Near the edge of the forest, the sunlight clung to the trees like skin, and Ellis lifted her chin in pretend courage. Even with a sack of spells clutched to her side, her hands trembled when she stepped below the waiting branches. Her mind strayed to ghost stories. There were dozens of chilling tales to plague her thoughts as she delved under the sun-bright leaves. Lost girls, cursed children, monsters made of nightmares. But the rumors of moonlight fairies were the ones that kept her hands close to the bag of spells. What good a sunlight spell would do against a moon fairy, Ellis didn’t know. She only hoped it wouldn’t be useless.
She concentrated on the sky. Perfectly ordinary stars winked at her as if all were well in the world. When the wind shook the leaves of an aspen tree and sunlight dripped in wet clumps on her shoulders, Ellis bit back a scream. Blindly, she pulled a spell and threw it at the tree. Strands of magic erupted into a glittering net around the trunk.
But no fairy followed, and she hurried away.
Never had she traveled so deep in the forest. It was only the memory of Zeph’s fevered skin that encouraged her feet to move forward. Ordinary magic wasn’t going to be enough to drive out the curse blistering in his bones.
As the trees grew thicker, the skin of sunlight grew thin. Much of it had already been scattered by wind or cleaned away by forest creatures, or else never reached the ground at all. Ellis pushed aside the underbrush, looking for the deep pockets of untouched magic.
She found one under a trio of ferns. A puddle of sunlight, thick as honey, rippled as she pushed the leaves aside. Judging from the golden hue, it must had been hidden from moonlight and other disturbances for nearly six months.
From her bag, Ellis drew out a glass phial. Some of the magic stuck to her fingers as she coaxed it in. The crisp edges of sunlight curled into smoke at her touch, but she managed to scoop most of the magic into the phial without losing too much. She was carful to keep moonlight from corrupting the magic as she transferred it to the bag.
A branch cracked behind her back, and Ellis whirled. A moon fairy stared back. “Lost, little girl?” the fairy asked, its voice high and cold as winter. Its eyes shone pale moonlight even in the glow of the trees.
In answer, Ellis took a spell in each hand and threw with all her might. She didn’t stay to see the results, but sprinted with all her heart back the way she had come.
The fairy gave a shout and then a strangled scream, and Ellis suspected she had thrown the vine-creating spell. Good. It would give her a chance to get away. Her path was easy to follow, a trail of plain green grass where her feet had knocked aside the sunlight.
By the time she reached the edge of the forest, it was so late that some of the sun magic was already souring in the moonlight. It glinted eerily silver on the branches, and Ellis was only too glad to leave it behind.
The familiar streets of Kinseddy were comfortingly swept clean of all magic. Ellis saw only the faintest beads of sun on rooftops. Nothing a fairy would bother to gather. She shook excess magic from her hair as she neared the cottage, grinding the sun under her heels to ensure it was extinguished.
It wasn’t until she was safely through the door that she dared pull out the hard-won magic. It warmed her fingers when she poured it into her palm.
Zeph stirred as Ellis sat on the edge of his bed. “El?” His voice was hoarse. She furiously worked the magic into a new spell.
“Take it,” she ordered, handing him the enchantment. “It will soothe the curse.”
His skin burned her through the blankets. He narrowed his eyes. “You went into the forest.”
She didn’t answer. “Just take it. Please.” Her heart thundered more loudly than it had even when the fairy had appeared. What if it didn’t work?
But he swallowed the spell, and Ellis could see the magic sliding down his throat, pulling dark wisps of curse in its wake. She sighed. It would work.
For the first time, the golden night had brought not heartache but healing.
Beatrice felt the sting of tears blur her vision as Fidelia was swept into the crowd of dancers. Her chest was tight, and she clutched at the wall for support. Anger curled her hands into fists. Selfish Fidelia, to leave her sister stranded alone at the ball!
The wall was too solidly close to the rush of dancers. Blindly, she felt her way along the edge of the room, desperate for air. For space. For the nauseating sea of unknown faces to fade away.
“Be careful!”
Beatrice hadn’t even known she was falling until the other girl caught her with steadying hands. “Sorry. So sorry.” Her voice sounded a million miles away.
The other girl considered her with worried brown eyes. “You should sit down.” She guided Beatrice out a door Beatrice had never even noticed. Immediately, the cacophony of the dance faded, and Beatrice felt her chest expand.
They sat at a bench in a plain white hallway. “So sorry,” Beatrice apologized again. Her heartbeat was fluttering in her ears. “I just… I don’t do crowds.”
