Korin Goodfellow loves the Gentry maid, Nanceen. In order to woo her, Korin bargains with his evil king, who sets seemingly impossible tasks. The first? She must believe in him. But the folk of Faerie, the Gentry, don't believe in the odd assortment of beings who make up the wee folk. And definitely ...
Korin Goodfellow loves the Gentry maid, Nanceen. In order to woo her, Korin bargains with his evil king, who sets seemingly impossible tasks. The first? She must believe in him.
But the folk of Faerie, the Gentry, don't believe in the odd assortment of beings who make up the wee folk. And definitely not in fairies.
Nanceen doesn't know what she believes. Until Korin calls to her, then makes his way into her world, becoming a wingless man she can see, touch, believe in.
Will the rat king's conditions drive a wedge between them, or force Korin to confrontation, to battle, risking his life?
"Don't be afraid."
"I'm not," she whispered.
"Open your eyes."
The voice, a clear tenor, ran with the power of magic. Had one of Faerie found her? Someone from another clan? Was this for whom she waited? Tremors chased each other down her spine. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around cautiously. There was no one in the glade.
"What foolishness is this? Where are you?"
She rose and followed the soft echoes of the voice to the far side of the glade. A blurry haze hovered a few inches above the grass and flowers. She lifted on hand toward the pale golden glow, reaching to touch, to discover what magic created such a small disruption in the clear air.
"What will I find?"
*lizzie made up games and stories to keep her company as a child. So, a witch lived in Grampa’s weather research station and was only held at bay by a certain weed. An ancient road grader became a boat carrying wild adventurers to islands filled with sheep that turned into lions and cannibals.
Now, the stories of her imagination are beginning to find their way to paper and pixels. Filled with fantasy and love, these tales take her far from the mundane world.
When *lizzie has to return to that mundane life, she’s *the Lunch Lady* at a private school. Happily, those who know *lizzie have become accustomed to her writer’s ways and just shake their heads when she goes off on some fantastical tangent, asks strange what if questions, or just has to find a piece of paper and a pen that actually writes. One of her greatest delights is to watch the joy of writing fill a friend, and she’ll do anything to help them achieve their dream.
And someday, when she grows up, *lizzie wants to be eccentric.