feeling hadn’t dulled.

That was the moment he promised himself to succeed in locating this blasted Fairy King.

“I’m useless,” she muttered.

Sorem scoffed. Those words sounded so familiar to how he’d once thought of himself.

“I’m to blame. If I’d only leave you alone, you could regain your fairy form and go in search.” And perhaps die if she confronted the Fairy King on her own.

Upon returning to Wisen to find chaos as magical creatures ran amuck, Sorem postponed his quest, opting instead to sending word for Jaffo and werewolf reinforcement until all who inhabited the kingdom followed common courtesy.

Now, what was once a place strictly for humans, thrived well. Those days had been hard because Marva had gone off by herself. At least maintaining order in the neighboring towns had kept Sorem busy until that familiar sinking feeling came to his gut again and he knew she was near.

She always came back. If she stayed away, she could have turned into a fairy again without his interference.

The deadline for visiting the hunchback was nearly here. There was so much to do and so much to say but Sorem’s mind was elsewhere.

“Jvalan?”

She eased closer in response, and he tightened his hold.

“Why—why do you always come back?”

Mouth muffled against his neck, she asked, “Why do you always wait for me to come back?”

He scoffed. “I do not—I do not wait.”

“Long climaxes,” she teased.

It was true. It was more than true but whenever he tried to vocalize their relationship or inquire about her stance, she was gone the next day, searching for a Fairy King she could not find.

“Useless hag!”

The bellow from beyond the window had Sorem letting out another sigh. “Not again.”

Marva grumbled. “Leave it.”

“You don’t mean that,” he insisted, despite knowing that she more than meant it.

Once again, the barkeeper was fighting with his wife.

“Come,” Sorem said, giving her backside a good slap. “Let’s do some good while we still have life in us.”

A golden scar now wrapped around her forearm, a courtesy of the biggest lie she’d ever told.

Most days, she kept it covered. The times when Sorem spotted it, he had mixed feelings of sorrow and appreciation for what she’d done for him. Going back to her people looking like that meant no return.

They washed and dressed, not at all that hasty as chaos spilled out onto the street.

When they finally made it to the first floor, an ogre greeted them. He handed a parchment over to Sorem and said, “The barkeep’s at it again. Want us to take care of it?”

“No need. We’ll do it.”

But there wasn’t much of a fight left. Clothes lined the streets. Some horses even trod on dresses as they galloped through.

Times like these, Sorem almost wished the barkeep would hit her. A physical strike would give his men grounds to intervene and break bones. It might have also given Mo’el something to fight. Instead, the man cast her out publicly…often. Even when they made up and she eventually bowed her head and went back home, there simply was no dignity left.

Sorem told himself he should have felt some satisfaction. This woman had humiliated him, made his name a source of ridicule far and wide. And she hadn’t cared. No apologies, no eye contact, and no effort to mask who she was once she realized he was no prince to make her a princess.

Now, ten years later, in a kingdom as vast as Wisen, he’d unwittingly wished for her and could witness her almost weekly punishment. Not physical, but something else.

A glance at Marva showed her usual frown. Marva never admitted it, but she had a big heart. That was surprising for a creature known for its coldness. It was thanks to that big heart why Sorem risked no insult by doing his job.

The ogre lingered.

A year ago, Sorem would have basked in the power, but today, he was confused why the constable did not lumber away to go about enforcing their laws.

“For what it’s worth,” he told Sorem, “we like your rules and ruling.”

Despite the continued assault on Mo’el’s clothes which sailed into the streets without pause, Sorem gave the ogre his full attention, surprised.

“Pardon?”

“Your ruling. You know a lot about everyone. Even ogre law. ‘Think it’s right nice of you to try to make it fair for all of us.”

Sorem blinked at him. He hadn’t thought anyone had noticed his diligence in studying any and all text pertaining to each and every creature now in the kingdom.

He’d tried ruling with human parameters at first but failed. Countless nights waiting for Marva’s return ended with him reading scrolls upon scrolls of brownie, and even dragon law, until slumber robbed him of his senses.

