No Choice, No Choice At All!

Chapter 3

I was laying on a posh love seat with my feet handing over the edge.  Normally love seats were too small for my six foot frame but since I was obviously in a fairy home, the love seat was probably a meager four feet long.

Good thing I had convinced dear old dad to let me bring my own bed. In the case where we'd be staying with some fairies I don't think I'd  appreciate waking up sore every morning because of the small bed I would  have to sleep in.

There also happened to be a wet cloth on my forehead. I frowned, wondering how a cloth was going to help me recover from fainting.

A feeling of horror crossed my mind. I fainted! I was no better than those wanton women in my mother's old-timey romance novels.  The kind that wore corsets that pushed their nonexistent chests up to magnificent heights and fainted at the drop of the hat only to be caught  by the love of their lives.

I scoffed, no way was I going to be one of those horny, helpless females.  I made a move to get up and remove the cloth when I was forcefully pushed back down and my hand was slapped away from moving the fabric.

I looked to who had the audacity to hit me when I saw a small statured woman. Although she was short (for even fairy standards) she was as wide as a house and built like one. A brick house.

I know, hardy har har. I'm hilarious.

Anyways, I turned my best glare towards the woman, hoping to draw on some angry wolf powers but my stupid wolf was practically wagging her tail at this woman.

I think my wolf liked her. My wolf didn't like anyone. If we didn't share a body I think my wolf would have scratched her way out of me a long time ago.

When the woman spoke I could see why my wolf liked her so much.

"Ach," she said in a heavy Scottish accent. "Don remove the cloth, lassie. It'll make you feel bett'r."

I made a face and went to remove the wet cloth anyway but the woman slapped my hand away again. I managed to growl at her, "I don't see how a sopping, wet cloth on my face is going to help me recover from fainting," I told her.

The buxom woman folded her arms and gave me a glare that rivaled mine and said, "The cloth is filled with 'erbs that'll keep away the sickness.  Unless you want to be spilling your lunch on the floor?"  She asked with an eyebrow raise.

Hey! I was the master of the eyebrow raise! Right after my father, of course. She couldn't use my own move on me! I know I should've had it copyrighted…

But then her words made its way through my brain and I said smartly, "Oh. Well, thank you, I guess."

The woman nodded and held a hand out, I took it and regretted the action because she nearly crushed my hand into dust. How such a small woman could have so much power was beyond me.

"My name's Lesta," she said.

"Lester?" I asked, "Isn't that a man's name?" Strangely enough, the name Lester fit her perfectly.

"Aye, my father's name was Lester and he wanted to name his first born after 'imself. But since I turned out to be a lassie, my mother named me Lesta instead."

Considering the fact that with her accent, it sounded like she was saying Lester anyway, I would say that was a clever move on her mother's part.

"Aright Lesta, nice to meet you; I'm Paige by the way. Now can you tell me where I am?"

Lesta nodded, "You're in the royal palace. When you arrived unconscious, Prince Isaac rushed you ta me. I'm the city's best healer."

That would explain the wet cloth on my head.