It was pandemonium.

The moment we stepped outside, it felt like half of SLiberberg had decided today was the day to lose their collective minds. From the Pixiewood all the way to the stadium on the far side of the park, the new pool complex was a shimmering, chaotic ocean of wings, towels, and pure anarchy.

Everywhere I looked, people were diving off things, sliding down things, climbing over each other to get into the water. Vendors were pushing carts loaded with ice cream, fruit punch, and suspiciously shiny hot dogs. Tents sprouted across the lawn like mushrooms after a rainstorm, while folding chairs, umbrellas, and banners appeared in every direction. It was less “community pool opening” and more “aquatic apocalypse.”

For a fleeting moment, I actually considered joining them. Then Dazzle’s arm shot across my path like a velvet rope at a nightclub.

“Hold up,” she said, her grin absolutely wicked.

She reached into her glittering little handbag and pulled out a tin — human-sized, no less — like the ones used for mints. Only this one was bright purple and had “Magic Michael’s Enlarging Powder — Double Strength, Long Lasting, Works on Anything!” printed across the lid in obnoxiously sparkly letters.

My stomach sank. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” said Dazzle, her grin widening. “Why should the big folk have all the fun? Slides, diving boards, tiki bars… all wasted on giants. Let’s level the playing field.”

The others exchanged nervous looks. Sparkle bit her lip. Buttercup frowned. Someone whispered something about “But what if it affects the babies?”

Dazzle waved it off with a giggle. “Please. Perfectly safe. I used it when I was pregnant with Rosebud.”

That got my attention. “You what?”

She ignored me. Of course she did.

Still… the thought of being human-sized for a day — walking, swimming, not having to dodge elbows the size of carriages — was dangerously tempting. And with the crowd out here, having Crystal big enough not to get stepped on sounded downright practical.

So I fluttered down by my house, set her gently on the grass, and activated her collar with a little whisper: “Crescere.”

In a blink, she grew to the size of a puppy — her tiny wings flapping excitedly as she chirped up at me. I told her to stay put, then zipped back to the group just in time to see Dazzle toss a handful of powder into the air.

A glittering purple cloud descended over us.

The effects were instantaneous.

One moment, we were a flock of sparkly troublemakers. The next, we were giant sparkly troublemakers — six times our original size, wings wide, legs long, and, frankly, far too many curves on display for polite company. Our swimsuits and bags obligingly resized with us (thank the Moon Mother for enchanted elastic), and I suddenly found myself looking less like “Sergeant Bramblethorn, veteran dispatcher” and more like the cover model for Pixie Fitness Quarterly.

Well, I did. Dazzle looked like she’d just stepped off a beach calendar, while the others — Anna, Sparkle, Buttercup, and Lilly — were glowing and radiant in that smug “I’m pregnant and fabulous” sort of way. If someone made a Hot Fairy Mamas calendar, this crew would be the centerfolds.

While they admired themselves and giggled, I scooped up Crystal — now big enough to rest on my hip like a toddler — and gave her nose a playful boop. She chirped and wiggled her tail, and, against my better judgment, I found myself babbling baby talk. Saints above, I was getting good at it, too.

When I looked up again, the girls had slung their beach bags over their shoulders and were already strutting toward the water like runway models on parade.

Dazzle glanced back and shouted, “Let’s go, girls!”

The complex… was enormous. And not just “pixie-sized enormous” — human-sized enormous. Four pools of every conceivable shape and depth, each with diving boards, slides, and a fountain in the center of a splash park that screamed toddlers only. Honestly, Crystal and Rosebud could probably survive a small adventure there without me, and I was almost tempted to let them.

Around the patio, the city had turned the space into a proper little resort. Tiki bars sprouted like mushrooms, changing rooms winked at you, and vendors sold everything from sunblock to inflatable flamingos. It was Carewell Bay, and I was somehow stuck in the middle of it.

We floated along the pool’s edge, looking for a place to stash our things before plunging in, when it hit me: people were staring. And not just the casual glance-staring of polite society. Random strangers were showering us with compliments every few seconds — “Wow, look at the dragon!” “You’re hot, what kind of high fey are you?”