“Just saying,” the ogre drawled. “Others may not admit it, but even the brownies mention you ‘hen they make a threat. That’s—that’s real powerful. Shame that Jaffo’s going to take your head clean off.” He patted Sorem’s shoulder then walked away. “Wouldn’t even eat your remains ‘cause you’re such a nice bloke.”

His retreat left Sorem stunned. When Sorem’s eyes settled on Marva standing at his left, he cleared his throat. “What?”

Her look of pride was one he’d seen often and found addictive. Sometimes he thought it was better to die now before he had a chance to disappoint her like he’d done others.

“The title of magistrate suits you,” Marva attested.

Gaze resting on her chest, he forced a smile. “I was just reading that stuff to find a way to stop the Jaffo,” he teased.

With a squeeze of her hand meant to convey his joke, he set off into the street to handle his latest, and possibly final, problem.

The last of Mo’el’s dresses landed in the mud.

Sitting on the street among them, Mo’el kept her eyes on the dirt below her feet.

Marva was the first to pick up a garment. She walked around to gather them all despite having voiced her disdain for Mo’el often.

Sorem didn’t like engaging the woman at times like these, not since coming back here after the dragon’s decree to find her waiting with her things packed a year ago. The moment he’d stepped by Mo’el without offering up any acknowledgement, she never again sought him out.

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The reason for her husband’s problem with her now was no secret. The whole town knew.

Clothes in hand, Marva met up on Sorem. “I’ve got it all.”

Instead of answering her, he pulled his lips together and nodded down at the distraught woman on the ground.

Marva was always so good at reading his intent. “No.” She insisted, “Absolutely not.”

But by midday, they were in a little wagon, heading out of the kingdom.

“You and this insufferable need to rescue damsels. She’s near forty!”

“Shh,” Sorem muttered, “be gentle.”

He put a hand on Marva’s knee to soothe her, but she brushed it off. On his second attempt, she gave no protest.

Assurances was a must for her, he’d come to find. And not assurances that he wanted her or that he waited, but assurances that he didn’t mind her showing raw emotion.

Ironically, he’d found the Jvalan because it was a creature that forced others to speak only truth. For Marva, who could no longer tell a lie, thanks to him, there was often no barrier between her bare thoughts and common politeness. And he felt sorry for her because of it.

He stole a kiss which she wiped off, causing him to chuckle. With words failing her, she showed her affection with actions.

A familiar river came into view, then a little bridge.

Sorem slipped off and tied the horses to a tree. When he turned to find both women refusing to regard him, he sighed.

“Marv, be reasonable.”

She folded her arms and turned her body away.

Sorem gave up and approached the disheveled Mo’el who refused to focus.

He didn’t want to, but he spoke to her directly for the first time in nearly twelve years. “If you want to give him children, this is the best place to start. The Jaffo pay surprisingly well. I’ll cover it.”

Nothing.

She wouldn’t speak and Marva wouldn’t speak, and it was one big mess.

“He doesn’t deserve children,” Mo’el said at length.

This was unexpected. Sorem wasn’t sure what else he could do with her. He looked up at the sky and came to a grim conclusion. “It’s getting late and…and I have important business with the Jaffo in the morrows. Let’s camp here.”

The dwarf to greet them took them by surprise.

Sorem touched his own chin in shock but stopped. “I—I thought your beard would have grown back by now.”

“What?” The dwarf let go of the door then stroked his smooth chin. “Yes. Yes. It had started but there’s no need for that. Now with the patrols out and about, I figured there was little need for my magic. Besides, I—I rather like it.” He glanced past Sorem and said, “Customers?”

After looking back at the miserable faces of the women, Sorem shook his head. “No. Just passing through. Two rooms.”

They ended up staying two nights there, but Marva’s disposition hardly changed.

On the third day, when he awoke to find Marva already dressed, watching the unicorns gallop around, he caught her around the waist and propped his chin on her shoulder. The sky bled fire at dawn, ushering in an ominous view.

“Don’t you want to ride one?” he teased.

But her interest lay elsewhere.

“A red sky in the morning. Such magic is a force of nature.” Her voice came out strangled. “The challenge to the Jaffo is soon. And after that, I won’t have any excuses about returning to my fairy form and retrieving the child.”

