Fairytales Slashed: Volume 8 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Fairytales Slashed: Volume 8

  Book Details

  Tam Lin

  Honor in Mercy

  The Fox Bride

  Riding Red

  The Nixie in the Well

  The Sky Hunter and the Princess

  The Last Petal on the Rose

  Sleeping Betty

  About the Authors

  Fairytales Slashed

  Volume 8

  Kathleen Danielson | Mercedes Vox | Lotus Oakes | Charles Payseur | TS Porter | Althea Claire Duffy | Stephanie Rabig | Kodi Marshall

  Tam Lin by Kathleen Danielson—Anabiel has only a year left before she must choose a todd to become her husband, a fate she prefers to avoid, as no men in the village interest her enough to become their vixen. Then she wanders into the forest and encounters the mysterious Tamlin, enslaved by the faerie queen unless his true love can save him...

  Honor in Mercy by Mercedes Vox—Noctua Audax is a champion gladiator in an outskirt city of Ancient Rome, forced by his ambitious lanista to battle a lion on the sands of the arena to show up a rival. But the lion, Atlas, is no ordinary beast...

  The Fox-Bride by Lotus Oakes—Shortly after her brother falls ill, Qiu Yue rescues a fox from a neighbor's trap. In return for her kindness, the fox offers a way to obtain the money she needs for her brother's medicine: the local magistrate is looking for a bride, and the fox knows just how to pass his tests.

  Riding Red by Charles Payseur—Big and Red are conmen and lovers a bit down on their luck when they learn of an easy mark: a rich old woman who lives alone in the woods. Hoping to ingratiate themselves by pretending Red is her long lost granddaughter, they set out, even if Red is a bit hesitant about the cross-dressing. Things get complicated, though, when it turns out they aren't the only ones running a scam...

  The Nixie in the Well by TS Porter—When Ida falls down the well after a dropped spindle, she ends up in Elfreda the nixie's lands. She wants desperately to go home at first, but the longer Ida stays with Elfreda, the more she likes Elfreda and her magical land...

  The Sky Hunter and the Princess by Althea Claire Duffy—Princess Tekelei has always longed to fly, but she's entertaining dreadful suitors instead. When bandits force Neneya the hunter to help them kidnap the princess, Neneya's willing to play along until she can turn on them—but when Tekelei's latest suitor tries to play hero, things don't go as anyone planned.

  The Last Petal on the Rose by Stephanie Rabig—Born sickly and weak, Prince Janos will never have the physical prowess of his older brothers; will never get to prove himself in battle. When a valuable prisoner of war is paraded through the city, he's horrified, though the prisoner is said to be more beast than man. Curious, Janos gifts the prisoner a single rose, a gesture that has more consequences than he could possibly imagine.

  Sleeping Betty by Kodi Marshall—Watching over the sleeping princess is the worst job in the palace, and Meg is bored out of her skull. So bored that she reads through the old books she finds—books full of notes left by the princess herself, revealing a woman far different than Meg always imagined of the beautiful woman doomed never to wake.

  Fairytales Slashed

  Volume 8

  By Kathleen Danielson, Mercedes Vox, Lotus Oakes, Charles Payseur, TS Porter, Althea Claire Duffy, Stephanie Rabig, and Kodi Marshall

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Tam Lin edited by Michelle McDonough, Honor in Mercy edited by Amanda Jean, The Fox-Bride edited by Amanda Jean, Riding Red edited by Michelle McDonough, The Nixie in the Well edited by Amanda Jean, The Sky Hunter and the Princess edited by V.E. Duncan, The Last Petal on the Rose edited by V.E. Duncan, Sleeping Betty edited by Melody Odhner

  Cover designed by J. Ang

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition June 2017

  Tam Lin Copyright © 2017 by Kathleen Danielson, Honor in Mercy Copyright © 2017 by Mercedes Vox, The Fox-Bride Copyright © 2017 by Lotus Oakes, Riding Red Copyright © 2017 by Charles Payseur, The Nixie in the Well Copyright © 2017 by TS Porter, The Sky Hunter and the Princess Copyright © 2017 by Althea Claire-Duffy, The Last Petal on the Rose Copyright © 2017 by Stephanie Rabig, Sleeping Betty Copyright © 2017 by Kodi Marshall