The other girl laughed. “Clearly. Your face was as white as a piece of paper!”
Beatrice forced a laugh. Her thoughts were clearing, and she glanced at the other girl with a sudden fear that she should know her. She had the brown hair, the brown eyes, a faint smattering of freckles. But a quick glance told Beatrice the girl wore no necklace, and she relaxed. A stranger, then.
“You’re alone at the ball?” the girl asked.
Beatrice shrugged. “My sister is supposed to be with me. But she’s dancing. Some boy.” She laughed as if it were funny, though her chest tightened a little bit again.
“Sisters.” The girl rolled her eyes. “I’ve got two of them. Perfectly unreliable.”
“Same for me! Well, I mean, I have two sisters, too. But just the one unreliable one.”
The girl clucked her tongue. “It’s always the dancers.”
“No, not Fidelia. Not usually.” Beatrice squirmed. But no harm in sharing with a stranger, right? “It’s my younger sister. Ellis. She’s… we’ll, she’s a bit hard to keep up with.”
“I’m afraid to say that’s usually me in my family.” The girl smiled. “Always galavanting about with friends. They can’t keep me pinned down. But I do think it makes their lives more interesting.”
“Oh, Ellis certainly accomplishes that!” Beatrice didn’t have to fake a laugh this time. “She’s a regular character. Always catching us off-guard and popping up in unexpected places.” Always by help of the curse, but Beatrice didn’t tell the girl that part. It crossed a line.
“More fun for you, I suppose?”
Beatrice looked at the floor. “Never.” The hallway suddenly felt too tight. She needed Fidelia. Fearless Fidelia, who never seemed bothered by their sister’s curse. Never seemed to care that Ellis looked perpetually unfamiliar. Never flinched when the stranger on the street corner turned out to be Ellis all along.
A chill breeze whispered of another escape further down the hall, and Beatrice abruptly stood. “I think I need some fresh air,” she said. “It was lovely to talk to you!” Before the girl could even say goodbye, she leapt off the bench and disappeared down the hall.
In her absence, Ellis sighed. She rubbed a thumb over the necklace wound about her wrist like a bracelet. The curse had done its job well once again. Ellis and Beatrice, sisters by name, were absolutely perfect strangers.
Ellis was already in the field, waiting with an empty lantern in her hand, when the sun kissed the horizon. The fresh green on the vines grew mottled with evening light, dripping with the last dregs of early spring warmth. A chill gust of wind drew goosebumps along Ellis’s arms. She shivered, pulling her cloak tighter, and waited for the magic to appear.
It grew in clumps like stars, a bit of magic glowing in the shadows of trees first, where the black of night already blanketed the ground. Pinpricks of sunlight lingered on blades of grass like harvest cherries even as the sun ripened and dipped further behind the mountains.
A bit of magic gathered in the shadows of the grapevines where Ellis stood. Warmth radiated from the sunlight where it clung like dew to the grass, and she turned to scoop it into her lantern.
In the darkening sky, stars appeared to mirror the magic gathered below. Their stark white light was pale next to the warm glow of magic. The sun now was only a sliver on the mountain top, its evening colors bleeding into the magic scattered through the valley.
Ellis hunted for the noonday magic, bright as a sparrow’s song on the crowns of trees. She shook branches to knock it down, and the magic dripped in thick syrupy globs into her lantern. Her feet were slick with the crisp edges of early sunset.
It was only the deepest shadows, where magic gathered under bough of tree or in a hollow of the field, where the burnt ends of the day curled like the fringe of sky that still lingered against the mountaintops. Ellis scooped her fingers through a swath of the honey-sweet magic and trickled it into the very top of her lantern, softening the harshest of the noonday sun with its worn edges.
The lantern now was so full that magic sloshed over the rim and splattered Ellis’s legs. Carefully, she screwed the lid back on. It was enough to light the house for the night, and a bit to practice enchantments besides. As she walked home, the lantern carving a wide berth of daytime from the darkness, she rolled a thimbleful of sunlight between her thumb and forefinger. By morning, when the sunset reversed its twilight hues into rosy dawn, the magic would fade to ash. But right now, all the possibilities of a new day rested in the palm of her hand.
She smiled. Her feet left tracks through the puddles of sunlight. Overhead, white stars swam in a velvet sky, bright as magic against the darkness.
Relief weakened Ellis’s knees, and she slumped against the wall. Her mind reeled, unable to comprehend the victory she and Zeph had won, even as she sat in the midst of shattered glass and the flickering remnant of the witch’s dark magic. Her skin was feverish with spell-casting, and she brushed at tendrils of curses that clung to her skirts.
