The Village Maid: A Fairy Tale with Benefits: Sylvania, #2

The Village Maid

The Sylvania Series

The Forest Bride

The Village Maid

The Ocean Girl (coming in 2023)

The Woodland Stranger (coming in 2024)

The Village Maid

A Fairy Tale with Benefits

Jane Buehler

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Published by Emily Jane Buehler

PO Box 1285, Hillsborough, NC 27278 USA

https://janebuehler.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 Emily Jane Buehler

Cover illustration © 2022 by Cory Podielski

Cover design by Cory Podielski

Book design by Emily Jane Buehler

Author photograph © 2018 by Cory Podielski

The Village Maid (Sylvania Book 2) / Emily Jane Buehler

ISBN (print): 978-1-957350-00-4

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-957350-01-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021925520

In loving memory of my first team:

Momcat, Cheeky, Squeaky, Betty,

and Scruffy

Table of Contents

Map

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Three moons later

A Note from the Author

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Map

Chapter 1

Avianna was not the kind of girl men courted. She never had been, and she certainly wasn’t right now, trapped under a passed-out ex-soldier in the upstairs room of Woodglen’s seediest pub. She shoved at Rye’s hulking form, giving two big heaves before she was able to roll his sweaty body off her. He grumbled, but the whiskey in his system won, and he slumped onto the bed beside her.

Rye? Avianna whispered. He didn’t respond, and a moment later his snores began.

What had she been thinking, tumbling Rye?

Rye wasn’t husband material, that was for sure. He hadn’t had a steady job since the revolution, when the king’s guard had fallen apart. The new peacekeeper corps hadn’t wanted him. Not that she blamed them.

As Rye snored, Avianna stared up at the cracked ceiling in the semidarkness, breathing in the stale smell of old ale. Her mind went over and over the past seven moons if she let it—if she stopped moving long enough to think. It felt like seven winters.

She’d been in this room many times in those seven moons, since the revolution had destroyed the castle court, dumping her out on the village streets. She’d missed her chance to find a wealthy husband among the courtiers, but she wasn’t giving up. She’d always known her looks were her best chance to escape poverty, and she still had them—for now. If she had to tumble every man in Woodglen to find the right one, she’d do it.

Avianna had learned it was better not to stop moving long enough to think.

She sat up. Dim light seeped into the dark room from the street lamps. The shouts and laughter from the pub below came through the floorboards. She hoped they had drowned out the sounds she and Rye had been making five minutes earlier.

Again she wondered, What had she been thinking?

Ever since she’d lost her place at the castle, she’d been stumbling along, hustling to make ends meet—exactly the life she’d hoped to escape when she’d begun her deception as a courtier ten seasons ago. She hadn’t had a clear goal when she went to court, other than escaping the poverty of her childhood. Maybe if she’d had a plan, she wouldn’t have failed to secure a husband while she had the chance. Now here she was, just another peasant, her options for escape dwindling.

But still, she should’ve known better than to waste her time on Rye. She’d considered him handsome when he’d been in the king’s guard. But he was mean. And he drank too much to be a decent husband, the kind who’d provide security and a comfortable home. The kind who was the opposite of what she’d grown up with—that was all she’d ever wanted.

She straightened her clothing and pushed herself off the bed. Rye hadn’t waited long enough to get her dress off. Not that it would take long with these simple peasant dresses—unlike the ones with layers and hooks and ribbons they’d had in the castle.

She hadn’t had much when she arrived in Woodglen, but at least she’d had her face, an unusual mix of darker skin from the north and the blue eyes of the south, and her curves. Her looks had been all she needed to move up, to win favor with the important people and get what she needed. She’d been sure she’d meet the right man, one who’d take her away to be his life mate. But she hadn’t focused on finding him. She’d been having too much fun with Elspeth.

Now, Elspeth . . . Elspeth was the kind of girl men courted.

Avianna smiled, thinking of her friend. With those rosy cheeks and her perpetual smile, always polite, a girl from a respectable family—blah blah blah. Avianna could still hear their landlady gushing over Elspeth’s virtues, praise she never had for Avianna. But Miss Flo was right, Elspeth was a catch, and men had courted her and proposed to her, and she’d accepted one, and he’d taken her off to his estate, and now Avianna was stuck in Woodglen with no friend to talk to, and nothing fun to do, and no coins on top of it.

Everything she’d had was gone, thanks to the sodding revolution.