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781684310579

  Print ISBN 9781684310708

  Tam Lin

  Kathleen Danielson

  The first time Anabiel saw Tamlin, she was older than a kit but still yet a maiden. It was Halloween eve, and she had slipped away from the merry-making in town to escape the taunts of her father and brothers who, drunk on harvest ale, teased her about coming of age. It was custom in the village for all vixens, when they came of age, to race through the Winterwood and choose a husband from the todds pursuing her as suitors. Anabiel, with her mouse-brown fur and slender frame, was still a year too young for such things.

  "In a year," her brothers had jeered, "our little sister is finally going to become a vixen!" They had followed their taunt with crude pelvic thrusts and a battery of lewd jokes. "A todd will come and give your tail its white tip!"

  "Will he, now?" Anabiel had retorted. "Is that how you got yours?"

  Her brothers had not been amused, and had dumped her in the pig trough for that one.

  Anabiel didn't want a husband.

  No todd in the village made her feel as she supposed she should. She never quivered with anticipation or trembled at the sight of a male in all his glory as the bawdy tales claimed she would. Not once. In truth, it was only Bonnibelle, the miller's daughter, that had ever made her feel so. Though they had exchanged soft kisses and more behind the windmill, Bonnibelle had been happily married to Reid, the butcher's son, just last season, and had lost all interest in Anabiel. Since then, not a single stirring. Not so much as a shiver.

  It wasn't that the todds were ill-looking. Many were quite handsome. But they all seemed to lack for something and not one of them truly caught her fancy.

  Perhaps I have been damned, she thought as she wandered the forest path alone. Damned for dallying with another vixen as the Good Book always warned.

  The moon cut through the fraying leaves of autumn, laying silver knives of light across the path. Anabiel frolicked betwixt and between them, dancing from light to shade as if daring the moon to catch her, and didn't realize she had reached the forest spring until she heard something behind her: a whisper through the brush out of step with the wind, a subtle snap of a twig under a foot that was not her own. She froze, auburn tail still under her skirt and her black-tipped ears straining against the night.

  She turned, and there he was.

  A todd stepped from the shadows, his russet fur limned with moonlight. He wasn't hard or sharp the way the other todds were. No, he was sleek and curved, like a bow. He wore only a pair of fawn-colored breeches, bare paws as dark as the dirt he trod upon. He glided across the clearing with the poised, delicate step of a dancer. He knelt beside the spring and dipped his muzzle into the moonlit pond.

  Anabiel crept closer and closer, until she could count the beads of water strung like diamonds on his whiskers. If she could just catch his scent, she could follow him, maybe discover who he was and why he came to the spring at this hour for a drink.

  But before she could get close enough, he froze, staring in her direction. Green eyes flashed in the darkness a
s he looked at her, not with anger but surprise. The todd stood still, as if waiting for something. Anabiel opened her mouth to introduce herself, and suddenly, he was gone, white-tipped tail vanishing into the darkened underbrush.

  Startled herself, Anabiel dashed back the way she had come. Later, she cursed herself for running like a kit instead of staying and following the strange todd's trail. She dared not tell her father or brothers of what she saw for fear of being branded a harlot. A vixen could be alone with another vixen, but any todd who wasn't her husband was forbidden. So the next morning, she snuck across the village square and sniffed out the old crone and storyteller Vex to see what she might know. Perhaps a wandering todd had come to town for the festivities? If anyone in the town would know of the strange todd, it was Vex. No piece of rumor or gossip missed the sharp grey ears of that old fox!

  "Ah, Anabiel, my little Belle, that would be Tamlin you saw in the forest," Vex said. "Best put it out of your mind. No power in this world or the next will save him from the Dark Faerie Queen's clutches. Tamlin's been haunting the Winterwood since my dame's gran-dame's time. Maeve keeps what she claims." Vex spat into the fire upon speaking the Faerie Queen's name and bared her crooked teeth.

  "Tell me, please!" Anabiel begged, her tail lashing under her skirts.

  The old crone relented.

