Daisy
My life has taken a pretty weird turn, I thought, as I stepped into the faery realm with my new husband-to-be at my side.
Orson was a sexy, muscular gruagach from the House of Clover. Gruagach were the faeries that tended the cows, and I had gathered that other faeries looked down on them, but this was okay with me considering I didn’t like the other faeries.
The first thing everyone should know about faeries is that most of them are assholes.
I mean, you’ve heard the stories, right?
They steal babies? They play tricks? They offer you food and next thing you know, a hundred years go by?
It had been centuries since humans had been allowed into this realm, but we’d made this bargain, and I was the crazy witch who had decided to be the spokesperson for humankind. I had agreed to marry a man I didn’t really know at all, and leave behind everything I knew, but then…to say I had some issues with my grandmother and the witch community was an understatement.
Sometimes you just have to jump on a new opportunity when it comes up.
Now I was standing before Queen Morgana of the faeries, trying to look like I wasn’t going to take any shit from her. I was good at that expression. This might be one reason I didn’t have a lot of friends back in the Chicago witch community. My family was wealthy, and I had magic everyone wanted to make use of, and my parents had been murdered when I was a kid. If this sounds like the combination that leads to not trusting other people, and maybe even super-villainry, well, yeah, it does. But I’m a pretty awesome person anyway all things considered. I like having friends as long as they don’t try to fucking use me.
Most people I’ve ever met only want to use me.
“Daisy Pendleton.” A handsome blonde fairy male was standing in front of the queen’s throne, consulting the paper on which I had signed my name and intention to be a part of the faery realm. “That is your name, correct?”
“Yes, I am the one and only Daisy Pendleton.” Gotta lay down the ground rules. “As you can see, I brought myself and twelve more witches to be faery brides, as per the agreement. You have their names there. We expect to be treated well here, and we’ll reward you in return with more power in the magical world.”
I had been escorted to an outdoor throne, within a hall formed of cypress trees. The throne ‘room’ was like a little island, surrounded by pools of water with lily pads and lush aquatic flowers blooming under mangrove and other strange trees. All up and down the line of trees, faery guards with crests on their golden armor and attendants in flowing fabrics were watching the scene.
The faery queen was seated in a throne behind the blonde faery. She wore a long, diaphanous gown over a way-too-thin body, and a veil over her face, so I had no idea what she was thinking. She whispered something to the man.
“Queen Morgana welcomes you to the realm and looks forward to a long and fruitful alliance,” he said.
“Splendid,” I said, sweetly, but not nicely, if you know what I mean. Like, bitch, show me your face if you want some respect.
Look, I had been warned to never trust the faeries. Even as a kid, every witch and warlock was probably told the same stories. They never lied, but they loved to trick you. They were an alien species without much emotion. They lived for centuries and they didn’t respect us very much. Faeries mothers probably told bedtime stories to their kids about how stupid humans were. We were all gathered here for only one reason: we needed each other.
“You and your twelve fellow witches are invited to the capital city,” the faery man continued. His voice had a musical accent that I could have listened to forever. “In La Serenissima, we will give you our best hospitality and throw a grand celebration to celebrate your arrival.”
“That is very kind of you,” I said, warming up just a bit.
I was going to get to party in magical Venice. Sweet.
For centuries, all magical beings had been getting pushed out to the fringes of society. Magical beings needed humans to believe in them. That was where their power came from. Being human, witches and warlocks like me had a slight advantage. Unlike faeries, demons, shapeshifters and the like, we could use our magic in the Fixed Plane (otherwise known as “the real world”). We belonged to the human world. We were just leftovers from a time when every village had a witch or healer or shaman. But there were certain spots in the world where magic was especially strong, where humans still believed magic was real, and in these places, parallel cities existed. These were towns that existed between realms, where witches and warlocks could gather and mingle with truly magical beings.