Pushing herself away from the wall, she trod with weary feet across the room to Zeph. His grin was bright as sunshine, though dark magic still smudged across his freckled face. The magic sparked, bright and malevolent, startling Ellis so that she flung a repellent spell at Zephyr’s face without thinking. With a flash, he rocketed backwards across the room, crashing into a banquet table with enough force that it splintered. Ellis gasped and sprinted after him, her heartbeat thundering under a layer of clammy sweat and dread.
But her cries were met with laughter that rang with victory. Zeph glowed under a layer of his own protecting magic, and in a moment he had swept all thoughts of desolation from Ellis’s mind with an enchantingly perfect kiss.
The paper wrapping crinkled under Ombra’s hands as she fidgeted. How long would it take to give the other twelve gifts? She paid no attention as the fairies presented magical items to the infant. Three gifts for childhood, three gifts for education, three gifts for marriage, and three gifts for the kingdom. Ombra had heard the gossip for weeks already as fairies prepared, crafting enchantments with sun-magic and binding the spells to a myriad of objects.
Ombra gripped her gift tighter and smirked. None other had dared trifle with moon dust, but none would have a gift so dazzling, either. Beauty, wisdom, strength and talent sizzled within the package, the magic primed to enchant the little princess. With Ombra’s guidance, the baby would become the most powerful woman ever to take the throne.
And finally, all would see Ombra herself for what she truly was: the most powerful and brave woman in all the world.
Her glance stole to Lumina, seated across the hall. Ombra gloated at the hope her sister soon would see her proper place. Lumina had never seen the potential of moon dust as Ombra had. Perhaps, if only Lumina had been a bit more clever, she would have become the fairy the rest of the kingdom already thought she was.
But Ombra knew better. Next to her, Lumina was weak. Soon everyone would know. The king’s advisor had inspected Ombra’s prepared gift, and she had seen how his eyes widened at the potential. Soon, he would select her as the most honored fairy, and everyone in the kingdom would see and know her.
It was time. The advisor was taking the stage from the last fairy, ready to announce the thirteenth gift for the princess.
Ombra scooted to the edge of the chair as he spoke. “For the most esteemed gift, a blessing on our Princess Ophelia to be administered by the most honored and trusted fairy in the land.” He paused, but Ombra was already standing.
“Lady Lumina, please present your blessing.”
Ombra froze. Her hands felt numb as she watched Lumina take the stage. All eyes in the room gazed in adoration. They gave her a standing ovation as she bent over the princess and pressed a golden beam of sunlight to the baby’s forehead.
“My gift is resistance to magic. None will hurt our princess.” The crowd cheered. They adored Lumina.
The witch didn’t deserve it.
Ombra seethed. She didn’t realize she was moving until she stood in the aisle, toe-to-toe with her sister. Lumina raised her chin, defiant, blind to what would befall her.
“Fools!” Ombra’s voice magnified in the arches of the hall. “This petty witch deserves none of your praise! I could have given your princess a thousand gifts, endless beauty, wisdom beyond compare, and you choose this destiny instead?”
The hall was silent. From the corner of her eye, Ombra saw the king and queen quaking.
She turned to Lumina. For the first time, she saw her sister’s baby in a sling on her back. Yet another little whelp that would come to nothing.
“I will erase you,” Ombra hissed. “No one will remember your weakness. They will only see my power.”
Finally, fear widened Lumina’s eyes, but it was too late. Ombra drew the gift intended for the princess from its packet and twisted it into a new spell.
A death spell.
It left her hand as a silver bolt. Lumina shrieked and threw up a shield of sunlight, and that was when the impossible happened.
Ombra’s magic shattered.
She ducked to avoid the shards. The blast knocked Lumina to the side, but Ombra could see where the bits of spell landed. Most of it sprinkled the floor like glass, but two shards went terribly awry. One struck Lumina’s daughter,and the other hit the newborn princess. Devoid of the whole power of the spell, neither baby died. Ombra knew that without her help, the spell would fester and eventually be fatal to both girls.
“Now they see who you truly are,” Lumina whispered. “A monster.”
“Let them try to fix their problems without my help,” Ombra answered. “In a few years, when their princess lays on death’s door, they will beg my help, little sister. But you they will forget.”
She wrapped herself in a moonbeam and disappeared. Sixteen years she would wait, but she was right.
The kingdom would beg on its knees.
