Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx.

George heaved a great sigh, dragging a hand over his face.

“Rebecca…do you recall when your mother was pregnant with Orin?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you do.”

Rebecca frowned in thought, then shook her head.

“Not very well,” she said. “I would have only been around eight years old at the time. But I remembered she was bedridden during the last couple of months, wasn’t she?”

“She nearly died.” George replied, and Amelia visibly flinched. Clearly, she remembered that time far better than Rebecca did. “She would have died, and perhaps Orin too… if I had not made a bargain with the fae.”

Rebecca gasped.

“The fae?” she said, her face going white. “But that’s – father, they’re so dangerous! You can’t trust them!”