Bound (A Faery Story 1)

“I don’t care what they call it, Cian,” Meg swore. “I want it. I’m a

pot-a-day coffee drinker who’s been without it for weeks now. You

will get me that coffee. Do you understand?”

“It’s become my new quest, wife,” Cian said solemnly. He never

argued with a woman when she got that look in her eyes.

Meg backed off and smiled. “Excellent. We can trade the cookies

for the coffee.”

She placed a cloth over the full basket and smoothed down her

new skirts. Some of the women of the village had held a small sewing

party to make the queen a little wardrobe. Meg had been effusive in

her praise of the three dresses, two pairs of pants, two shirts, and

some nice undergarments. She had made the women promise to teach

her what they knew. Her gracious acceptance of their rather plain

Bound

185

garments had endeared her to the women of the village. It was the

kind of thing that Beck would have turned down, fearing he was

taking advantage of his subjects.

What Beck didn’t—wouldn’t—understand was that peopl

e needed

to be needed. Those women had enjoyed giving their queen a gift she

appreciated. Beck held himself apart. While the people loved him for

his loyal defense of their lives and property, they rarely spoke to him

beyond saying hello. They rarely asked his counsel or wondered about

his health. Meg was going to change some of that.

If she survived meeting the goblins.

“Are you ready?”

“No.” He didn’t particularly want to go meet the goblins without

Beck at his back.

“Good,” she replied as though he had cheerfully said yes.