A Lady And Her Magic by Tammy Falkner Page A

beneath the crack. She very nearly got stuck. If her bottom wasn’t so big, she wouldn’t have any trouble at all. But such was her cross to bear.
    Sophia stood on the inner sill and dusted herself off. Someone really should tell Wilkins that the sills were dirty. He’d probably get the housekeeper right on it. A voice broke the stillness of the night.
    “I knew I smelled a mission faerie,” the voice said. “I’d know that stench anywhere.” Mission faeries and gift faeries had been enemies for centuries. Their very natures warred with one another.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “There’s a tooth to be had,” the faerie said. He tapped his foot impatiently where he stood on the bedside table. “Do not think to stand in my way.”
    “Shh, or you’ll wake her,” Sophia warned as she glanced at Lady Anne, who slept soundly, her little hand curled beneath her cheek. Her nurse probably slept in the adjoining room and would be as likely as Anne to hear them if they made any sort of disturbance.
    “When did you begin servicing England?”
    “We service anyone who believes,” he said with very little emotion.
    “I hope you brought a gift for her.” If a gift faerie could get away with stealing the tooth and leaving nothing in its place, he could sell the tooth, which had a modest amount of value, depending on its size, and not have anything invested in the exchange at all. Pure profit. Purely ridiculous. Wholly forbidden.
    “Why should I? Gift faeries are a myth, even in the minds of the believers. They speak of us, and then they do our work for us,” he groused, growing more and more impatient.
    He was right. The few people who did tell their children stories of gift faeries had grown disillusioned by the many faeries who were thieves. He glanced toward the window. “The night grows shorter. I have many, many gifts to give before the sun rises.”
    He yawned loudly and tapped his open mouth as he did so. He shook his magic bag at her, which clanked loudly in the stillness of the room. Anne’s hand stretched open beneath her cheek as if she was startled from the noise, and then she settled deeper into her pillow, her mouth open as she breathed softly.
    Sophia could just imagine the gift faerie’s next move. He’d take the tooth, leave nothing in its place, and be holed up with a fallen faerie as soon as his pocket jingled with coins from the sale of the teeth.
    Soft footsteps from outside the door reached her ears, just before the door handle began to turn slowly. Sophia dashed behind a lamp as quickly as she could, as the gift faerie dove beneath the skirts of one of Lady Anne’s dolls. Sophia rolled her eyes. Of course, he would choose there.
    Sophia peeked out from behind the lamp and watched as the duke himself slipped into the room. He wore his shirtsleeves, and his throat was bare. A very light sprinkling of dark hair dusted his chest. His hair was messy, like he’d run his hands through it over and over. Shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes. He looked tired. And that tugged at Sophia’s heart a little.
    Ashley sat down very gently on the edge of the bed and sneaked his fingers beneath the pillow. He retrieved Anne’s tooth from beneath her feather pillow and dropped it into his pocket, as he pulled out a length of pink silk. He wound the ribbon around his finger and held it for a moment, sliding the pad of his thumb across the silky surface. Then he tucked it beneath Anne’s pillow and kissed her gently on the forehead. The little girl didn’t even move. He left as quietly as he’d arrived.
    “You owe me for that,” the gift faerie groused.
    “You should have been quicker,” Sophia tossed back. True, if Sophia hadn’t interrupted him, he’d probably have had that tooth and would have been long since gone.
    “And you wonder why we dislike you so,” the other faerie muttered.
    She’d never wondered any such thing. She knew exactly why they didn’t like one another. They had