Winter Magic

by Abi Elphinstone

  In the opposite hand to the one holding the phone, the gingerbread was becoming almost hot. There was a smell coming off it, too, like Easter biscuits. It didn’t go away when she wrapped it up again. Nor when she put it away in her sock drawer. If anything it, got stronger – so strong it filled the room.

  In the end, she brought it out again. And took it downstairs to where Dad, still skyping Mum, was trying to sound upbeat about Gran.

  ‘We’ve done the right thing,’ he was saying. Still saying. ‘She’s been living in a fantasy about this Edmund person for weeks.’

  On the laptop screen, Mum looked concerned. ‘You don’t sound very happy about it.’

  Maya slid into the seat next to him.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ She waved at the screen and held up the gingerbread.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart.’ Mum blew a kiss, then frowned. ‘What on earth is that?’

  ‘Gran gave it to me today,’ said Maya. ‘It’s a very old piece of gingerbread bought by a boy called Edmund Mulligan, who needed to breathe.’

  And she began to tell them all about Eddie.

  The next weekend Gran moved to a different care home. This one had a library full of books and old maps on the walls; Dad insisted that Gran chose the place herself.

  ‘A home fit for an explorer,’ Gran said. ‘Though I’m more the armchair variety nowadays.’

  ‘You’ve still got an explorer’s mind,’ Maya reminded her. And she understood now that she did, too, for these things never went away.

  From the care home lounge, there were views out across the Thames. It didn’t freeze over, not even in winter – those days were long gone. But in summer, when all the windows were thrown open, Maya would sit with her gran and they’d stare out at the water. Often, they’d talk about Edmund. And sometimes – just sometimes – when the breeze blew off off the river, they’d smell something spicy like gingerbread.

  Amy Alward

  ‘The Magic of Midwinter’ is a short story from the world of The Potion Diaries, a series also written by Amy Alward.

  From the Office of the Floating Palace of Nova

  the Royal Advisor is commanded by

  His Majesty King Ander of Nova

  to invite

  Samantha Kemi

  to the Midwinter Gathering

  at Castle Nova

  on Midwinter’s Eve at 7p.m.

  Special note from the Palace – for the traditional

  Secret Solstice gift exchange, you have been selected to choose a gift for Princess Evelyn of Nova.

  Please bring your gift to the Gathering.

  MIDWINTER’S EVE

  Gentle snowflakes drift onto my yellow-striped woolly hat and I squeeze my fingers together against the cold. Puffs of steam coincide with every breath, quick and erratic, like the breath of a baby dragon. I’m nervous. But then I’m about to kidnap the Princess of Nova.

  Okay, so maybe kidnap is a strong word. But she’s not allowed to leave the palace without the express permission of her parents (the eminent King and Queen of Nova) and a huge entourage of bodyguards and secret service agents. Today, however, she’s sneaking out – all alone – just for me. But if we’re caught? I’m the one who’ll get the blame.

  There’s a crunch of snow, and I spin around. Princess Evelyn is running towards me, blonde hair streaming behind her, barely contained by a pair of pink fluffy earmuffs.

  ‘Sam!’ She raises her arm, waving wildly.

  ‘Evie, you made it!’

  When she catches up with me, her cheeks are flushed bright red from the cold and she tackles me in a giant bear hug. When we pull back, I see she’s wearing a bright white down jacket and skinny jeans. ‘I thought I told you to dress in a disguise?’ I say.

  ‘What? This is a disguise! These jeans are last season!’

  A grin tugs at my lips. Princess Evelyn stands out even when she tries to blend in.

  She brushes a blonde curl from her face. ‘Ready to go?’

  ‘Just about! How’d you manage to lose your security?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, if a princess doesn’t have a few tricks up her sleeve, what good is it having magic power?’ She grins. ‘Don’t worry, they think I’m at a one-on-one intensive yoga session with my personal trainer, who I bribed with Midwinter mulled wine not to say anything about my absence. As long as I’m back in time to get ready for the Gathering tonight, they’ll be none the wiser. Plus, this is a very good cause. I can’t believe we’re going to see the Svenland elves!’ Princess Evelyn squeals in a manner that is most unprincessy. My smile matches hers as it spreads from ear to ear.