“Are you sure? Because you’ve searched for that child as much as you’ve searched for the Fairy King.”

Marva reached back to run her fingers through his hair, her eyes fixed on the sky. “It’s a feeling. But I know it.”

“All right. Are you sure you don’t mind the hard work?” The dwarf’s voice carried as he led a well-washed and almost radiant Mo’el out of the house. “You still look so young.”

The woman’s giggle was disgustingly familiar. When she spotted them, she cleared her throat and corrected the dwarf, her voice a whisper, “I’m already thirty-five.”

“Thirty-five? That’s nothing. I’m a hundred and two myself. Ha! You’ve got such a long way to go.”

Hands fisted in her apron, Mo’el refused to look Sorem’s way as she followed along behind the dwarf.

“And you’re not even married yet? That’s a crime. Now. I wasn’t looking for any help but why not? It’s lonely around here now without the brownies to run down. The first rule of taking care of unicorns is who you allow near. They a pretty accommodating but they cannot, without the shadow of a doubt, cannot stand the presence of….”

His voice trailed off as he walked into the stables but Marva and Sorem both shared a glance.

“What’d he just say?” Marva muttered.

Sorem was afraid to repeat it. “Maybe I heard wrong.” He took her by the hand and chased the dwarf down, confirming his words. “Is that the only person they can’t stand?”

“The absolute only. They will attack. It’s some strange, weird fixation. I suppose they don’t like sharing the spotlight, you know?” He turned and met up on Mo’el bosom to which he recoiled. “Sorry.”

Mo’el readjusted her frock and hurried after him. “Please go on. I’m eager to learn.”

“Oh. Well, all right.”

And he carried on, a battered and abused runaway wife hot on his heels.

Sorem asked, “Do you think we should tell him? The dwarf?”

Marva met his gaze. “That dwarf’s very polite but he’s no fool. He knows everything about her by now. That’s why he knew to not look at her bust. She doesn’t like it.”

“What?” Sorem stared after them amazed. “How do you know?”

“You need only look at her face as people speak. Sometimes people use what advantages they have, even if they hate it. But forget that.” She took Sorem by the hand. “I now know how to save you, but we must hurry.”

They reached the horses, but the wind had already picked up.

“Marv, it’s a storm.”

Marva tried to steady the beasts as she unhitched the wagon. “It is no storm. It’s magic. And if I’m right, it’s earth magic. This is a once in a lifetime chance. Now is the time for your battle.”

“What?” And then the thought occurred to him and he felt cross. “You’re trying to steal the magic to return to your fairy form.”

She ignored the accusation. It would have been easy enough for her to argue against it but she couldn’t. Whenever she’d come back from a journey, he’d known time was all she needed—time away from him—to be a fairy again. But they never waited. She’d wanted him, and he’d wanted her and somehow they’d ended up in bed and her human form renewed.

Now she was leaving, and he felt it. And he couldn’t let go, though he should.

“It’s no use going there in this.”

Marva ignored the howling wind and the bowing trees, instead, staring into his eyes. “We must go. It must be now. Please. Have faith in me. Even if we must walk, we must go there now. You heard what the dwarf said. You heard why Vadde could not ride a unicorn.”

Sorem yelled against the wind. “We don’t know if it’s true.”

Thunder rolled and lightening brightened the heavens.

“Prince Sorem,” Marva said, extending her hand, “do you trust me?”

If he was to die, he wanted her alive, more than anything. A better man would lure her back into the safety of the dwarf’s house and then sneak out when she slept to perish with pride.

That was what he should have done—wanted to do, but equally, he wanted to spend every last waking moment by her side. It didn’t matter if she hatched a plan to save him, he’d be certain she was safe. This meant a lot to her, and as touching as that was, he wanted to leave in a manner she could accept—with all her efforts exhausted.

With a definitive nod, he caught her hand in his.

“Good ,” Marva attested. “Because we’re going to go and challenge him early.”

“What? Woman—”

“The dragons have come. That means magic, dangerous magic is being harnessed. It’s now or never!”

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