I blush easily. And apparently, I still can’t handle being called hot by random humans. Crystal got attention too, of course. A baby dragon being adorable? Expected. Me being called an otherworldly goddess? Not.

Eventually, we claimed six loungers near a small clover-shaped pool, relatively open and less chaotic than the others. Dazzle fitted Rosebud with standard baby floaties and handed me a yellow foam ring for Crystal. Honestly, the color clashed terribly with her pink swimsuit, but one can’t be picky when survival is involved.

And then it happened: the younger girls cannonballed in. Splash, water everywhere. Dazzle followed, then Rosebud, then Crystal and me. I sighed dramatically and said, “All right. It’s on.”

The next… well, you’ve all been to a pool party, yes? Imagine that — multiplied by every possible Fey absurdity. We swam, splashed, launched ourselves off diving boards, and somehow a rogue beach ball became the centerpiece of a noodle fight that defied physics.

Crystal… took a while to adjust. The moment she realized she could sink, she flailed like a tiny silver torpedo of panic and squeaks. It was equal parts terrifying and adorable. After about ten minutes of patient instruction from her “aunties,” and probably some moral support from me, she figured out doggy paddling. She was competent… but I could tell she wasn’t a fan of the water.

Meanwhile, my eyes darted across the crowd. Every other person I knew from work had somehow ended up here. Officer Gwaeddan, lifeguard extraordinaire, alternating between lounging and having a horde of admirers fawn over her — did I mention she’s a mermaid? Knobs attempted a fancy dive and spectacularly failed, as expected. Skragtooth, the Awakened Wolf, was on a date with a shewolf (romantic, somehow), and Commander Ironshoal herself popped over to say hi to me and introduce her two-year-old, Jatrana.

We frolicked for hours before hunger struck. Collecting our bags and purses, we headed to the food court — which had evolved from a patchwork of opportunistic vendors into an actual, functioning space. Tiki bars, coffee stands, grilled steak, burgers, ice cream, vegan fare — even wait service and proper menus. The Silver Moon Coven had a bakery stand manned by witches in swimwear, and yes, I shuddered imagining Matorn Tansy in one of those.

Anna plucked a discarded menu, eyes wide. “Girls! Barbecue stand — meatfruit steak!”

Well. That decided lunch for us.

Soon, we were lounging under an umbrella, Crystal in her bowl, Rosebud being spoon-fed, the mamas sipping cocktails, and me… well, I was just trying not to get salt in my eyes from all the glittering attention. Every boy in the vicinity was staring; jealous comments flew from other girls; passing women cooed. I was oddly enjoying it.

Somebody — maybe me, maybe Dazzle — suggested taking the babies to the splash park next. We gave our charges a little baby-talk test: Rosebud giggled, Crystal chirped, the girls giggled. 

In hindsight, taking Crystal to the splash park might have been a mistake. A combination of the heat, the cocktails we’d just had for lunch, and my general lack of judgment had clearly impaired my decision-making. Rosebud loved it, of course — the splashing jets and gentle rain delighted her. She was at the perfect age for finding water endlessly amusing, and the girls were practically vibrating with adoration at her antics.

Crystal, on the other hand… hated it. Within seconds, a jet of water hit her, and she went full panic mode. She shot off like a tiny silver rocket, zigzagging through the park, avoiding every splash with the precision of a… well, of a terrified little dragon. Naturally, I tried to be a good mother and chase after her, begging her to calm down.

I could fly faster than she could run — I thought that would be enough. I was wrong. She barreled straight into another toddler, sending both of them sprawling and crying. I scooped up my snowball of a daughter to soothe her, only to realize who she had collided with.

Princess Lillabella von Mountainheart.

Yes. A wolf girl, chestnut-brown hair, big brown eyes, wearing a white one-piece embroidered in gold with the von Mountainheart heraldry.

Cue the panic.

