Chris sat in his truck and stared at at Wellowyn’s house, it’s white picket fence, garden trellis around the front yard, and the wraparound porch beyond them. He had driven by this house countless times in his life, but never paid any attention or thought to it. But he didn’t move from his parking spot across the street, and just stared.

“What are you waiting for? She’s just a fairy.” Chris said to himself. But he still didn’t move. Another minute of staring at the silent house wouldn’t hurt anything. Until he remember Brian, stuck in a fairy body and trapped with a fairy mind. Chris was the only one who could help him, and with that thought in mind, he got out of his truck to go across the street.

Chris took long, bold steps across the street, putting his hands in the pockets of his jean jacket, careful to not cut himself on the iron nails he had in each. The fence around the house was low and Chris could see the porch beyond it, empty but for a pair of wooden chairs. Wellowyn’s house looked quiet for now. Still, Chris moved to the gated trellis and went into the yard, but when he looked up to the porch he saw Wellowyn lounged in one of the porch chairs.

Chris blinked. The weirding woman wore a long floral dress and held a porcelain teacup between her delicate fingers. Her face and body were young, and if you put her among a group of college aged women, it would be hard to tell her apart from them. But there was something about the assurance in her gaze, the grace in her movement, that spoke of something . . . older.

“Hello, Christopher.” She said, a not so hidden smile on her lips.

He stopped at the gate, furiously trying to remember everything Brian had told him. “I need to speak with you.” Chris had been warned not to trespass on Wellowyn’s land, but suddenly realized he had no idea what that meant. Did it mean not going into the house? Or did it include her front yard? He couldn’t tell if he had already broken one of the rules.

“By all means, dear boy. I’ve been much awaiting this conversation. Come, sit and have tea with me.”

Chris breathed out and nodded as he walked toward Wellowyn, who tracked his each step with intense gray eyes. He couldn’t accept food or drink from her. That was one of the rules. But Brian said there were exceptions. But he also said not to offend her. Would refusing her offer offend Wellowyn?

“Thanks, but you shouldn’t trouble yourself.”

“Tis no trouble, my dear. Please, let us talk freely over tea.”

Chris came up the steps on the wooden porch, moving slowly, and trying to keep his own gaze up. Confident. Let Wellowyn see no fear. Or, at least, as little as he could muster. “I appreciate your offer, but I haven’t brought anything for you in return.”

“Your company and conversation is all the gift I need from you. Please, I insist you try the tea.”

Chris took a seat on the very edge of the second chair. Did he have to refuse three times to be safe? Or did she merely have to offer three times? Three felt like an important number, but he couldn’t remember why. “If you insist,” Chris said with a nod.

“I do,” Wellowyn poured tea into a second cup from a porcelain white teapot. Chris accepted the cup with a slight nod, surprised that his hand was not shaking. He paused with the lip of the cup at his mouth, looking in Wellowyn’s eyes for any sign of what he should do. He breathed in the tea’s warm aroma. Was it enchanted? Cursed? He couldn’t know. Then, Chris took a sip of the bitter drink.

“It’s tea.” He blurted, unable to keep the shock from his voice. Wellowyn threw back her head in a long laugh that was warm and joyful enough that Chris smiled and laughed some, too. Was this really the woman who had cursed his best friend?

“Yes, of course it is tea, dear Christopher. What has my courtier been saying about me?”

“He warned me not to eat or drink anything you offered.”

She tilted her head when Chris said ‘he,’ but said nothing until he finished, “Would it not be rude to withhold drink from my guests?”

“Brian worried that it would give you power over me. That you might be able to use magic on me, and curse me like you did him.”

“Curse you? My dear, I hardly know you.”

“You didn’t know Brian when you cursed him.” Chris countered, putting the tea down and turning to more directly face Wellowyn and her intense gray eyes.

“My dear, your friend and I played a game, which she won easily, and I rewarded her accomplishment. There was no cursing involved.”

“Whatever you did to him, whatever you call it, I want you to undo it.”

Wellowyn said nothing at first, choosing instead to drink from her own cup. Then she put her cup down and leaned forward, propping her chin up on her hand. A crooked little smile grew on her face. “In exchange for?”

Chris blinked. “Uh . . . in exchange for, uh, doing the right thing?”

She tsked at him, “Has my courtier taught you nothing of our ways? If I were to turn Brianne back into what she was one year ago, I would be losing something dear. What can you offer me in return?” Her eyes glittered with magic light, “Would you take her place?”

“What? No.” Chris said, pulling back at just the thought.

But Wellowyn shrugged, “I think you would make a poor fairy, at any rate.” Then she stood up and slinked forward, around the table and toward him. Chris put his hand back in his pocket, searching for the iron nails he had there. But his fingers couldn’t find them. “Though I can think of other, useful things for you to be.”

Chris jumped from his seat, but Wellowyn’s arm moved and he was suddenly thrust back down into it. “You haven’t finished your tea, dear Christopher. Stay just a little while longer.” She stood in front of his chair, blocking his path from the porch. And while Wellowyn was smaller than he was, she didn’t act like it.

He kept searching for the nails hidden in his jacket pockets, all the while trying to collect his whirling mind. He needed something. Some way of . . . “I’ll make you a deal. Teach me, uh, how to break curses, and I’ll, uh, I’ll give you, uh, something in return.”

Wellowyn cocked an eyebrow. “You are most definitely not fairy material.” She leaned back against the railing, relaxing once again. Chris began to breathe. “There is a gala coming soon, and I shall need an attendant.”

“Me?” Chris’ voice actually squeaked. Wellowyn laughed.

“Yes, you have shown your bravery and loyalty by coming here today.” Wellowyn opened her hand and revealed the nails that were not in Chris’ jacket pockets. “Though, I must say, woefully unarmed. But here is my offer to you, Christopher: be my attendant at the Flower Ball in one weeks’ time, and I shall teach you how to break curses. What say you?”