The Highest Bidder

     Queen Fyora, who was also in attendance as a special guest, stood behind a podium in front of the gathered audience; as a devoted reader and subscriber, she was chosen by Neopians every year to host this event.

     “Please find your seats so we may begin,” the queen said over their mingled conversations, as she banged an auctioneer’s gavel against the wood top. At the signal and to her relief, that was all they needed to settle down.

     “Welcome to the 23rd Annual Weewoo Auction!” she began with a nod from the head editor of The Neopian Times. “As you all may already know, 100 percent of proceeds from today’s bids will go to support our beloved paper’s sponsors for their belief in its good cause. Last year we made a record-breaking 4.2 million Neopoints!” She paused as applause and whistles broke out over the crowd.

     Smiling down at the gathered Neopians, she continued. “With your good heart and generosity, may we hold an annual auction for the next 23 years and counting.”

     “Your Royalty, Queen Fyora, if I may…” inquired an older green Skeith rolling out onto the stage a cart, its squeaky wheels in need of repair.

     “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting in the wings like that, Lucky; of course!” Queen Fyora cried. “I’m so excited for today, that I almost forgot why we are here. Shall we start the bidding?” she asked into the microphone as the Skeith yanked off the white sheet with a flourish.

     Many different reactions came from those gathered below the stage as the first prize for auction was revealed—all positive. It was a complete set of Faerie dolls.

     “Oooh! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

     “I don’t want these… I positively NEED these; they would be a valuable addition to my collection.”

     “Then we better start the bidding—and may the richest Neopian win!”

     Queen Fyora banged her auctioneer’s gavel gently for silence. “A complete set of Faerie dolls—first release—in mint condition from an anonymous donor. Shall we start at 500 thousand NP?”

     A popular, wealthy local was the first to quickly hold up his bidding paddle.

     “Can we hear 550 thousand?” Queen Fyora asked into the microphone.

     As another bidder raised their paddle, then another, the pattern continued until anyone who could afford such luxury was in the running for this one-of-a-kind Faerie collection. It was the first annual auction that had received such a donation from such an equally generous and anonymous Neopian. They were so anonymous in fact, that, not even Queen Fyora herself knew who they were. And this was quite puzzling to her. But if it made The Neopian Times more Neopoints to give back to their supporters, and the donor was happy with it, then that’s all that mattered to her.

     She only hoped that they could make more this year for the less fortunate Neopian supporters…

     “Out of my way!” shouted someone below. Then: “Oh, uh… kindly move out of my way?”

     Queen Fyora’s thoughts were interrupted by a minor scuffle taking place amongst the seated bidders as the latecomer was presently pushing their way to the front.

          “Those are MINE!” they shouted again once reaching the stage. The young Purple Usul grabbed at the box of Faerie dolls. “MINE! I’ll take them NOW—uh, I’ll take them now, PLEASE.”

     Queen Fyora shook her head as the young Usul grumbled unhappily when she was met with an invisible wall. “Only the winner may touch their rightly won prizes, young one,” she said gently to the Pet.

     “But—but they ARE mine!” the Usul girl wailed. “MINE!” Again she leaped for the box—and again she was met with the protective barrier.

     “Are you the anonymous donor?” Queen Fyora inquired. She was sincerely curious.

     “Yes! Well—no.”

     “Then please take your seat while we continue to bid—”

     “Five MILLION!” wailed the young Pet in excitement with a wave of her paddle. “FIVE! MILLION!”

     A hush fell over the crowd all at once.

     “Did you hear her?”

     “That’s more than last year… Who is she?”

     Queen Fyora could only blink in surprise as she glanced at the crowd below, their faces a mix of sad and furious. “Do we have five… five…” She trailed off as the hush over the crowd remained and their paddles left the air.

     “Going once… twice…” She banged the gavel down with sudden enthusiasm as a cheer went up around the room. “And the Faerie collection goes to this young Usul in the front row!”

     ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

     “Okay, so MAYBE I made a mistake…” mumbled the young Usul to the Faerie dolls as if they could hear her.

     ”Those are MINE!”

     She cringed at the memory of such a scene that she had made only a moment ago. “A Faerie BIG mistake. What do you think?” She turned to the box held in her arms.

     The Faerie dolls said nothing; they could only stare back at her with an air of sad silence as their wings fluttered restlessly…

     ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

     The next day found Queen Fyora in the greatest of spirits as she read that morning’s copy of The Neopian Times.

     “Your Royalty, if I may?”

     “Yes, Hoppington?” Queen Fyora asked the young Royal Boy Cybunny who stood before her.

     “If I may say, this year’s annual auction was a success!” he cried gleefully, clapping his paws together. “Ever since you brought back with you the good news, all of the castle has been celebrating. And the supporters couldn’t be happier themselves if they tried. We’ve been listening to them sing Songs of Celebration all morning, Your Royalty, all thanks to you.”

     The Queen’s face turned a Faerieland shade of pink in shyness at such high praise, which she quickly hid again behind her copy of The Neopian Times. “It’s really our fellow Neopians who should be thanked—for their kind hearts.”

     “They follow in your example, Queen Fyora,” he said with a smile.

     Just then a bell rang in the distance beyond the high double doors of the throne room.

     Hoppington politely excused himself to answer it.