  ‘I know, right? It’s so exciting!’

  The research I’ve done pops into my brain before I can stop it.

  Svenland elves: naturally reclusive creatures who live in a vast network of glaciers and underground ice caves in North Svenland. They only leave their dwelling one night of the year, Midwinter, when they use their elf-magic to travel around the world, delivering handmade presents to young children. They are also rumoured to have the special ability to choose the perfect gift for any child. A small village nearby, Sventown, is a popular tourist destination for all things dedicated to Midwinter.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Sventown, but it’s not exactly the kind of place a princess goes. Oh, we’re going to see all the beautiful lights and the trees and the huskies . . . it’s going to be so cool! And at the end of it, you’ll have the perfect present for Zain. How lucky are you? Even if you did leave it until the very last minute,’ she adds, with a sly smile, her elbow digging into my ribs.

  At her words, my smile slips before I can catch it. Because technically, technically, I’m dragging the princess all the way to North Svenland under false pretences. The present I’ve asked for help with isn’t Zain’s.

  It’s hers.

  For a month I’ve known that I’d been chosen to find Evelyn a Secret Solstice present, and that I’d have to give it to her at the Palace’s Gathering on Midwinter’s Eve, in front of the royal family. And for a month I’ve wracked my brains, scoured all the shops in Kingstown . . . and come up empty. It’s the first time I’ve had to choose a gift for Evie since becoming her friend, and I want it to be perfect. Pretty tough, considering she can have anything she wants at the snap of her fingers. Talk. About. Pressure.

  Plus, Secret Solstice presents are supposed to be unique.

  Personal.

  And secret. So I can’t even ask anyone for help.

  Any person that is. No one said anything about magical creatures. Writing to the Svenland elves had been a last-chance gamble, a risk I didn’t think would pay off. It was something young kids did, asking for their perfect gift, not sixteen-year-old alchemists. Please help me find a Secret Solstice present for Princess Evelyn. I’ll do anything. I’d literally begged in my letter.

  So when a reply arrived just yesterday, inviting me to visit them in North Svenland, I could hardly believe my luck. The only requirement they had was to bring the princess with me – and only the princess. No problem. Except for the whole ditching her security thing.

  The ruse I’d come up with was for her to help me find a present for my boyfriend Zain. Of course, she’d said yes immediately. Her ability to be such a great friend to me made me feel ashamed I couldn’t be a good friend to her and think of a perfect gift all on my own.

  It’s not as if I hadn’t tried. After shopping failed, I tried the handmade route, but the only things I know how to make are potions. There are decorative potions – liquids that serve no purpose except to swirl prettily from silver to gold and back again – but no matter what I mixed, nothing seemed special enough.

  And it has to be something special.

  The Svenland elves are my last hope.

  ‘Come on, we’re close to the car,’ I say, making my smile wide again.

  Thanks to a few connections I have with an amazing potions-ingredient Finder named Kirsty, I’ve managed to get all the equipment we need for a winter outing and a car to
drive us there. In true Finder-style, the equipment covers every eventuality – like a disguise for Evelyn, crampons for walking on ice and extra sets of warm clothing. The backpack she’s given me is so heavy, I haven’t even looked through it all. North Svenland is supposed to be one of the happiest places on the planet. What could go wrong?

  I open the back seat and pull out Evelyn’s disguise.

  ‘What, in the name of all things magic, is that?’ Evelyn leans over my shoulder, her nose wrinkling.

  ‘This—’ in my hand is a curly brown ball ‘—is your wig!’

  ‘Over my dead body am I wearing that! Can’t I just glamour myself a costume?’ She snaps her fingers and her hair is now as pink as her earmuffs.

  ‘Nuh-uh,’ I say. Evie pouts and her hair returns to its natural colour. ‘We’re heading into the Wilds now and who knows what that will do to your glamour.’ I’ve heard stories of the Wilds – protected areas of nature that amplify and distort all human magic – distorting a glamour so badly, the wearer became permanently disfigured. Since Princess Evelyn is one of the world’s most powerful magic users, I hate to think what might happen to her. I have no ability to use magic at all, so I don’t have to worry.