As if on cue, Her Majesty Aoibheann von Mountainheart appeared, looking like some kind of fairy goddess in a pink Caldwauld bikini, hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Behind her followed her older daughters, Whimsy, five, and Marigold, three, in matching one-piece swimsuits in pink and purple. The youngest princess wailed, and the scene instantly drew a crowd: toddlers gawking, my underlings frozen, everyone shocked. The older princesses exchanged sly comments about what Mama might do to me — apparently cruelty and invention run early in royal bloodlines.

I bowed, still holding the squirming Crystal, and stammered out an explanation. New mother, panic-prone baby, water jets — all of it. I fully expected a scolding that would reduce me to a puddle of embarrassment.

Her Majesty giggled.

I looked up to see her trying — and failing — to stifle her laughter. Then, with a smile that could melt glaciers, she said it was perfectly fine. Toddlers tumble, little ones cry, and there was no need to apologize. More importantly, our girls should make up.

She carried Lillabella away from the spray, gently placing her on the pavement, while I followed and set Crystal down on her belly. There was a tentative pause between the two toddlers, each assessing the other with small, unsure movements. Then, as if sensing the mood, Crystal toddled over and nuzzled Lillabella. The princess giggled and hugged her.

From there, it escalated into pure cuteness chaos. The older princesses practically tripped over themselves to fawn over Crystal. Comments flew: “Can we take her home?” “She’s the cutest thing!” Every toddler in sight seemed utterly captivated.

Her Majesty watched, smiling, and declared the matter settled: the girls had made up, and it looked like Lillabella and Crystal were friends now.

And then… the unthinkable.

She invited us — Crystal, my friends, and me — to hang out with her and the rest of the nobility. I was too shocked to respond, too dumbstruck to refuse. She took my arm and started to lead me away, Crystal chirping happily, two older princesses hovering protectively, and my stunned underlings trailing in a little chaotic procession behind us. My brain had completely shut down.

About a minute later, I was led by the hand through a cordon of very hot-looking knights — both literally and figuratively. Their silver armor gleamed in the noon sun like a row of mirrors, and I couldn’t help thinking, how could the nobs do such a cruel thing to such handsome men? Making them stand around in the sun all day, sweating away in full plate! What a waste.

We emerged on the far side of the pool complex, at the pool nearest the stadium — which had clearly become the royal court for the day. The nobles of Sliberberg were sprawled in designer swimsuits on chaise lounges, sipping sparkling cocktails, fanning themselves with enchanted fans, and pretending they weren’t dying of heatstroke.

We arrived just as King Fredrick himself — our impossibly hunky, tall, wolfish king — climbed the ladder of the highest diving board. He paused for effect, winked at someone (probably his queen), and launched into a perfect triple-twist dive that sent water arcing like diamonds. The crowd broke into cheers and applause.

Her Majesty leaned toward me, smiling. “Show-off,” she said fondly, shaking her head.

“He does seem to enjoy the attention,” I said, trying not to stare.

“Of course he does. He’s part wolf.” She laughed lightly, taking off her sunglasses. “You get used to it after a few centuries.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I just smiled and tried not to look too much like a drowned field mouse among swans.

I immediately felt out of place. Every instinct screamed that I did not belong here — me, a lowly officer of the Watch, surrounded by nobility who probably wore diamond-thread towels. I could practically feel the eyes on me, though I suspected half of that was paranoia. The girls, meanwhile, were beside themselves, positively glowing at having somehow infiltrated the royal circle.

Crystal, however, had no such reservations. Whimsy and Marigold had already introduced her to every young noble child in a mile radius. In no time, a crowd of girls under sixteen were gathered around her, cooing and squealing like she was the world’s most adorable celebrity. Crystal, of course, was basking in it — chirping, puffing her little chest, and swishing her tail like a pro.

I was just beginning to relax when Her Majesty gave me a playful shove — and I yelped as I toppled backward into the pool.

“Your turn!” she sang, diving in after me with perfect grace.

The cold water hit me like a brick, and before I could protest, I heard a deep, rumbling voice beside me.

