Here’s a little taste of Olivia’s work, in the raw unedited rought draft. I don’t have a name for it yet but it’s short #3.
UPDATE: I sold this story to Still Moments Publishing. Woo!
Adele preened in the mirror. Her curly golden locks hung about her shoulders, and her gossamer wings glimmered in the rays of sunlight streaming through her window. She snapped her fingers, sighing. A smaller female fae, reaching only to her shoulders, held out a small comb shining with precious stones. Adele plucked it out of her hands with a look of disgust before dismissing her with a wave.
Whereas Adele stood tall and elegant with clothes of golden lamé, the lesser fae wore drab brown. No wing adorned her back and her skin didn’t sparkle like the diamond on the comb. She bowed to Adele as she backed out of the room.
From a privileged family—a princess of one of the upper families—Adele had to deal with a lot of the lesser pixies.
Twirling a finger in her silky hair, Adele snorted. Why her kind tolerated the lesser pixies was beyond her imagination. Their ugly small wingless bodies repulsed her. Still, she supposed they served a purpose. Who else would do the lowly tasks of sweeping the dust and cobwebs or preparing the meals in the hot kitchen? Certainly not one as pretty as her. She drew in a sharp breath at the thought of what the flames of the oven would do to her gorgeous hair or perfect skin.
With a flutter of her wings and a sprinkling of glitter, Adele flew up into the air and out the top hole to her room.
The gnarled oak tree that her community lived in sat next to a flowing river. Its branches intertwined to make a safe haven for all. The wingless fae hollowed out portions of the bark to make way for gardens. She wrinkled her nose as she hovered over the workers. A sly smile crossed her lips, and her wings buzzed faster. She balanced her dainty toes on the edge of a moisture-laden leaf. She giggled before pushing down on the natural reservoir.
The water cascaded down onto the workers below, and they cried out in shock. So early in the morning, the shower temperature would be chilly. Her ringing laughter bounced off the foliage.
She turned to the terse calling of her name. Elder Honeysuckle floated near her with a look of scorn.
“Let them be.” Honeysuckle gestured to the workers, and Adele rolled her eyes.
“Ugh. They’re just dumb servants and besides. They smell. A bath would do them good.” Adele inspected her fingernails, unimpressed by the old croon’s warning.
“Someday, young lady, you will understand the value of all life.”
“So long as they stay out of my way and do what they’re put here for, I could care less.” Giving a huff, she flew past Honeysuckle. How dare she admonish a pixie of Adele’s status? I didn’t matter that Honeysuckle sat on the Council of Eight, the elder did not carry the power of being a royal.