Charles Bewitched by Marissa Doyle

churchyard all those years ago at Persy’s wedding—the “beggar” who had made
her late.
    “No,” he barely whispered.
Perse looked as though she were in some sort of strange trance—not completely
limp, but not fully awake, either. Her eyes were shut, and she was almost as
pale as the folk gathered around her—a group of pretty young woman ranged to
either side, like ladies in waiting, and at least a dozen tall, serious-looking
men with bows slung behind their broad shoulders and swords belted at their
hips. And one other figure—a woman, it looked like, veiled and sitting slightly
apart from the others.
    “‘No,’ what?” inquired his
companion, who evidently had sharp hearing.
    “She can’t marry your
brother.” He was suddenly angry—as angry as he’d ever been. How dare these
creatures step in and steal his sister, as if she were a bauble they’d taken a
fancy to?
    “Why not?”
    He took a deep breath. “Because
she’s already married!”
    She frowned. “Why do you say
she’s already married? Do you know her?”
    Charles stopped. They were
in front of Persy and the seated fairy folk. He lifted his chin and said,
loudly, “Yes, I know her…and I know you , too, sir.” He glared at the man
at Persy’s side who glanced up inquiringly, his mouth curved in a half-smile.
    “Who is this, Margaret?” he
asked. His voice was low and musical.
    Margaret? Charles glanced
down at the girl on his arm. A fairy named Margaret ?
    “I don’t know. He was
watching us dance, and I liked him, so I asked him to come out and dance with
me. He seemed nice.” She glanced doubtfully up at him, as if she might
have been mistaken. Charles felt a pang and wished he could reassure her that
really, he was very nice, but now was not an opportune time.
    “My name is Charles Leland,”
he said instead, and hoped it came out as boldly and bravely as he’d intended.
Thankfully, his voice chose not to break and squeak just then, as it often did
when he least wanted it to.
    “You give your name freely,”
the fairy said, still with that curious half-smile on his lips.
    Charles made himself meet
and hold the fairy’s gaze. “Yes, and I’ll give myself another—brother to this
woman you hold here.”
    He nodded slowly, and if
anything, looked more amused. “Yes, I thought you might be. Welcome to my
court.”
    “Your…court?”
    “Part of it, anyway. Not all
of my court care to come through the door and join us here.” He looked at
Charles consideringly. “I wonder why you’re here, little wizard?”
    Next to him, Margaret drew
in her breath. “You didn’t tell me you were a wizard!” she said.
    “It, er, never came up in
our conversation,” Charles said. “You were busy telling me about your broth—”
    “Oh, never mind!” she said,
cutting him off hurriedly.
    The fairy lord—for he indeed
must be one, if he had a court—raised an eyebrow at her, but continued to
address Charles. “Did you think to take your sister back from me? That won’t be
possible. You should have guessed I made very certain that I bound her to me
thoroughly. She has been mine for the last five years; it is only now that it
was convenient and safe for me to bring her home.” He lifted Persy’s
unresisting hand and kissed it.
    “What have you done to her?
Why won’t she wake up?” Charles demanded. Seeing him treat Persy this way made
him even angrier.
    He shrugged. “Just a simple
enchantment, to calm her while we tarry here. It isn’t wise to keep humans in
the fairy lands for long, at least at first, until they’re used to it—your
systems take some time to adjust to our world. I did not wish her to be
distressed while she was here, so she is as you see her. She will grow used to
her new home soon, though. Her being a witch will help.”
    Charles eyed the
bow-and-sword-bearing fairies standing behind Persy and her captor. They eyed
him back. Those swords of theirs looked unpleasantly sharp-edged, and they
looked