Copper Girl by Jennifer Allis Provost Page A

what sort of family lurked in Micah’s past. Surely, they were tamer than mine.
    My elf led me toward the far wall, which was all but overtaken by a massive knot of tree roots, gnarled and knobby. A thick expanse of cushions in varying hues of blue lay atop the woody ledge. I gladly sank onto the Otherworldly couch, perhaps the most comfortable seat I’d ever experienced. In a soft voice, Micah asked, “Now, tell me of these abductors.”
    I dropped my eyes, at once full of irrational fear and shame. “Do you know about the Magic Wars?” He nodded. “Ever since, magic has been illegal. I mean, the government still uses it, but they say it’s too dangerous for the public.”
    “Dangerous?” Micah echoed, his brow furrowed. “For one such as you, wielding magic is as natural as a bird taking to the wind.”
    “That’s what Dad thought,” I murmured. “My father fought for magic with the war mages, but he went missing during the wars. We still don’t know if he’s alive or dead.” My voice trailed off, and I was silent until Micah pressed something into my hand. It was a silver chalice, large and heavy, like the grail of legend.
    “It will calm you,” he replied to my unasked question.
    “Where’d you get this?”
    “One of the servants brought it,” he replied.
    “No one’s been in here!” My voice was a bit too shrill, but Micah only chuckled.
    “You can see them, if you know how to look,” he soothed.
    I squinted and looked around the room. I saw nothing, not a person or gnome or field mouse … but then, something shimmered. That something slowly took the shape of a being, not male or female, but a being, nonetheless. It was about three feet tall, pale, and slightly shiny.
    “The metal!” I exclaimed. “The metal does your bidding!”
    “It does,” he confirmed, obviously pleased with my reasoning. “I call them the silverkin.”
    “Silverkin,” I murmured. “I thought you were all alone here.”
    “As long as I have silver, I am never alone,” he stated. “Now, tell me of Max.”
    Instead of speaking, I stared at the contents of the goblet. “What is this?”
    “Chamomile,” Micah replied. “Along with a bit of brandy.”
    “I shouldn’t have this,” I said, pushing it toward him. “They say, if you consume food or drink in the Otherworld, you’re trapped here for eternity.”
    Micah laughed. “What nonsense you humans believe! I have consumed your food and drink on many occasions, yet I am not trapped in the Mundane World. And,” he murmured, pressing the rim to my lips, “would it be so terrible to be trapped with me?” His silver eyes held me fast, almost daring me to answer him.
    “I guess not,” I murmured, then took a sip to placate him. Despite what he’d said, it seemed to be mostly brandy with a touch of chamomile, but it was good, and it did calm me. When I lowered the goblet, Micah was still looking at me expectantly, so I launched into the tale of two girls who’d lost a boy.
    “Do you… how much do you remember about the Magic Wars?”
    “A bit,” he replied. “I try not to involve myself in the affairs of men.”
    Smart idea. “The wars came out of nowhere. We’re taught in school that there was unrest for years between the Elementals and the Mundane leaders, but I don’t remember it that way. I mean, I was young, but I was old enough to understand what was going on around me.” I fell silent for a moment, once again lying under the fairy tree behind the Raven Compound, Max and Sadie beside me. Mom and Dad were off in the meadow, laying out sandwiches and fried chicken for a picnic lunch. Life was simple then, simple and good.
    My life was neither of those things now. “Then, all the radio and television stations went black, and for a few days, no one knew what had happened,” I continued. “We were cut off. After almost a week of isolation, Dad received a summons. It was from the war mages. He never came back.”
    “Was he killed?” Micah