Of Fairytales and Magic by Emma Hamm
Chapter 2
“Freya.”
The whispered word threatened to pull her out of a lovely dream. A dream filled with magic and light, where she laid in a field with her Goblin King, and the only thing they had to worry about was how much wine they had brought with them.
“Freya, wake up.”
Fingers touched her cheek, gently drawing her from the comfort of the dreaming realm and into the waking.
Freya awoke slowly. She laid propped up against a headboard, her hands folded on her chest. Embarrassingly, her mouth had fallen open and there was a sticky trail of drool dripping down her chin. Snapping awake, she wiped at the drool. How long had she been asleep? Did the Autumn Thief need something?
“Lark,” she muttered, rolling off the bed as if she had to race off to get whatever her dear friend needed. “What can I get you? Do you need more water?”
“No, Freya. Come back.” Lark kept her voice low, still whispering, as if she didn’t want to wake Arrow. “I want to talk with you, dear. And Arrow cannot hear, so please, keep your voice quiet.”
Where was this going? Arrow was one of the few dependable faeries in this castle, and she considered Eldridge to be under that same umbrella. If the Thief had something to say, then either of her companions were more than capable of hearing it. The same as Freya.
But she wasn’t about to argue with a woman on the brink of death.
She climbed back onto the bed and settled into the pillows. Lark held her hand immediately, as if they were two young women who had stayed up far past their bedtime and were hoping their parents didn’t notice. But they weren’t. As wonderful a fantasy as that might be, Freya knew whatever the Thief had to say was going to be something that kept her up at night for many months to come.
“I wasn’t entirely truthful with Arrow,” Lark whispered. “Or, at least, I didn’t tell either of you the entire story. I knew I couldn’t tell anyone other than you, but I don’t know how to begin. You see, the magic draining out of me will go to whomever is the strongest faerie in the Autumn Court. You know that, don’t you?”
Freya had heard the story before. Magic left the court leader and then it found the next best person. That’s what had happened when Eldridge became the Goblin King. Though, in giving up the power he once had, he’d been gifted with magic even greater than all the court leaders combined.
“Yes,” she replied, fluffing the pillow behind her and trying her best to concentrate. “I’ve heard that’s how it works. The magic leaves the last leader and then finds someone else. Most of the time the courts have an idea of who it’s going to travel to. Right?”
“That’s the problem.” Lark touched a finger to the tip of her nose and then pointed at Freya. “I always knew you were a smart one.”
The problem? Lark must know who the next Autumn Thief might be, and that was part of her hesitation. Although Freya had met a lot of the people in the Autumn Court and most of them were quite lovely. They were all capable of leading if they had to, although no one could ever fill Lark’s shoes. She was a figure in the Autumn Court's history that had changed time itself.
Freya pieced together the Thief’s issue and sighed. “You don’t like who the magic is going to go to.”
“Power doesn’t mean they are the right person to lead.” Lark struggled to slide up the headboard, easing her leg out from under Arrow so she didn’t wake up the goblin dog. “There are some in the Autumn Court who wouldn’t mind a leader who rules with an iron fist, or a man who has a heart as hard as stone. But I do not want my people ruled by some imbecile who thinks that power is the only important thing in this realm.”
Freya could see how that would be a problem. The goblins weren’t fragile creatures, but they deserved someone who would see the strength in their weaknesses and teach them how to use that power without flinching.
She bit her lip, worrying at the flesh with her teeth. “I understand that, Lark, but there’s nothing we can do. You want to control the magic and we both know that isn’t how it works. If the magic needs to go to the most powerful person, then I don’t think either of us can stop it.”
Lark met her gaze, and Freya’s stomach clenched. She knew that expression. She’d seen it on Eldridge’s face more times than she could count. Lark had a plan that Freya would not like, and that was wholly because it went against the very fabric of their existence.
“What do you want to do?” Freya groaned.
“What if we didn’t have to send the magic out at all?” Lark squeezed her hand, fingers shaking with excitement. “The magic only goes to the strongest person in the court if it is free to do so. It doesn’t seek out an individual if it’s in a body already.”
But that... No. It made little sense. Free magic was dangerous, surely. Freya could only imagine that magic like that had a mind of its own, and trying to control such a thing would be impossible. Trapping it, however, sounded equally bad.
Power in this realm had a memory. A mind. And Freya knew from experience how frustrating and how horrible it was to be trapped. The magic could very easily burn up the body they tried to transfer it to.
Unless they transferred it to someone powerful enough to contain it.
“You want to give the magic back to Eldridge,” she whispered. “Is that even possible? I don’t know if he could control both the magic of the Autumn Court and the magic of the Goblin King at the same time.”
If anyone could, though, that person would be Eldridge. He had also already had Lark’s magic inside him before. He’d been the one who wielded the power of the Autumn Court for many years.
All this made sense. It was a solid plan, although she still didn’t know why they were so afraid of who the power would go to. What goblin would take the Autumn Court’s magic and then squander it so foolishly?
“No,” Lark replied. Her antlers caught in the candlelight and looked as though they were burning. “I want you to take it, Freya.”
Silence rang between them. All Freya could hear afterward was the horrible sound of ringing bells. Or maybe that was her own voice screaming in her head.
“Me?” She couldn’t fathom why Lark would think she would be a good fit to take such magic. “Why would you think that I could contain the magic? I’m mortal.”
