"Medical miracle." June's voice drifted from the kitchen where she was making tea—real tea from loose leaves, not the hospital sludge they'd been surviving on. "That's what she called it."
Briar sat at the dining table, laptop open, fingers hovering over the keys. The mark on her wrist pulsed warm beneath her sleeve, a constant reminder. Two days left.
"Bri, come watch with me," Allegra called. "I'm picking between terrible rom-coms."
"In a minute."
She typed:how to break a bargain with the fae
The results were useless. Blog posts about Irish folklore. Reddit threads from role-playing forums. A WikiHow article that suggested leaving out milk and honey as appeasement.
fairy tale contract loopholes
More nothing. Disney movie plot summaries. Academic papers on the symbolism of deals with supernatural entities. Her jaw tightened as she scrolled, clicked, scrolled again. Each dead end made the mark throb harder.
"Briar." June set a mug of tea by her elbow, voice low enough not to carry to the living room. "What are you doing?"
"Research."
"On?"
Briar glanced toward the living room where Allegra had settled on some movie with terrible CGI dragons breathing pixelated fire. "Just... checking something."
June's hand settled on her shoulder, gentle but knowing. The weight of it said everything. "There's no loophole. Trust me. I looked for twenty-five years."
The words sat heavy between them. On screen, someone screamed about destiny. Briar took a sip of tea to avoid responding, but her mother's hand squeezed once before letting go.
"I'm making Allegra's favorite for dinner," June said, louder now in her normal voice. She was playing the role they all needed. "Mashed potatoes and chicken fried steak!"
"Can we have gravy too?" Allegra piped up from the couch.
"Of course, baby."
Briar tried new searches.
goblin king mythology Oregon
forest spirits Pacific Northwest
how to escape deals
Each result was more useless than the last. Her fingers moved faster, clicking through more pages of nothing.
pure iron protection fae
This pulled up something halfway useful—an article about traditional protections. Iron disrupted fae magic. Salt circles. Running water. She grabbed her phone, searched for iron suppliers in Portland.
"Whatcha doing?" Allegra had appeared at her shoulder, moving with the silence she'd perfected sneaking midnight snacks.
Briar slammed the laptop closed. "Nothing. Work stuff."
"You're being weird." But Allegra said it with a smile, already turning away. "Mom says dinner in twenty."
The evening passed in forced normalcy. Allegra chattered about everything she'd missed while sick—school gossip, a new song she wanted to learn on guitar, plans with friends now that she was better. June watched her younger daughter with desperate intensity, cataloging every gesture, every expression.
Briar pushed potatoes around her plate and made the right noises at the right times. The mark throbbed with each heartbeat, counting down with metronomic persistence.
Later, after Allegra had fallen asleep on the couch and June had ushered her to bed, Briar sat in the dark with her laptop.
