Broken Wings by L J Baker

Definitely not. She dare not risk that again.
And it seemed highly unlikely that Flora would want to do it again if last time
had been so awful. Not that Rye didn’t think about sex and Flora about every
five seconds. The gods seemed cruel beyond imagining that they’d let her forget
having sex with Flora.
    Rye turned around to check her appearance in the window of a large broom
salesroom. She stepped closer and peered inside. They had all the latest shiny
models displayed to excite the greatest envy in potential shoppers. The price of
a second-hand broom was going to be difficult enough to find. No point looking
at new ones.
    Rye sighed and turned back to watching for Flora’s carpet. This last week had
been exhausting. Still, her body would get used to walking to the building site
every day. She wouldn’t have minded so much if it didn’t take a good two hours
out of her already short days. Realistically, she would only be able to see
Flora on Fifth Days. How many school trips would Holly be taking this semester?
    Rye had not been on a second date before, so she wasn’t sure what happened. But
it wouldn’t be sex. Too much depended on Rye’s continued concealment. Holly
could not be more than a year or two away from getting her wings. That would
signal her transition from child to adult. Had they still been in Fairyland, it
would mean the commune council would give Holly her own piece of land to work,
she could legally own possessions, and she would take her place on the benches
at the front of the temple. Most importantly for her continued residence in the
United Forestlands, getting her wings meant, under fairy law, that she became
legally responsible for herself. So none of their aunts or cousins back in
Fairyland could get her deported by claiming guardianship over her. And since
she had been a wingless child when Rye took her out of Fairyland, Holly could
not be held accountable for her departure or any laws she had violated in
leaving. So they couldn’t get her back on those grounds either. Once she
developed her wings, she would be safe.
    In breaking her strict celibate habit of the last eleven years, Rye courted
danger for them both. Flora might guess that she was a fairy. But Rye couldn’t
help herself. Flora was so good to be with. Rye had not experienced much
friendship before. Surely this couldn’t hurt?
    Flora’s carpet pulled up. Rye put her bags in the boot and climbed inside. Flora
smiled at her. Rye’s return smile was just the outward show of the tingling
warmth and pleasure Flora’s proximity sparked inside her.
    Flora steered her carpet to the end tree in Whiterow Gardens and zoomed up the
ascending lane to the very top. She lived in the penthouse. Rye glimpsed a
swimming pool in the groin of a branch before the carpet descended into a
garage. The deep unease that Rye had felt when she walked to Whiterow Gardens
failed to materialise. Whenever she was with Flora, something strange happened
to the tiny speck of Infinity around Rye. It bent into a more optimistic shape
that centred around Flora Withe and feeling good.
    “Do you have anything that needs to be put in the cooler?” Flora asked.
    “Um. Yeah. Do you mind?”
    Flora grabbed a couple of Rye’s shopping bags from the boot before leading the
way inside. Rye’s first impression was of tidiness, tasteful and pristine
hard-to-keep-clean colours, light, and space. Flora’s living room alone was
larger than Rye’s whole apartment. A wall of windows looked out onto a private
deck containing the swimming pool. The pale carpet looked like the only foot
traffic it received was when someone walked over it behind a vacuum cleaner. Rye
grimaced down at her boots.
    Flora led Rye through into the kitchen. Rye stopped and stared. It was as if she
had walked into her dream: enormous stove with plenty of burners, acres of bench
space, a vast table, a chopping block, and shiny rows of pots and pans hanging
within convenient reach. You could