The Stepsister Scheme

black wings. Danielle brushed the worst of the mess from her shirt. “So how do I control her?”
    Quink flew up to stand on the base of the mare’s neck. “If you’re a pixie, you use the braids in her mane. For you, I’d suggest the reins.”
    Danielle ran her hands through the mane, finding one of the knotted braids. It was little thicker than a string, far too small for her to get a proper grip.
    “Don’t worry. If those meat-fisted dwarves can ride them, you’ll be fine.” Quink took the reins in his hands, holding them so that most of the slack fell between his hands.
    “Guiding them left or right is the same as your land-bound horses.” Quink tugged the reins to the left, walking the aviar in a tight circle. “Make sure you keep the flight line loose.” He pointed to the third line.
    “To fly higher, shift your grip like so.” He slid his hands back, until they touched the knot of the flight line. The length of the reins meant the flight line pulled taut before the reins. “Control the head and you control the animal.”
    He tugged, pulling the aviar’s head up. The mare took a few quick steps, then surged up into the air. The rush of wind from the aviar’s wings pushed Danielle back a step. “Slide your hands forward on the reins and pull the head downward to bring her back to earth,” Quink shouted, guiding the aviar down. “You’re not a screamer, are you? They don’t like that. And unless you’ve got wings, you don’t want to annoy these beasts while you’re up there.”
    He hopped off and handed the reins to Danielle. “Need a boost?”
    There was no saddle, and the wings were too high for her to use to pull herself up. She was still studying the aviar when tiny hands seized her collar. Quink’s wings blew her hair into her face, and then her feet left the ground. Her shirt dug into her arms as Quink carried her over the aviar. She could have been light as air for all the strain the pixie showed.
    “Pixie wings are magical,” Snow explained. She had already mounted her own aviar. “They can carry twenty times their own weight, just like insects.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Quink said. He gave a disdainful sniff, then turned his attention back to Danielle. “This is one of the older mares. Probably the most easy going aviar we’ve got. They calm down once they’re past childbearing age. Still a lot of strength in those wings, though.” He stepped away, shaking his head and muttering, “Insects, indeed.”
    The aviar started to follow Quink. Danielle leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the aviar’s neck to keep from falling. The great wings jutted into the back of her thighs, shoving her farther up on the back than on a normal horse. There was no room for a saddle, and the aviar’s spine promised all manner of interesting bruises before the night was over.
    Talia guided her aviar alongside Danielle. “What’s the matter, Princess? You look like a marionette with half her strings cut.”
    Danielle flushed. Her hands were damp around the reins as she forced herself to straighten, trying to mimic Talia’s relaxed pose. The aviar chose that moment to do a little hop to the side. Danielle clamped her legs beneath the aviar’s wings to keep from tumbling off.
    “Relax,” said Arlorran. He held another apple over his head. The aviar’s movements stopped as she snatched it from his hand. “Keep your knees bent like that, beneath the wings. She doesn’t want you to fall either. The more comfortable and relaxed you are, the easier it is on her.”
    Quink flew up beside her, dodging an annoyed flick of the mare’s tail. “Careful with that sword. Try to keep the scabbard from poking her beneath the wing.” He grimaced as he watched Danielle fumble with the reins. Talia trotted alongside, looking like she had been born to ride aviars.
    Danielle gave the reins an experimental tug. The aviar jumped to the side, nearly knocking Arlorran to the ground. Quink glanced at Arlorran, a skeptical expression on his face.
    Danielle closed her eyes. This wasn’t working. She could barely control a regular horse. She could practically feel the aviar’s discomfort growing with every clumsy move Danielle made. She took a deep breath and turned to look at Quink. “What are their names?”
    The pixie pointed to Snow. “Your pale friend is riding Midnight, and the sour-faced girl is on Socks.”
    Talia led her aviar toward Quink. “Socks?”
    The pixie grinned. “One of the