Sorem closed the ledger with his back to the fading sun. Upon sitting up to find a body sprawled forward against a desk beside him, he smiled.
More for necessity than enticement, he found himself running his fingers along Marva’s back. Once or twice in the last month, she’d turned into a fairy without intention.
It had sent her into a panic, but for Sorem who’d received reports of night fairy complaints, his own panic was for fear she’d miss her kindred.
She’d assured him of the negative, but whenever the chance arose, he’d stimulate the wings in an effort to keep them pressed against her back, forcing her human form.
It would also lead to other things but that was never a good idea in the office. He stood and retrieved a blanket resting on a chair by the door. The checkered pattern outlined her in minutes and he felt satisfied.
A tentative knock came at the door and he opened his mouth to refuse whomever it was. Now with being appointed the king’s official magistrate, Sorem kept busy studying laws and protocol. That was how he’d encountered his cousin’s salvation.
The door busted open and that salvation marched in now, Mo’el trailing meekly behind. She wore the clothing of an upper class woman, finally. But why wouldn’t she? Dwarf gold could stretch far.
Perhaps dwarfs were too rich to care for the meager treasures Sorem and Marva had secured together to pay for Prince Orm’s cure. That had to be the reason why the dwarf tossed the payment onto Sorem’s desk now.
Without invitation, the dwarf sat, arms folded.
Mo’el stood at attention, but her employer looked up at her and she lowered herself into a chair in response.
Sorem found himself sitting also. This visit was unexpected. The dwarf’s methods for a cure had worked; Sorem had seen it for himself. And Prince Orm was well two weeks now, utterly curse-free.
“Um, to what do we owe this pleasure?” Sorem asked.
Arms folded, the dwarf said, “I want permission to curse someone.”
Curse?
Sorem’s eyes drifted from the dwarf to Mo’el who sat with her head hung.
Her current situation was no secret. Upon being gone not even a month, her husband had declared her dead or lost and taken up with someone else.
Manipulating this dwarf into enacting a curse was well into her right but it could cause all sorts of trouble down the line.
Still, Sorem sifted through the ledgers on his desk and pulled the one for curses forward.
“And how long would you like the curse to last?”
“Forever,” the dwarf affirmed.
Mo’el spoke into her chest when she said, “It doesn’t have to be forever.”
Sorem kept his head hung but glanced from her to the dwarf.
“Make it forever,” her boss affirmed.
After clearing his throat, Sorem nodded. “All right. And the intended target?”
“Prince Orm of Wisen.”
Sorem’s hands closed the ledger on their own as he sat up, stunned. “What?”
He waited for some insight, some laughter, anything but what he received was a furious dwarf sitting beside a humiliated woman.
“Sir, you—you were the one to cure him. In fact, today was the wellness check to ensure he was curse-free.”
“He wasn’t cursed then,” the dwarf said, “he was infested.”
“Sir….” Mo’el whispered, “It’s poor form to talk about a client. You’ve always said.”
When the dwarf, still beard-free, turned his head slowly to regard her, she shrunk away.
In truth, Sorem still had no idea how the dwarf managed to save his cousin, only that he had.
“He hadn’t been cursed,” the dwarf repeated, “but rather infested. More than likely, I’ve come to gather from talking to the louse, he tried to force a woman against her will with the help of some water nymphs. And he did so by promising them entry to someplace sacred to him in the future, like a fool. Well, they’d come to collect. That’s for sure. Rented him out like some circus act!”
Sorem sat back, eyes perpetually wide, unsure what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification but paused and took Mo’el’s pleading eyes into consideration.
“All right,” Sorem said, pacing himself. “That…that doesn’t explain why you wish to—to actually curse him for a time.”
“Forever,” the dwarf attested.
But he said nothing further beyond that.
Sorem stared the dwarf down, but it slowly dawned on him that this was more serious than he’d anticipated. After spending over a year looking for a solution for his cousin, doing things he was certainly not proud of now, Sorem’d have to sign off on the man being cursed, properly.
“It’s my fault,” Mo’el said, leaning in the path of Sorem’s view. “Prince Orm…knew my….”