The parallel of Venice was considered one of the great ‘lost’ cities where humans couldn’t go, because the faeries controlled it and didn’t allow humans in. Now I was going to get to party there. No doubt, that was gonna be tight. Venice without any tourists? Venice run by the faeries? I wondered what the wardrobe situation would be.
“In La Serenissima, the lords of the great faery houses will assess all of you to choose their brides,” the blonde man continued, and I cooled right the fuck back down again. His tone made me wary.
“Oh yes, the other twelve girls do still need their husbands,” I said.
“Lady Pendleton,” he said, so grandly that I almost liked him again. “You will also be under consideration.”
“We already have an agreement that I will marry Lord Orson,” I said. “And I know you keep your promises.”
The faery queen whispered a few sentences to him.
“Yes. We keep our promises. You will wed Lord Orson, but he is a gruagach. A low faery.”
Orson, by the way, was standing in the background this whole time. He seemed to take this treatment with a shrug, like he didn’t really care what the high faeries thought or planned.
“A lord of his kind, but not one of the great houses. A lady as beautiful and talented as yourself cannot be shipped off to some remote faery holding, nor would you enjoy it there, I assure you. You will be married into one of the great houses as well as to Lord Orson. You chose him, but the high lords will choose you.”
Ohhh damn.
I should have seen this coming. I should have known they wouldn’t let me just scurry off with a big handsome faery who seemed pretty normal, and mind my own business.
“Okay. Okay. I get it. Good old faery tricks. You didn’t lie, you just withheld some extremely important information that you intend to let some faery lord pick me out of a lineup and offer me two husbands, and I don’t get any say in it.”
“Queen Morgana is sure you will not find any of these men wanting,” the blonde guy said. “They are all as beautiful as the stars, wealthy enough to give you anything you desire, and strong in battle, magic, or a respected profession.”
“So they’re not pampered snots? Thanks for that, at least, although I will be the judge. And what about Orson?”
“Lord Orson is already accustomed to serving the higher born. He understands the hierarchy of our court, and you soon shall as well.”
“No. This is not what I agreed to. I don’t want a higher born husband. I just want him.” I pointed at Orson, who really could have backed me up. My heart sunk as he just accepted this ridiculous situation.
The golden faery ignored me. “In La Serenissima, we are pleased to have assembled these lords together to teach you and the other brides how to comport yourself like high fae. You will all stay together in the great palace, and have instruction in our music, dances, manners, and ways of pleasure, along with everything else you need to know. We will depart for La Serenissima on the morrow.”
‘On the morrow’. Lord.
“I don’t need to be taught how to be anyone’s bride!” I said.
Still ignoring me, “The faery queen wishes for you and the other girls to dine here at her winter palace tonight.”
I didn’t even know where I was in the faery realm, because I had just strolled in through a portal and ended up here. This was happening so quickly. So we were at the winter palace. Okay. That sounded pretty fancy.
Two can play this game, I thought. I already know how to behave myself, but I also know how to raise hell. If you’re going to fudge all the rules and then ignore me, I’m just not going to act like a good faery bride. I’m going to be a total diva until none of your faery ‘high lords’ can stand me.
“What about magic lessons?” I asked.
“Magic lessons,” he repeated.
“Yes. We’re witches. Magic is our thing, and we joined your realm to gain access to the magic of your realm, so we need to learn how you use it. We need instruction in magic and it behooves you to give it to us so we can fight other witches and warlocks effectively. It’s a waste of our talents to focus only on music and manners.”
He conferred briefly with the queen and she nodded.
“My witches need proper dinner attire,” I continued. “I don’t think you want us dining with the queen in our current state.”
He sniffed slightly. “You won’t be dining with the queen—“
The queen interrupted in her soft voice, speaking her own language. He flushed. “Yes, Your Majesty. She says you and the other humans can follow Lady Melis to the dressmakers.” He gestured to one of the attendants.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice sharp.
