A University of Love and Pixies

Truth

Niamh sipped at her wine. It was a sweet flavour, tasting of vibrant cherries with a milky froth on the surface – faerie wine was apparently superior to mortal juices. She was not overly accustomed to drinking alcohol, but Xanthe had insisted on pouring her a glass as they sat down in one of the Court of Weather's numerous drinking taverns – the Goblin's Hiss.

Xanthe called it the Goblin's Piss, though not within hearing range of the king.

The harpy herself had purchased a large, two-pint glass of bitter ale, and was not sipping it as Niamh was but chugging it down with such vigour that Niamh winced. "What?" Xanthe said when she noticed Niamh's stare. "Oh, don't frown; this stuff is hardly strong."

"If you say so." Niamh took another mouthful, grimacing as the wine lit up her throat. "Is it supposed to taste like that?"

"Faerie wine is stronger than the mortal shit," Xanthe explained, finishing her own glass. "Take it easy."

Nodding, Niamh drank some more before clearing her throat. "There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Go on."

She briefly hesitated, wondering if it was an invasion of Violet's privacy to discuss a personal matter, but Niamh desperately wanted advice on this. "I think Violet is a faerie."

That made Xanthe roar with laughter. "That bitch?" she cackled, "Miss Magic Is For Nerds is one of us?! Are you fucking with me?"

Niamh rubbed her brows. "Look, I know it sounds stupid, but I discovered an excessive amount of hair in our shower yesterday, and Violet looked absolutely horrified when I found it. It was real fur, and I measured it too – it was just enough to cover an entire body."

Xanthe sulked. "So, what if you found a load of fur? That doesn't necessarily mean she's a faerie. Maybe she just has some stupid hair condition or something."

Sighing deeply, Niamh readjusted her seat. "I know faerie fur when I see it, and I'm telling you, the shower floor was covered in it. I even asked her point blank what was going on and Violet refused to answer. She might not even know she's a faerie."

"I know where you're going with this," Xanthe said, "You want to bring your crush down to the court, and that's defo not happening."

"She's not my cr –!"

"Furthermore," Xanthe went on, heedless of Niamh's protests, "She treats you horribly – don't bother trying to fraternise with her."

Xanthe did have a point, Niamh acknowledged. Violet had never treated her particularly well, even as Niamh did her best to be kind. There had been a couple of occasions where Niamh had felt like they had a connection, but most of the time Violet treated her like Niamh was worth less than the ash on her cigarette.

Something Niamh would never admit to anyone as well was that often she had seen Violet smoking outside the flat at night or when returning from lectures. Weirdly, Niamh had found the smoking hot, and was horrified upon that particular realisation: I have a fetish!

"Oi!" Xanthe snapped her fingers and Niamh fell back from her disgusting daydreams.

"Sorry," Niamh said, "Yes, Violet is a bit mean, but if she really is a faerie, we need to know. Like it or not, she deserves a chance to come to this court."

"On your head be it," Xanthe grumbled and reached into her bag. She pulled out several small flasks, each containing a different coloured liquid. At first, Niamh assumed they were different types of drink, until Xanthe started sorting through them.

"Healing, poison, internal combustion, poison," she muttered, examining each one in turn, "Poison, poison, poison, instant death, amnesia, liquidised cock ("Don't ask," she said on that one), invisibility, cocaine, poison, ah!" Xanthe held the last one aloft. "Truth."