ABBY
The word coin is misleading, and to say I'm pissed would be the understatement of the century. I've been deceived.
That's the only way to describe it.
I run my thumb over the small brass coin in my hand. It's about the size of a quarter, and I really thought I'd found something great when I found it in the grass just outside the park bathroom I've been using. I need coins, and this thing is most definitely a coin. It looks like one, smells like one, fucking feels like one.
But it's a liar.
"Are you sure?" I ask, turning to the cashier.
She looks bored, and she's still fiddling with the velx she was playing with when I approached the register. I'm getting the sense that she wants me to hurry up and leave so she can get back to it, and I really hope this wasn't the vibe I was gave off when I was a teenager.
I worked at the local grocery store for about a year, and I was annoyed with every customer who came up to talk with me. I hated my job, and I didn't put much effort into pretending otherwise.
The cashier seems the same, and it's nice to know faerie teenagers aren't so different from human ones. They're tall, freakishly strong, and can use magic, but at the core, the two are pretty similar.
"This isn't a coin?" I ask again, lifting my non-coin coin in the air.
It sure looks like one.
The cashier blinks, her purple eyes narrowed in confusion. Just a few seconds ago she was looking at me like I was crazy, so this is a positive change.
I push my hair behind my shoulder and set the coin on the counter between us.
It took me a good hour to find a damn grocery store, and now I feel dumb for how I strolled in here with my dick swinging. In only one day, I got a bus schedule and found what I thought was a coin on the ground. I thought I was on a roll.
I was ready to call today a vibrant success.
"I'm sure," the cashier says. "That's a half coin."
A fucking half coin.
I must look confused, and the cashier lets out a long sigh before turning to her register and hitting a few buttons. The till opens with a quiet ding, and I lift up on my toes to get a better look. There are three different colored coins inside, but no cash.
I suppose, given the faeries don't use paper, the lack of cash makes sense.
The cashier reaches in and grabs a gold coin. A coin is made of gold...how cliche. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
It's always the gold coins.
She sets it on the counter between us, letting me get a good look. It's plain, with no images or details engraved on the top like in the human world. It's also impeccably clean, with not one dent or blemish to be found.
I bet it's magic that keeps them looking so good.
I glance between the gold coin and mine, comparing them with a frown. They're the same size and shape, but mine is most definitely made of brass.
"This is a coin," she says, tapping her finger against the gold.
She then points to my find. "And what you have is a half coin."
This is bullshit.
The cashier reaches into the register and pulls out the third coin. It's the same size and shape as the coin and half coin, but it looks like it's made of glass. I thought the same the first time I saw Samuel's velx, but it turns out those are made of condensed magic.
This coin is probably the same.
If money can be made from condensed magic, what's stopping the faeries from making their own? That's what I'd be doing.
"This is a quarter coin," the cashier says, setting the third coin on the counter.
I want to touch it, but I refrain. I don't need her to think I'm trying to steal and sounding the alarms. Or breaking my wrist.
"I assume a gold coin is worth four quarter coins or two half coins," I guess. Given the names of the coins, I'd be surprised if it was anything else.
The cashier nods, confirming my assumption.
That's not too bad. There are five where I'm from, four if you exclude the rarely used half-dollar coin, so I'd say three is an improvement.
"What can I buy with my half coin?" I ask.
Knowing the different kinds of coins is helpful, but what I really need to know is how much they're worth. In an ideal world, a coin would be equivalent to a dollar, but I'm worried that won't be the case. That would be too easy.
The cashier scratches the back of her neck, clearly caught off guard by my question.
I remain firm, waiting for her to answer. I've asked several wild questions these past few days, and I'm getting more and more comfortable voicing them.
Nobody's alerted the authorities yet, and I'm content making a fool of myself if it means I get answers. Despite the faeries looking at me like I'm crazy, they've been relatively open to answering my questions.
I have the feeling it's because they think humans are dumb.
Lill once said faeries thought we were cute, but I now realize she probably meant that in a 'pets are cute' and not in an 'I want to smash' way.
The cashier returns the two coins she took from the register before reaching into the small basket beside her. It's got several random items inside it, and I assume it's where she stores the items people decide not to purchase at the last moment.
She roots around the basket before pulling out something wrapped in a cloth.
I didn't bother looking around the grocery store before coming to the register to ask about my coin, but from the quick glance I got when I stepped in through the front doors, just about everything here comes either wrapped in cloth or stored in jars.
It's a homesteader's wet dream.
"You can buy this," the cashier says.
She sets the item on the counter between us, and I grab one of the corners of the cloth and pull it open to see what's underneath. It's a loaf of bread.
I can get an entire loaf of bread with one half coin?
"How much do you get paid?" I ask without thinking.
My pulse is racing so fast I can feel the blood rushing through my ears. It's uncomfortable, and I shift my weight from foot to foot as I wait for the cashier's response. I was expecting to maybe get a piece of candy with my half coin, not an entire loaf of fucking bread.
"Two coins an hour," the cashier says.
Fuck me.
So that means a coin is the equivalent of what, five-ish dollars? If that's true, getting a hundred and ten of them within the next few days is as good as impossible.
Shit, getting it within the next damn month is impossible.
I only brought enough food to last me a week or so, so it's only a matter of time before I need to begin buying food on a regular basis. That will be costly, and I can't realistically live on the streets forever. Eventually, I need to find a safe place to sleep, and that will cost even more money.
