Of Fairytales and Magic by Emma Hamm
Chapter 1
The rattling sound of death erupted from the Autumn Thief’s lungs. She’d made that sound for days now, and Freya didn’t know how to help or stop the sound. Instead, she merely sat beside the four-poster bed, holding her dear friend’s hand. She thought of praying, but that didn’t feel right. Would praying even work for one of the fae?
Freya didn’t know what else to do. The faeries were working around the clock, trying to find some way to save this important court leader.
This important friend.
So far, no one had found anything useful. All they knew was that someone had slit the Autumn Thief’s throat, and that poison ran rampant through her veins. At least that’s what the fae thought. They didn’t really know what was wrong.
Eldridge emerged from the shadows behind Freya and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t stay up with her all night again, my love. She doesn’t even know you’re here. “
“I think she does,” Freya whispered. “I think she can hear us, and any kind of comfort is better than nothing at all.”
Smoke curled from a candle on the bedside table. Eldridge insisted they keep the Autumn Thief in darkness because that was a natural state for those who ruled the Autumn Court. But Freya worried it was too much like death. Too much like the Thief was right on the precipice of never returning to them at all.
She wished they could put her in a room better than this dark dungeon of a place. The black curtains swallowed up all light, even from the flickering candles that cast an ominous red glow upon the fireplace that had never been used. Even the windows were darkened, revealing nothing more than a starless sky outside.
Freya touched a finger to the curl of smoke rising from a nearby candle. It coiled around her finger before funneling back into the air. Like a spirit she couldn’t catch. “I can’t sleep knowing she’s like this.”
“And you can’t save her if you aren’t getting any sleep. You know there’s nothing more we can do, Freya.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We have to rest or we’ll fall to the same poison that is killing her.”
Freya didn’t know that. She still wondered if there was actually a poison in the Autumn Thief’s veins.
She’d always thought there were signs of ingestion when a toxin was involved. Sweating being the first. Bodies tried to get rid of poisons that didn’t belong inside them. Maybe the Thief’s eyes would have moved beneath her closed lids. At the very least, Freya had expected vomiting.
The Thief didn’t move at all. She stayed still, as if she were already dead. She didn’t even flinch when Freya touched her brow with a cold, wet cloth. Droplets beaded down her temples and soaked her hair.
Eldridge sighed and put his other hand on her shoulder as well. “I know you want to save everyone that you possibly can, and you know I love that about you. But you have to come to bed.”
“I don’t think we’re trying hard enough,” she replied.
“She’s my friend too, you know.” His voice deepened with emotion. “I watched her grow when she was nothing like this. When she was stuck in a body that she didn’t like, and people called her by a name that didn’t fit. I walked through that life with her and I supported her every step of the way. It’s killing me to see her like this, too, but I also know there is nothing I can do to stop it. Not until we find out what happened to her.”
Freya knew that was the truth. She had seen how the Autumn Thief’s state had affected Eldridge. Even in the mornings when they had breakfast together, he barely paid attention to what she said. They both stared off into the distance, fearing that even immortals weren’t here forever.
Clearing her throat, Freya stood and turned into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him against her own heart. “We’re going to figure this out,” she said. “I know we are.”
He wrapped himself around her shoulders and squeezed her tightly, but it didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t return her sentiments. There were very few things out of the Goblin King’s control. This was apparently one of them. Of all the things he could do, he couldn’t heal wounds.
They left that sad chamber with their arms intertwined. Freya and Eldridge wandered through the halls, back to their own room. They never released their hold on each other, not even when they clambered into their plush bed and tried very hard to rest.
Eldridge sank into a deep sleep, murmuring while he dreamt. The words made little sense to Freya, likely because they were spells he cast even while dreaming. Spells that were meant to protect those he loved.
At least he was getting some sleep. Freya was not so lucky.
She stared up at the ceiling, seeing stars shifting and morphing into new constellations as she watched. She counted up to a thousand and then decided she couldn’t stay here any longer. No matter how much Eldridge wanted her to rest and get away from the sounds of death in that room, she couldn’t leave the Thief alone.
Not when there was a chance that this could be the day it all ended. She refused to let the other woman die alone.
Slipping out of their bed, she wandered down the halls until she arrived at the dark door that led into the Autumn Thief’s rooms. She listened intently, waiting to hear if someone else had beaten her. There were many people who wanted to sit with the Thief. The impressive faerie had helped entire villages of goblins in her time leading her court.
“No one’s in there.” The familiar voice came from behind her.
Freya turned and smiled at Arrow. He stood with a tray of tea in his hands, the steam coiling like the smoke from the candles in the Autumn Thief’s room. A small plate filled with pale yellow macarons sat next to the tea pot painted with leaves.
“That’s an odd thing to bring for dinner,” she mumbled.
“I didn’t want dinner. I wanted sweets to make this entire ordeal better.” He sniffed, then nodded at the door. “If you’re insistent on being such a bothersome creature, at least open the door so I can put all this down.”
Freya noted there were two teacups on the tray, and she doubted one of them was for the Thief. Arrow had known he would find Freya here. And he’d come to keep her company.
Her companion was always looking out for her. This goblin dog had seen more than most, but he’d always been her loyal friend. No matter what they were going through.
Together, they walked into the darkness and prepared for another night keeping vigil. Just in case.