Ellis wound the thread of magic around her finger in a lazy spiral. It flowed bright as a sun, hot against her skin. For a moment, she let it linger, considering the possibilities. She could fashion a speck of good luck? Perhaps relieve an aching pain? Domerick Pice could use a bucketful of common sense, but she couldn’t fashion that out of magic.
The magic sparked, and Ellis felt an echoing pulse in her chest. Her own enchantment, hungry to devour the speck of charm wrapped around her finger. Hastily, Ellis twisted the strand into a simple health charm. Not very original, she supposed, but an easy way to dispatch Domerick’s curse. With one finger, she pressed the new spell back into his skin.
Domerick flexed his fingers. Then he tested his toes. “You’ve done it!” He clenched both hands in triumphant fists. Ellis resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He acted as if she’d lifted a deadly enchantment, not refashioned a silly stone-finger curse.
“My pleasure, sir,” she managed to keep her tone professional.
But Domerick positively beamed when he turned to her, and she braced for one of his abundant overreactions. “I’ve never met anyone like you before!”
“You should be grateful for that,” Ellis clipped. Before he could get all moony-eyed, she swept her apprentice bag from the bench and strode out of the hospital. She didn’t even tell him about the health charm. He would have no idea when it kept the next bout of flu at bay, and he had no need to know.
Her nerves were frazzled. Most of her patients weren’t as frequent as Domerick, but the comments were the same. “Why aren’t you one of the king’s enchantresses?” “You’ve got some uncommon skill, lassie!” “We need more people like you in these parts!”
It stung the most from the ones like Domerick, who returned week after week with minor fairy curses for her to break. Her heart was fragile after months of pulling curses from other people’s bones while all the white her own curse raged rampant.
Domerick was nothing but a weekly reminder that she was enchanted to be unrecognizable. Unremembered. Unknown.
Always, she would be enchanted.
In the morning, the snowflakes were salty. The deer knew it first, gathering in open fields and empty roads to lick up every delicious morsel. Farmers cursed as they tried to wrangle dairy cows in from the field. By morning meal, every child in Kinseddy had bundled up for sledding and snowball fights in the winter magic.
Ellis let the hood of the cloak shadow her face as she trudged to market. It did no good to be a curse breaker on days like this. She could cure someone of green hair or scare off a minor rhyming curse, but it took big magic to break a weather enchantment.
Fairies! She stomped through a pile of magical slush, shoulders hunched against the cold. Couldn’t they give her just one day off? Was it too much to ask they refrain from mischief a mere 24 hours? Why should —
“Watch out!” A shout broke Ellis’s train of though, and she barely had time to dodge the oncoming bicycle. Snow splattered her cloak as the cyclist came crashing to a halt.
“Are you alright?” Ellis hurried forward and helped the cyclist - a young man near her own age - pull the bike away. The front wheel spun at an odd axis.
“I’m okay!” He brushed snow out of his blond hair and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. So sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Ellis laughed. “Blame it on the enchantment,” she joked.
“The enchantment?” The man paused, one hand ruffled in the hair on his forehead. “How do you know about the enchantment?”
“Um...” Ellis licked her lips, salty as ocean water. “I mean, it’s kind of hard to miss.”
“Oh, man!” The cyclist’s face turned tomato red, and he yanked his bike up from the ground like a shield. “I was hoping no one would notice!”
Ellis laughed, and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just, it’s so obvious. Anyone could tell.”
“The bicycle was that much of a giveaway?”
“The bicycle...?” Ellis looked at the wrecked bike, her eyebrows knotted in confusion.
“I just thought rubber handles would help with the slipperiness. You don’t think it will help with the slipperiness?”
Ellis paused before answering. “Excuse me if it sounds silly,” she said, adding a laugh in hopes of sounding light-hearted. “You’re talking about the weather enchantment?”
“The weather enchantment?” Now the cyclist looked bewildered. “I meant the fairy curse. Slippery silver. How clumsy I am.” He fiddled with his coat as he spoke, and one finger was caught in a button hole.
Ellis laughed. Really laughed this time. “I meant the snow!” She shook fresh powder from her hood and pulled it tight again. “I meant the salty snow. The weather enchantment.”
“Salty snow?” The cyclist stuck out a curious tongue and added a laugh. “I thought it was just sweat!”
“You said slippery silver, right?” Ellis dig through her satchel for an extra flask. “I have an elixir that should help with that. Water strained with mint at midnight. It cures a lot of small curses.”