  "Tamlin was a mortal once, or so they say. The Queen of the Dark Fey, Queen of Air and Darkness and the Wild Hunt, found him in the forest. Addled, he was, from falling from his horse. Or perhaps she made the beast rear up and drop him. Only the Queen could say, and even I daren't ask. She found poor Tamlin and took pity on him, carrying him off to the undying lands of the fey. But every Hallow's Eve, he's allowed to walk the mortal world once more."

  "Is that all?" Anabiel asked, her ears falling back.

  "Ah, but there's always a catch. Even with the darkest of the fey, there is! If his true love were to catch him and hold him until the first light of dawn, he'd be free of the Dark Queen forever. But if his love should fail, if she lets go of him just once before dawn, the Queen will slay the impudent mortal what thought to part them, and drag poor Tamlin back to his fate."

  "But how would he know his true love if he sees her just one night a year?" Anabiel asked. "That hardly seems fair."

  The old crone shrugged. "Tis fair, to a fey. They don't think like you or I. Tamlin is obliged to the Dark Queen for saving his life. A grim fate for a mortal todd, to be sure."

  "Mortal? But you said he had been taken to fey lands. Does that not make you one of them, and mortal no longer?" Anabiel said, then added slyly, "If mortal he be, how then could he live for so long?"

  "Time in the fey and time in the mortal world are two different things. A year here is but a summer's afternoon to a faerie. For all we know, Tamlin thinks he's visited that spring every night—a century of nights! —hoping his love would come and set him free. I wonder if he even knows the year," Vex wondered. "Ah, well. Anabiel, child, you'd best run along. If your father found you here—"

  She didn't need to continue. Anabiel slipped out the door and back home before her father or brothers were any the wiser for her absence. It wasn't difficult to fool them. If they were awake, they were drinking. A drunk fox catches no rabbits, as the saying goes.

  Anabiel assumed she'd never see the spectre of Tamlin again. If he only walked free one night a year, well, that night had come and gone. Three moons passed, and she didn't see nose nor tail of him, though she looked each time she went to gather water. New-fallen snow and cold-packed ground hid any sign of tracks, but she searched, just in case.

  Then, she saw him again. It was the night of the Snow Moon, called the Wolf Moon in leaner winters, and as Anabiel dipped her bucket into the spring, she saw the strange todd across the pond, his head bowed as he drank. He looked up at her, and he smiled. Moon above, he had a handsome smile! It was clever and sweet and kind, all at once. Anabiel nearly swooned where she stood.

  "Good evening," he said softly. His voice was soft and light in her ears. It was the voice of a bard or a minstrel, lovely and lilting. Anabiel swallowed and gripped the handle of her pail tighter.

  "Good evening," she replied, her voice shaking.

  "Tis a cold night to send a daughter out for water," he said. "Have you no brothers to brave the winter's cold?"

  Anabiel shook her head. "Well, that is to say, I do, but gathering water is vixen's work."

  The todd frowned, his ears backing. "It hardly seems right, to make so beautiful a maiden carry water alone, by moonlight, on such a cold evening," he murmured. "But then, if they hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to see you again."

  "See…me?" Anabiel squeaked. "My lord, I barely know you, and if my brothers heard or suspected, I would—"

  "It would be most unpleasant, I am sure," he agreed. "And yet, here you are. Still speaking to me by the light of the moon, with a half-full pail of water."

  At that, Anabiel scowled. "Are you Tamlin?" she asked boldly.

  The todd stepped back a pace, his ears swiveling back and forth as if searching. "And if I were?" he replied.

  "I'd say it was very nice to meet you," Anabiel said. "And that I hope you find your true love someday."

  Tamlin blinked and sat back on his haunches. "Do you now? And what makes you say such a thing?"

  "I said nothing, my lord," Anabiel replied. "Only that if you were Tamlin, I would say so."

  Tamlin threw back his head and laughed. "Very well, I admit to my name. I am Tamlin Todd of the Winterwood. You have me at a disadvantage, my lady. I know nothing of you, save that you are lovely and alone."