I couldn’t read the queen at all, because she never spoke English, even though she clearly understood it, and when she spoke it was always in the same soft, weak, measured tone. Clearly, she wore a veil by design and it drove me nuts. How was I supposed to judge her when I couldn’t read her expressions or even her voice?
Orson started walking out at my side. He gave me a little wink of a smile, like he thought this was funny, or maybe he was just wincing from pain.
“Lord Orson,” Lady Melis said. “You’re badly injured from your battle with the humans. Please, the queen would like to welcome you to the healing baths.”
“Yes, just give me a moment with my betrothed,” he said. He put a hand on my shoulder and urged me aside a few steps. “It isn’t like home, lass. You can’t be bossing around the faery queen or you’ll make an enemy of everyone in her court.”
“Actually, that’s just like home. I have a lot of enemies.” ‘Enemies’ was exaggerating, but it had a better ring than ‘people who don’t like me that much’.
“Well, maybe that tells you something.” He looked me over and then swayed a little on his feet. I immediately put my hands against his rock-solid chest; even in his weakened state he almost knocked me over, but he caught himself.
“Lord Orson!” Lady Melis said.
“I’m fine!” He motioned for her to stay back. “I assure you, I’m made of tougher stuff than that. Although, it is a good thing you rescued me when you did. So please—just try and behave yourself, eh?”
His injuries were the reason I was in this position. Our ‘romantic’ back story in a nutshell is that we met at the Haven, the place where deviant wizards were held so they didn’t corrupt magical society. It was basically a prison. I was trying to run away from home when they caught me, and I stumbled upon Orson being held captive in one of the upstairs rooms, with bands of iron around his limbs, slowly poisoning him.
He was in pain, he was sexy, and I knew the fae queen wanted an alliance with witches who were willing to marry faeries. I had the key to saving his life. So I made this bargain. Let it never be said that Daisy Pendleton let a sexy-ass man die on her watch.
“You do need to rest,” I murmured, seeing the burn marks on his wrists when his movements drew his sleeves up higher on his muscular arms. “These look bad…” Dots of blood spotted his shirt in places where the wounds had opened a little, despite our efforts to heal him.
“Bah,” he said. “I really do hate being tortured.”
“Everyone does.”
“But I’ve had worse.”
“So you don’t mind that you’re going to have to share your wife with some pompous lord?” I asked, crossing my arms. “What is this other man going to say about your home and your….cows?” Trying to have a conversation with Orson really drove home the fact that I literally knew nothing about him except that he had a sexy accent, gorgeous eyes, and he was ripped. Hmm. Even contestants on the Bachelor were more informed than me. I didn’t even know if Orson had a house. For all I knew he slept in a pile of hay. “I chose you,” I said. “Not anyone else.”
“You chose me, eh? A perfect stranger?”
“I’d seen enough,” I said, raking him with my eyes.
“I’m used to the arrangement,” he said. “The low faery lords often do swear fealty to a high faery lord. They act as a…” He snapped his fingers, like he’d been searching for a word I might understand. “Sponsor. In court. And our country lands send them food and wool, fools and wood, as they say. My sponsor was Lord Liorgan—that is, Stuart—and now that he’s passed on, I shall need a new one, alas for me. Stuart was a good friend, but he told me his intent to sacrifice himself, so what was I to say?”
“Maybe don’t?” I couldn’t imagine that if my friend told me they intended to sacrifice themselves I’d be like, oh okay. But faeries had a weird sense of honor. “You seem cheerful enough about this other man horning in.” My arms remained crossed. My neck relaxed into a tilt. Some girls have resting bitch face but I think I had developed resting bitch neck. “I get it. Exchanging contacts for goods. Sure. That makes sense. Sharing your wife? Not so much.”
“It’s not uncommon in the magical world. You surely know that; aye, but I know you do. Your friend Charlotte had how many lads flocked around her?”
“It’s common among people who already know each other! That’s why it’s called ‘bond-brothers’ and ‘clans’ and such! Not just letting your future wife be subjected to whatever this is going to be.”
