“Lord Rumpelstiltskin…?” The voice made me freeze. I turned slowly, disbelief coiling around my muscles. Tucked between the trees, just concealed enough to miss, was the little cottage Mabilia had drawn and called his. Standing before it, aged some but familiar, was Mythalzen. His hair lay over his shoulders. Tiny horns curled up on either side of his head. His golden eyes were wide, and when he blinked, they watered. Darting toward me, he threw his arms around my chest. “It’s you!” he sobbed. “Queen Mab said you’d come to, but…after all this time.”
I had no words. It had been so long since I’d used any. My chest tightened the longer he held me, and eventually, I wrapped my arms around him, fighting the tears burning in my eyes. He was here. He was safe.
“I missed you,” I whispered.
He choked on his laugh. “Of course you did. Just think about how we all felt.” Pulling away, he rubbed his eyes, sniffed, and grinned sloppily. “It’s been a hundred years.”
“H-how?” I asked, but as I did, my stomach knotted. If it had been that long, there was no hope Mabilia lingered in this world or the other. My spirit descended. Without her…what was I to do? “Who presides over the winter fae?”
“Queen Mab,” he said, a glint of humor sparking in his gaze. He took my hand. “Come on. She’s been waiting decades for this.”
I followed him to the castle, my heart clenched. “She’s alive?”
“Mhm.”
“How?” I asked again, but my breaths shortened, that affirmation on repeat in my mind. She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. Anything could have happened in a hundred years. Anything at all. But if she lived, if she was in reach, if the fae were safe in this new world… I couldn’t stop my thoughts from wandering. I couldn’t get a grasp on them.
How could this be? What price had birthed this plane?
Mythalzen threw open elaborately etched doors and drew me into the wash of music I had heard from my resting place upon the mountain. A held breath quieted the twirling fae. The music died.
Before me, Mythalzen fell to his knee, bowing his head. “As you’d asked, I watched, and the day finally came. I’ve brought him, my lady.”
The crowd parted, a murmur pitching as it did, to reveal a clear path to a dais. Two thrones sat upon the glass stage, Esme standing behind one with wide eyes and a massive grin. Seated before her was an enchanting woman, her beauty unmatched by any I had ever seen.
None could ruin her. Her raven dark hair flowed in an ethereal breeze, framing her flawless, pale skin. A string of ice gems threaded the locks about the crown of her head and rested upon her brow. A gown of crystal embraced her, and it split on one side when she stood. Her slender leg and bare feet peeked from the silken fabric when she took a first step toward me, but she paused before reaching the stairs.
Breath left her, and she brought her hands to her lips. It was then I found her eyes. Her perfect, bright, blue eyes. They glistened with unshed tears. “I thought it might be today,” she whispered.
Her voice sent a shudder through me.
“I hoped. I truly hoped it would be.” Two tears skated down her cheeks to shatter on the ground at her feet. “Welcome to Tir na Nog, my faerie.”
All around me, eyes dug into my skin, waiting and watching with morbid interest, but there was only her. “How?” I choked.
Her gaze narrowed, hardening. “Excuse me? That is not the greeting I waited all these years for.” She descended her throne, her gown chiming like bells as she walked to me. Mythalzen hurried out of her path, joining the throngs of spectators. The closer she got, the wider his grin and the harder my heart thumped. Stopping too close, she folded her arms.
“This shouldn’t be possible,” I tried, breathless.
“No. Try again.”
“I was supposed to—”
“Err. Nope.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. Lifting on her toes, she trapped my face in her hands, running her fingers into my hair and across my ears. A spark of something purely electric lit every single nerve ending in my body. Her lips collided with mine, melding perfectly. She breathed me in, leaving blistering fire in in my throat. I melted. My arms found her waist, but she wasn’t close enough. I pulled her flush against my chest, tasting her gasp on my tongue. I clutched her and trembled. Heady emotions swallowed so many questions, and I couldn’t think anymore.
She was here. Right here. Kissing me. When she broke for a moment to catch her breath, I burrowed my fingers in her hair and trailed kisses across her cheek and down her neck, until my forehead rested against her shoulder and I was holding onto her for dear life. Tears burned in my eyes, and my breaths shook.
“My faerie,” she murmured, “I have waited so long to say this: take me absolutely away.”
I could do nothing but obey. The prying eyes and hushed voices of the ball vanished in a thought as I dragged us from the room effortlessly and reappeared in the courtyard surrounded by white teardrop buds. “How did you manage this?” I asked, still holding her.
“Did you really think I was going to let you die?”
“But the price—”
“Half the wielder’s soul.” She cupped my cheek and met my gaze, brushing straying locks of her hair over a long, pointed ear—not at all the stubby mortal one I recalled. “I tried my human half; it wasn’t near enough. So I offered a century of longing, heartache, and separation from my soulmate.”
After everything I’d done, she’d paid more than half my price? My stomach swirled, and my head shook. “Why? I wasn’t worthy of salvation.”