     When the doors closed shut behind her friend and royal help, she sighed in relief. She could now unwind truly. All night she had gone over and over in her head the mysterious wealthy Neopian’s tantrum, trying to place from where she looked so familiar. All morning, she’d regretted that. But now her shoulders dropped from their high position to release their tension; her forehead relaxed; and her jaw unclenched.

     But where had she seen that Usul before…?

     She rose from her seat and paced the floor. Pacing helped the Queen to think, think, think… With her hands behind her back and her untamable candy purple waves of hair bouncing around her head like a halo, she sighed again. “It’s no use in wondering so much.”

     “Your Royalty!”

     So much for a moment of peace to relax.

     Hoppington had suddenly burst back into the throne room as someone ran ahead of him, the double doors swinging wildly behind them like a pair of antsy Symol before shutting with a thunderous bang that echoed off the high ceilings. “Someone is here to see you. They say it’s ‘urgent’? I tried to stop her, but she insisted.”

     “Fyora,” the uninvited guest pleaded as Hoppington and another of the Queen’s royal guard began to pull her away, “please hear me out!”

     The Queen quit pacing.

     It was her.

     She recognized that voice now, recognized those eyes that shone like purple liquid fire up close…

     “Why didn’t I notice it sooner?” Queen Fyora mused aloud.

     “Your Royalty?” inquired Hoppington.

     The Queen looked toward her two confused guards and, raising a slender hand, motioned for them to let go. “Release this Faerie at once.” She then turned to the Usul with a sympathetic expression. “I think I know what this is about.”

     “This Usul is a Faerie? Queen Fyora?”

     “The Darkest Faerie around.”

     Fear took hold of the guards to those words that were as dark and frightening as the title bearer herself. They immediately let go of the Usul as if her fur was made of lava, hurrying from the room without waiting for their next order. Before they reached the doors, however, one of them risked a glance back at the strange Pet. The young guard gasped and cried out in horror, stumbling over his comrade to be the first one out of that room.

     To get far away as fast as he could.

     And hoped to impossibly forget such a sight.

     It was as if her fur really had been made of lava as her small body suddenly combusted into green and purple flame, dripping onto the cool floor like candle wax as it melted, then dissipating with a sizzle before it had time to pool around her feet. Within those flames, the young guard had also witnessed those short limbs lengthening, becoming longer and more slender as her shadow became more pronounced with her height as she grew increasingly taller. But most frightening of all was those eyes that burned like purple venom even in the sun; and still more was the dangerous glint that he had seen there before turning away.

     Queen Fyora refused to do the same.

     “Jhudora—did you bring them with you?”

          “No ‘hello’ for an old friend?” Jhudora intoned amusedly, her purple-and-green hair wild around her long face.

     The Queen lifted the hand that held her magical wand. “I’ll help you.”

     Jhudora’s face shifted back into a most helpless look as she thrust the collector’s box at the Queen. “I admittedly took the form of that Usul”—Queen Fyora made to interrupt but Jhudora rushed on—"to get this back. For a good reason,” she quickly added at the doubtful look she was given. “I Faerie promise.”

     “But why? You’re known for your pranks—but why this?” Queen Fyora softly asked, not wishing to upset the Dark Faerie any more than she visibly was.

     “Because to restore the missing Faeries... I had to first get them back. One of my minions might have accidentally donated the… the wrong box,” she said with an embarrassed flush to her face. “It was supposed to be just a prank until they really went missing. I had to become that Usul you saw to win them back so they were in my hands, to undo my mistake. But, I don’t know how.”

     “Jhudora! That’s why they were missing at the auction.”

      “I’m… I’m sorry,” Jhudora mumbled. “No more pranks?”

     Queen Fyora sighed as she set the box down on the floor with great care. “Just stand back.”

     Jhudora stood back as directed to look on while Queen Fyora’s wand became lit in a shower of pink sparkling shimmers. Fyora began to intricately wave the wand around and over the box of Faerie dolls with a look of concentration on her youthful face, then, tapping it lightly, moved away a safe distance. In the next moment, the box took on that same pink shimmering glow, the dolls quickly becoming life-sized before their eyes as they grew in size.

     “Thank you, Queen Fyora! Jhudora!” the missing Faeries cried jubilantly, stretching and moving their arms and legs this way and that as soon as they were restored. They even cheered joyfully with song and animated chatter. Saying nothing of Jhudora’s latest prank, it seemed as though she had been forgiven—this once. They felt that she really meant it this time, no more pranks in their future, having seen firsthand how she had admitted and owned up to her mistake.

     But it was Queen Fyora’s acceptance that truly mattered when it came down to the dark Faerie.

     Queen Fyora’s eyes looked past the other Faeries to seek those of Jhudora’s own with a nod in silent acceptance to her apology, watching as the Dark Faerie turned away with a return nod and left in a shower of green and purple flames.

     All they could do now was hope that the Dark Faerie’s sincerity had been honest.

     ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

     Later that day in Jhudora’s Bluff.

     “So it was a Faerie BIG mistake… What should we do next?” Jhudora mused from her throne.

     There was no reply.

     “Let’s start by NOT donating the wrong box!” she shouted into the quiet, standing from her seat. “But all’s well that ends well…”

     The only sounds that came next were the clicking of Jhudora’s long nails against the armrests of her throne when she settled back into it, lapsing into silence as she contemplated her next move.

          The End.