  Anabiel shivered. She knew she should say nothing, that she should hurry on her way and run from this strange creature. But… she didn't want to. He could be a murderer! He could ravish you and leave you for dead, and not even your father would mourn your stupidity!

  It was foolish, she knew. Far beyond foolish. And yet, she tipped the water from her pail back into the spring and sat down upon it. Tamlin's green eyes followed her movements with interest, but he made no move to come closer.

  "My name," she said, when she had settled down, "is Belle. And I am no lady. Just Belle."

  Tamlin laughed again. "That is hardly the name of a commoner," he mused.

  "I'll not give a catspaw of the Dark Queen my true name!" Anabiel replied, exasperated.

  Tamlin sobered and nodded. "Wise of you. Very well, Belle. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  "And yours," Anabiel said, inclining her head politely. "Tell me, are the tales true? Are you truly enthralled to Queen—"

  "Do not speak her name!" he snapped. He took a deep breath and calmed. "Please, it is dangerous enough to speak of her in daylight. She can hear every word spoken in shade or by night. They do not call her the Queen of Air and Darkness for nothing."

  Anabiel swallowed and nodded. "I thought you could only walk the world one night a year?"

  Tamlin growled. "Time among the fey moves differently than here," he said. "And you are not the only one facing dire consequences if caught. But I had to. I had to see if you'd return here."

  "Me?" Anabiel stammered. "Lord Tamlin, I'm not…you can't think…we've only just met!"

  Tamlin sighed, his shoulders slumping. "No, I…you're right. I'm sorry. I beg your forgiveness, and will trouble you no more." He turned to leave.

  "No, wait!" Anabiel cried. She kicked over the bucket and darted around the frozen bank to stop him, but her foot caught the ice's brittle edge and she slipped, tumbling into the frigid water.

  The cold snatched the breath right out of her. It stabbed through her coat, through her fur, straight to the marrow of her bones. Her whole body seized tight, and she sank like a stone. Icy water filled her mouth, clawing its way to her lungs.

  I'm drowning, she thought sluggishly. She needed to move, to swim upward, but her limbs wouldn't obey her.

  Suddenly, something grabbed her. She yelped and tried to struggle, but she was so cold th
at it caused little more than a ripple. She was yanked to the surface, and someone warm and soft squeezed her until all the water had drained from her and she could breathe again.

  "Oh no you don't," Anabiel heard Tamlin murmur in her ear. "I have waited far too long to have you drown or freeze to death in my arms."

  She tried to respond, but she was shivering so violently that the words stuck soundly in her throat.

  "Sleep, Belle. Sleep and dream of summer," Tamlin whispered to her. And before she could protest, Anabiel closed her eyelids. The last things she could recall from that night were the brilliant green of his eyes, and the sweet vernal scent of his fur.

  *~*~*

  Anabiel awoke the next morning in her own bed, in her dressing gown, and not at all chilled.

  "What a strange dream," she said to herself. It was already fading, as dreams are wont to do come dawn, but she could still recall bits and pieces. Gentle paws, prying off her frozen dress, guiding her into her warm dressing gown. And though some part of her ached for his touch, she knew the Tamlin from her dreams had been a perfect gentle-todd and had taken no liberties with her frozen body.

  She sighed, her heart aching, and made herself ready for the new day.

  Her brothers all slept in the same room, but as the only female of the family (her mother's eyes having closed before Anabelle's opened), she was entitled to her own space, so as not to tempt the todds. She had yet to enter her first season, but these things sometimes happened. It wasn't unheard of, sib laying with sib, but it was discouraged. Secretly, Anabiel was thankful for the privacy. Her brothers were loud and obnoxious while awake. At night, they snored like bears.

  Clad in a fresh skirt and tunic, Anabiel stepped out of her room, out of the hut her family shared, and nearly tripped. Snarling curses at winter and wicked faeries, she turned to see what had fouled her footing.

  Next to the door was a full bucket of water and a small stack of firewood. And atop it was a single white rose.

  It wasn't a dream! She snatched the rose and hid it in her dresser, terrified that her father or brothers would see it. But every morning before breakfast, she fished it out from its hiding place and inhaled its scent. Moonshine, but it smells like him. Like high summer, and shade, and rainfall.