Free Indigo Magic by Victoria Hanley Page A

marked the portal. Why hadn’t I? Now the waving grass all ran together. I hovered, twisting my dirt-streaked skirts in frustration. There was nothing to tell me which hill I had seen first among all those around me.
    ‘Allooo?’ called a piping voice.
    I whirled round to see someone about my own height, gently swaying with the wind. Her arms were green like the grass surrounding her, and her hair was pink. She looked at me with eyes that shifted colour like water, mostly blue. Happy eyes.
    ‘Lost, are you?’ she sang. Her voice was as delicate and delightful as the scent wafting around her.
    She fitted everything I’d heard about pixies, except her eyes and her voice. Beryl had told me pixies had eyes like smugglers, shifty and sharp – and voices that could flatten a troll.
    ‘Lost, lost?’ she sang again.
    ‘Yes,’ I answered, wondering why I didn’t feel worse about it.
    Smiling, she beckoned. ‘Follow.’
    She turned and weaved through the grass. For no good reason, I did as she asked and followed her. Although she didn’t fly, she was very fast; I had to pump my wings to keep up as she led across more hills. Every so often she would wave to me, pointing ahead. Somehow, all that seemed to matter was keeping her in sight.
    I began to hear music. Flutes, lyres and drums, and also many voices singing. How joyful they sounded, and free of care. Hearing them, I wished for nothing more than to keep listening.
    Flying past yet another hill, I saw a wide meadow below. All across it figures swayed, bending and turning. Their colourful heads looked like dancing flowers. Music poured from dozens of instruments, mingling with the voices.
    My guide had brought me deep into Pixandelle.
    Every young fairy and genie is told to stay out of Pixandelle. Beryl had warned me over and over about what lay in store if I ever let myself be tricked by pixie wiles. She said pixies led travellers astray whenever they could.
    I must have stepped out of the portal on the very borders of Pixandelle and Feyland. But there had been no sign of it being a border zone. Had another durable spell failed? Weren’t the borders supposed to be infused with magic? And yet, I had never been alerted that I was leaving Feyland. Why hadn’t I considered all this sooner?
    The drums of the pixies pounded my ears with pleasant rhythms while their misty fragrance made my head spin. I wished the music would stop for a moment, just long enough to let me get my bearings.
    It didn’t. It got louder, gathering me in. It seemed to form into a sparkling shield around me, protecting me from all my sorrows, easing my troubles. I heard words in the melody now:
    ‘
Dance for ever, for ever dance
…’
    I floated to the ground, and the pink-haired pixie ran to my side.
    ‘Dance, dear fairy, dance upon the air,’ she sang, her voice blending with the music swirling around us, her smile warm.
    She wanted only what was best for me.
    What if there was nothing wrong with being here? What could it hurt to take a few minutes to dance one song? I smiled back at the pixie, who urged me closer to the drummers. My arms moved in a flowing motion; my feet twirled, and my wings caught the currents of the breeze. I felt light and free, happier than I had been since …
    For ever.

Chapter Nineteen
    P IXIES DO NOT NEED TO CAST SPELLS, FOR THEIR MAGIC IS IN MUSIC AND DANCING . T HEY CAN MAKE EVEN THE MOST STRONG-MINDED FEY FOLK FORGET THEIR DUTIES, FORGET THEIR FAMILIES, FORGET THEMSELVES .
    Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
    SOMETHING WAS TAPPING my forehead. ‘Wake up, Zaria,’ said a harsh whisper. ‘Wake up.’
    ‘Mmph,’ I mumbled.
    ‘Wake
up
.’
    Opening my eyes, I saw a face close to mine. Silvery eyes, dark hair, worried frown. Leona. Just behind her hovered Meteor and Andalonus. All three wore ugly necklaces that looked like they’d been strung with gravel. Dull leaden pendants hung on their chests.
    Leona poked me again with the tip of her wand. I brushed