His hand cupped my face. It was dry and warm even though his brow was sweating.
This was the first time he had ever really looked at me. Or vice versa. It was intimate and I realized I wasn’t used to that at all.
“You need rest,” I said. “Let’s get you to the healing baths or whatever.”
“Lass, who do you trust in this world?”
“Trust? What does that have to do with anything?”
“I asked you a question, and it has everything to do with everything. You must learn to trust if you’re to thrive here.”
The reason I’d agreed to this crazy idea was because there was something about Orson that made me like him, and I didn’t feel that way very often. Not at all. I searched his face now. His eyes were greenish, although their color was not quite settled. Having been captured for a while, his wild black hair and beard and eyebrows were all a mess. He had a strong nose. My grandmother would not like me producing kids with a man like this. She liked everything to look refined and clean. But what I liked about Orson was that he looked like he could protect me. He seemed strong enough to scoop me up like a baby. Nah, forget that, he could probably carry me in his hands.
Just thinking about those big arms around me and hopefully a big something inside me and oh damn, I did not have time for this level of hot and bothered. I had never been with a man before, but it wasn’t for lack of wanting it.
And yet, there was something in his eyes that didn’t match his words. Something guarded. I knew what guarded looked like. Why hadn’t I seen it before? What was he hiding from me?
“You won’t be matched according to what power you have, what money you have, or anything of that nature. You’ll be chosen because of intuition. The lord who chooses to be with you—with us, in fact—will choose us for a reason. He’ll choose you because you suit him, and the fates shall agree.”
“And what about me?”
“You’ll surely agree as well—or your life will be long and miserable, won’t it?” His hand slipped away from my skin, leaving a tingle in its wake, and I straightened up.
Who do you trust in this world?
What did it say about me that not a single person sprung to mind?
Chapter
Daisy
Oh well. Onto one of my favorite subjects: clothes. I needed to know what the situation was around here, because I was used to having a world of designer clothing available. If there was one thing my grandmother and I agreed on, it was dressing to impress, stun, or kill.
When Grandmother was young, she was hawt, I mean, like most witches she lived a long time so she was a teenager in the 1940s and a young married in the 1950s and she had hats, gloves, leather bags, heels, perfume in deco bottles, furs, cigarette holders and cases, brushes with ivory handles…
I don’t know how many different animals died for her wardrobe. I tried not to think about that part, because I like animals, but let’s just say a lot. I’m sure they were all blessed and thanked for their sacrifice, at least. Witches knew you have to thank the land if you want to keep taking stuff from it.
When I was growing up, she had a dressing room with all that stuff still in it, the old hat boxes and everything, and she still wore them. Witch fashion changed very slowly. Circe’s Monthly, the oldest witch’s magazine, still had spreads where young women wore hats with feathers, gloves, and never ever pants, all designed by old magical fashion houses in Europe, so that was Grandmother. She never went out without her hat and a dress. The dresses were the one thing where I was old-fashioned too. I almost never wore pants. Like, I knooow. “Pants are very practical, Daisy!” That’s why I didn’t like them. I prefer looking impractical at all times, like I need a manservant to pick things up for me.
In this regard, I think the faeries and me were gonna get on fine.
Lady Melis took me down a narrow boardwalk path through the fenland (her words, not mine, I would have called it a swamp but I guess that wasn’t very poetic). The boardwalk had wooden railings carved from beautiful wood that curved in natural angles and felt soft and smooth under my hands, practically begging me to slide my fingers along them as we walked. Under the boardwalk, the water was thick with aquatic flowers and unusual plants.
“The other humans are already getting dressed,” she said, “while Queen Morgana met with you.”
“We prefer to be called witches,” I said. “Not humans. Humans don’t have magic.”
“The other witches, then,” she said graciously, but it was a grace that humored me. So far the faeries were not very friendly, which is what I expected. “I apologize that the conditions here are humble. This is Queen Morgana’s winter retreat where she likes to relax away from the court and she can swim through the cold season.”