She still searched for the words, but Sorem let out a sigh as he nodded.
“Previous profession?”
Eyes cast down, she nodded.
Sorem knew his cousin’s charming words well enough to make some educated guesses.
“And expressed…a concern about your skill in helping him?”
“Skill in helping him an ogre’s hairy ass.” The dwarf shot to his feet. “He laughed in her face. In the woman’s face!”
Mo’el tried to reach for him but caught Sorem’s gaze and thought better of it. “Please, sit down.”
Sorem looked from one to the other. This appeared to be more than just a dwarf’s strong code of polite engagement. And that was why Sorem decided to be blunt.
“Now,” Sorem said, “you walk with her everywhere, head held high. And you must know why people whisper after she’s come through.”
The glint in the dwarf’s eyes spoke of plans for yet a new curse but Sorem soldiered on.
“And you’ve never asked to curse the entire kingdom, sir. So why is Orm the exception?”
“She didn’t rescue the entire kingdom. She rescued him. I’d taught her how to dispel them. That was why she was the one to check on him today. But the way he acted. Oh, he deserves a curse. He deserves that and more!”
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When Sorem’s eyes settled on Mo’el, which he often avoided, he no longer hated her. Her beauty had dulled over the years though she was still prettier than most women her age. But there was a sadness about her. It wasn’t that different back then, but in the here and now, she’d hated what she’d become.
He didn’t know why she’d taken the paths she had, nor did he think it his place to ask. It had been six months since he picked her up off the ground and delivered her to the dwarf’s unicorn farm. And in just half a year, she’d transformed into someone else.
Orm was ungrateful. But then again, he’d always been. Sorem, himself, having found Orm’s rescue, received not even a word of thanks. What he was given, however, was an earful about the ghastly magical creatures of the kingdom. But if this dwarf was to be believed, if Orm’s plight had come from some shame, it stood to reason that he would reject Mo’el’s new self and lash out to save his pride.
Sorem took a chance and decided to carry on with his fake approval of the curse.
“Very well. Forever. And what is the offense that justifies the curse?”
“Disrespect,” the dwarf affirmed. “The most basic requirement for a curse,” he was quick to add.
With this, Sorem found his out. He sat up, closed the book, and said, “She is your employee, sir, not your wife. You cannot take on disrespect on her behalf.”
The dwarf’s jaw dropped open. “But it is my business—”
“That you’ve both recently started—this branch at least. And as you’ve said, she was the one in charge of his recovery. So, while there was disrespect, it was solely to her and therefore, she’s the one to bring the curse.”
“But she won’t bring the damn curse. She’s too gentle!”
Sorem found himself biting back a laugh. When he looked to Mo’el expecting a smile shared between them, one that would corroborate her practiced cruelty, he received a look of woe.
Slowly it dawned on Sorem that this dwarf’s hurt extended far beyond a business slight.
Mo’el eased forward in her chair and asked, “How about a one-week curse. Is that possible?”
“It’s not enough!”
She was desperate to have this over with, so Sorem sat up and affirmed, “One week.” He looked to the seething dwarf and inquired, “Would you like to enter the details of the curse, or should we in our gentle nature?”
Mo’el kept her gaze on Sorem’s desk and Sorem continued to stare at her boss.
Finally, the dwarf stood, grabbed the ledger, turned it around and wrote in the details before throwing the quill down and stomping out.
The door slammed shut, causing Marva to stir, so Sorem rubbed her back and she fell asleep again.
Mo’el was on her feet in seconds, hurrying to retrieve the quill. “Can we change these terms? Orm is vengeful. I don’t need what he has instore when he realizes it had anything to do with me.”
The words written into the curse had Sorem’s eyes widening. They were brutal.
But as Mo’el struggled to add in gentler words between the rage-filled formula, only for them to vanish as she growled in frustration, Sorem found himself looking at the woman-sized fairy sleeping by his side.
Sorem was no knight, and no fighter, but he wondered what he’d have done in the same situation. When he found his conclusion, he stilled Mo’el’s trembling hand.
