Of Werewolves and Curses by Emma Hamm
Chapter 8
Their bedroom filled with dread as Freya readied herself to return to the forest. Even she was starting to get a little nervous.
Eldridge held her face in his hands and squeezed a little too tight. “Be careful.”
“I plan on it,” she replied with a soft laugh. “You don’t have to worry so much, you know. I made it there and back the last time without a scratch.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead, drawing her in for another long hug. “Yes, I know you did. I hope that the forest doesn’t want to hurt you, and that it won’t think this second visit, uninvited might I add, is the opportunity to amend its previous mistake.”
Freya didn’t think the forest would mind at all. After all, it was keeping her father locked away from her and her family. And it wanted to heal her father. It had made that very clear.
But Eldridge didn’t know that her father was in that magical forest, locked away in a prison made of roots. She should have told him by now. The same voice kept whispering in her ear that now wasn’t the time to tell Eldridge. He was rushing too much through this quest, as he usually did. His attention to detail just wasn’t there yet. Soon, she could admit that she already knew where her father was. Not yet, though.
She pulled away from his grip and nodded. “I’m going to be fine, you know. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m going to get more information out of the trees, then I’ll be right back here and ready to take on more questions with you. All right?”
He stepped away from her, but the expression of worry never left his face. He didn’t think this trip would be as easy as the first. That much was clear in his expression. “All right. Just...”
She smiled. “Be careful. I know, my Goblin King will be worrying on the other side of this door.”
“And if you think for even an instant that the forest wants to hurt you, call to me.”
If it wanted to hurt her, then no one was getting through that portal until it was finished with her. Freya didn’t have to understand magic better to know that without question.
Still, she nodded to make him feel better about the whole situation. If she could ease his worry with her false bravado, then so be it.
Freya turned toward the balcony doors and put her hands on the bronze knobs. She did exactly as Eldridge had told her to do. Envision the doors opening into the forest where she wanted to go. She’d already been there, so this kind of portal should be very easy. All she had to do was let the magic do what it wanted to do.
And he’d insisted her magic wanted to help her. That was the function of having magic, or at least that’s what he claimed. It would bring her from the Summer Court and into that secret place, if only she would let it.
The magic uncoiled deep in her belly. She’d finally given it a personality or a visage inside herself. Freya imagined her magic like a snake that twisted through her veins. Sometimes it was nice and only wanted to be held high in the sun. Other times, the magic wanted nothing more than to bite down hard on someone else.
She exhaled and opened the doors. Freya didn’t open her eyes until she felt the soft breeze on her face and smelled the dark, earthy scent of moss and wood.
Blinking, she stared up into the golden sun and smiled. It had worked. If only she could turn around and tell Eldridge that he’d been right. She would have enjoyed sharing this moment with her Goblin King, who so loved teaching her how to use her magic.
Instead, she was alone with the trees.
Or rather, not so alone. This time, the bodies were far more evident, each of them reaching out for her with their mossy hands and bony fingers. She strode by them very carefully, making sure none of them caught hold of her pale yellow skirts. They would drag her into their prison with them. She was certain of it.
Even the trees seemed more sinister this time. They loomed over her head and their branches were too heavy with moss. Dripping wet plops of green down on her shoulders and head.
“I’m here to ask questions,” she said firmly. “You will not frighten me away.”
The forest shook with a sound that was almost laughter. Like the trees thought her bravery was adorable, but that she would not get far with that kind of ridiculous thought. She was just a mortal in a forest of ancient trees who could tear her limb from limb if they wanted to. Even the roots were rolling in the ground. They were ready to pull her into the moss where she would stay forever.
Freya carefully picked her way over the wet ground and headed to the same tree where she knew her father was. The giant tree that was hidden behind gates because apparently someone had thought the beast was dangerous enough to keep under lock and key.
Although, she didn’t know where that key was.
Dust motes swirled in the air like tiny glowing faeries lighting her way. It was almost beautiful enough to make her forget the bodies that were still dragging themselves closer to her. They reached with skeletal fingers, trying to touch the trailing edge of her skirt.
No, she wouldn’t focus on the dead things. The forest was trying to scare her away, and though it could do its best to try, she would not allow it to have space in her mind. Fear had no place here.
She walked through the iron gates and into the glen where the tree grew. It was larger than she remembered, or perhaps she was looking at it through a healthy amount of fear. Either way, she knew to tread more carefully now.
“I have questions,” she called out again. “And I would like to see my father. Please.”
Freya threw the last word into the air, hoping the tree would see she didn’t mean any harm. She wasn’t demanding for its attention. She was a girl looking to see her father one more time.
The tree heaved another sigh, and suddenly, the dead man in the roots came to life again. He opened his eyes and yawned, then met her gaze with one as green as the leaves above them. “You shouldn’t have come back here without an invitation, girl.”
“I know that.” She stepped closer, holding up her hands. “But I had to know you were making good on your own bargain. I had to know he was doing better, or at least that my father was still alive.”
“You don’t trust us?”
No. Of course she didn’t trust the trees. Freya frowned at the question and tried very hard to find words that weren’t insulting. But her answer couldn’t be dulled when she only had sharp anger in her chest.
“No,” she replied. “I don’t trust you at all. I think you have your own reasons for calling me here, and that I would be a fool to ignore that truth.”