She quietly crossed the room, fanning the sweat from her face. Under the thin curtain, she tugged up the window sash, and a cool night breeze stole in, smelling of autumn forest and the sea. She leaned out far enough to mute the sounds of the pub below. The street was quiet after the supper hour, with one lone horse clopping somewhere and the voices of two men drifting up as they talked at one of the tables below.

Avianna sank down onto her knees on the floorboards and rested her arms on the windowsill. The breeze touched her cheeks, and the smell of low tide overwhelmed the woodsy scent. The men drinking below were going on about crop prices and fish tallies—ugh. How had she ended up here? Elspeth was probably eating grapes from a crystal goblet, fanning herself beside a fountain at some luxurious lodge in the foothills as Drake groveled at her feet.

Eight hours to sunrise, came a voice from below. Better hit the hay. Mugs clanked on the table. In a few hours, those men would be raising their sails and slipping onto the ocean in the cold morning to work their nets, just as they had the previous morning, and the morning before that. The endless cycle of work to get a bite to eat . . . . There had to be something better than this.

Avianna dug her nails into the windowsill and pushed herself up. She’d been going in circles, working, sleeping, trying out a new man each chance she got. For three moons she’d thought she’d found him in Beck, one of the regulars at the pub, but Beck had ended up as big a waste of time as all the others. She needed a plan. She needed to try something different. But what?

Getting out of this room for a start. Tumbling Rye had been a mistake, and maybe the past seven moons had been as well. But it wasn’t too late, not yet.

Without a glance back, Avianna let herself out the door, closing it quietly behind her. The noise of the barroom rang up through the darkened hallway. She followed it to the top of the pub’s staircase and paused. She pulled out the lose pins hanging from her mussed hair and brushed back her curls, then fastened them back into place. There was no telling where her lipstick had smeared to, so she wiped her arm across her mouth, leaving a dark stain on her skin. She wiped her face with the other arm and it came away clean. She scrubbed her face over to be sure.

She descended the stair into the entryway of Alistair’s Pub, and the sounds of the revelers grew louder. Through the large doorway in front of her, women and men laughed over their ales, happy in spite of their miserable lot as farmers and fish-catchers. At the far end, Beck tossed back a shot. Hopefully he wouldn’t look up. She stepped for the front door.

A crash from the kitchen behind the staircase silenced the room, and all the eyes turned on Avianna. She froze. Then the door behind the stairs flew open, and a boy streaked toward her.

Hide me, Avi! he said, grabbing her skirts and swinging behind her.

At Alfie’s appearance, the drinkers resumed, and the noise in the pub returned to its previous level.

Avianna faced the kitchen as Alfie’s father puffed into the doorway, wheezing as he leaned on the doorframe. Out of the way, Avianna, Alistair said, starting forward. He brandished a large metal stirring spoon. The boy’s small fingers on her dress tightened.

Oh, Alistair, Avianna said, softening her voice. What’s Alfie done now? As Alistair neared, she reached out a hand to his chest and stopped him.

Knocked over a full tray of oysters, trying to pinch one. Wouldn’t even like them.

Alfie leaned around Avianna. I heard they make you lusty.

Just what we need around here, Alistair growled, more lusty bastards. Get out here and take your knocks. Avianna hooked Alfie with her ankle and pushed him back behind her, as she smoothed her hand down Alistair’s chest.

It was an accident, Alistair. Let the boy go. Didn’t he do errands all day? She tilted her head and gazed up at Alistair.

His fist with the spoon lowered a bit. Errands? Got in the way, more like it. Dug through all the jars in the pantry, teased the cat. And I caught him trying to peek up Lucinda’s skirt.

Well, he’s only ten, and he misses his mother. She patted Alistair.

The spoon lowered to hang at his side. You know, you could work here, Avianna. I know it’s not the kind of work you want, but it’s not bad.

The kind of work I want? Avianna snorted. What I want is to be life bonded, with a house in the country and servants to do the work.

Alistair smiled. You might meet someone if you were serving the drinks, instead of lying about upstairs.

Lying about? Avianna arched an eyebrow.

Alistair blushed.

I appreciate it, Alistair, I do. I just couldn’t face the crowd every night, snickering about me. At least in the laundry yard I don’t have a crowd of onlookers.

But Alfie would love to have you here. You’d be a better influence on the boy than Lucinda.

Someone else snorted. Avi, a good influence?

Beck stood in the doorway to the bar, gripping the doorframe above his head, his shirt sleeves taut over his bulging biceps. Those arms and his thick dark hair had once made Avianna crazy, but now she saw only the mean glint in his eye.

He shifted to face her. Have a good time upstairs? Doesn’t seem like all the tumbling’s helping you find a mate.