“Stop. You don’t have to do that.” Her miserable eyes met his and he explained, “He’s right to fight for you. I—I only hope you will be more careful this time.” At the silence, he risked being candid. “About at least honoring your employer’s friendship.”
Shame burned in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said but gave nothing more.
After a long minute, she put the quill down, gathered her things, and hurried out.
When she was gone, Sorem felt satisfied. His eyes drifted down to the curse, and he gritted his teeth and closed the book, reminding himself to never anger any man infatuated.
A clap came then two.
Its slow and deliberate sound had Sorem scanning the dreary room until his eyes settled on the windowsill and the bronze-colored fairy with long black hair who sat, one leg perched on the sill, applauding him.
Fear shot into Sorem’s gut and he jumped to his feet.
They stared at one another for eons before Sorem hurried from behind the desk and took one knee.
Head bowed, he said, “Sir.”
“You know who I am?” the Fairy King drawled. His deep voice came with a rumble, much like an avalanche of rocks striking one another. “And do you know why I am here?”
Sorem’s heart pounded, beating against his chest with such panicked force his body ached.
“You’ve searched high and wide for me,” the Fairy King accused.
All of Sorem’s training and studies vanished in an instant but came back and he crossed his arms, showing proper respect.
“I am Sorem, the high priest of the Divine Thinkers’ Order.”
“Oh?” The fairy swung both legs over until he sat properly. He said nothing for some time then scoffed. “You have a night Fae.”
Sorem picked his head up. “Huh?”
Their eyes met but the world went white, so Sorem lowered his gaze yet again. He should have known better. “Forgive my impudence.”
“Does she have any lies left?” the Fairy King inquired.
Sorem opened his mouth to answer but stopped. Something inside him failed to function and it took every bit of his willpower to answer.
“She does not work for anyone—she does not belong to anyone. If you’re looking for a lackey, I am at your service.”
The breeze of the night air rolled into the room, and a laugh came with it. “You have entangled your name with my affairs, Sorem, rest assured, we will be in touch.”
A chill fell over Sorem and he risked looking up to see the bronze fairy’s wings fluttering so fast that they glowed, as did his entire being.
“I give you one warning to you and your night Fae,” the Fairy King said. “Stop looking for me. You won’t like what you find.”
Sorem sucked in a breath, the threat robbing him of a response beyond an apologetic whisper, “It’s my fault you’ve lost your land. I’m sorry. I’ll bear that responsibility. All of it.”
“And who has control of it now?”
Rather than give the hunchback up, Sorem pressed his lips together.
The Fairy King turned with a laugh. “You need not worry. I’m well aware of the hunchback and his weapon. I’m not currently looking for a fight, but when I come for one, lackey, remember which side you’re on .”
And then he was gone. Sorem stared after the little yellow dot until it was swallowed by the night sky.
Within Sorem’s chest, his heart still pounded but he let out a held breath. The Fairy King. All thoughts fell to Marva and he stopped himself from rushing to her and boasting of his bravery and good fortune. Not only had he seen the king of the Fae in the flesh, but he’d stood up to him and refused to give the hunchback up.
Marva had expressed worry for what the hunchback had planned. Sorem had listened to her panicked story and formed a different conclusion. The Jaffo leader was doing all in his power to safeguard his family. Was it wise to take on a living weapon as a child? Sorem was unsure, but if the power Sorem sensed from the Fairy King’s presence alone was any indication, Wyrn was wise to prepare himself.
For the first time in Sorem’s life, he felt powerful, too.
Tonight had been momentous. Not only had he been able to look Mo’el in the eye with not a hint of malice, jealousy or anger, but he’d finally admitted to himself that he’d have died before turning Marva over. Even if she’d never know.
After closing the window, Sorem made his way back around the large desk.
He scooted closer to Marva and brought the blanket around himself as well.
In a way, he wanted to think he’d brought Mo’el rescue tonight, and Marva’s also, and perhaps inadvertently, Vadde’s as well. But to be fair, his encounters with women till now had colored his world.
He still knew of several truth, the main one being, he didn’t quite understand women after all. Like men, some needed help. But many, were perfectly capable of helping themselves.
End.