Of Fairytales and Magic by Emma Hamm

Chapter 9

She tried her best to get some rest. No matter how much her mind wanted to wander, Freya continually fought to still her thoughts. Relax. Do something other than ponder what was going to happen next and just how much she was about to go through.

But of course, the thoughts wouldn’t stop poking their way through her relaxation. What if she woke up and one of those Midnight Monsters was leaning over her? Would she survive the heart attack?

Rolling over, she cushioned her head in her hands. The blankets underneath them didn’t serve as a soft place for her head to land, and her back was already aching. But Eldridge looked like he was fast asleep. His dark lashes dusted his cheeks, the bags under his eyes a little too dark for her liking. He hadn’t been sleeping much, clearly.

She wished she could take the worry away from him. She wished she could help ease the fear in his heart.

Freya knew what it was like to watch the person she loved wandering through all the dangerous situations that could rip him from her arms. They’d done this together for too long now, and all she wanted was to hold him against her chest and promise that everything would be all right.

It had to be. There was no other option.

He took a deep breath and shifted onto his back. Hand folded over his chest, he looked like a stone statue that belonged right where he was. The Stronghold finally had him back, and she could feel in her very bones that it was happy to have him home. Of all the Autumn Thieves, he was the one the Stronghold had missed the most.

Freya couldn’t stay here when there was so much else she could do. If she tried to lie here and sleep, then all she would accomplish was staring at the ceiling until the sun broke through the ragged holes above them. She’d get herself all worked up in fear of what might happen in the morning.

And she was tired of being afraid.

Rolling over, she carefully slipped out from underneath the covers Eldridge had laid over her. On her hands and knees, she crawled over to the bench of the desk and leveraged herself to standing. Every movement felt like she was going to wake up everyone who actually had managed to rest, but no one shifted or moved. Even Arrow, who had taken up the cot that used to be Eldridge’s. The goblin dog sighed in his sleep, snuffled a little breath, but then drifted back into the dreaming realm.

Good. She wanted to explore on her own for a bit. Maybe she’d have a heart to heart with the Stronghold that still hated her.

Padding barefoot through the shrine, she wandered through the strangely colored beams of moonlight that fractured through the remaining stained glass. Paintings of faeries at war blurred in front of her vision, though they weren’t as terrifying this time. She’d stared at every tiny detail, and knew their warped faces weren’t ones of anger or rage. They were of pain.

She touched a finger to the nearest one before slipping out of this holy place and into the hall beyond. Rather than the reverent, safe feeling of the room Eldridge had chosen, the hall felt hostile. She could still sense that the Stronghold wanted to throw a thousand trials in her way.

“I don’t know why you hate me so,” Freya whispered. “I took the magic from Lark. Perhaps you liked her a lot, but she was dying. Would you rather have me let the magic eat her?”

A rush of air barreled down the hall, blasting her hair away from her face and tangling in the skirts of her dress.

Apparently yes, the Stronghold would rather see an Autumn Thief die than a mortal take her magic.

“Fine, then,” she muttered. “You could have that guilt on your mind with no issues, apparently. But I could not suffer through the rest of my life knowing I could have done something to help her, and I chose not to. Selfishly.”

The last word seemed to subdue the Stronghold for a moment, although Freya had no idea if that was a good thing or not. It seemed to withdraw back into itself. No longer a magical home with thoughts and emotions. Just an empty building that had seen too many years of neglect.

She reached out and put her hand on the wall, trailing her fingers through the thick layer of dust. Ivy bumped over her knuckles. The sound of their rustling made it feel as though she were wandering through a forest rather than a building with such impressive stature.

And still, this didn’t feel right. Something in her chest burned. Ached. Whispered for her to move through the shadows and keep going because something important was calling to her and she was still ignoring it.

Freya’s feet moved through the hall on their own. Her body guided her to where her mind did not know to go. Heart thundering in her chest. Breath ragged with anticipation. She knew something was happening. Something important that would change her life forever.

She just couldn’t guess what that something was.

Her feet paused in front of a wooden door. This one had long scratches down it, like a beast had tried to enter the room for many nights before it had given up on its prey.

What kind of creature wandered these halls? Eldridge hadn’t mentioned that they needed to be frightened of any terrifying beast or anything that might hunt them. Carefully, Freya ran her fingers down the grooves, wiggling her nails underneath the chipped pieces of wood. They felt as though they were brand new, even though she knew that wasn’t possible. The last Autumn Thief to be here had to have been Lark, and she had ruled the Autumn Court for a very long time.

Clawed silver hands came down over hers, pressing her palm flat against the door.

Eldridge whispered in her ear, “Every trial is different for every Thief. But no matter what the old gods throw at them, it remains here as though it were only a few days ago that it happened.”

Shivers traveled down her spine. She should have known he would find her. That even if she tried to sneak off in the middle of the night, he’d know. She’d done it before to him, after all. And he’d always caught her.

