Knives were shiny, so Magpie liked them. Just not when they were pointed at him.
He was taken to the Queen’s throne room. The Sun hung from the ceiling, and the Queen basked in its warmth.
“Hello, little bird. Have you come to beg?”
“Not to beg,” Magpie said, putting down his bag. “I’m offering swapsies.”
The Queen laughed, and waved a hand. One of the Fae snatched the bag and threw it to her.
“Have you learned nothing, silly bird? The Queen of Elphame does not swap. The Queen of Elphame does not trade. The Queen of Elphame takes.”
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