The man’s face twisted with mirth. He opened that cavernous mouth and laughed. A tooth fell from his skull into the moss that covered the remains of his legs. “I had forgotten how lovely it was to see a mortal brimming with honesty. You’re smart to not trust us, but you are also a fool for coming here. What a strange mixture brews inside that head of yours.”
Freya didn’t think she was all that strange. Most people were intelligent, but they made foolish decisions all the time. Usually in the name of love. As she was doing now.
She took a step toward the prison of roots. “May I see my father, please?”
“Do you think he’ll be so changed? He was nothing more than a wolf when you saw him last, child.” The man in the moss grinned, his eyes still wild and teeth glowing bone white in the moss of his skull.
Freya thought about how to answer that one. She could lie and question the tree’s integrity. Perhaps making it angry would get her what she wanted faster. But Eldridge’s words still rung in her head. Sometimes she didn’t have to fight with another to get what she wanted. Maybe she could ask for it.
“I do think you’ll have changed him. You love him as much as I do, although I don’t understand why. Was he a child in these forests? Was that when you first met him?” She took another step toward the prison where the tree was keeping her father. “He’s a very good man, I know that. And I can only imagine you had some part in ensuring he grew up like that.”
The dead man sighed. He closed his eyes, and she thought for a moment that the tree would let her go to her father. Instead, he talked with his eyes closed. Like he was remembering the past. “He was a good little boy. Where the other faerie children ran through the forest without care, he picked up sticks in their wake and lay them back in our roots. He used to think if things broke off of our branches, that we would miss them until they came back to us. A kind heart in that one.”
Freya smiled. That was exactly how she remembered her father. He took the time to notice the little things that made other people’s lives easier.
She inched to the side until she was right in front of the cage. Peering into the shadows beyond, she could see him standing. Though this time he was in that strange form, mixed man and beast, she knew that meant he was a little more like himself.
“Look at that,” she whispered. “You were healing him the whole time.”
“I wasn’t going to let him rot in there. He never liked being a wolf.” The tree shook its branches over her head and a rainfall of leaves dusted the prison. The thick layer hid her father from her gaze. “Now you are going to ask me your question and leave. Too much stimulation would only make him turn back into the wolf and then all our work will be for nothing.”
She wanted to see more of her father. Just a little. Every glimpse healed a painful ache in her chest that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.
But she wasn’t here to see her father.
Not yet, at least.
“I spoke with a friend to figure out what the poison in this land might be. You’ve been going to great lengths to hide that information from me.” She turned back to the man tangled in roots, planting her hands on her hips and hoping she looked like her mother when it was time to scold the children. “If you want my help, why are you doing everything in your power to hide the truth?”
“A quest, once given, cannot be made easy.” The tree said the words like they were something she should have known. As if everyone in the faerie realms knew that this was the truth. Plain and simple.
Freya furrowed her brows. “That’s not the way of it, though. If you want to change things, then why wouldn’t you help?”
“The rules of the game have always been clear, Freya.”
Clear as mud, as they were.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “I want to at least be clear. I know you’re the one who caused all this pain and suffering. The poison you spoke about is erupting from the very trees, and that I don’t appreciate not knowing this from the start.”
The man shifted, lifting an arm and pointing at her. “You’re smarter than you look, Miss Freya.”
She hummed low and under her breath, but nodded her thanks. “You’re unhappy with the way the Summer Lord is ruling this court. That much is very obvious. But I want to know why.”
This perked up the man in the tree. He moved his bony arms, his whole body shifting and rolling with moss that grew and died within blinks. He rose to the trunk of the tree, still stuck to the bark and hanging limp. Somehow, he was ominous to look at. “The Summer Lord mocks this court with his parties and his drink and his foolish nature. He knows what we’ve asked of him. He knows exactly what he has to do to make this throne his. And until then, I will continue to eat away at his court until it is buried beneath my roots. The age of the elf is coming to an end, and he knows how to stop my reckoning.”
A chill swept down Freya’s spine as he finished the speech. If this tree wanted to murder everyone in this court, she didn’t question that it could. This wasn’t just a forest, this was a creature who was living and breathing. Through dead things, sure, but still alive in some way.
“I understand,” she said, ducking her head low. “My only challenge to you is to understand that no one can fix something they don’t know is broken.”
“Oh, he knows,” the tree snarled. “He is aware of what he has done. The Summer Lord continues to refuse our requests. If you want to know as well, then I will tell you this. Go to the isles off the coast. The ones he told your Goblin King that no one travels to any longer. See the truth for yourself.”
Freya shivered, fearing for her life and that of her father’s as well. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I am very grateful for your assistance in this quest you’ve sent me on.”
“Please.” The man drifted down the trunk and landed back in the mossy roots. “You are not a meek creature, and it doesn’t look good on your frame. Pick your chin up and be the terrifying woman I first met. The one who I knew could turn this court around if she wished to.”
At least the compliment boded well for later on. Freya nodded firmly and turned to leave. She squared her shoulders and forced herself to look brave as she wandered past those dead things that wanted to clutch onto her. She kept her chin up even as she reached the doors that would lead her back to her private rooms in the Summer Court.
But inside, she was so frightened that all she could hear was her own screams.
