COF 1: The Fairy Legacy

1 | Fairy (I)

Xanthy sighed. There's no use in arguing with a cat. Much less if that cat was Harriet.

But the cat did scat, its long, furry tail whipping left and right as its feet padded silently against the rotting floorboards. Xanthy finished drying her face and hung the rag back at its designated wire. She drove her hair out of her face and smoothed her faded, knee-length tunic. She'd probably spend the whole day hunkered at her garden so she could at least have some bread for dinner for the next few days to come.

She shoved her fingers into her hair again and reworked in hiding her ears. Good. Her hand wrapped around the backdoor's rusty knob and pulled. Thick, hot air blew into her face as the first quarter sunlight blinded her. Ugh.

The yard came into view as Xanthy stepped out of the house. She tackled the three steps down and retrieved her boots from beside the stairs. It's the same pair she wore since she could remember and her feet must have stayed small to still fit at sixteen.

Not that there was any choice for Xanthy regarding footwear. Or clothes. Or her life, for that matter.

She shook her head and picked up the metal stick she tore from her neighbor's jutting foundations. No one lived there ever since Miss (name) died two months ago so Xanthy took the liberty to chop off some metal from the house's unfinished walls.

Her breath came out thick as she blew it out. She was already sweating from standing under the sun for a few minutes. That's just how life was in the Disfavoreds. One would sweat under the pestering sun and shiver under the relentless storms.

Xanthy gripped the metal prod and headed to a patch of land that she had fixed, herself. There's no use whining about the weather, either. Like their fate, it's another thing they couldn't control.

Plump, red ajilte fruits glinted against the sun as Xanthy knelt to examine her crops. The vines clung to a mesh of frayed ropes that Xanthy spent three weeks weaving. Serrated, triangular leaves stayed free of black spots or insect bites. Xanthy sighed with relief. At least these plants wouldn't be dying any time soon.

She plucked the ripest and biggest of the fruits and bit into it. A thick and sweet flavor exploded in her mouth. Mm. Breakfast. Sticky juice ran down the side of her face by the time separated the flesh from the seeds. She spat the dark seeds into her hand and wiped her other hand at her chin. Washing that would come later to conserve water. It didn't look like it would rain any time soon, either.

Xanthy grunted and stood up. Metal prod in hand, she trudged to another empty plot she dug yesterday and worked on planting the seeds. If she's going to survive the storm season, she'd have to have at least a few versallis on her and she couldn't have coins if she didn't plant.

She struck the pale, sandy soil, wiping an arm against her forehead once in a while as sweat threatened to sting her eyes. The metal thudded against the soil as she struck again and again to loosen up the grains and dig a deeper pit.

It's considered a miracle that she was even able to grow her own crops in this godsforsaken land. Just her reaching the age of sixteen after being born on the Disfavoreds was already a miracle.

She slotted the first seed into the first hole she dug. That's enough to conclude that she wasn't a fairy and that her ears were a lie.

It didn't feel like a lie, though. She pinched, slapped, and pricked her ears the right amount to know.

A mirthless laugh escaped her lips as she dug her second hole. Sweat poured off in her back in rivulets. Just another problem at the top of the list of problems she already had. If people saw her ears, they would stone her. They would drag her up to the General's stable and have her flogged or hung in the Queen's execution square.