Needle in a Haystack

The Lady of Dreams

After much cajoling and a bribe of the last of the garlic bread, Pippin agreed to help Emily with the vent. She retrieved a small tool kit from a side pocket of her backpack and pulled out the largest flat-head screwdriver in it. As she passed it off to Pippin, handle first, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. It was as tall as he was, and the handle was as wide as his chest. He flew up to the vent and braced the handle against his torso, using both arms to turn it like it was an old-fashioned steam pressure valve.

"That's enough," she said when she heard the threads of the screw click against the vent cover, fully unseated. She took the tool back from him, explaining as she put it away, "We don't want the cover to fall down and hit someone in the head."

She sighed and dismissed Pippin, determined to finish her homework before bed, but as she stared at her chemistry book, her thoughts drifted back to her destined mate. The memory of his spicy sweet sent had her fantasizing about him bursting through the door after spending the whole night searching for her, and a smile ticked at the corner of her mouth. She imagined him freezing in the doorway in shock that he had actually found her, only for the vent cover to half fall and smack him in the top of the head. In her fantasy, he overplayed the injury, stiffly wobbling to the bed and falling backwards across it, and she guffawed as he gave a few more theatrical spasms before doing his best Jabba the Hut death impersonation. She watched herself leap on him and quote every medical drama ever made and fain chest compressions, and when he refused to give up the bit, she tickled his sides, just below his ribs. His surprise at being tickled quickly transformed into something more heated as he grabbed her hands to stop the torment and flipped her beneath him, pinning those wicked hands above her head. She was so captivated by her daydream, it took Emily several fluttering heartbeats to realize the scene before her had stopped playing out, but it didn't fade away either. Instead, the image, though blurred at the edges, seemed to overlay reality. Emily slowly stood to get a better view of her mate, drawn to him, even in a daydream.

"I can give you this. Now," Sabine's melodic voice broke the absolute silence that had descended as unnoticed as the absence of pain by someone who has grown too accustomed to it. Emily yelped and spun on the spot to face Sabine. "I can adjust things so that you do not have to struggle or suffer to be with your destined mate, Emy dear. All you have to do is agree to be my vasal," she said, raising her hand, palm up, and crooking a finger at the vent. The screw popped out, and the cover swung free, the daydream lining up with reality. The contract fluttered as though caught in a stiff breeze before the whole thing popped out of the vent, floating like a cherry blossom and alighting on her open palm, not a single page damaged or out of place.

"I haven't had a chance to read the whole thing yet, and there are parts that I have read I'd like to get a second opinion on, or maybe a third opinion. But I guess that depends on if my mom has the time or bandwidth to talk about it at all," Emily rambled non-stop. When she took a breath to continue, something else occurred to her and she squinted at Sabine. "I thought you said I was to be left alone," she accused, perching her hands on her hips.

Sabine's nostrils flared and her slitted cat pupils blew wide. "And you have been left alone. It is you who have come to me," she snapped, her breath coming out in puffs of glittering frost. "This is my realm, little shifter."

"What about Pippin," she pressed, ignoring the goose bumps that erupted all over her, and was slightly shocked to realize Ember had not stopped her from antagonizing a Lady of the Fay court of Winter. At least it wasn't Queen Mab.

Instead of answering, Sabine raised her free hand and wiggled her fingers and the daydream started to rewind until just before he flopped across the bed. She snapped her fingers and he froze in midair. The Lady of Dreams stepped past Emily and perched on the edge of her bed. Setting the contract in her lap and resting a hand protectively over it, she patted the bed next to her, inviting Emily to come and sit. When Emily stood rooted to the spot, Sabine's lips thinned and twitched at the corners, reminding her of the cat-like teeth behind them.

"I could translate for you, if that's all else that bothers you, my child," Sabine assured her.

"No!" Emily yelped, and realizing she sounded rude, added, "Thank you. I'd like to do it myself. Please?"

She regarded her for a long moment. "Pippin will be at your disposal as long as you may yet choose to become my vasal," she clipped. "He will only make himself known when you have need to call on him." With that, she stood up, turned and set the contract on her pillow before turning back to Emily gesturing at the contract behind her. "Until such time as you are ready to sign it, keep it close."

Instead of Sabine leaving, Emily came back to herself, still seated in front of her homework in the middle of her bedroom floor. Her head whipped up to the open vent, then back to her pillow with the contract lying on it, nearly giving herself whiplash in the process. Her heart beat a pounding rhythm against her ribs and her breaths started slamming into each other clotting in her throat. What had she gotten herself into?