Bruce interrupted before Laddin could go too far in his “defending the baby” part. “Swear to me, Bitterroot. Swear that this child will be cherished, that he’ll be honored and protected. Swear it, Bitterroot, or—”
“There is noor,” Bitterroot interrupted. “I have sworn it already.”
Laddin shook his head. “Not good enough.”
Bitterroot sighed as he looked at them. “I swear it. This child will be honored and protected by myself and all my minions within Fairyland.”
Bitterroot had minions? Lucky him. Meanwhile, a dirt-colored moth slipped out from beneath Bitterroot’s hair and flew off into the morning air. The prince stared at it in confusion, clearly thinking something. Was it a tell? Were they about to be exposed?
Bruce rushed ahead, forcing his words out too loudly because he was trying to distract the prince. “How do I know you won’t come back for something more? How do I know this is done for good?”
“Because that was our bargain. Your power for the child.” Bitterroot held out his hands. “You are stalling. I told you this would be no easier in the morning.”
“Swear it,” Bruce said. “Swear this ends here.”
Laddin spoke up. “And that you’ll never do this to anyone else. This baby is the last child you grab.”
“It is not a grab!” Bitterroot said, clearly offended. “It was a bargain—”
“Either way,” Bruce countered.
Bitterroot blew out an annoyed breath. “Fine. The child will be cherished because he is more than enough to save my kingdom. I swear that I will barter for no other human child once I have this one and that our bargain will be complete. I also swear that I will bother you no more. You will not see me again unless you call my name. Now you will hand him over or I will have the legions of Fairy—”
“Stop with the threats!” Bruce snapped to cover his elation. They’d done it. They’d gotten the bastard to declare their deal done the moment the fairy Aaron was handed over. And as proof, a ruby-red butterfly detached from Bitterroot’s sleeve and hovered in the air between them. “We’ll do it. We’ll hand him over.”
Except now that the time had come, Bruce found it really hard to give the child up. Even though he knew it was the pixies, knew it wasn’t his baby, handing anything over to the arrogant bastard went against everything he believed in. Laddin must have felt it too, because he crowded close as he stroked the baby’s forehead.
“Will he be able to come back to Earth? You know, to visit?”
“Yes,” Bitterroot said with clear impatience. “I will bring him back myself when he is ready.”
Laddin’s head snapped up. “And when will that be?”
“When it is time!” Bitterroot stomped forward, his frustration clearly outweighing his need to make them present the child like a gift to a king. “You do not need to know the details of a prince’s education.”
But Bruce really did want to know. And he wanted to ask a thousand more questions too, because when it came right down to it, he couldn’t seem to make himself pass the child over. He couldn’t give anything precious to that arrogant bastard, even knowing that it was the answer to all their problems and, more than that, the pixies wanted it.
“It’s okay,” Laddin said as he supported Bruce’s arms. “We’ll get through this.”
Bruce didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His throat was clogged shut and his feet wouldn’t move. Laddin had to do it for him. Laddin had to be the strong one—the sane one—and do what had to be done.
“I hope this works out how you want,” he whispered to the baby.
If there was an answer, Bruce didn’t see it. Laddin lifted the child out of his arms and gave him to Bitterroot.
The prince held the child gently, and there was such elation in his face that Bruce truly believed a human child could save Bitterroot’s kingdom. Except, of course, the baby wasn’t a human child and Bitterroot had just promised not to do anything like this again. That meant the arrogant bastard was well and truly screwed.
There was real satisfaction in that. Assuming, of course, that they pulled this off.
“So we’re done?” Bruce asked. “Well and truly done?”
“Yes,” Bitterroot responded, his eyes still on the baby.
“Yes,” whispered the director, who abruptly swept a net down over the red butterfly. While everyone watched, he muttered some words over the insect, making it freeze solid. Then, with steady fingers, he gently pulled out the butterfly and set it in a plastic container he’d brought with him.
“Tupperware?” Bitterroot gasped in horror. “You keep my bargains in Tupperware?” Apparently those little butterflies represented the prince’s promises.
The director shrugged. “Actually, I think it’s Glad. It was all we had on hand.”
