Esther shook her head in disbelief. “That’s all you have to say? After everything we’ve lived through together, and all the things that mother and father did for you, all you can say is that you’re busy?”
“I don’t know what you want from me.” Freya made her way to the wood stove and reached behind it. Their father’s sawed-off shotgun was in a special iron lined box. No faerie would ever steal it, and no goblin could ever touch the box.
Esther sucked in a low breath. “What are you planning on doing with that?”
“I plan on letting you go to sleep and get your rest. Tomorrow is a long day of ward building. One of us needs to have their wits about them to keep watch for any goblins that might return.” She opened the barrel and looked into it, reassured by the sight of two thick bullets. Clicking it back in place, she nodded toward the front door. “I’ll keep watch tonight for anyone who might sneak in.”
“I told you, I didn’t make a deal.” Esther stared like Freya had lost her mind.
Maybe she hadn’t. But that goblin with the moonlight skin made the hair on her arms stand on end. This wasn’t over. She feared what he might plan with magic at his fingertips.
Freya dragged a chair from the dining table into the middle of the room. She sat down hard on the sturdy wood, shotgun held across her chest and eyes on the door. She could see the outside through the moon carving.
“Freya, are you really going to do this?”
She didn’t respond. What else could she say that she hadn’t already? Yes, she was going to sit here all night and make sure not a single goblin thought they could sneak into their hut.
And yes, this was her sister’s fault. Esther knew better. Freya had to fix this situation before they both regretted it for the rest of their lives.
Esther should count herself lucky if Freya ever let her leave the property again. The goblins could take her at any point now if they considered the fine print of a deal as also being given a gift. She had no idea.
Their mother had never taught them what to do in this situation. She’d always said to never get close enough to a deal for goblins to mince words and steal them away. That was the rule.
Esther huffed out a disbelieving breath. “I’ll talk to you in the morning then, I guess. I obviously can’t have a normal conversation with you right now.”
Why she would even try was a mystery to Freya. She didn’t look at her sister as she heard clothing hitting the floor and the bed creaking. If Esther got some sleep, even a small amount, that would feel as though she had succeeded.
As much as Esther liked to think Freya was controlling and a horrible sister, she didn’t remember their mother’s teachings. Esther had always been with their father. He was a kindly man, soft around the edges, and more likely to chat with a goblin than try to keep them at bay.
Their mother had seen the creatures for what they truly were. Faeries liked to kidnap children. They bred mortality into their lines so they weren’t so ugly, so disgusting to look upon. They wanted mortal blood and the only way they could get that was by stealing children away.
Sure, the mortal women would cry and beg to be sent back to their homes. They’d want to be in the mortal realm, and maybe they would even wither into a shadow of their former selves. Maybe they would ask to see their loved ones in scrying mirrors or glassy pools.
Time wore away at everything, though. Even love. And eventually, the mortals would forget their lives before goblins, claws, and broods of ugly children.
That was why she stared at the door so fiercely and gripped her gun tightly. She knew what the goblins could do once they sank their claws into children. She knew Esther would eventually forget Freya even existed while she was stuck here in the mortal realm, desperately wishing for her sister to return.
Wishing for her mother.
Her father.
Anyone who would love her because Freya was so scared of losing everything and then being stuck here. Alone. All by herself, without a single person who knew her name.
That future was unacceptable. It made her heart race and her palms slick with sweat. She couldn’t survive that fate, and she wouldn’t let Esther go because of it.
She tightened her grip on the shotgun. The metal had seen better days. Rust made the handle a little difficult to grip, but that was all right. She knew just how powerful the shotgun was. All she had to do was point it in a direction and fire. Whatever stood in her way wouldn’t remain standing for very long.
Goblins were hardy creatures, but she doubted even they would survive a direct shot.
Freya didn’t recognize the time passing. All she knew was that she stared for what felt like an eternity. She tried to not even blink, for fear the goblins would appear in front of her as if by magic.
Then she heard it. The chiming of bells that her tired mind thought might be someone tapping a fork against a glass. For a toast, perhaps? Or maybe that was just foolish thoughts because she needed to sleep.
Her eyelids grew heavy. She took a deep breath to force her mind to clear, but all she could smell was the wondrous scent of apples and cinnamon.
No, he couldn’t be here. They weren’t allowed to come into a house without invitation. At least, that’s what her mother had always said. Freya snapped upright again, eyes wide, peering around the room as though he was about to step from the shadows.
When no goblin made himself known, she settled into the chair again. Her hands gripped the wood handle and sweat made them slide dangerously. She needed to get a grip on herself. The sun was coming up, wasn’t it?
The cloying scent clawed its way into her nose. It poured into her lungs like someone had tipped whiskey into her mouth and suddenly, she didn’t know what time it was. How long had she been sitting in this chair? It felt as though she hadn’t been here long, but also as though she’d also been here forever.
She looked out of the little moon carved in their door and felt her hands shake. The sun was rising, but the moon was doing the same. They rose together in the sky until she didn’t know whether it was day or night.
“Magic,” she muttered. “It’s just magic.”
And then she heard him. His deep voice whispering in her ear. “Yes, Freya. Of course it’s magic.”
The sound sent a flutter from her head all the way into her belly. She quivered in the chair, her breath sawing out of her lungs. “What are you doing to me?”
“Nothing at all. I just want you to sleep.”
She felt claws on the back of her neck. The cold tips shifted her hair to the side, and then she swore he inhaled the scent of her skin. She could feel the warm heat of his breath brush through her hair.
Freya shook her head, but her eyelids were even heavier. She couldn’t keep them open. No matter how hard she tried. “I need to protect my sister,” she whispered.
“You need to sleep.”
No, just one more breath and she’d be fine. Freya’s hands tightened on the shotgun. She would bolt up from her chair, spin around, and shoot him point blank. He wouldn’t survive it. He’d never make it out of this cabin alive.
She jolted upright, hands clutching the gun. But as she opened her eyes and spun around, Freya’s eyes widened with fear.
The room was filled with sunlight when she had been certain it was still night.
The scent of apples and nutmeg was only a faint trace in the air.