It can’t hurt, Avianna snapped. At least I’m meeting people. She stopped herself from saying more, knowing he was trying to bait her.

Rye? Or did you meet someone else up there?

Avianna turned to Beck, and Alfie crept around her side to stay away from his father. Beck stood beside Alistair’s ridiculous plant—a spiky Norlian lemon tree that a merchant had given him, in spite of Sylvania’s cold winters. Avianna resisted the urge to break off one of its long spikes and jab it into Beck’s crotch.

At least I meet people, she said, instead of sitting here drunk every night.

I assure you, I meet people, Beck said, glancing over his shoulder. A woman down the bar was watching them, and when Beck’s head turned, she smirked. He turned back, eyeing Avianna up and down. Rye didn’t take very long with you, did he?

Now Beck— Alistair said.

Don’t be such a hypocrite, Avianna interrupted. "Like you ever lasted more than a minute."

Beck’s smooth smile stayed on his face, but his eye twitched and Avianna knew her barb had struck. She waited for his retort.

At least I’m not desperate enough to tumble the likes of Rye.

Before Alistair could defend her, Avianna stepped up to Beck. Maybe he’s not the one for me. But at least I’m trying to find him. Not like you, strutting about like the prize stud as if you’re too good to settle down with anyone.

Stud? Beck’s eyebrow lifted, and an annoying smile crept across his face.

But before he could continue, a thump came from above. They all turned to look up the stairs, but no one appeared.

Then a slurred voice carried down. Avi . . .

Beck laughed. Looks like Prince Charming is ready for another round.

Shut up.

You know what your problem is, Avi? Beck didn’t wait for a reply. You want a husband, but you’re just not the kind of girl men want for a wife.

Chapter 2

Beck’s taunt hit the bullseye. Avianna didn’t try to hide it. Instead she stumbled to the pub door, carrying Alfie along with her as her vision blurred. She fumbled for the latch. Alfie must have found it because the door opened and they fell out into the night. She ignored the voices behind her and fled along the cobbled street, past a handful of shops until she rounded the corner and left the pub behind.

But she couldn’t rid herself of Beck’s sneer. He always knew exactly how to hurt her. And the worst part was, he was right. She wasn’t the kind of girl men wanted for a wife.

She stopped walking, wiped her eyes, and sniffed to clear her nose. The night was cool and misty, threatening an autumn rain. The light from the street lamps formed a hazy ball around each globe, with the rest of the street fuzzed into darkness.

Footsteps padded up behind her. A hand slipped into hers. I’d bond with you, Avi, Alfie said.

Avianna squeezed his hand. Too bad I’m not ten winters old, she replied.

Beck’s a moron. He tried to plow a field using old tin cans, all tied together on his rake.

Avianna smiled down at the boy and started walking. He did not.

As they passed under a lamp, the light flickered on Alfie’s face. He did! Eddie saw him do it. And he was stumbling everywhere and it wasn’t working but he was too stupid to stop.

As Alfie launched into the tale of what Eddie had seen, Avianna glanced along the row houses lining the narrow street. Behind her, the street sloped downhill to the wharf where the fish-catchers unloaded their stinking harvest every afternoon. She and Alfie headed uphill, but Avianna would turn before they reached the top. She seldom went that far, where the cobblestones smoothed out and the lanes widened into a square with a park at the center. Bordering one side of the square was the grange hall, where dances were held, and the cottages up there had space for a garden.

But over the rooftops, the spires of the former king’s castle towered in the sky. From the top of the hill she could see them, and each time she did, her heart panged like the spires had pierced it. She’d had so much opportunity, and she’d wasted it, and now she had nothing. She should’ve been more like Elspeth while she’d had the chance, sitting quietly instead of always jumping in with her opinion, smiling a deferential smile instead of biting back when the courtiers made their ignorant comments. She could never seem to stop herself.

As she and Alfie neared the turn to the boarding house, she tried to focus on his story.

Are you sure he was trying to plow with tin cans? Avianna asked. It sounds more like he was drunk.

Well duh, of course he was drunk, that’s why he was plowing with tin cans.

Who was plowing with tin cans?

Avianna looked up. They’d reached the corner, and coming from the opposite direction was a lithe man with spectacles, holding a stack of pamphlets. It was Thorn, the village printer.

Beck, Alfie said to Thorn. He was too stupid to bond with Avi, and he got drunk and tied a row of tin cans to his rake and tried to plow with it. Eddie saw him.

Then it must be true, Thorn said, falling into step beside them as they turned together into the lane. Hi, Avi.