Her gaze fell. “Mythalzen told me everything. You only ever shared nightmares with my mother to prepare her or keep her from my grandfather when he would have killed her. You gave up your hands so no one could call her a faerie even though you already planned to kill the man testing her. Saving your people motivated you to do awful things, but even in them, you went out of your way to be as kind as you could.” She ran her thumb across my cheekbone. “You were willing to give up everything even when it broke your heart. I’ve never met anyone more worthy.”
“Mabilia…”
She smiled. “This is love. Admit it.”
My eyes closed, and my lips lifted. “I don’t know what else to call it. Though unhealthy obsession comes to mind.”
Laughing, she shook her head. “Our soul may be one, but we aren’t the same person.” Her hand settled against my heart. “I love who you are, not just the magnetic pull. You’re strong and kind and so devious, but that thrills me. I’ve missed you like air.”
I cupped her hand with my own. “I decided long ago even if you didn’t have half my soul, I couldn’t bear being without you. You are my air. I’m so sorry I didn’t—”
“Hush,” she murmured. “Everything only worked because of how you set the stage. You did what you knew for the people you loved. I accept your mistakes since we’ve made it here. I wouldn’t change anything and risk that.”
My chest ached to be closer to her. She was a miracle.
Excitement blinked on in her gaze, so familiar. “There’s so much you’ve missed. Your sister court exists, the summer fae; they’re here. The tensions are still a bit fragile, but I’m pretty certain it’s because it can get so dull without some form of mischief or rivalry.” She pressed her lips together. “The world you saw in your dreams happened. Each day, the humans discover more they can do with science and metal. We check on them, from the shadows like you’d once said. Some still believe. Some always will. My great-great nephew rules New Dale…”
“It sounds like I’ve missed an entire novel.” I chuckled, toying with her straight, dark hair.
She scoffed. “You’ve missed an entire series.”
“Well then…” I dropped my lips to her forehead, brushing away the ice gems resting there. “Just like always, my princess. I guess it’s your turn to tell me a story. And start at the beginning.”
Acknowledgments
To my forever cheerleaders; Alex, Boriana, Bree, Fatimah, an
d Noee; thank you for seeing me through yet another story. Your strength and encouragement have helped me survive the most stressful deadlines I’ve had to face yet.
To Enchanted Quill Press, thank you for the stressful deadlines; they have pushed me beyond my limits. Thank you for working with me on my marketing and brand; you have helped me turn straw into gold. Thank you for featuring both Gold & Glacier in your Kingdom of Light and Darkness box sets. I have had a wonderfully villainous time. I look forward to continuing adventures with you in the coming years.
Boriana, as always, your outstanding editing has made this work worth reading, but this time you contributed another ever-vital piece: the title. Thank you so much for coming up with the word I was missing, so I didn’t have to. It’s perfect.
Noee, I expect by the time this is out I will have your debut on my desk, and I can not wait to see how all your hard work has come together. I hope you know that you carry Mabilia’s magic. The worlds you spin in your mind flow into something real and beautiful at your fingertips. They are filled with the incredible, and if mere mortals are not careful, they will find themselves lost in them. My journey continues, and yours begins. As dear Rumpel said, it’s your turn to tell me a story.
With love and lore,
~~Anne
Also by Anne Stryker
Escapism: A Novella Collection
Lurking in the Woods (Beyond the Veil #1)
Waiting in the Water (Beyond the Veil #2)
A note from the author
Thank you!
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Peter Pan by Cassidy Taylor
Untitled
SWALLOW'S SONG
by Cassidy Taylor
“Do you know,” Peter asked, “why swallows build in the eaves of houses?
It is to listen to the stories.” - J.M. Barrie
Chapter 1
No one dreamed in the Frostwater anymore. No one, that was, except for the children, and then only the youngest of those, the ones in nurseries, who still dwelled in that secret world between sleeping and waking where the Dream Thief could not reach them. But even they eventually gave themselves over to him, and when they woke without stars in their eyes or the smell of wind in their hair, they were removed from the nursery so as not to spoil the others, and made to grow up immediately.
It happened to all little children except one.
Wren Darlington sat cross-legged on the floor of the nursery while her younger sister ran a comb roughly through her hair, and her youngest brother, still a baby, crawled in and out of her lap, drool dribbling down his soft chin. She loved the gentle chaos of it all, the joy and the noise. But most of all, she loved the dreams. She loved to hear her siblings tell her of their nighttime adventures—of swashbuckling pirates and heroic princes and tiny, tinkling pixies. And she loved to regale them with tales of her own, because yes, even at the ripe old age of nearly eight and ten, Wren still dreamed.
The Dream Thief first came to her on the night of her eighth birthday. She’d known who he was just from hearing others talk about him—hair like spun gold, eyes as green as spring grass, a perfect mouth with a perfect smirk hidden in the corner. He’d been older than her then, though now she realized he was probably only eighteen or so.
