Chapter 11

ChapterEleven

Their house was filled with the sweet smoke of burning pine needles and cedar logs. Thea sat at the kitchen table with her mother and two sisters, laughing as they each picked through the mound of food in front of them.

Yule was always about food, small gifts, and rituals to welcome the sun’s return.

She loved this time of year. Yes, of course, she was ready for the sun to come back and the snow to melt away. But this was the time when they all got to celebrate the return of longer days, warmer weather, and soon everything would be green again.

They’d already exchanged their own gifts. This year, Thea had chosen Marigold. She’d painted her sister the prettiest new vase for all the flowers they would create. And Belladonna had chosen Thea, so she’d received a brightly colored felt hat in every shade of purple. Her favorite color.

It was the first year Thea was old enough to drink the hot buttered rum her mother had always made for Yule. Surprisingly, it tasted much better than she’d thought. Thea still remembered Marigold trying it for the first time last year and declaring it was far too bitter and burned her throat. But Thea kind of liked the burning.

Belladonna snorted into her cup. “Drink that slower, little sister. You’ll wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

Was she drinking it too fast? Thea laughed into her own cup and then set it far away from her so she wouldn’t be tempted to gulp more of it down.

“You’ve got a mustache!” Marigold chortled.

A mustache?

Thea wiped away the foam on her lip and endured her sister’s laughter. Even her mother grinned at her, and the happiness of the moment felt so warm. It heated her right into her very bones. Or maybe that was the buttered rum.

“It’s Yule,” her mother said, reaching across the table for Thea’s hand. “You drink as much as you want. But I can’t promise Belladonna is wrong. Your head will hurt in the morning.”

They all dissolved into giggles around the table, and Thea was reminded of how much she loved this family. How much she never wanted to leave them or any of them to leave her. They should stay like this. Forever.

“Oh!” Thea stood up from the table, then braced herself on the edge. “I forgot! The quill shop owner gave me something for you, Belladonna. He said to tell you Merry Yuletide.”

“The quill shop owner?” Belladonna blinked at her. “Why would he have given you a gift to give to me?”

Thea shrugged. “He said you helped him out with something, I don’t know. Hugo isn’t the most chatty person I know.”

Immediately, the other two women in her family descended upon Belladonna like a duo of wolves. They wanted to know everything about her interactions with the quill shop owner. Was he sweet on her? Had they been talking for a while now, or was this a rare thing that even Belladonna hadn’t expected? He seemed like a kind young man. He’d even offered to give Thea the quill for nearly free.

She left their chattering behind her and weaved down the hallway toward her room. It was now a curved hallway, like the body of a snake, all the way to the end of her room where she had slept alone the past few nights. Dear Browning had taken her gift all the way to Alistair, and he had yet to return. She hoped he was all right, considering how awful the snow had been on the night she sent him out.

Sighing, she rubbed the back of her neck and strode into her room. She almost didn’t notice the two pairs of eyes watching her until the very last second. Thea gasped and leaned away from the window where both Browning and Atlas must have let themselves in.

“You two!” she said, fanning her suddenly hot face, which tingled from fear. “What are you doing here?”

They both blinked at her again, but then Atlas lifted his foot. A small bag hung off it, wrapped with a black ribbon and a letter attached at the end.

Of course. They were here because Alistair had gotten her gift, and he wanted to say thank you. But she hadn’t expected to see an answering gift attached to his familiar’s leg.

Had he gotten her something the same way she had? Did he see something in a store and think of her?

Her cheeks burned. The likelihood of that was very small. She had no reason to assume that he thought of her in any way other than as the strange pen pal he’d had for almost two years now.

But still. She liked the idea of him thinking about her. Maybe even more than just waiting for a letter.

Crossing the room, she forgot all about Belladonna’s gift. Instead, she pulled her own from Atlas’s leg and opened up the letter.

You surprised me!

I didn’t think we were getting each other anything for Yule. To be honest, my family doesn’t do much for it. My father will have a few gifts, but mostly that’s up to us to celebrate how we want to celebrate it.

Thank you for thinking of me. I’m writing this letter with the new quill, and it is just... exquisite. You’re so thoughtful, and I wish I could say the same about myself.

But, I will be honest. Browning and Atlas helped quite a bit in the design of your gift. You should thank them both with a sweet treat (Atlas craves caramels most days).

Anyway, it took me a while to make your gift, so I’m sorry it’s a bit later than you might have expected. But it’s a way to give you a glimpse of how I see the world.

I hope that’s something you’d like.

Yours,

Alistair

“Yours,” she whispered, then pressed the letter to her heart.

She didn’t mean to let herself get so far into this. Writing back and forth with Alistair was supposed to be nothing more than making another friend who lived across the river. But the more she wrote to him, the more she built him up in her head.

He had to be handsome, of course. She remembered him as being a little on the thin side, but those freckles had caught her attention. She wanted to count each one until she knew the specific number.

Her hands shook as she opened up the bag and dumped out a tiny necklace onto her palm. It was a thin vial of metal, like a tube. One side had been slightly crushed, so it was thinner than the rest. Holding it up to the light, she noticed a few tiny holes drilled into the thin pipe.

“What is this?” she whispered.

Atlas nudged her hand closer to her mouth, and she realized it was a recognizable shape. It looked like a miniature flute or perhaps a whistle.

Holding the necklace up to her lips, she blew upon it and watched as the world in front of her changed. The whistle made no sound, but it didn’t have to make a sound for the magic of this gift to unfurl.

The world suddenly seemed dusted with tiny sparkles. She peered out the window and noticed snowballs were rolling themselves. Then, as she looked closer, she realized there were tiny beings rolling the snow into little snowmen that would end up outside. Her mother had always said the snowmen were made by brownies, but now she could see them!