“Well now,” said King Fredrick, swimming up with that grin that could melt the paint off castle walls. “And who might this be that my wife’s dragging into our royal waters?”

I sputtered, trying to find my footing — or at least a coherent word. “I—I’m Tilly. Tilly Fleetfoot. Of the—uh—Watch.”

Aoibheann giggled behind me. “She’s the mama of Crystal, dear. The little silver one playing with our girls.”

Fredrick’s grin widened. “Ah! So you’re the one with the baby dragon. Quite the charming little terror you’ve raised.”

“She’s… spirited,” I managed, cheeks heating.

Unfortunately, Fredrick wasn’t the only one who’d noticed me. A few other men — handsome, shirtless, and far too confident — began drifting over like sharks that smelled perfume instead of blood.

“Excuse me, miss, are you from the Court of Summer?” one asked with a bow.

“Surely not—look at her eyes,” another said, swooping closer. “Seelie, perhaps? Or one of the Silver Courts?”

I blinked, completely thrown. “I’m… from Pixiewood, actually.”

They all looked fascinated — fascinated! — as if I’d just declared I was visiting from the moon. Compliments started flying faster than I could dodge them: my hair, my wings (well, the outline of where they’d be), my “radiant complexion.”

I was fairly certain I turned the exact shade of a ripe tomato. Aoibheann was giggling like a schoolgirl, leaning against the pool’s edge, utterly delighted.

“Looks like you’ve made quite the impression,” she teased.

“This isn’t an impression,” I hissed under my breath. “It’s a feeding frenzy.”

Meanwhile, my supposed friends had already paired off, chatting up any hot guy they could find like a flock of swimsuit models who’d just discovered free cocktails.

And then came the mothers.

If the young men were sharks, these were whales — beautiful, perfumed, and loud. Before I knew it, I was hauled out of the pool by a gaggle of starry-eyed noblewomen of all ages.

“Oh, you’re her mama?” one gasped.

“The baby dragon?” another chimed in. “She’s adorable!”

“She played with my little Violet! We simply must arrange playdates!”

“Yes, tea in the palace garden next week!”

I blinked, dazed, dripping, and utterly lost. “I—uh—yes, she’s mine,” I said cautiously.

Over by the shallow end, I saw my snowball of a daughter surrounded by toddlers, squeaking and chirping in delight, all of them splashing around like happy little ducklings.

I turned back just as one of the noble mothers clasped her hands. “You must let us host something! A dragonling playdate would be so charming!”

“Oh—uh—I’ll check my schedule,” I stammered, as if I had one.

By that point, I was surrounded, bombarded with invitations and polite-but-pointed questions about Crystal’s lineage, diet, sleep habits, and whether she breathed frost or fire.

All I could think was: I should have stayed at the food court.

Of course, it was at that time that the enlarge spell stopped working. One moment, I was being yanked back and forth between mothers begging for me to schedule a play date with my little dragon, and the next, I was back to my normal size. A quick look around told me that the others had also reverted to pixie size at the worst possible moment.

There was a long silence, then a collective gasp from the noble mothers.

“Oh my stars—she’s tiny!” one of them squeaked.

Another peered down over her sunglasses. “Was she… pretending to be a sidhe? How scandalous!”

“Oh, I knew it! No one that tall could have hair that glossy and wings that shiny!”

I wanted to die. “Erm. Surprise?” I squeaked, waving weakly. “Just your friendly neighborhood pixie, making the most of cheap potion deals!”

A giggle rang out—light, musical, and unmistakably regal. I turned and saw Aoibheann, emerging from the pool like some kind of divine mermaid, water cascading down her hair as if she’d practiced the move in front of a mirror for a few centuries. She found the whole affair of us pretending to be our kind’s much bigger cousins, the sídhe, using cut-rate enlarging potions, absolutely hilarious.

“Darling,” she said between giggles, “you really must teach me how to fake being that tall with such confidence.”

I folded my arms, cheeks burning. “I’ll add it to my résumé, right next to ‘Accidentally Causes Royal Scenes.’”

