Mira Morganstein: The Pink Lemonade Club 003

One Letter Delivered Via Sparrow

MMCoverGreetings, Moira dear.

I hope this letter finds you well and in good keeping.

As you know, the Autumn is fast approaching, and our annual gathering is nearly upon us once more. We all look forward to seeing Mira again. It is amazing how quickly mortal children grow. One moment they’re little more than a sprout with a bright light and heads bursting full of questions, and the next they’re growing up and coming into their own.

And speaking of coming into their own, as this is Mira’s eleventh year, this visit will be a special one. She truly stands between the thresholds of worlds, and while the binding has not yet been activated, let’s just say that eleven is a tricky year. As this is the case, you may expect all of us this afternoon instead of just me. I apologize for the short notice, but it couldn’t be helped.

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Mira Morganstein: The Pink Lemonade Club 002

mm001The box crouching behind the Danish pastries could only mean one thing: the Pink Lemonade Brigade was back in town.

Mira’s mother hadn’t finished setting the table yet, but the box covered with yellow paper and a gauzy white and bold pink ribbon was all the proof she needed. It wouldn’t be long before the table would be filled with cucumber sandwiches, fancy cakes, and a tall glass pitcher of pink lemonade.

“Mom,” Mira called, gripping the strap of her backpack. “I think I’m going to stop at the library on the way home. There’s, uh, a thing I want to—” She glared at the lacy white tablecloth. No matter how hard she tried to lie, she could never stretch the truth beyond trailing off vaguely and hoping the other person followed what she couldn’t say.

“Is it due soon?” her mother asked, polishing a teacup as she entered the dining room. “Because I’m going to need you home right after school otherwise.”

Mira rubbed the back of her leg with her foot, then shifted her weight from side to side as she tried to come up with a plausible excuse that didn’t fall under lying. Even if she’d had the constitutional ability to speak a lie, her mother’s intense gray stare would burn anything but the complete truth to smoldering ash. There was a reason the sales people at the kiosks in the mall gave them a wide berth.

“The leaves are turning and I want to add to my collection.” She gave her mother a wan smile, promising herself that she’d scour the entire forest behind their house if it got her out of meeting with the Pink Lemonade Brigade this year.

Her mother placed the teacup—another oddity out of the plethora of weird the Pink Lemonade Brigade always inspired—she’d been polishing on the table and pulled another out of her pocket.

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The Faerie Thief: The Ruby Queen’s Garden 002

tft002The daisies had been gossiping again.

Their voices, high and fluting then low and secret. Words cupped behind leaves, sepals curling with glee.

And their eyes.

Bright and knowing. Watching her. Waiting.

Gwyn curled her fingers into her fist, one by one as she stared back. For one breathless moment, she envisioned herself gripping slender stems and tugging upward, hard and sharp. Exposing root to sky, scattering the daisies’ secrets on the wind along with wishes and petals.

But the beastly things were sentient, and she was not a murderess.

Not yet, anyway.

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Mira Morganstein: The Pink Lemonade Club 001

MMCoverIn which Mira celebrates her Eleventy Year, acquires a fairy doll of dubious origins, meets a changeling, and learns that she is to be the next Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae.

Preliminary Report by Bodkins A Hatpin to Her Majesty of the Realm

Subject: Mira Morganstein a.k.a Our New Queen In Potentia

Topic: The Subject’s Fascination with the Number Three, Glitter, and Fancy Dresses.

Your Majesty,

As per your request, I have studied the girl in question. While the magic is in her blood, I am still not settled as to whether or not her personality is compatible with her future duties. My findings are below.

Mira Morganstein has always wanted to be a princess.

If it is pink, frilly, or sparkles, she wants one. Two is better, and three, perfect.

Mira always does things by threes if she can help it—which will be both a strength and a hinderance.

So far as we have been able to ascertain, she believes three is a special number that is, at its heart, the direct opposite of what it says it is. An odd number, yet it is made of two half circles stacked one on top of the other. It has three points aimed at the left, but always looks forward. It is an unfinished letter “B”, and its number of points odd and its curves even.

She is the sort of person who finds comfort in a number that is more like a metaphor than a simple symbol used to denote the space between two and four. Her math teacher, Ms. Simmons, a mortal fraught with reality, despairs of ever getting Mira to write a three without flourishing it somewhere.

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The Faerie Thief: The Ruby Queen’s Garden 001

TFTcoverPROLOGUE:

 

Her new name sank past her tangle of wild red curls and into her skin.

It seeped into her bones. Her magic. Her reality.

When Robin had told her about names, his voice had had a reverent quality she hadn’t understood until now.

Names were power.

Power to choose. Power to change. Power to become.

And power to be free.

Her fingers curled around a small stone embedded in the key she’d created in the garden no one was supposed to know existed. It fit in her palm like a second name, and in a way, it was.

Now all she had to do was find this Faerie Thief and bring him or her back to the White Queen for justice.

And then . . . Her heart beat a little faster, and for a moment her lungs forgot how to breathe.

And then there was a whole world out there just waiting for her to explore her newfound freedom.


 

Join me next Tuesday for one of the true beginnings of this story. 😉