Seeing him, Wren had cleared her mind, wiping clean the landscape of her dream until the two of them stood alone in a white room.
He’d looked around, puzzled. “Who are you?” he’d finally asked.
She did not answer, instead demanding to know the same of him. “Who are you?”
“You know who I am, and you know why I’ve come.”
“I suppose I do. And I’ll have you know you’re not welcome here.”
He’d come closer, reaching a hand out toward her dream-self’s head. “How are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Shutting me out.”
She hadn’t realized that she was until he’d said it, but it was true. He began to fade gradually until he winked out of existence. He came every night at first, and then less and less often. They did battle every time, sometimes with swords and sometimes with words. Sometimes she woke drenched in sweat, a familiar perfect smirk playing on her lips, but she never gave him her dreams or her name.
It was a puzzle to her noble parents, how each of their children graduated from the nursery by the age of twelve at the latest, while their oldest daughter remained, starry-eyed and cloud-headed.
“She won’t be a fit match for the prince,” her father worried. The deal had been struck long ago, when Wren was still an infant and the prince of Astanrog still thought girls were disgusting, vile creatures.
But her mother, who secretly envied her daughter, comforted him as best she could. “It will not hurt Astanrog to have a dreamer for a queen.” Astanrog, their neighbor to the west, was a great military hub, but a dark and dreary place with no happiness. Wren did not honestly know if there had ever been dreams in Astanrog, which was how she knew it was not the place for her.
The baby in her lap grabbed the blood ruby pendant that dangled around Wren’s neck and tugged, clumsily trying to bring it to his mouth.
“Oh, no,” Wren scolded gently, prying it from his fingers. “Not this.” It was the only thing she had of her late grandmother’s, and she wore it always.
Her little sister, Jae, leaned around her. “Why won’t you take it off?” she asked, fingering the latch as if she meant to remove it from Wren’s neck and put it around her own.
Wren moved the girl’s hand aside. “It belonged to Lady Gwendolyn, our father’s mother. She gave it to me just before she died, and I have worn it ever since.”
“But why?” Jae insisted.
Wren smiled. “Because it helps me keep dreaming.” She didn’t know this for sure, of course, but she thought it didn’t hurt. Her grandmother had been the greatest storyteller, and Wren hoped to be able to follow in her shoes in more ways than one.
“Don’t you want to grow up?” Finch asked from across the room where he was lining up his toy soldiers.
Wren shifted the baby off of her lap, redirecting him to a stuffed bear nearby. “Do you?”
Finch sat back and studied her with blue eyes much like her own. “Oh, yes. I cannot wait to grow up and run the estate and the lands like Pa.”
Lord Darlington had two sons in line before Finch, but she dared not say anything. Dreams were dreams, after all.
“And you, Jae?” Wren asked her little sister, who was putting the brush back on the vanity.
“I’m not sure,” she answered in that way that she had of reminding Wren that she was getting older. “Sometimes dreams can be frightening, but so can growing up, I suppose.”
Wren pulled the girl into her lap, though she was much too big for it already. “Very wise, young lady, very wise indeed,” she said, and then began to blow raspberries on her little sister’s soft belly. The girl shrieked and squirmed, giggling through it all, but Wren was careful. Jae’s lungs weren’t well and she sometimes had trouble breathing.
“OK,” Wren declared when the girl was out of breath, “time for bed.”
“But,” Jae protested, “won’t you tell us a story?”
Wren lifted the baby from the floor and tucked him in
to his crib with his bear, staring wistfully down at his cherubic face. When the dreams had stopped, so had the stories. It was as if the adults had lost all use of their imaginations. But Wren had her dreams, still, and her grandmother’s stories to pass on to her younger siblings while she still could.
Before beginning, she tucked the others into bed and crossed to the window like always, throwing open the shutters so that the nest of swallows in the eaves might also hear. There were so very many of them nesting on Darlington house, and she was sure it was because of her stories. Settling on the edge of her own bed, Wren began to speak.
“Once upon a time, there was a princess, and that princess very much did not want to marry the prince.”
Jae yawned loudly, and added, “Like you.”
Wren smiled secretly to herself. “I’m no princess.” But she couldn’t deny the rest. For the next few minutes, they went with her princess on a sea voyage, where she met pirates and mermaids, and eventually sailed away into the sunset with her pet bird and favorite sword, the captain of her own ship.
The children were quiet when she finished, and she thought them asleep, until Jae asked, “Will you run away, Wren, so you won’t have to marry the prince?”
As she considered how to answer, she felt her age more than ever. “Everyone has to grow up, even me.”
“I don’t think I will,” Jae said, her voice fading. “Dreams are not all bad, not if you’re here with me.”
Wren felt the objection on her tongue but she kept it to herself as her sister’s breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep. A breeze caught the curtains by the open window and sent them fluttering. The cold air tickled Wren’s skin as if beckoning her.
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