Avianna opened her mouth to reply, but Alfie interrupted. Do some magic, Thorn! Avianna closed her lips and smiled.

Thorn lowered his gaze to the boy. Alfie dropped Avianna’s hand.

Want me to make Beck break out in boils? Thorn asked.

You can do that? Alfie’s eyes widened and his legs danced with excitement.

No, sadly.

Make me taller.

I can’t waste my supplies, Alfie. Fairy dust is for emergencies.

Then do it to yourself.

Thorn stopped walking and Avianna did too, but Alfie bounced around them on his toes. Thorn bit his lip and blew upward, blowing the long dark hair off his forehead, one eyebrow dropping as if he were thinking hard. Alfie bounced harder. Then Thorn’s head disappeared.

Avianna jumped back, but Alfie roared with laughter. Thorn’s head reappeared, grinning.

He did his head! Alfie said. Just his head, did you see? Do it again, Thorn!

Thorn reached out and mussed Alfie’s hair. It’s getting late. Shouldn’t you be home?

My da’s going to cook me.

He’s not going to cook you, Avianna said.

Alfie turned to her. He was chasing me with the soup spoon. You saw him.

He’ll get over it. He always does. Sneak in and go to your room. And don’t make any more trouble tonight.

Why can’t you come live with us, Avi?

I just can’t. A raindrop hit Avianna’s nose. Go now, you can beat the rain.

Alfie pursed his lips together and turned to go.

And Alfie? Avianna reached for his shoulder. Stop trying to peek up Lucinda’s skirt. No one will court you if you behave like that.

Alfie stared at the ground, hesitating a moment. Bye Avi. Bye Thorn. He took off back the way they’d come.

I’m heading your way, Thorn said. I’ll walk with you?

Avianna nodded. She studied Thorn as they resumed walking. She never would have thought she’d become friends with someone like him—certainly not when she’d first arrived from the castle, dumped on the steps of the boarding house with Elspeth and Corella and told to find work. Back then, she’d imagined herself mingling with the village’s elite, still garnering the attention she’d earned at court. She wouldn’t have even noticed Thorn if it hadn’t been for a cat. A dog had cornered the little thing a few blocks up from the market and looked ready to kill it. Avianna couldn’t stand seeing anything cornered like that, so she’d grabbed the dog’s scruff and hauled it backward. Of course, the cat fled, and the dog tore loose to chase it, and they both ran right under the feet of a man holding some kind of giant wooden slab and angling to get it in the doorway of a shop.

As the man’s load teetered, Avianna ran forward. She grabbed the other end of the wooden slab and helped him guide it in the door and lower it to the floor.

The cat got away, he said, pushing up a pair of spectacles.

What?

That was when she saw his green eyes.

I thought you’d want to know, he said. The dog didn’t catch her.

Avianna had nodded and bolted out the door.

Now a raindrop dripped down his spectacles. He wiped it away, and the bright green of his irises flashed in the lamplight. The fairies’ green eyes still sent chills down her spine. And their skin—it was the same golden tan as most of the villagers’, the ones who’d grown up near Woodglen or elsewhere in central Sylvania, but with a strange luster, something to do with their magic and their love of the moon. Everyone in the castle had said the fairies were dangerous tricksters who lured humans into the forest to have their way with them, but since the revolution, fairies sometimes came to the village, and they never seemed particularly dangerous. Although it was unnerving how they could change their appearance or even disappear.

But Thorn was just Thorn. Avianna had grown so used to him, sometimes she honestly forgot he was a fairy. Since that first day when she’d helped him, she’d been running into him almost daily. And he was always cheery and helpful—like when she was struggling to bring sacks of laundry home, he’d turn up and carry half of them. Or if she was scowling at the cobblestones on a bad day, he’d still say hello when he met her on the street, and he’d ask what was wrong and listen as she ranted about Mattie’s latest prank, or that she had slept through breakfast and no one had saved her any biscuits. Sometimes she’d take whatever papers he was carrying and finish his delivery to save him time. It felt nice to help, like they were becoming friends.

But more than that, he felt safe, like a castle guard who took his duties way too seriously and wouldn’t try to tumble her no matter how much she flirted. There was nothing menacing about Thorn, not in the ways Avianna expected of a fairy after the stories she’d heard. He used his magic to make his head disappear, for skies’ sake.

Another raindrop skidded across his spectacles.

Why don’t you just make them invisible? she asked, nodding at his face.

My spectacles? They’d still have raindrops on them.

Avianna could never quite grasp the