Saving a hundred and ten gold coins is going to take too long.
"I'll take the bread," I say, handing over my disappointing coin.
The cashier takes it, and I grab my sad loaf and head outside. I probably should've spent the money on something more nutritious, but I'm feeling sad and bread has always been my comfort food.
What am I supposed to do now? I need to get to Elora, and I don't have time to waste. Lill doesn't have time to waste. She's withering away at this very moment.
I could walk to Elora, but that would take months. Going through the forest would be a shortcut, but I don't think the time saved would be worth the risk.
There are shifters and trolls in there, and I won't be of any help to Lill when I'm made into stew.
I brought a small knife from home, but I don't think that would realistically help me in a fight. Plus, I don't have a map, and while I generally have a pretty good sense of direction, I'm not delusional enough to think I could travel through an entire forest and not get lost.
The bread crunches in my hands, and I peel back the cloth before ripping off a chunk and shoving it into my mouth. It's fresh, and I happily nibble at it as I return to my trusty park. It's only a matter of time before somebody realizes I live here, but I'm hoping that's not for a while.
The park is a bit busy, and two women occupy the bench I usually sit at. They look older, one in their fifties and the other potentially in their seventies. I wonder if it's a mother and daughter.
The bench beside them is empty, and I plop down on the end before ripping off another piece of bread. I hope I'm not breaking any customs by eating outside of mealtime, but I'm taking it as a good sign that the few people I've walked past haven't seemed to notice or care.
"I heard he's bringing the shifter," the older of the two women says.
I pick at the crust of my bread, quietly eavesdropping. I've learned a lot through my nosey listening, and I have no intentions to stop now.
"I'm not surprised," the younger woman responds. "Prince Kieran and Mason have been joined at the hip since they were children."
It feels like every conversation I overhear is about Prince Kieran. Praxis has everybody excited.
"It's disgraceful," the older woman sneers.
I perk up. Everybody talks about Prince Kieran like the sun shines out of his ass, and I can't lie and say I don't love the drama of hearing somebody express otherwise. It's much more interesting than the bland praise the prince always receives.
This is just what I needed to cheer up.
"I don't know..." The younger woman trails off, hesitating to speak poorly about the prince. That's boring. "Most of the magic within the forest is dead, and having the shifter nearby could be helpful. They don't need nearly as much to survive."
The prince is bringing a shifter with him? Is that who Mason is? I've heard his name thrown around a few times, but I assumed he was another faerie.
"Plus, some think Mason might be able to sway the gods to restore the magic," the younger one continues. "The troll and shifter armies are getting strong, and it's only a matter of time before they attack."
Samuel told me the magic-destroying death that seeps from the portal is a punishment from the gods. He said some nobles made bargains they couldn't keep, and now every crowned royal must travel to the portal and get approval from the gods before ascending.
He also said that the death grows dormant until the first child of the next generation is born.
That's a shitty punishment, so I don't blame Prince Kieran for bringing along his friend if he thinks it'll help.
"There are no armies in the forest," the older woman sneers.
I rip off a chunk of my bread.
I'm not pretending to know anything about this world, but I'd say it's safe to assume that there are armies in the forest. The faeries obviously don't like the shifters and trolls that live there, and I assume the feeling is mutual.
I can't imagine what they'd be doing if not preparing to fight the faeries.
The younger woman sighs before changing the subject. "I'm thinking of traveling to Elora for the arrival party."
To Elora? Is the prince not returning here after finishing his business at the portal? Samuel said they take off from here because this is the closest city to the portal, so I assumed they'd return the same way. That makes sense, but maybe not if they're trying to avoid the trolls and shifters.
If their trail is found, following the same path back probably isn't the best idea.
Although, now that I think about it, what's stopping the trolls and shifters from coming here and attacking inside the forest when the prince and Mason enter? That's what I would do if I were them.
Everybody's been openly talking about Praxis, so it's not like it would be hard to figure out the day and location. It would be easy for them to send a spy or something into town to collect the information.
I've only been in this realm for a few days, and already I know everything.
There's probably some part of this I'm not understanding. There has to be.
"Would you like to come with me?" the younger woman asks. "The arrival party could be fun."
The longer I listen to the two, the more I'm convinced they're a mother-daughter pair.
The mom makes a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat. "That party is no place for a young woman," she says.
I swallow another mouthful of bread before taking a sip of water. Her daughter laughs.
"I don't think we classify as young women anymore," she says. "Besides, people think that with Mason joining, it'll only take two weeks. The party will be small."
Two weeks? I wish.
I shove one last piece of bread between my lips before wrapping up the rest and sticking it into my bag for later.
The two women begin bickering about whether or not it's appropriate to go to the arrival party. The older of the pair is adamant it's nothing more than some big orgy, and the younger doesn't do a very good job convincing her otherwise.
Personally, I think a giant faerie orgy sounds like a lot of fun.
I bet a lot of mates are discovered that way.
If a miracle happens and I find a way to get to Elora within the next two weeks, I'll do my damned best to be there. I'm stressed to the max, and sex sounds like an excellent way to blow off some steam.
____
I'd pay so much money to be in a giant faerie orgy (don't tell my husband) (he can join if he feels so inclined)
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