by Joanne Hall

It had been Zinnia’s idea to go exploring in the boy’s bedroom. Lettanie’s mother had warned her that no good would come of it, and now at the sound of the heavy footfall on the stair the younger fairy leapt up in a panic.

“What is it?” Zinnia was lying on her belly on the bed, studying a comic that had been left open on the duvet.

“He’s coming! Let’s go!”

Zinnia sprang up at once, unfurling her gossamer wings as she leapt. Lettanie, slightly heavier, was only a few seconds behind her as they darted for the window, but those few seconds were enough. She was only a little way short of that gleaming square of sunlight when the blow caught her, sending her crashing into the wall and tumbling to the carpet. Lettanie lay stunned for a second; when she tried to rise, she felt a searing pain along her side. Her right arm was crushed and bleeding, and the bone of her right leg jutted up through her paper-white skin, halfway between her ankle and her kneecap. She groaned, and as she tried to sit up, the world swam around her. Far above, someone laughed, and a shadow fell across her.

She looked up and her eyes widened in fear. She didn’t even have the strength to scream as the huge hand closed around her and lifted her high in the air.

* * *

“Wake up!” Something sharp jabbed into Lettanie’s side and she woke with a start, utterly disoriented. There was hard plastic beneath her, and bars above her head. She turned her head slowly, trying not to move too much, and saw more bars to the side of her. She was in a cage.

“Wake up!” The jab came again, harder this time, as if a knife had been dug beneath her ribs. “I saw you move that time. Get up!”

Lettanie forced herself to her feet, using her wings for balance, trying not to put any weight on her broken leg. Her arm hung uselessly at her side and she stared around in terror, trying to work out how she had come to be here. She wondered, briefly, what had happened to Zinnia. She could only hope her friend had got away.

The cage was square, maybe a foot in each direction, with a shiny red plastic floor. It was utterly bare. She turned around slowly, and staggered back with a gasp. The boy lay watching her, quite calmly, his huge face pushed close to the bars. She could see herself reflected, tiny and helpless, in his massive eyes. In his hand he held a toothpick, the end stained with blood. Her blood.

“What do you want with me?” she demanded, sounding braver than she felt. “Why have you shut me in here?”

“You’re a fairy, aren’t you?” He sounded almost chatty, but he was toying with the toothpick as if debating whether to thrust it through her heart.

“Yes”. Lettanie was feeling dizzy. It was an effort to stand, but she was determined not to show weakness before this giant. She didn’t want him to see how scared she was.

"Can you grant wishes?”

“I can.”

“So I can wish for anything I want, and you’ll have to give it to me?” His eyes glowed greedily.

“I can give you three wishes.” In truth, Lettanie was not sure that she could. Granting wishes was exhausting work even for adult fairies, and she didn’t think she had the strength. That was why the Fair Lords, long ago, had created the Three Wishes Rule, to protect their people from an exploitation that could kill them.

The human boy looked disappointed. “Only three?”

“Yes, and then you have to let me go. Those are the rules.”

A look of cunning crossed his pudgy face. “But I can still wish for anything I like?”

Lettanie nodded. Her wings were growing tired from holding her up. She hoped he would get his wishing done quickly and release her. The pain in her leg had dulled to a constant, throbbing ache, but it made her feel sick to look down at that protruding bone. And there was a new pain now, in her side. When she pressed her fingers to it she could feel that it was tender and inflamed.

“Okay, then. I wish . . . for a bowl of ice-cream as big as my head.”

Lettanie closed her eyes, smiling secretly to herself. He was obviously one of those. A wish-waster, her mother called them. This might be less bad than she had feared. There was a soft whooshing sound in her head, and a sparkle of bright lights behind her eyelids. She felt the magic drain out of her as the wish was granted, and she sagged a little.

The boy grunted. He did not sound pleased.

“Is something wrong?” She opened her eyes. He was sitting back on his heels, holding the bowl in both hands and regarding the contents with suspicion. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“This is vanilla.” He frowned. “I wanted chocolate.”

“Well, if you wish it to be chocolate-”

“Oh no,” he said quickly, setting the bowl aside. “You don’t get me that way, fairy. You’re trying to trick me into wasting my wishes.”

You don’t need my tricks to do that, Lettanie thought, steadying herself against the bars of the cage with her good arm. “Well,” she said politely, “what is your next wish?”

“The first wish was a test,” the boy told her, “to see whether you were telling the truth. Now I know you were, I’m going to have to do a bit of thinking.”

He stood up, moving out of her sight, and she allowed herself to sink to the floor of the cage. She looked down at her side, which was darkening to purple, swollen with the blood under her skin. She felt dizzy and sick. The boy had not mentioned Zinnia; hopefully she had got away. What would she tell the others, tell her parents? Would they think she was dead? Would they even come looking for her?

At the thought of her mother the tears she had been trying to hold back filled her eyes, and she sobbed. It was only a quiet sound, but it brought the boy back over to her at once.

He snatched up the toothpick from where it had fallen on the carpet and brandished it at her. “What are you doing making that silly noise?” he demanded. “Shut up and give me my wishes!”

She nodded, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. She didn’t care if he saw her crying now. She just wanted to go home. “Have you decided both of them?” she asked.