  ‘Come on,’ I say. I give the wig a little shake so that it falls into a more hair-like shape. It still looks like the fur of a shaggy dog. ‘You can’t be spotted out here.’ This is the busiest season for Sventown and even though we’re only going to be passing through, I can’t risk her being photographed. Her face would be all over social media, and the secret service would be here quicker than you can say Midwinter to whisk her home. Not only is she at risk of attack (there are always threats to Evelyn’s security, even if she plays them down), if the royal family knew I was helping her sneak out, they might not let me see her again. And, selfishly, it would suck for me. I would still be left empty-handed on the gift front.

  Evie throws her hands up in the air, then takes the wig. ‘Okay, okay, you win! You owe me after this.’ She ties her long blonde hair into a low bun, then slips on the furry hairball. After a bit of tucking and adjusting, the wig falls smoothly over her head. She leans down and makes a few final adjustments in the wing mirror of the car.

  ‘Wow! Only you could pull off that wig!’ I exclaim. ‘Here are some funky glasses to complete the outfit . . .’

  She wrinkles her nose again, but dutifully puts on the glasses. I tilt my head to one side and squint. I think she looks different enough not to be recognized at first glance. Anyone paying too much attention might guess – it’s hard to disguise her distinctive Novaen features: the bright blue eyes, aquiline nose and sculpted cheekbones. I’ll just have to drive quickly through the town and pray no one takes a closer look.

  We hop in the car and I plug the co-ordinates of the elves’ home into the GPS on the dash. Excitement tingles through my veins. Although plenty of tourists visit the elvish headquarters every year, the true magic behind Midwinter presents – like how the elves deliver them around the world in just one night, or how they know the perfect gift for just about everyone – remains a mystery.

  Evelyn blasts the radio and we end up singing the newest hit by mega popstar Damien at the top of our lungs. As we drive, the snow becomes heavier, coating the road in front of us with a dusting of sugar. The trees glisten in the low light, their spindly, leafless branches nestled in gloves of ice. It’s a pristine winter wonderland.

  ‘I can’t wait to see the Sventown decorations. Maybe we can get a few tips for next year’s Kingstown Midwinter Spectacular.’

  I nod eagerly. The Midwinter Spectacular is my favourite time of year. Kingstown undergoes a transformation overnight. Thousands of fairybugs descend on the Royal Lane, covering it with a canopy of twinkling lights. The big department stores update their window displays, competing for the most extravagant dressing. Pop-up stalls swap costume jewellery and knick-knacks for hot chocolates, roasted nuts and wood-carved Midwinter ornaments. The city even smells different: like cinnamon and oranges, pine cones and mulled wine. Sventown is like the Midwinter Spectacular – but all year around.

  ‘Apparently, in Sventown, they have so many fairy lights, they outshine the Northern Lights!’ I say.

  Evie shivers with anticipation. ‘Should be amazing.’

  ‘Well, we’ll be there any moment now. Keep your eyes peeled for a glow.’ Even though it’s the middle of the day, there’s a dark, dusky tint to the sky – the result of being so far north that the sun only rises for an hour or two. I look down at the GPS and back at the road ahead. According to the map, Sventown is just around the next bend.

  And when we turn the corner, we almost need to shield our eyes from the multitude of fairy lights, baubles and neon signs that confront us. Sventown is everything that I imagined and more. The streets are filled with tourists, wrapped up in their winter warmest, milling in and out of the shops selling stuffed-toy versions of the Svenland elves, bags of fake, glittery elvish dust and elaborate wreaths of holly, pine cones and dried oranges. There are burly men offering rides in horse-drawn carriages – or dog sleds for the more adventurous.

  My jaw hangs open as we drive through. My younger sister Molly and I used to beg our parents to bring us here, to wrap up in furs and ride in sleds pulled by huskies, to stroke the reindeer and maybe, just maybe, to ask for the absolute perfect present from a Svenland elf. But Mum and Dad couldn’t afford a trip like that – not back then. They just told us to continue writing letters to the elves, with a list of the things we wanted, in the hope of a reply. The replies never came, but somehow we always managed to get something off our wish lists on Midwinter morning – as well as gifts we never even knew we wanted.