She sucked air into her lungs and tried to find her tongue, even though she wanted to sink into the heat of his body and his arms. The Goblin King’s confidence would be the only thing holding her up if she did that. Freya knew she needed to stand on her own right now.

Licking her lips, she asked, “Who was the Autumn Thief who defeated this beast?”

“I imagine that was Lark,” he replied with a chuckle. The deep sound skittered down her back as though he’d stroked his hand down the bumps of her spine. “Although she never told me the story. I would guess she survived the night by locking herself inside this room.”

“Is that an option?” She’d hide for months, if that’s what it took. Freya knew how to be alone, and she certainly could use the rest.

“Hiding to defeat the old gods? No. I doubt they’d let you get away with that.” He smoothed his hands down her arms, up to her shoulders, and then turned her around.

Freya looked up into his starry eyes and knew that she’d never feel this loved again in her life. Eldridge looked back at her with his heart in his gaze, and not a single thought hidden from her. Heavens above, he loved her.

She smiled, but the expression was as fragile as glass. “How did you know where I was?”

He pinned her against the door, shifting his hands to her wrists and clasping them above her head. “I’ve been following you for what feels like years, hero of mine. I would know where you were if I lost my eyes and ears. I will always find you, Freya. No matter how lost you are.”

The words echoed through her mind as he leaned down to kiss her with all the ferocity of a storm. His confidence, pride, and love swelled in her chest. She kissed him back and let all her worry, anxiety, and fear bleed into him. He took it all. He shouldered the burden for her, knowing that she needed his strength, and he could take these dark emotions for now.

“Did you think I’d let you do this alone?” he whispered against her lips. “I can feel the old magic too, you know. I might not be the Autumn Thief any longer, but it still calls to me. The court would take me back in a heartbeat if I didn’t have other obligations. I know when the old gods are calling to the new Thief.”

So that’s what she’d been feeling. Freya should have known, but perhaps she was more tired than she thought. “I didn’t realize they would call me so soon. I thought we had more time to prepare. To...”

She didn’t know what. Preparing for something like this was effectively impossible. They didn’t know what the old god would throw at her, and she didn’t know how to use the magic running through her veins.

The old sailors near her village would claim they were throwing her to the sharks. The old hunters would say they were throwing her to the wolves.

Freya thought these gods were infinitely worse than either of those fears.

Eldridge watched every thought in her head. She watched as his eyes filled with tears, though he refused to let them fall.

He took a step back, cleared his throat, and then dashed his hands over his eyes. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting. The first test has already begun, and we have to make sure you’ll pass it.”

“I thought it was a test only for me?” Freya had been under the impression that she would be alone in this. That no matter how much she wanted the others with her, she would have to suffer without the support of her loved ones.

Eldridge cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb over the high peak of her cheekbone. “I’m the Goblin King, my love. Even the old gods cannot deny me what I desire. After all, I’m one of them now.”

That shiver of fear trailed between her shoulder blades again. Months had passed with the man she loved, the one who had proven to her time and time again that he was trustworthy, but she still feared him sometimes.

Eldridge led her away from that horrible door with the claw marks of a beast. They walked back the way they’d come and past the door to the shrine where Arrow still slept. Somehow, she knew he was bringing her to the room with the three faces of the old gods.

The whole time they walked, she twisted the engagement ring on her finger. Over and over, as though the movement of the stone might settle the tension in her stomach.

It didn’t, but a girl could hope.

She held her breath as Eldridge swung the door open and revealed all the metal faces waiting for her. This time, Freya swore she saw all of them blink. As though they were alive and ready to reach out with those cold hands.

Swallowing hard, she looked over at Eldridge and whispered, “What now?”

Even though she’d been deliberately quiet, her words echoed through the room. Lifting into the rafters and bouncing back to her ears. The words twisted in the echo, a mockery of what she’d said and the fear she felt.

Eldridge raised an arm and gestured to the three faces. “They are all waiting to meet you. Go with your heart, Freya. Choose the first one you want to see, and the first god whose trial you will face.”

The words felt like an omen, as though her Goblin King was not the man she knew, but one she should fear as much as the old gods.

“I get to pick?” she asked. “Shouldn’t there be a correct order of things or one of the gods that is more important than the others?”

“There’s always a choice, Freya. No matter what stage of this you are in. You’re the Autumn Thief for now, and though they want you to prove yourself, you will prove to them all that you are more capable than they ever dreamed.” He smiled and bared his teeth. The sharp points of his canines glinted in the moonlight. “And if they dare think that you are weak, my love, my life, they will know how wrong they were.”

With his confidence bolstering her courage, Freya stepped up to the metal faces and eyed them all. She looked into each of the eyes, and then finally settled on the Owl Mother.

“How do I choose her?” she asked.

“They’re doorways,” he replied. “You already know how to open them.”

She wanted to reply that she didn’t, but some age old knowledge bubbled in her chest. She did know how to open this door.

Freya lifted her hand, touched it to the owl woman’s face, and pushed.