“Dorn,” I said absently.
Zara stood and stretched, before jumping off the bed. I have been away from the kits long enough. I must go. The bedroom door opened before she reached it. By the way, Finn is nearly to the lower terrace. Astra sent him to check on you after all. Tail high, she left the room.
I met my former pixie mentor out on the upper terrace after grabbing a cup of coffee and a basket holding some of the handmade pixie-sized pieces of furniture from the kitchen. He didn’t mind coming inside most of the time, but he was usually more comfortable outside. I set up the miniature chair and table, set the tiny cup of honeyed tea I’d brought out for him down, and smiled as I saw him inhale appreciatively as he sat. Gloria had happened on this blend of teas that the garden pixies couldn’t seem to get enough of and Finn was no exception.
“How are things going at the mound?”
He wrapped his hands around the cup, ducking his head to hide his blush. Now that the population restrictions they’d had for so long had been lifted, many of the younger generations of pixies were pairing up left and right. I hoped his reaction meant he had approached the pixie maiden I knew he’d had his eye on for so long.
“Things are going well. Really well.” He peeked up at me from beneath his long lashes. Why did men always get the gorgeous lashes? This seemed to apply even to tiny fae males. “The queen has given me new accommodations in the upper levels.” I knew even as an esteemed artisan he’d had cramped quarters before the split. His cheeks reddened to a darker shade, if that was possible. “I asked Elia to move in with me. She said yes.” The pride in his voice as he said this made me smile.
“Congratulations, Finn. I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together.” I remembered the way the two had shyly looked at one another across the small clearing during the raising of the new fairy mound. With the shortage of pixie maidens, there were a lot of bachelors in the colony. I was glad Finn had this chance that many never would.
I saw his eyes dart to the bracelet he’d helped me Make. Ah. Time to get down to business. “I’m sure you realize the queen sent me.” This was a statement, not a question.
Nodding, I told him what I’d done. When I finished, he looked thoughtful and pulled a scroll I hadn’t noticed from his belt. He took his time unrolling it and carefully smoothed it out on the table. It looked downright ancient.
“I found this in the older section of the library. Not many fae Objects have been recorded.” He tilted his head, as if considering his words. “At least, not within our colony I’m told.”
I stilled. I’d never asked Astra how many other pixie colonies still existed or if she had a way to contact any of them. Her colony had been under my family’s protection for hundreds of years and, from the way most fae had been hunted for their magick, I guessed I just assumed that hers was one of the last. Zara had once told me that none of the other unTurned witches in neighboring states and territories knew they were here. Danai was the exception and that was only recently.
I thought about asking Finn if he knew of other colonies, then decided not to put him on the spot. Leaning forward, I wished I would have brought my reading glasses out so I wouldn’t have to squint to see the writing. It was bad enough trying to read all of the spells and histories in the books downstairs, let alone miniscule pixie words. A pair of readers appeared on the table in front of me.
Thank you, Zara.
You’re welcome, came the smug response.
I put them on and tuned back in as Finn spoke. “This was all I could find on fae Objects. The queen said the Great Library had much more on them, but she’s not sure if it still exists.”
“The Great Library?”
He nodded. “I’ve only heard the stories, but all fae were welcome. Copies of many of our most precious histories and records were kept there. Artisans often went there to learn, too.” He sounded wistful.
Zara, do you know anything about this library?
Sadly, no. What does he have to say about the bracelet?
Clearing my throat, I asked, “So what did you find?” Even with the readers, I couldn’t make any of it out. It didn’t appear to be written in English.
“Before we start, let me tell you that before now, I thought things like this only existed in the stories told to children.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed. “This is all in old pixie, which is really formal. I can read most of it, enough to get the gist, anyway. Here,” he pointed at a sentence, “it talks about a particular fae Object that was used to save its fae Maker and his people. When the Maker later died, it was passed down through several generations and there were many feats of,” he frowned, squinting at the words, “magickal greatness, is what I think it says.” He glanced up at me. “A pixie generation can cover several hundred years. When the last generation died out, leaving no blood heir, it disappeared for a time, then resurfaced years later in the hands of a human. If I’m reading this right, it says the Object went mad and had to be destroyed.”
“How could something inanimate go mad?” I mused.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s