  ‘Oh, please can we stop for a while?’ Evie asks, her nose plastered against the car window. She looks as excited as the children outside.

  I realize I’ve slowed the car down almost to a crawl, despite my resolution to drive quickly. I shrug my shoulders, trying to shake the hypnotizing effect of all the bright lights and music. I almost wonder if the town’s been glamoured to make people feel happy. ‘We can’t,’ I say reluctantly. ‘You might be spotted. And besides . . . we don’t have much time.’

  Evelyn pouts, but nods. She turns away as a girl on her dad’s shoulders does a double take at Evie’s face. She lifts a finger to point.

  ‘Okay, we have to get out of here,’ I say, putting my foot on the accelerator. We zoom out of the one-road town, leaving the bright lights behind us. A few moments later, we pass a guard building with a sign that reads: WELCOME TO THE NORTH SVENLAND WILDS. The Wilds keeper checks our passes, lifting the barrier up.

  ‘You’re visiting the elves?’ the keeper asks, surprise in his voice.

  ’Yes, we have an invitation,’ I reply.

  The guard wipes his brow. ‘Phew! No one’s been up there this year. Normally, we get a steady stream of tour groups in from Sventown, but the elves cancelled them all this year – no explanation given. Maybe they’re working extra hard this Midwinter. Or maybe they’ve made it VIPs only . . .’ He leans down to peer closer through our car window.

  ‘Uh, best be off! Can’t be late!’ I say, trying to distract him.

  Thankfully, he steps back. ‘Just be careful. We had reports of wild animals roaming close to the elvish gates – a tour group who chanced a visit without an invitation were chased away. But if the elves are expecting you, you shouldn’t have a problem. Wish them a Merry Midwinter from Hans – tell them not to forget my children!’

  ‘We will!’ says Evie brightly. When we’ve driven out of earshot, she turns to me. ‘I wonder why they stopped doing the tours . . .’

  ‘No idea,’ I say.

  A creeping finger of doubt works its way along the bottom of my spine. But the elves wanted us to come. The invitation in my backpack is proof. I’m sure it’s all fine.

  The GPS tells me to turn into a side road that looks like it hasn’t been ploughed all winter. We make it a short distance before even the winter-ready tyres b
egin to spin in the deep snow. The moment we fishtail towards the forest, the steering no longer under my control, I slam on the brakes. ‘So I think we’re going to have to walk from here.’

  ‘No problem,’ says Evie, jumping out of the car with a lot more enthusiasm than I have. The glow from Sventown seems to have attached itself to her, and she grins widely. ‘We’re not far, right?’

  ‘No, it’s just up ahead.’

  ‘Great.’

  My fingers tingle, half from cold and half from nerves. If all goes well, I could be about to get Evie the perfect gift. If all goes well.

  Out of the car, I’m grateful for my thick, fake-fur-lined winter boots, waterproofed against the snow. I wrap a scarf around my neck and pull on a pair of knitted mittens. Across from me, Evie is doing the same. ‘Ready?’ I ask.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she replies. ‘You came for a present, and we’re going to get one.’

  I swing the backpack out of the back seat and lock the car. With the warnings about the wild animals ringing in our ears, we walk close to each other, our breath steaming in front of us.

  Out of the drifting snow, we see our first sign of the elves’ dwelling: an outline of a tall gate. But the gates are closed. Locked. We reach them and I tug at the deadbolt wrapped around the iron bars. It doesn’t budge.

  I sift through the backpack to find the invitation the elves sent me. The paper is a little crumpled, but according to the address, this is definitely the place. There’s even a little embossed image of it at the top of the card. Except in that image, the gates are open. I frown, my stomach churning. I don’t like to ignore my instincts, and right now they’re screaming at me that something isn’t right.

  ‘Uh . . . Sam?’

  ‘Hang on a sec.’ I crane my neck to inspect the fence, trying to see if there’s another entrance or maybe a buzzer to let the elves know we’ve arrived.

  Evelyn tugs on the sleeve of my jacket. ‘No, Sam . . . you need to turn around.’ Her voice is quivering, and I spin around to look at her. Her face has drained of colour.