Fairy Tale: Winter's Bite

Chapter 6: Expect the Unexpected (Part 1)

"Would you like to buy a flower, sir?"

The wilting bud was freakishly large in the fairy's hands. It put his new size back into perspective, something easy to dismiss in a world that was otherwise scaled to suit their fairy proportions.

"No. No thanks," he answered with a polite wave.

"Save your applause until the end of the next death-defying stunt. . . ."

"Looking for a good time, handsome?"

A copper-haired fairy stepped in his way. Her aged face was clownish with lipstick and rouge. She looked ravenous, too, not for lack of food, obviously, but in a way that suggested she took pleasure in her work and liked to cause trouble.

"No. Can't you see I'm busy?" Chris said, eyes shooting to Ryan. He hoped that would be enough.

Chris moved around her, Ryan still in his grip and bouncing along at his heel when they couldn't quite stand side by side. A space opened up and to his surprise, the copper-haired fairy was in front of him again. Her wings had a chewed-up-and-spit-out appearance, so he was surprised she could fly that fast. Or at all.

"My, my. . ." Her hand clasped the bandage around his wrist.

As Chris pulled his hand free, he felt naked before her wandering eyes.

"Looks like you had a rough night, soldier. I could always take your mind off it."

"I said no," he hissed to avoid drawing attention to himself, but with his tone and hard expression, he made sure she knew he meant it.

The whore smirked and then stepped aside. "Suit yourself."

Chris hurried along, and just when he thought the situation was under control, she shouted, "Nice wings!"

He scooped Ryan into his arms and pushed forward at an uncomfortable pace. If others were watching, he didn't want to know; the best solution was distance. And in his haste, his shoulder knocked into a fairy buzzing in the opposite direction. The bump wasn't hard enough to be painful or offensive, yet for some reason a fist grabbed the neck of his robe.

"Watch where you're going, fool!"

Chris's eyes scanned past the fairy's massive black wings and latched on to the crooked star on his breastplate. Not a Gray Coat. Worse. A Crown Champion. With Ryan in his arms, he couldn't even attempt to reach for the sword at his belt.

The elite soldier's mean black eyes flicked over Chris—a child in his arms, fake wings, dark blond hair, his father's eyes, nose, chin—but he carried himself as if he were too superior to waste his time focusing.

Chris was released just as quickly and unexpectedly as he'd been grabbed. Astounded by his luck, he moved on but felt the dread of next time. He'd already had two narrow escapes and he wasn't even halfway to his destination yet.

He veered left, to where the buildings were and where a sidewalk should have been, if Pyxis had such things. Not long after, he came across a fairy on the ground, sprawled beneath a blanket. While he was side-stepping over her and urging Ryan to do the same, she shifted and muttered, "Rigel the Magnificent will come again."

"Magnificent indeed," Chris mumbled under his breath once they were a few more steps along.

His father was a legend to someone, perhaps, but Chris had another word come to mind. Coward.

"Whaja say, Dad?" Ryan asked.

"Nothing important."

A young male fairy with soot on his face then stepped in front of Chris. He looked around warily and then flipped open one side of his cloak. "Get your Pyxis Discourse. Christopher the Valiant seeks revenge. Only five greens!"

Chris declined again, but if he'd had five greens, he would have considered buying one to see what had been printed about his family.

He had been suspicious of Pierre's motives and ethics as soon as he'd slithered onto the scene. Still, he couldn't believe Pierre had had the nerve to promise secrecy but then, within hours, publish news of what had taken place.

Chris was thinking of all the "valiant" things he would like to do to Pierre's already crooked nose when he heard, "Royalist Review. Get your Royalist Review! Murderous Bottom-Dwellers on the loose!"

After a few screams, a scuffle broke out. Three fairies threw torches at a building marked by a Royalist Review sign. A few others tossed in glass bottles, and the building exploded with flames.

Chris forced Ryan's head into his shoulder and jogged to the other side of the street. He had to lower his own head when a swarm of uniforms flew past with weapons in hand. He didn't need his eyes to know what happened next. The sound of open slaughter told a gruesome story.

He walked as fast as he could without actually running. By the time he arrived at the intersection of The Mainway and Royal Way, his calves were burning as if they too were on fire.

Before he turned the corner, Chris looked up at the monstrous Aerial Palace. It was eerie, perhaps all the more because in Pyxis there was no sky, no natural light, no weather. He imagined lightning, thunder, sheets of rain, and wind strong enough to slice roof tiles off the palace towers—but within the cave there was not even breeze enough to make a flag flutter, and the towers stood in a profound stillness.

He could not believe they would be inside the palace later in the day. Running away from it seemed to make more sense.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw the castle's main gate open. More Crown Champions zipped onto The Mainway. Although it was becoming more distant, the screaming continued and seemed to escalate. For the sake of their escape plan, he hoped the disturbance at the newspaper office would become a full-blown riot, the bigger the better. A busy army was a distracted army.

He turned onto Royal Way and encountered a new kind of danger—privilege and power, and long expanses of quiet, free space. The residences were multistoried, well-lit inside and out, and built out of shiny, opalescent stone. They included glasswork that gave off an icicle appearance. Some of the fanciest and most expansive mansions had gems of every color and blocks of silver or gold sparkling among the elaborate stonework.

Judging by their wealth and proximity to the palace, these Royal fairies were likely devoted to their queen and wary of those who were not. They would know their neighbors—their styles, schedules, and habits. To protect themselves and their prominent positions in society, they would no doubt alarm the authorities if "Bottom-Dwellers" were spotted out of place. And Chris was the third one with fake wings to pass by. Wings that couldn't even fool a common whore.

"Daddy, I wanna go home!" Ryan suddenly wailed.

Chris buried his son's sobs in his shoulder and picked up the pace. "Me too, kiddo. Me too."

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