“You’re the water faeries, hmm?” I said. Lady Melis, like Queen Morgana, had webbed hands.
“Yes, Queen Morgana is of the House of Coral, one of the great water faery clans. I am of the House of Mangrove and the winter palace is here in my own families’ lands. But there are many other houses and the thirteen most powerful with unmarried sons will be choosing from you and the other witches. I don’t envy their choice…”
That was definitely a swipe at my girls, as she showed me into the dressmaker’s hut.
It was a small two-story cottage resting on stilts, accessed by the watery paths. It was constructed from wood that had turned gray and weathered, and it had a roof that overhang the building with vines and moss growing over everything. The windows were numerous and some of them were round like portholes, and tilted open. I gotta be honest, it looked pretty ramshackle, like the whole thing could collapse into the swamp.
I could already hear the other girls chattering through the windows. Lady Melis opened the door and I was greeted by a flurry of laughter, fabrics and girls messing with their hair and accessories. All of them wore beautiful gowns, although the styles varied from light and frilly to dark and dramatic. I assumed the dressmaker was the very short, squat, elderly fae woman with blue frilled fins around her face like a collar. She immediately hurried over to me.
“Lady Daisy! You’re the last one, then! I’m the dressmaker, Yami. Let’s get you into something! Hurry up, it’s almost time for dinner and I don’t want you to keep Queen Morgana waiting. The ready-made gowns are all around you, so please choose whatever you like.”
They all paused and looked at me expectantly.
There were my twelve fellow faery brides. I had recruited them all at the Haven in order to fulfill the contract with Queen Morgana to save my own ass, and they were not a very choice lot if I’m being honest. Who do you think signs on to leave their home and family forever and marry a man they’ve never met?
Some messed up bitches, that’s who.
I didn’t remember half their names.
Worse, I had lied to a lot of them and told them about all this cool stuff that would happen in the faery realm, when I didn’t actually know the first thing about life here. Luckily, they all seemed pretty happy with the clothes, and the glasses of sparkling wine they were drinking probably didn’t hurt either. Maybe it wasn’t a lie so much as a prophecy. Yeah.
“Do any of them appeal to you, Daisy?” Polly asked.
“Give a girl a minute to actually look,” I said.
Polly was a gator shifter. She had a sturdy brow, sharp teeth, and her body was big boned and squarish. She looked ready for a street brawl, except that her personality was completely at odds. She wore her hair in a soft bun with a few curls escaping and a hair ornament made of tiny pearls, and I wasn’t surprised that she had chosen a long, sort of cutesy dress made of white cotton and lace with silk flower trimmings. Polly was a Jane Austen fan girl. You would learn that if you talked to her for two minutes. Jane Austen novels were very popular with hedge/cottage/kitchen witch types. That class of witches were everyone’s favorite kind, with all the feminine virtues down to a tee.
“Be careful which you choose,” Rowena said, with a slow smile.
“Why?”
“Every gown has meaning.”
I reached for a rack of fabrics, enjoying the caress of silk, fine cotton, wool and linen on my skin. They were all gorgeous but most of them were definitely not my style.
“Daisy, I thought we were going to throw off the shackles of conformity here,” Lucinda said. “You told me that faery life is free but now I am being told that faery noblemen are going to make their choices among us and we’re going to be trained to be faery ladies. Trained. Like dogs. This is not the sort of life that is good for my spirit or mental health.”
“Well, I’m in the same boat, so just chill,” I said. “I thought I was going to marry Lord Orson and now I just found out that one of these high lords is going to get to pick me too, so none of us are getting exactly what we want, but it’s better than wizard prison, right?”
“I don’t know. I was not some man’s object at the Haven.”
“Girl, they murder people at the Haven, and if you really think that’s better than getting married, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t think the faery men like us either so fair’s fair. This is what’s called a strategic agreement.”
Yeah, so in contrast to Polly were Lucinda and Rowena.
