Of Werewolves and Curses by Emma Hamm

Chapter 2

Freya found her family in the library with their noses stuck in books. That was... odd. Her family rarely wanted to read about the lands they needed to go to. They were action people, not readers.

She leaned against the door frame and watched them with a careful eye until Esther looked up and yawned.

“Oh, Freya,” she said. “We wondered when you would finish with your argument. Did you tell the Goblin King to stuff it?”

Lux snickered and pressed his hand to his mouth.

Oh, they were all children. Rolling her eyes, she walked into the library and sat down in the empty chair. “You were all listening at the door, weren’t you? That’s disgusting.”

“You’re telling me,” Arrow grumbled from his seat on a pile of blankets next to the window. He turned the page of his open book. The worn red leather gleamed in the sunlight. “I could have gone my entire life without hearing what I did. The others might be able to run and not remember it, but it took forever for me to get far enough.”

“That’s gross.” Her cheeks burned so hot, she thought she might burst into flames. “You shouldn’t be listening at doors. You got what you deserved.”

He shuddered. “Nightmares. Nightmares for life.”

Lux finally couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore. He set his book on his lap, the book Freya now realized was upside down, and tilted his head back with roaring laughter. He didn’t even try to hold in the mirth that shook through his shoulders and entire form. The rest of the room dissolved into laughter as well.

Her mother was clearly trying to pull herself back together, and Astrid held up her hand for them all to stop screaming. “All right, everyone. That’s enough teasing. I, for one, am glad that the Goblin King and his hero have given up being angry with each other. It makes everything else so much easier.”

“Thank you, Mother,” she said.

It was the first time she’d said words like that since she had gotten her mother back. They felt odd to say, but somehow right at the same time. Maybe someday it would get easier to talk to the woman who had birthed her. Maybe. She hoped.

Clearing her throat, she pointed to the book Arrow was actually reading. “I’m guessing that’s the only book in this room that will give us more information about where Dad is?”

Arrow looked up from the pages, obviously bored with them all. “You are correct. No one else is working but me.”

“Right.” She bit her lip. “I suppose that makes sense considering everyone else was more enamored with gossip. What have you found?”

He stood up and shook himself, then pinched the book between both paws and walked it over to her. “Sunhold was the summer home for most werewolves, as you said. However, I think there are a few distinctions that you should know about. Namely that the wolves chose to go here. They weren’t called like turtles to their birthplace. He might have gone somewhere else because he knows how dangerous this place is for his kind.”

Astrid straightened in her chair, her amused expression changing to one of severe worry. “I wouldn’t discount that, but I think it’s unlikely he’d think that far ahead. Your father knew little about the werewolves. He stayed with us because he could. Leaving them was an easy choice for him, so he wouldn’t know their history.”

A low hum vibrated in Freya’s throat as she thought about those words. “You said Dad was bitten when we were young?”

“Yes.”

“How young?” She gestured to the red leather book in Arrow’s paws. “This claims the wolves were all killed off. And where was he when he was bitten? That... It doesn’t make a lot of sense, is all.”

Astrid shook her head, brows furrowed. “I don’t know the answer to that. Your father said he had to go home. He never told me which court his family was from, and I never met them. He might have come from the Summer Court, and maybe that’s why he went there? If the wolves were even there to bite him. You said there weren’t many left.”

Wincing, Freya shook her head with disappointment. “There are too many holes. We would only be able to guess that he might be here.”

“I can send some messengers and see if they find anything,” Arrow said. He patted the book and placed it in her lap. “This might help with understanding the wolves better, if you haven’t read it yet. But I think we all need to understand that he isn’t in his right mind. He’s not your father at the moment.”

She remembered reading that. Freya looked down at the book and wished it would reveal further secrets to her.

Esther asked, “What does Arrow mean? Not in his right mind?”

“He wasn’t killing pixies only because he wanted to help Mom,” Freya replied. “The wolves have three forms. Human. Wolf. And then that twisted being we saw in the Spring Court. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he doesn’t understand us when we’re talking to him. Maybe a little, but they aren’t... Well, they aren’t human when they’re like that.”

Arrow coughed. “It’s a cursed form, Miss Esther. Painful to be in and even worse on the mind. Your father probably doesn’t remember who he even is. He just knew that the human inside him was tied to your mother, and he couldn’t leave her side for that reason.”

She hated seeing her sister’s expression twist to sadness. Esther wanted everyone to be happy and together. She wasn’t built for a life like this, with their family fractured into pieces.

Freya could only hope that they got him back quickly. She also wouldn’t mind having them all back together again. It might be nice to have a family unit in the faerie realm.

The book in her lap held some answers she searched for, and that was a start. Freya palmed it and stood up again. “All of you keep looking for anything that might help in the long run. Nothing is too vague for us to take seriously. I hope you understand the urgency of this.”

Lux saluted her. “You’ve got it, Queen Killer.”

She pointed at him with a frown. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, it’s the name you’ve been given.” He reclined in his chair, hands linked behind his head and ankles crossed over each other. “You can’t undo a nickname once it’s given to you.”

“Watch me.”