“Oh!” The cyclist reached gratefully for the flask. “Maybe I’ll stop dropping my silverware at the dinner table! You’ve saved me a trip to the curse breaker in Kinseddy!”
Ellis shrugged. “Well, I am the curse breaker in Kinseddy, so you can just consider your trip shorter.” She brushed fresh flakes from her eyes, thankful for a curse she could break. It felt nice to be useful in the midst of an unbreakable weather enchantment.
“You’re the curse breaker?” He looked at her in surprise, clumps of snow still stuck in his hair. “Aren’t you going to do something about all this salty snow?”
Ophelia felt the magic brimming in her fingertips, hot energy making her skin itchy and tight. She rubbed her hands against her thigh and repeated Tutor Friedrich’s instructions. “Visualize your intentions.”
She squinted one eye at Zephyr, imagining. Perhaps long donkey’s ears? Blue warts on his face? A lizard tongue between his teeth?
His words on the playground rang through her memory. “Ophelia’s got noodle hair!” She squeezed her eyes against the memory of the other children laughing.
Tugging at an unruly curl, Ophelia recentered her attention. Noodle hair for Zephyr. She pictured it dangling down his back, cold and wet against his ear, a glob of tomato sauce dripping down his nose, and almost gave herself away with a giggle.
Again, the magic hummed, its persistence to be released making her nails ache. A quick glance at the other students assured her they were all focused on Tutor Friedrich as he droned on and on about the best method of watering a wand tree.
Ophelia took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. Slowly, she raised her hand to the level of her chin. Noodle hair for Zephyr. The magic loosened with a sigh, and the spark of blue light zipped toward its target.
But, wait... Ophelia stiffened. No! At the worst possibly moment, Zephyr stretched. The bolt of magic collided with the seeing glass he had clutched in his hand. Ophelia’s mouth hung open as she watched her magic reflect off the glass.
She barely had time to duck, but still she could hear the zip as the spell whizzed overhead. It ricocheted off the back window, and now other students had noticed, too. Cecily squealed. Jack swatted at the spell with his tablet. Beatrice and Valentina bolted for the door.
From the corner of her eye, Ophelia could see Zephyr laughing.
The spell bounced twice more before finding a target. Ophelia’s horror and shame grew tenfold, and she covered her burning cheeks with both hands.
“Students! Settle down!” Tutor Friedrich demanded. A noodle slipped free from his cap and slapped against his cheek. He froze, and the entire class froze too. A drip of tomato sauce slipped down his nose and hit the ground with a loud splat.
“Who...” Tutor Friedrich looked around the classroom in bewilderment. More tomato juice dribbled off his chin, and the silence was broken with a giggle from Cecily.
Jack followed, and Valentina and Beatrice laughed nervously by the door. Ophelia risked a glance at Zephyr, bracing herself for more scathing remarks.
But he was laughing hardest of all, and when Ophelia caught his eye, he winked. Actually winked!
“Someone‘a taken your lessons to heart, Tutor Friedrich!” Zephyr said, and even the usually stoic teacher cracked a smile.
“I’ve never encountered quite such a tasty spell,” he remarked, licking a sample of the sauce from his lip. His fingers stuck in the noodles as he tried to run a hand across his scalp. “Excellent visualization of the details, Ms. Ophelia.”
Ophelia’s cheeks reddened again, but she managed a grateful laugh. Magic fluttered in her fingertips as she changed his hair back. A splotch of tomato sauce remained stubbornly affixed to his beard.
As the class settled back down, Zephyr twisted in his seat. “Good magic,” he whispered. “It would have been better if you’d hit your mark.” He grinned knowingly and turned again to Tutor Friedrich.
But Ophelia thought he was wrong. The reflection of the spell had been perfect - just out of place enough to restore a friendship. She couldn’t ask for more.
Though she was fairly confident Zephyr would still appreciate the joke of donkey ears. Her fingers prickled again with magic, and she hid her smile as she plotted for midday break.
Dear diary,
Mother says my gown needs three more flounces for the ball, but I think it needs four. I know for a fact that Valentina Hale has five flounces and I won’t be outdone by that little nothing of a countess.
I sent Cinders to the market for more fabric.
Much love, Lady Beatrice.
Dear diary,
My gown has seven flounces and I can barely walk, but I won’t need to walk anyway. I’ll just float while I dance with the prince. Cinders tied my corset so tightly, His Majesty will be able to hold my waist with one hand.
The carriage can’t come soon enough.
With much haste, Lady Beatrice.
