The words cut deep but Briar forced herself to smile. "That sounds nice."
"Promise?" Allegra held out her pinky, the way she had when she was little. When promises were sacred and breaking them was the worst thing imaginable.
Briar linked their fingers, the lie burning worse than any mark. "Promise."
"Cool." Allegra jumped up, energy restored. "Race you to that piece of driftwood!"
She took off running, ponytail streaming behind her. Briar followed slower, memorizing every detail—the sound of her sister's laughter mixing with ocean waves, the gray-green light that turned everything soft and dreamlike, the way Allegra still ran with her arms spread wide for balance.
The rain started as soon as they reached the car, fat drops that became a downpour within minutes. Allegra shrieked with laughter, dancing in the parking lot as she got soaked.
"Come on!" Briar called. "You just got out of the hospital!"
"It's just water!" But she climbed in, shaking her hair and spraying droplets everywhere. "See? Sister beach day. Already an adventure."
They drove home through the storm, Allegra dozing against the window. The mark on Briar's wrist pulsed steadily, a countdown she couldn't stop.
Less than two days left.
And no amount of pure iron in the world could change that.
Chapter four
The house settled into evening quiet. Allegra had crashed after dinner, exhausted from their beach trip, but fighting sleep until June promised she'd be there when she woke up. Their mother now sat in the armchair beside Allegra's bed, reading by lamplight and standing guard against nightmares both real and imagined.
Briar sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by the physical evidence of her desperation. Library books spread in a semicircle around her. She’d already gone through Folk Tales of the Pacific Northwest, Iron in Mythology and The Complete Grimm's Fairy Tales with nothing to show for it. Her laptop balanced on her knees, twenty-three tabs open to increasingly obscure websites. A legal pad filled with useless notes lay beside her, each crossed-out idea marking another dead end.
Name magic???It was crossed out. She didn't know his true name. Eliam could be anything.
Challenge to a game?Also crossed out. That was Rumpelstiltskin, and she had nothing to wager.
True love's kiss breaks all curses. She had scratched that one out so hard the pen had torn through paper. This wasn't a Disney movie.
On her wrist, the mark pulsed, a steady rhythm that had become background noise to her thoughts. She'd caught herself rubbing it twice, stopping only when the thorns seemed to press back against her fingers.
Her phone showed 11:24 PM which meant she had only twenty-eight hours left.
She opened a new search:goblin king folklore Pacific Northwest
Nothing useful. Tourism sites about local legends including a badly designed webpage claiming Bigfoot was actually a goblin king, which honestly would have made her laugh a few days ago.
fae contract law historical precedent
Academic papers about the symbolism of fairy tale bargains, a Reddit thread about D&D rules, but nothing helpful about breaking real bargains with real creatures that shouldn't exist.
She picked up one of the library books, flipping through yellowed pages for what felt like the hundredth time. In it were stories of clever girls who outwitted magical beings, but always through tricks established early in the tale: a golden thread that could bind anything, a mirror that showed true forms, riddles with one answer.
She had none of those things. Just a mark that burned and a sister who trusted her to fix everything.
Her phone buzzed, startling her. The screen showed a text from her manager asking if she'd be at work tomorrow. Briar stared at it until the words blurred. Work. Making lattes for tired, grumpy commuters while smiling from behind the counter in her green apron.
Family emergency, she typed back. Need a few more days.
It wasn't a lie, not really.
She pulled the legal pad closer, flipped to a fresh page. The pen trembled in her hand.
Dear Ally,
