Fairy Debt Read Free

straight for the high table. There he squatted across from the royals and gave Princess Goob a very toothy grin. Princesses tend to be succulent – well fed and soft skinned. It was earth dragons that started the whole "kidnapping of princesses" policy. They like to steal them away and keep them around for late night attacks of the munchies. Princess tartare.
    The king knew this and panicked. His face went redder than I'd ever seen it, and he began to sputter like an over-filled teakettle.
    I snuck under the table to sit at the princess's feet. I could touch the dragon's baby toe from there. It was about the size of my head.
    I touched the princess's toe instead. She twitched slightly. I touched it again. She lifted the edge of the tablecloth up and looked down at me.
    "Tell your father," I said, "that the only way to get out of being eaten by an earth dragon is to serve it a high tea far better than the one you would be."
    The princess nodded and her head vanished.
    A moment later, I heard the king bang hard on the table and call for service.
    This dragon was unlikely to be particularly impressed with the king's tea. Smickled-on-Twee was a small principality and not precisely prosperous. The honey glazed whole pig with thyme and raisins was not as big as it would have been in the more sophisticated Bugdoon-near-Schmoo. Nor were the mounds of tiny new potatoes drizzled in melted butter and sprinkled with mint quite as delicate or as minty as they would have been in Schmoo itself. But the bread was certainly up to par; I'd been lounging about wasting Child Wishes on it all morning. There were huge crispy brown loaves shaped like tortoises and filled with sweetmeats; small round honey-soaked buns rolled in cinnamon; and long skinny cheese-encrusted baguettes. The dragon ate sixteen loaves in all, and I had to sneak away to the kitchen to make sure the second batch came out as good as the first.
    The dragon consumed three of the princess's famous peacock dishes, eight racks of lamb smeared with roasted garlic and rosemary, two platters of pork sausage with hot mustard, and several spit-roasted pheasants. Between each course the dragon picked up his teacup and gazed deeply into the murky depths. The fifth time that he did this, the princess stopped me when I came from a bread check and asked me about it.
    "He's doing what?" I said.
    "Talking dragoonish into his teacup."
    I looked at the dragon. At that moment he was stuffing his face with a trencher of bacon-and-tomato stuffed quail. I was suspicious. So far as I knew, only naiads and daemons used the teacup network. What was this dragon up to?  I examined the huge beast. There was something oddly familiar about his markings. Had we met before? I crinkled my forehead in thought. Then I remembered. Once, long ago, an earth dragon had turned up at a fairy potluck. Could this possibly be the same one? I squinted at him – six horns, sour expression... yes, it must be. And if this dragon was talking into his teacup, I bet I knew who he was talking to.
    I snuck a cup of tea off of the high table myself and retreated into a corner of the room.
    "Aunt Twill," I hissed into the cup.
    The surface of the tea shivered slightly and Aunt Twill's wrinkled face appeared in the dark brown liquid, looking harried.
    "Aunt Twill, what are you up to?"
    "Add a little milk will you, dearie? You know the spell is easier in milky tea."
    I ignored her and said firmly, "Aunt Twill!"
    My aunt had the good grace to look slightly guilty. "He's been asking about your banana puff cupcakes for ages. So I thought, why not send him along?"
    I was shocked. "Aunt Twill!"
    Aunt Twill straightened her spine. "Now don't go taking that tone with me, nestling. This is quite the opportunity. The princess is at risk, the castle in danger, and you and your Child's Wishes can save the day."
    Just then, behind me, the dragon sent up a great roar and tipped over the high table. There was a cacophony of sound as plates,