Witch society was pretty strict, so a lot of the witches at the Haven were rebellious types that I guess roused too much rabble at some point.
Lucinda described herself as a ‘non-conformist’ when I met her. Have you ever met a person who describes themselves that way who is also fun? Yeah, exactly. Lucinda went by the name ‘Persona’, which was just like, ugh. Was she a girl or a bad college poem? She was tall and slender, dark-skinned with wild curly black hair, probably mixed race like me and many other American witches. She had chosen a shapeless gown with one sleeve, made out of what looked like hemp cloth, but she had one of those gazelle bodies that looked good in a sack.
Rowena was a Bathorite. You might have heard of the Countess of Bathory, the Hungarian noblewoman who tortured and murdered young women and supposedly bathed in their blood? Anyway. That really happened, and Elizabeth Bathory was a normal human, but sometimes normal humans could become witches, and there was some evidence in the witching community that the Countess of Bathory became a murderess in order to learn blood magic. No good witch wanted to be associated with such a person, but a certain group of witches admired her moxie, and the Bathorites were born, fueled by rumors that maybe the Countess became a vampire or an immortal witch and was still alive today, and that she was in fact a heroine for defying the bonds of her human life and the patriarchy and councils that say witches shouldn’t do blood magic.
That’s kinda cool. I get it.
But yo, they’re just a straight up cult. Rowena had chosen a long, dark gown with tight black sleeves that ended in points, and a skirt of fluttering dark green leaves, and a headdress made from tree branches and crow feathers that her vivid red hair was wrapped around. She also looked beautiful, in a goth way.
So some faery man was probably in for a surprise when those two started talking, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.
“The dressing room is there,” Dressmaker Yami said, pointing to a curtain, fidgeting with impatience. “Queen Morgana will be waiting.”
“I gotcha, I gotcha.” I had selected a few that were okay off the racks and then I saw it. The gown for me.
It was bright pink with frilled hems at the bottom that looked like they were dipped in gold, but the collar was the real showpiece. It was like huge flower petals that stood up behind the strapless gown. My boobs and face were going to be like Thumbelina being born out of a damn flower.
“Oh my god, that is hideous,” said my nemesis, Erin the wolf girl.
“Sorry I’m not basic.” I went into the dressing room and hurried the dress on, because I was a tiny bit worried about wanting Queen Morgana to like me, even though I wouldn’t admit it. This was all pretty overwhelming if I started to think about it. It would have been easier to just shrink away and see what happened, but Pendleton women do not ever shrink away.
The dress was boned in the bodice, it made my boobs look amazing, it was extremely uncomfortable, and there was no way I could reach the hook and eye clasps.
“Cash!” I whispered over the loud conversation about my choice of dress going on beyond the curtain.
My cat familiar appeared right away. He looked at the gown. He saw me trying to reach the clasps. He changed into a human. He sighed.
He walked behind me and flicked his finger at the huge, stiff fabric petals. “Insanity,” he whispered. “Complete insanity.” He did up all the hooks and then he grabbed the fabric around my boobs and yanked on something and twisted something else, and suddenly it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable.
“Good luck,” he said.
Then he vanished.
I let out my breath. I couldn’t let any of the witches see him. I would never live that down. But—okay—there was one person I completely trusted, if I counted him as a person.
I stepped out of the dressing room. Erin snickered while some of the other girls looked in awe. I looked either stunning or ridiculous. It was a fine line, but walking it was one of the best ways to assert your dominance over other witches. Nothing says Don’t cross me like wearing something no one but you would dare to wear.
“I’m ready,” I said casually.
“Interesting choice,” Yami said.
I shrugged, selecting a few gold bracelets from a wall of accessories.
“The gowns you choose will send a message about your alliances here.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Gowns are like flowers, meant to attract certain bees,” she said. “Wearing a gown like that, you will certainly attract men from...a strong house. Well, it will be interesting to see how all of you fare here. Let us head to dinner. I’m sure we are late!”
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