Arrow dragged an extra chair to the bedside and then set up his tea on the bedside table. He popped a macaron in his mouth and stared at the Autumn Thief while chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s a poison either, you know. I don’t even think anyone tried to kill her.”
The mere idea of what he was suggesting was too much for her to think through. Freya shook her head, cleared her throat, and then croaked, “What?”
“I think she did this to herself. Something was happening, or maybe she foresaw a future that she didn’t like. She always was poking around in divination when she shouldn’t. But I think she wanted this to happen.” He swallowed hard. “I just can’t figure out why she would think this was the only way out.”
For the first time in over a week, the Autumn Thief stirred. Her hand shifted on top of her chest, and the rattling wheeze slowed enough for Freya to hear her whisper, “Water.”
Shit.
They didn’t have any water. Freya frantically looked around them, then decided tea would have to do. She brought her own cup with her, sat on the side of the bed, and helped hold the Thief’s head up.
Though her eyes were watery and bleary, the Autumn Thief had awakened from her healing slumber.
Arrow hopped up onto the bed and watched every hesitant gulp of the warm water. Finally, he laid down with both paws on either side of the Thief’s legs and hummed a long, low sound. Glowing energy spread from his paws and sank through the sheets that covered the Thief’s legs.
“Thank you,” the Thief muttered while leaning back into the pillows with a sigh. “And Freya, just call me Lark. It’s easier.”
“Of course.” Freya hadn’t known the Thief’s real name, but Lark fit her well.
Both Freya and Arrow waited for more things to be said. But Lark leaned against her pillows and closed her eyes again, even with Arrow’s healing magic pouring into her body. Assisting her to stay awake.
Freya whispered, “Did she go back to sleep?”
“No,” Lark muttered. “I’m trying to gather enough energy to tell you what needs to be said.”
“Right.” Was she supposed to move, then? Should she open the windows and get some fresh air into the room?
The latter seemed like the best option. Freya rushed to the window and threw open the dark curtains. The floor to ceiling windows were well oiled as she opened them and hooked the fabric onto the metal clasps on the balcony outside. Cool, crisp air rushed into the room. Smoke billowed out of the room and poured down the side of the castle.
With a soft smile, Lark turned her head to stare out at the galaxies in the sky outside. “I always loved this kingdom,” she whispered. “It’s so beautiful.”
Freya didn’t want to push the dying woman, but there was a certain detail they were all waiting to hear. So she took a step closer to the bed and cleared her throat. “Lark, do you think you’re ready to tell us what happened?”
She hoped it was nothing horrible. That maybe this was all a mistake. A disgruntled faerie who had taken it upon themselves to attack a court leader. She could work with that. Eldridge could find that person, and then they could all move on with their lives.
But when Lark sighed and turned her face away from Freya, she already knew the Autumn Thief had nothing good to say.
“The magic that made me the Autumn Thief is turning against me,” Lark whispered. “I am no longer worthy of this throne.”
“No,” Arrow blurted. “You’re the only person who is strong enough to have that magic. You’re the only one who has guided us through so much hardship. The magic cannot turn its back against you.”
“I’m not sure if that’s it. I think the magic is restless. My purpose and use cannot grow the court any further.” Lark turned her gaze to the dog, who still laid on her legs, and her eyes welled with tears. “I saw them again, Arrow. The triad who decides the fate of all in the Autumn Court. They turned their dark gazes upon me and then they looked away.”
The goblin dog gasped and turned pale, if that was possible beneath the thick layer of fur.
Freya didn’t understand any of what they were saying. All she knew was that Lark was awake, and that meant they could move forward. She had a goal she had to reach, and she didn’t care if some godly figures were standing in her way.
“Well,” she interrupted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve faced worse than three people who are disappointed in the most talented of court leaders. Sure, the most unconventional. But the Autumn Court runs better than most.”
“Eldridge has fed you that untruth,” Lark laughed. “The Autumn Court is dying. Our people have been forced into an ancient custom of selling cursed objects, but we can’t sustain this kingdom without the kindness of the Goblin King or the other courts. I was supposed to find a way to fix it. And I didn’t.”
Freya frowned. “This isn’t another situation like in the Summer Court, is it?”
“No. The magic is already leaving me. It’s too late for anyone to save my position now.” Lark touched a hand to the mark on her throat. “I tried to rush the process, but obviously that failed.”
So she had tried to take her own life, then. Arrow had been correct.
With a brief hesitation, Freya reached out and took Lark’s hand. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you failed.”
“You might not be when this is all over.” Lark sighed. “The magic will eventually leave me as nothing more than the woman I was before all this. It will seek out the strongest person in the court, take over their body, and then they would go through the trials. Just as I did. Everyone will know that I failed.”
“They won’t.” Freya’s words were harsh and sharp, but she refused to let Lark think less of herself. “I refuse to let them. You will forever be remembered as one of the best Autumn Thieves who ever lived. I promise you that."
Lark clutched Freya’s fingers, squeezing them in her own and drawing Freya onto the bed with her. Together, all three of them snuggled into the plush pillows.
“You can’t promise that, you know,” Lark whispered as they all drifted off to sleep. “You can’t control what people remember.”
“Watch me,” Freya replied.
In her heart, she knew she would stop at nothing to ensure everyone remembered how beloved Lark was. And that Lark survived losing her magic. There had to be a way. There was always a way.