Dear diary,
Some little street wench thinks she can win the prince’s heart with eight flounces and a pair of glass shoes. The pathetic little creature couldn’t even keep track of the shoes; one fell off as she ran away when the prince dismissed her. I don’t think even Cinders would make such a fool of herself.
Mother has ordered three new dresses for my upcoming betrothal, but there has been no word from the prince since last night’s ball.
Impatiently, Lady Beatrice
Dear Diary,
No word still. I’ve sent Cinders for more dress fabric. I must have at least four betrothal dresses.
The guards are searching for the girl with the glass slipper. I suppose she’ll be beheaded for her embarrassment to the kingdom.
With boredom, Lady Beatrice
Dear diary,
There are no words to describe the level of disgrace! I can’t even write about it. It’s not worth the ink.
But no matter what she says, I am
Forever and always, Lady Beatrice
Zephyr wriggled his nose, trying to chase away a sneeze. A stubborn feather clung to his upper lip like a moustache, but between the bulky supply bag digging into his spine and the golden goose he had pinned against his chest, there was no room left in the hiding space to even to lift a hand and brush the feather off.
The goose on his lap flexed her wings, and Zephyr tensed to keep her secured. “Be nice, Goldie,” he hissed. As if the goose could understand. She snaked her head around and nipped Zephyr’s ear.
Where was Jack? So far, Zephyr calculated their plan was only 13% successful. He had Goldie, sure. But instead of being on his way down the beanstalk with Jack and their plunder, he was stuck in the giants’ kitchen, halfway between the goose pen and the escape route.
As if things couldn’t get worse, a giant entered the kitchen just then, its shadow darkening the slim strip of light that cut across Zephyr’s shins. He pulled his toes in closer, and Goldie bit his ear again in protest.
“Fee!” The giant shouted. Zephyr wished his heartbeat weren’t such a loud reminder of his fear. “Fi! Fo! Fum! We must catch this thief before he’s gone!” To his horror, Zephyr felt the pounding of more giant footsteps assembling in the kitchen. He had no choice but to listen as the first giant gave instructions to the others.
“I need Fee to begin searching at the goose pen. Understood?”
“Goose pen. Affirmative,” answered the giant named Fee. Zephyr thanked his magic beans he had already smuggled Goldie away.
“Fi and Fo, search the rest of the castle for other security breaches. Apprehend whoever is necessary to get to the bottom of this.”
“And me, sir?” asked the last giant. Zephyr thought its name was Fum.
The first giant’s answer made Zephyr’s blood run cold. “Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive. I smell the blood of a human, and I’ve been hungering for some freshly-ground bones for supper.”
Zephyr’s legs ached as he waited for the giants to leave. They filed out one by one, and he swore Fum made time for a big sniff of the kitchen before leaving.
Goldie’s goosey scent must be saving his hide. Zephyr rubbed his face against her neck in thanks, earning himself a soft nip to the nose and a feather in his ear canal.
But they were still hiding in the kitchen with no sign of Jack. Goldie was pretty enough with her gilded feathers, but Zephyr could list a dozen others he’d rather be with in his final hours. His sister. The butcher. His third-year teacher. The nosy kid at the end of the lane who ate his own boogers. Ellis. Especially Ellis, whose curls were nearly the same color as Goldie’s feathers. If he ever saw her again, he’d sing a ballad in front of the entire village.
From beyond the confines of his cupboard, Zephyr heard what he first mistook as a trick of his dying brain, or maybe the feather stuck in his ear. An owl hoot, precisely like the signal he and Jack had decided upon. It repeated, and Zephyr lifted his head.
The afternoon sunlight blinded him as he pried open the door. “Jack?”
“Hurry!” Jack’s red hair was a beacon by the door, and Zephyr wasted no time. He tucked Goldie under one arm and bolted.
The beanstalk was a million miles away. A trillion. His legs burned. His lungs ached. His heart pounded with hope.
Then he was scrambling down the beanstalk after Jack, who already reveled in their success. “Can you believe it?” He grinned and adjusted the golden harp over his shoulder. “We did it! The beans actually worked!”
Zephyr grinned back, giddy, and as he climbed he turned for one last glimpse of the giant kingdom.
Across the field, a giant stood, and Zephyr could feel the weight of its gaze like lead. He didn’t need to hear its voice to know which giant he was looking at: Fum. Hunting the traitor.
At his feet, Jack strummed the harp. “We’ll be rich the rest of our lives!” He crowed.
Zephyr didn’t have the heart to tell him exactly how short that life would be.