Freya left the library, battling hope with every step. She knew better than to let herself get excited about the opportunity this might provide. Her father could be exactly where she had pinned him down to be.

Sunhold. The town that the fae had abandoned all those years ago and then taken over by werewolves. It was the perfect place for them to enjoy the heat for a little while. She knew why their kind would want to stay there.

But now she had to face the Summer Lord again. She wasn’t looking forward to going back to the Summer Court and seeing all those masked elves. They had made her intensely uncomfortable.

Freya didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to go somewhere. She found herself back at the room she shared with Eldridge.

Her heart knew who she wanted to talk to. The only man who had ever understood the wild need in her heart to be more than what she was. The only man who had given her permission to be herself. Even when she was being hard headed.

Freya nudged the door open and found Eldridge waiting for her. He stood in front of the floor to ceiling window, hands held behind his back. A galaxy swirled in front of him, the stars glowing brightly and then disappearing as they faded from life.

She didn’t know how she always found him so easily in this palace. The hallways were difficult to maneuver, and Eldridge never told her where he was going. But no matter how challenging it should have been, if she wanted to find him, then she could.

“Ah,” he said as she closed the door behind her. “That didn’t take long.”

“Well, they weren’t working all that hard.” She waved the red leather book in the air. “Arrow was the only one to find anything, and it’s not exactly helpful.”

“How so?”

She sighed and tossed the book onto the bed. “It’s mostly about how the werewolf mind thinks, and the history of why they went to Sunhold. I’m sure I’ve read it already, but I’ve read so many of them all the words blend together.”

He turned around, and she was enraptured with the sight of him all over again. Those broad shoulders had filled out after his torture in the Winter Court. His glossy dark hair fell over his shoulder and those pointed teeth gleamed in the dim light of the stars. His silver skin reflected the light as though he really were made of metal, and every fiber of her soul wanted to jump on him again.

It had been like that ever since they returned to his kingdom, though. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Even when they tried.

She shook her head to dispel the hungry thoughts from her mind. She needed to focus, not lust after the Goblin King. “I still think Sunhold is our best bet. My mother doesn’t think he would avoid the location because he knows next to nothing about werewolves.”

The bright heat of passion faded from Eldridge’s eyes. “Are you so sure about that?”

“Why would he know anything? He’d grown up here, yes, but the fae don’t consort with werewolves. You said so yourself.” She tilted her head to the side. “Or do they?”

“It depends on who his family was.” He released his hands and raised them in a gesture of disbelief. “I know there are a few fae out there who have surprised you, my dear. Some of us aren’t as... hateful as others. If they thought the werewolves were useful to whatever cause they had, then it is likely someone might have taken a few of them in.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like an Autumn Court choice to me.”

“What would make you think a goblin would be interested in a wolf?” He scoffed, but she saw the nervous glint in his eyes. “None of us would take a werewolf under our wing.”

“Look at Arrow.” The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “He looks like a dog. Logic would bring me to believe there are more goblins who look like wolves than dogs. It’s not impossible to think that someone who looks like them may have been interested in helping someone who shares the same features.”

“It’s a start to finding your lineage.” The Goblin King looked disturbed.

Freya couldn’t stand that expression. “What? What are you thinking?”

He pressed a hand to his mouth but didn’t hide his smile fast enough. “I hope we don’t find out that we’re related.”

“Eldridge!” All the blood drained from her face. “Please tell me you don’t believe there’s a chance of that.”

He burst out laughing. But that still didn’t make her feel any better. Could they really be related? She was already turning green at the thought. She couldn’t let him go. He was everything to her now, even if she wasn’t very good at telling him that yet.

But related?

Eldridge reached for her and tugged her into his arms. “No, my love. We can’t be related.”

“But if you’re from the Autumn Court, and I’m from the Autumn Court, then how can you be so sure?” she asked, her mouth mashed against his chest.

“Because otherwise I would have heard of your father. There is no one in my family who went missing, and we did not partake in any changeling swaps of children.” He leaned back and brushed his hands over her head, smoothing her hair back from her face. “And my darling, your father grew up here, but that doesn’t make him related to any of us. Changelings are different, remember?”

Right. Even though she could perform magic, her father wasn’t fae. They didn’t know how all that would have affected his children, but he still wasn’t a faerie.

Thank goodness.

Blowing out a long breath of relief, she nodded. “All right. Well, don’t scare me like that next time.”

“Why not?” he arched a brow. “I’ve heard there are quite a few mortals who like keeping everything in the same bloodline. We’d create a noble family lineage no one could deny.”

Freya pulled herself out of his arms and slapped him on the shoulder. “Stop it. It’s not funny.”

“It is a little.” He held up fingers and pinched them together. “Just a tiny amount, maybe?”

“Not at all,” she scolded. But she couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. “Fine. Maybe a little. But can we focus, my Goblin King? What are we doing now?”

He rolled his eyes and backed her toward the bed. “First, I’m going to enjoy an afternoon with my dear hero that I used to dream about when I was a boy. And then we’re going to start packing for a trip to Sunhold.”

“Another trip? So soon?” She veered away from the bed. “I should probably start packing now, then.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” He caught her around the waist and tumbled with her onto the mattress.

They didn’t start packing until very late that night.