She smiled, amused, and extended a hand the size of a cart. “Come here, little one.”

I obeyed out of sheer instinct. She held me up to eye level, her expression softening. “I like you, Miss Bramblethorn. More than that, my daughters adore your little Crystal.”

“I… thank you, Your Majesty?” My mind was already melting.

She continued, almost casually: “Would you be willing to bring her to the castle for a playdate? Say… sometime in August?”

I nodded before my brain caught up. “Of course, Your Majesty. Anything for the little one.”
“Good,” she said, smiling like she’d just won something. “As long as you hold up your end of the promise, I will grant you this boon.”

“Wait, what? We’re cutting a deal now?” I stammered.

She tapped me in the chest with her index finger. “There. You now have the ability to change your size at will.”

“Excuse me—what?!” I yelped.

“Try it,” she said with that infuriatingly serene smile.

I flew out of her hands, squeezed my eyes shut, and wished myself bigger. When I opened them again, everyone was staring. Mouths open. Eyes wide. Someone dropped a cocktail.

I landed back on the pavement, blinking down at myself. “It worked,” I whispered. Then louder: “It actually worked!”

Once again, with squeals of delight, the mothers of the littlest nobs swarmed me. “Lady Bramblethorn, please—Crystal simply must play with my darling Poppy!” “And my Elowen!” “And my twins, they love dragons!”

Aoibheann laughed so hard she had to hold onto the pool’s edge. “Oh dear, I do hope you like tea parties.”

The girls were instantly jealous, of course. Dazzle elbowed Whimsy. “Do you think she’d give us the power to resize?”

“Not if she sees your attitude,” I muttered under my breath, which only made them pout harder. Dazzle started digging into her purse for the half-rate powder again, muttering, “Well, it worked before…”

Then, suddenly, a shrill cry of joy filled the air.

“Ohhhh, she’s precious!”

We all turned. There, standing at the edge of the pool, was what looked like a five-year-old girl in an impossibly pink, frilly swimsuit—rose hair streaked with blond ringlets, adorned with flowers, and massive pink butterfly wings. She was hugging Crystal so tightly I thought my poor snowball might pop.

“Well, that was a surprise,” I said flatly. “My liege lady, Countess Rósín Dubh, gushing over a dragon. Then again… given how cute Crystal is, maybe not.”

You’re confused again. Why’s a five-year-old a countess? She’s not. Well, not physically. She’s closer to two hundred. She’s one of the Full Fey fairies—forever young, forever adorable, forever chaos.

Rósín toddled over, still cuddling Crystal like a stuffed toy. “Whoevah this adorable widdle creature’s caretaker is, step foward!” she demanded, deliberately lisping her r’s to sound even cuter. It was her favorite trick among the big folk.

I hesitated, then took a shaky step forward. “That would… be me, my liege.”

She beamed. “Oh, wonderful! Miss Bwamblethorn, you have such an adorable daughter!” Then, in the same breath: “Kneel!”

I blinked. “Wait, what—?”

Before I could even ask what was happening, she laid a tiny hand on my head and declared, “I pwoclaim you Lady Bwamblethorn of—oh, I’ll think of the rest later!”

I was too dazed to protest. Honestly, it wasn’t that shocking; Rósín’s impulsive streak was legendary. I’ve lost count of how many neighbors she’s knighted, ennobled, or declared her “favorite snuggle friend of the week.” No lands, no privileges—just a lot of tea and forced playtime.

Before skipping off to play with Crystal again, she turned and said, “You and widdle Cwystal are expected at my palace tomowwow for afternoon tea and cuddles!”

That drew giggles from every noble in earshot. Except me and the girls, of course—I was still in a daze, and they were seething with jealousy.

The rest of the day blurred by—Her Majesty hugging me and congratulating me on my new “title,” boys flirting with me, and a lot of frolicking in the water. By the time we went home, I’d woken up a common pixie watchwoman and was going to bed a titled lady and apparent best friend of the queen.

Honestly, it all felt like one long hallucination.