Lark squeezed her fingers again, lacing their hands together until Freya’s knuckles cracked. “There are so many words I could say to convince you, Freya. You’re correct. Right now, you are mortal. And how long do you think it’s going to take before Eldridge turns around and you’re an old woman? A hundred years is a heartbeat to us, and we will live thousands. Losing you would kill him, you see, and I refuse to have the Summer Lord as our Goblin King.”
So there were reasons behind Lark’s choice. Reasons behind all this happening. Freya’s mind turned with all the information suddenly thrust at her. All she could think to say was, “Did you try to kill yourself so Eldridge wouldn’t end up alone? Or dead?”
Lark raised an eyebrow and licked her lips. “Among other reasons. I really don’t like the person who is going to take the magic from me, Freya. This isn’t all about you. Or Eldridge. And I do fear what would happen to my court if the magic was allowed to transfer to his body.”
“Is it because he’s a terrible person?” She eyed the Autumn Thief, knowing that this direct question couldn’t be answered with a lie.
Lark grumbled a few times before muttering, “He’d probably learn how to manage well enough. But the man is a bumbling idiot when it comes to anything other than brute force, and I genuinely dislike him.”
Right, so there was nothing wrong with this poor man. Lark simply wanted to use this moment to her own advantage, and that wasn’t right.
Freya shook her head and drew her hand free from Lark’s. “We can’t take the magic from someone else who deserves it, Lark. He’s the most powerful fae other than you in your court, and that means the magic is his.”
“The magic belongs to whoever controls it. That’s all. This could be the only way you and Eldridge can be together forever. Why wouldn’t you take this moment and use it to your advantage?” Lark searched her gaze with frantic eyes. “Please, Freya. I’m offering you the chance to save yourself and the man you love. I’m offering you an infinite future with your soon to be husband.”
At the words, Freya instantly touched a hand to her ring. She spun the metal as she thought, even though she already knew the answer. She couldn’t. It wasn’t the right thing to do, and Freya prided herself on making the choices that benefited everyone. Not just herself.
Eldridge and she hadn’t even talked about her inevitable mortality. They had avoided the conversation entirely! Neither of them were interested in thinking about her death, or how he would handle such a thing. Besides, they still had at least fifty good years before they needed to have that chat.
Lark reached up and touched her fingers to the crow’s feet at the corners of Freya’s eyes. “You’re already showing signs of age, my dear. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”
Her heart stuttered. Was she that old already? Did the fae look at her and see someone fragile, someone dying before their eyes?
She cupped Lark’s hand against her cheek, and her hands shook. “You know it’s not the right choice. If someone else is more qualified, more powerful, then it should go to them. I don’t know the first thing about your court, or even being a court leader. The fae wouldn’t look to me to be their Autumn Thief. And taking the magic would only make me even less worthy of the title.”
“Taking whatever we want makes us goblins,” Lark replied vehemently. “Seize the magic from me, Freya. Steal it away and everyone in the court will respect you. Goblin law rises above all fae law.”
Freya waffled. She could take this magic, but then perhaps the fae would never forgive her. But in taking it, she would do the one thing that Lark wanted and perhaps save her friend in the process.
It was wrong. She would forever regret this decision if she did it, but she also knew that a part of her was tempted. A part of her wanted to become like them, just as she had desired for so many months since coming here. Taking this magic would make her formidable. But more than that, it would make her like everyone else.
She would no longer be a mortal woman with a little magic from a changeling father who wasn’t quite mortal himself. She’d be a woman with more to her than some spells she shouldn’t know and a quick witted mind.
Above all else, she would never have to wonder what would happen to Eldridge when she died.
Freya had already decided before the guilt could gnaw at her soul.
“How do I take it?” she asked. Her words echoed through her very soul as if she’d damned herself in even uttering them.
“You know how to sense when someone pulls at your life force, don’t you?” Lark stared into her eyes. The black gaze turned even darker, somehow.
Freya nodded, entranced by the Autumn Thief’s eyes. “Yes, I know that feeling.”
“You need to turn it around. Look inside me, this time. Seek out the magic that boils in my veins.”
“I don’t know how.” Freya sighed, nearly breaking her concentration. This was a futile lesson. Freya only used magic when she had to, and most of the time, that magic was from someone or something else.
“You do know how. You’ve just never done it before. All I’m asking you to do is to find Autumn inside me. Listen for the sound of crunching leaves and the bitter taste of an apple not yet ripe. Smell the bonfires in the distance and feel the cool breeze on your arms.” The words were hypnotizing, and suddenly, Freya could use all her senses to feel exactly that.
The magic in the Autumn Thief danced in a joyous waltz underneath Lark’s skin. It was stunning and beautiful and red as autumn leaves.
She reached out to touch it, feeling the magic ripple between her fingers and it burbled out a laugh like a child. It was a mischievous thing, and the idea of being stolen from the Thief was a grand adventure it wanted to partake in.
Freya didn’t have to ask it to come to her. She didn’t even need to convince all that power to touch her back.
It was almost as if the magic itself had listened to their conversation and it already knew what the plan was. All Freya had to do was reach for it and the magic... jumped.
It leapt into the air and pounded into her skin. Freya took a single sharp breath and then suddenly she wasn’t herself anymore.