Tiny creatures with little woolen caps tromped through the snow outside her window. They’d come up to her knee if she stood beside them, and each one was more lovely than the last. Their long fingers were covered with little mittens, and they wore knit dresses.

Thea let out a little sound of surprise as she recognized the colors of the yarn. She’d had so many pieces of yarn going missing lately, but she’d always assumed that she had misplaced them on her own.

Each one of those brownies wore an outfit made of her yarn. And they all looked so happy. A new one appeared through the snow. It trudged closer to the others while holding up a raspberry she’d left out overnight for them. One of the sisters always left a gift for the fae. Cream, berries, sometimes a pile of sugar. No matter what, they always knew to take care of their house fae.

And they were so happy dancing outside while the snowflakes fell.

The moment her lungs ran out of air, the faeries disappeared again. Frantically, she inhaled and then blew again. The moment she used the silent whistle, she could see them.

“What a gift,” she whispered, then blew on it again.

This time, her attention turned to the familiars in her room. Shocked, she watched as Atlas blinked his eyes, and a third one appeared in the middle of his forehead.

“Were you hiding that?” she asked.

He squawked, then gave her a low bow. He apparently had finished his duty because then he hopped over to the window and pecked at it.

She knew it was Yule and that Atlas would want to be with his own witch. And poor Alistair was alone tonight while he waited for his familiar to return. She’d known that this would be a difficult holiday for him. She just hadn’t been able to guess how difficult.

“Oh!” She pulled the door to her bedside table open and fished out a little caramel candy. Her mother had given her a whole bag of them, though she’d nearly devoured them already. “Here. For the flight home.”

Atlas grabbed the candy, gave her a nod, and then flew out the window the moment she opened it.

She couldn’t help herself. Thea blew on the tiny whistle again and watched as the brownies pointed up at Atlas and giggled. She caught the slightest hints of their words. How pleased they were that the youngest daughter was talking with a boy. How even that worried them, because they all had such a soft spot for Thea.

Eventually, she couldn’t look at them any longer. Thea gathered up Belladonna’s gift from her own beau and then tucked Browning into the sling around her waist. He dramatically flopped onto his back with a webbed hand over his eyes.

“Yes, I’m certain you are tired,” she said with a soft giggle. “You’ve had quite the journey! I’m sure mother will have something sweet for you to eat, though. Only the best familiars get sugary treats during Yule.”

She wandered into the kitchen with the gift in hand. Without even looking up from Browning, she handed Belladonna the package.

Her sisters were still talking about the possibility of a romance blooming between Belladonna and the quill shop owner. Marigold’s rabbit sat in her lap; her eyes rolled back with the luxury of having her ears pet. Her mother’s cat stalked through the house with its fur fluffed as though hearing something in the walls.

Thea listened while her sisters revealed more secrets about Belladonna’s mystery man. Hugo wasn’t from either Wildecliff or Waterdown. Which made him a little interesting in these parts, considering they rarely saw someone out of either town.

Thea stroked a finger between Browning’s eyes, and he let out a happy little grunt at her touch. He’d gone a long way for her, through the snow even, and that wasn’t natural for a familiar of his species. But he’d still done it, and she didn’t know how to thank him for that.

“How did I get so lucky to have a familiar like you?” she asked.

“Because Ceridwen saw how kind your heart was,” her mother replied. Máthair scooted her chair over to the same side as the table as Thea and looked down at Browning with her. “The goddess knew my daughter knew how to love regardless of appearance, and that no one else would have given him a life like you.”

“Máthair,” Thea said, followed by a giggle that she hoped sounded kind. “He’s a good familiar. I don’t have to be kind for him to be good.”

“You do. Some familiars will even leave their owners if they are not respected enough.” Her mother touched a finger to Browning’s nose as well. The soft boop made the toad snort. “I am ever so proud of you, daughter of mine. Now I do believe you have your own gift in your other hand, do you not?”

Thea narrowed her eyes at her mother. “Have you been spying on me?”

“The brownies tell me everything.” Her mother winked, even though that gave away nothing.

Her mother couldn’t see the fae. The brownies were no more talking to her mother than they were talking to Thea. Or at least, before the gift of the tiny whistle.

Still, she knew better than to keep a secret from her mother. Thea opened her hand and showed her mother the little handmade gift. Of course, her mother took it. No magic existed in this house without her knowing about it.

Considering the last time Marigold brought in an enchanted teapot it exploded green goo all over the kitchen, Thea couldn’t blame her.

“This is well made,” her mother said. “Who did this?”

“Alistair. He said he made it himself.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you blow into it, you can see the realm of the fae. Like he does. That’s his power, although I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you that.”

Her mother’s eyes widened with every word. Hesitantly, she placed the whistle to her own lips and blew into it. Still, Thea couldn’t hear a sound. It was as if the air went into the whistle, and that was the price to see into the faerie realm. The breath from her lungs created the magic. Or perhaps fed it.

Considering how much her mother’s eyes were darting around the kitchen, Thea could only assume they weren’t alone.

Finally, her mother stopped and then handed the whistle back to Thea. Her hands were shaking. “Keep this very safe, daughter of mine. There are plenty of people out there who would love to get their hands on that.”

“Why?” She lifted the necklace over her head and hid it underneath her clothes. “It just shows you where the brownies are. And we all know they exist.”

“Not all of us,” her mother whispered. “There are some who would stop at nothing to look into the other realm and greet the gods and goddesses on their own terms. Those are the people to watch out for, my daughter. And if they know you have magic like that, I fear you may be in grave danger.”

Thea felt all the blood drain out of her face. She held her hand over the gift where it hid beneath her clothing, but... some part of her still wasn’t afraid of it. Not yet, at least.

Alistair had given her the whistle. He’d made it. It couldn’t be that dangerous.

Could it?