Enchanted Ever After. Robin D. Owens

      Aric grunted. “Good party.”

      Leaning back and closing her eyes, Jenni said, “Yes. I love the neighborhood parties, but don’t care too much for hosting them. I think Amber and Rafe should do it all the time.”

      “Our turn,” Aric reminded. “Thank you, Hartha and Pred.”

      From the sound of his voice above her, Jenni figured he’d stood and bowed to the two brownies who lived with them.

      Opening her eyes and hauling herself up, she bowed to the couple, as well. “Thank you for all your work.”

      Hartha shrugged little brownie shoulders. Taller than her husband, she still stood less than a meter high. Her mouth was straight and the tips of her huge triangular ears folded over in concern, and Jenni sat sideways on the chair so she’d be eye to eye.

      “The party was easy,” Hartha said, then crossed her arms. “We don’t like that Darkfolk are flying over Mystic Circle, trying to harm our homes.”

      Pred said, “We don’t like it at all.”

      Jenni sat tall, stared at the brownies. “I have it handled. They can’t get in. No evil, not human and especially not Darkfolk, not even great Dark ones.”

      “But only here is safe,” Hartha pointed out. “We are stuck here.”

      Aric said, “We can all take care of ourselves—you brownies and Sargas the firesprite, and we Lightfolk. Amber has defensive Air Spells from her magic. Rafe has his sword and shield.”

      “Kiri the human does not have anything,” Pred said. “We liked Kiri.” He grinned big. “She made us brownies.”

      “And you want her to continue to make brownies,” Aric put in, coming over and sitting next to Jenni, sliding his strong arm around her waist, letting her lean on him a little. She loved that, being a couple. Loved him.

      Hartha tapped her foot. “You are not listening to us. Kiri may be in danger.”

      “I do hear you. We’ll figure something out,” Jenni said.

      Hartha gave Jenni a look, sniffed and trundled away, followed by Pred, who glanced at them over his shoulder, mouthing, We need more chocolate.

      Jenni turned into her husband, rested against his broad chest, breathed in the Treeman scent of him, redwood needle spice.

      “They’re right,” she said.

      “I will report the Darkfolk incursion to the Eight royals, of course.”

      Jenni hissed, letting off some of her fire nature steam. “You know they won’t do anything.”

      “The great Dark ones rarely leave their domains, and are unassailable there. We cannot prevail against them in their strongholds.” Aric stroked her hair. “I’m sure the one who showed up today is already back on his estate.”

      “But they are vicious, and since they are down to a handful, they are even more rabid.” She paused. “More violent. They’d like to kill us all.” Frowning, she forced herself to consider the matter. “The great Dark ones are more powerful than individual royals. Than some couples, too, I think.” She glanced at Aric. “Some are older than the royals, aren’t they?” Jenni was half-human, new to associating with the Eight royals. Aric had served them—and with them—for years.

      “That’s right,” he confirmed. “They’re very old and powerful.”

      Restless, she stood to pace back and forth. “Why are they attacking, now?”

      Aric winced and she caught his expression. “What have the Eight told you that they haven’t told me?”

      “The Meld Project is doing well. It would be tempting for them to get their hands on it...or people who know how to make magic and technology meld together.”

      Jenni shrugged. “I don’t spend that much time on the Meld task force anymore, not with my own new concept.” She grimaced, and sank down next to her husband again. “Kiri’s in danger from my new idea, too. Maybe I’m wrong about starting up the project to discover humans who have potential to become Lightfolk, making it a mass market online game.”

      He squeezed her. “You believe in humans becoming Lightfolk.”

      “I really do. Despite the recent influx of magic, Lightfolk are still declining in numbers, so having humans become Lightfolk is good for both races,” Jenni insisted. “Heaven knows the Lightfolk need to become less stratified.” But images of what she’d witnessed haunted her. Human servants in a Lightfolk palace spontaneously triggered into attempting to become pure magic, and dying hideously. “But with the game we can find humans, lead them into acceptance, give them a choice to become magical or not.”

      “Your project is much better than standing by and watching, or doing nothing.”

      “Yes. And I’m scrambling to get the bones of the game done. At least the Fire Realm is shaping up.” Her spine stiffened as resolve banished uncertainty in her heart. “If we’re careful, we can...” She couldn’t promise even herself that Kiri might not die.

      “Minimize the risk,” Aric said.

      Jenni sighed, snuggled against her love. They’d survived troubles and struggles, too.

      “I think mass and magic are linked,” Aric said. “The humans who died trying to transform might only have had enough magic to become a small air or fire elemental, but they had human mass and...”

      “Couldn’t make the change.” Jenni scrubbed at the tears on her face, breathed through her clogged throat. No, she wouldn’t be forgetting the sight of the dying soon.

      Again Aric circled her with his arm, and they rocked a little side by side, until she realized tension ran through him and became suspicious of his silence. “What’s up?”

      Aric turned and looked down at her, clearing his throat. “It occurred to someone—”

      “Who?”

      “Amber Davail, who brought the idea to me and I spoke to the King of Air about the matter—”

      “What matter and why didn’t you tell me?”

      “I wanted the king’s input first and I am trying to tell you now. So listen.” She heard his large breath. “Have you considered that now some humans have spontaneously transformed into Lightfolk when the royals did rituals, that some near-Dark ones might also transform?”

      “What! No, I hadn’t thought of that.” Jenni gasped.

      “Not at all good,” Aric said. “We believe evil humans might also become magical abominations—more than human criminals.”

      Jenni swallowed, twice. Looked around for a bottle of water. Hartha appeared and gave her a cup of hot and soothing tea, vanished again, obviously not wanting any part of the discussion.

      After letting the horrible notion circle through her brain for a bit, Jenni said, “But the humans becoming Lightfolk have a poor survival rate. We can only hope that spontaneous Dark transformations have the same.” She nibbled her lip. “Most Dark ones are affected by their evil and, uh, twisted physically.”

      Aric’s brows rose as he followed her reasoning. “Then human evil might also twist and be noticeable. Abominations and monsters in truth,” Aric said. “I’ll add that to my report to the royals.”

      Jenni noticed the trickle of the fountain in the corner of the sunroom. It wasn’t very loud because the more she leaned on her magic and her natural fire nature, the less she liked water. Slowly, she said, “I think Lathyr will work well with me and my new game project.”

      “The sniffer?” Aric bumped her shoulder, teasing.

      “Sniffer?”

      “That’s what the Water King calls him. For Lathyr’s ability to sniff