Fae it Ain’t So (Witchfully Wed #3)
Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
ELIZABETH
Elizabeth Miranda Moonwhisper Thornwick knelt in her garden, the morning sun filtering through the leaves overhead as she tended to a cluster of rare wellamist vines, their petals slowly unfurling to catch the light.
Her kettle bubbled above a fire nearby, holding a blend of starflower essence, morning dew from spider silk, and a single scale from Raoul’s treasury, given freely after diplomatic persuasion.
“Two successful matches,” she said, gently coaxing a wilting bloom back to life with a touch of her magic. Cyrene’s vampire alliance had strengthened the eastern borders. Adele’s dragon match had stabilized the northern territories.
Elizabeth’s smile rose. The council had finally admitted she was right about strategic magical marriages, their reluctant nods soothing her soul.
They’ll find something else to complain about, Grimble said from where he lounged among the cool ferns, his tail flicking back and forth. They always do. It’s how they justify their positions.
“You’re very right.”
A flutter of wings announced the arrival of a messenger sprite, this one as frazzled as the one who’d visited last time, her iridescent wings drooping and her tiny form buzzing in a zigzag pattern.
Elizabeth quickly wove together a soft bed of moss and petals for the sprite to rest on, urging her to settle in the greenery.
“Thank you, gracious one,” the sprite said, collapsing onto the makeshift cushion.
“You’re welcome.”
The sprite delivered the council’s update. “The borders are continuing to heal, but slowly, with other regions still showing magical deterioration, especially in the west.”
Elizabeth cupped her cheeks. “Oh my. The fae court, you say?”
“Yes indeed. The witch’s council requests your help again.”
She cocked her head. “Requests?”
More like begs, Grimble said in her mind.
“They ask you to please proceed with a third match with all haste to fortify the weakening wards,” the sprite said.
Elizabeth’s pride flared. Of course! The others had gone so well.
“Can I bring them a reply?” the sprite asked.
“Of course I’ll help.” She couldn’t do anything less.
“Then I’ll deliver your message immediately.” The sprite took flight, her wings vibrant once more. She was gone in a flash, flying off to meet with the council.
Elizabeth turned back to her brewing, adjusting the flames beneath the kettle with a wave of her hand.
“Since the fae court is in need of the most help, it’s Sasha’s turn for a match,” she told Grimble, stirring in a pinch of elder root into her brew.
She reached into her gown pocket and tugged out a folded piece of paper, yellowed with age.
She smoothed it open carefully, revealing a child’s drawing of a garden, each flower labeled in careful letters.
Sasha’s handwriting, from when she was seven.
Before their parents died. Before she’d stopped drawing entirely.
“She’ll be my most challenging granddaughter,” Elizabeth said softly, tucking the drawing away.
Grimble stretched, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Challenging? That’s putting it mildly. She’d strategize the fun out of a festival.
Elizabeth chuckled. “My lovely granddaughter has plant magic gifts she’s never properly developed, and that would be perfect for the fae court’s upcoming emotional festival.
These abilities lie dormant, waiting for the right soil to flourish.
” She paused, envisioning the possibilities.
“Her plant magic, combined with strategy magic, would make her perfect for the fae court. Its wild growth and intricate politics need someone like her to bring order without stifling their enchantments.”
She’d considered the fae king, Dominic, after meeting him during treaty negotiations. He’d laughed at a joke about mushroom wines while his leaf-green eyes tracked every speaker at the table, cataloging alliances and weaknesses.
When he thought no one was watching, his smile faded, and for a moment, the weight he carried had shown through. He might come across as frivolous, all decadence and charm, but she suspected this was an act, a glittering mask hiding depths no one had seen.
Sasha could bring them out for the world to savor.
Steam wafted up from the cauldron and Elizabeth cast a divination spell across the surface. The vapor rose in delicate spirals, but instead of the typical bright fae magic, it showed conflicting patterns in the fae court’s future.
Grimble rose from his fern bed and sauntered over to peer into the mist along with her.
“Oh, look,” Elizabeth said, pointing to a vision of flowers drooping in gardens and lords and ladies dissolving into uncontrollable giggles.
Odd, he said, squinting as more images drifted through the steam. What’s the king doing now?
“Bursting into laughter in the middle of an important meeting. It’s very strange.”
The steam shifted, showing an image of Sasha studying a garden full of wilted plants, her face set in stone while fae courtiers laughed and whirled around her.
The vision darkened.
Elizabeth glimpsed Sasha alone in an unfamiliar room, touching the locket she wore all the time, the one with her parents’ images inside. Her expression remained sad until she rebuilt her walls.
That doesn’t look promising, Grimble said.
“No, it doesn’t.”
Maybe the fae are just happy people.
“They’re frivolous at times, yes. Everyone knows this. I suppose that might also make them laugh a lot.” But she couldn’t nudge aside the feeling that this wasn’t usual for this court.
Sasha might learn to laugh along with them, he said, flopping on the ground beside her and starting to lick the fur on his leg. She needs a good chuckle every now and then.
“She is rather somber.”
He snorted and looked up at her with strands of fur sticking out of his mouth. That’s an understatement.
“I believe it stems from losing her parents. She and I practically raised her younger sisters together.”
Yet she was still a child herself.
“I didn’t force her to help.”
No, but did you insist she have fun every now and then as well?
Perhaps. She couldn’t remember, and that made her sad.
Her hands stilled over the cauldron. What if Sasha was too fragile for this, too burdened by responsibility to open herself to someone new?
The fae court’s excessive mirth might break her instead of heal her.
And then Elizabeth would be responsible for pushing her wounded granddaughter into a match she wasn’t ready for, all to save their magical border.
She shook off the thought. There was no going back, but she could make things better while going forward.
“This will be the perfect opportunity for Sasha.”
Her granddaughter could laugh a bit along with the fae and if the wilted flowers needed help, her magic was perfectly suited for that.
Elizabeth’s scrying erupted in a shower of silver and gold sparks, the magical reaction verifying her decision.
“See?” she said with a hint of smugness in her voice. “The magic agrees.”
It does. Grimble yawned and laid his chin on his front paws, his eyelids sliding closed. Let me know when you hear back from the fae king.
“I’ll send a message right away.”
There were risks, of course. The steam hinted at an unsettled court, which could be catastrophic if mishandled.
But there was immense potential power if this match succeeded.
Dominic and Sasha’s bond could aid the western regions of their realm, and fortify the failing magic along the border at the same time.
“I’ll write a formal proposal of marriage immediately,” she whispered to herself. The king would accept when she mentioned Sasha’s affinity for plant magic, a lure too tempting for a court with wilting flowerbeds.
Elizabeth smiled, her confidence in her granddaughter and her matchmaking abilities unshaken. “My magic hasn’t been wrong yet. Let’s see what happens when humor meets strategy. That will be a dance worth watching.”