10
Freyja scowled at the Glass. “That’s what I would like to know. It’s like everything we did is being unraveled and time is being rewritten. I’ve studied it and studied it, but haven’t found a clue.”
A movement at the door caught Alva’s eye. Turning her head, her eyes widened as a young girl floated into the room with a tray precariously balanced on her hands. Recognizing the young Fae on loan from the Celtic Pantheon, Alva watched as she flitted from side to side, her gossamer wings shimmering as they carried her through the air toward them.
Alva smiled as the tray wobbled, but just as quickly settled without a single drop of liquid spilled from the full porcelain cups. The girl placed her heavy burden on the wooden table in front of them and immediately handed Freyja a steaming cup.
“Ariel, you did that perfectly,” Alva said. “You will have your own goddess before you know it.”
The child’s sweet smile lit up her cherubic face, and her shamrock-green eyes sparkled. She curtsied, her wings fluttering in the air behind her. “Thank you, my lady.”
Alva chuckled. “I’ve never been called that before, but thank you, Ariel.”
“Yes,” Freyja added. “You are doing a wonderful job. I think you’ve earned a small reward. How would you like to go home for a couple of days and show your mother how much you’ve learned?”
Ariel’s large eyes widened, reminding Alva of an owl, and she bit back a smile. “Oh, thank you, my lady! I would love to see my máthair and peathraichean. I miss them so much.”
“I understand missing your mother,” Lilyann said, sadness tinging each word. “How many sisters do you have?”
Ariel grinned. “Mama just had triplets.” She counted, using her fingers, as she silently mouthed the numbers. “There are fourteen total, so I have thirteen sisters—three sets of triplets and two sets of twins...then just me. I’m the oldest.”
Lilyann’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Seriously?” she asked, shaking her head. “And I thought one sister was bad.”
“The winged Fae have large families.” Freyja explained. “Unfortunately, they are still trying to repopulate after the Formorian wars almost decimated their numbers. The Celtic Pantheon hasn’t had it easy.”
“Is that why we never heard about them back on Earth—sorry, Midgard?” Lilyann asked. “We learn about the Greek, Roman, and Norse Pantheons. Oh, and the Egyptian gods.”
Freyja nodded. “Sadly, it is. After the wars, the pantheon split between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts or the Good Fae and Bad Fae.” She took a sip of her drink and frowned as if it had offended her. Waving her hand over her cup, the steam reappeared, the light-gray mist twisting into the air. She leaned forward and repeated the motion over the other two cups. Straightening, she then blew on the hot liquid before taking another sip. “Much better. Drink up before it gets cold again.”
In unison, Alva and Lilyann reached for theirs. Alva watched as her breath forced the steam away from the mug, then took a tentative sip. Rich chocolate burst over her tongue, and her eyes widened in surprise. “This is amazing—and I’m sure I’ve just added five pounds to my hips.”
Self-consciously, she smoothed the small but persistent stomach pooch, wishing she had worn her favorite skirt instead of pants. While Huldra pants were comfortable, the crisscrossed tie wrapping around her tail and ending in either a knot or bow over her lower abdomen always made her look fatter than she was. Her favorite skirt, on the other hand, draped over her hips with elegant grace and made her seem as slim as her brethren, which was important to her. She didn’t like standing out.
Lilyann scowled at her. “Seriously? You have the perfect figure. You have curves and, unlike me, breasts.” She glanced down at her own chest, a dejected expression on her face. “I’ve never had much in that department and, since meeting Charles, I hope and pray every night he doesn’t mind. I know how some men like larger-breasted women.”
Freyja chuckled. “You two are so silly. Your man loves you for you, Lilyann, not the size of your breasts. Goodness, what are mothers teaching their daughters down on Midgard?”
Deciding this conversation needed to be diverted, Alva asked, “So, my lady, what do we do now? You mentioned everything was unraveling. Maybe, if we find the first event to be changed, we can go from there. Otherwise, we would be chasing our tails—” When Lilyann snickered, she hesitated, then grinned at her friend, realizing what she’d just said. “Pun intended.”
“That’s a very good idea, Alva. Why didn’t I think of it?” The goddess scowled at the God’s Glass.
“Too close to the problem, I imagine,” a male voice said from the doorway, startling the three women, making them all jump. Alva’s and Lilyann’s wide eyes flew to Freyr’s grinning face. Freyja’s hand grasped her neck as she let out a startled squeak, which was unlike her, telling Alva just how out of sorts the goddess was. She turned on her twin with a snarl. “Freyr, show some decorum, if you please.”
Alva sucked her lips between her teeth to keep from smiling, but the antics and attitudes between the brother and sister were such fun to watch. Something she hadn’t had growing up.
Freyr bowed with a grand flourish. Holding the bow, he said, “I am terribly sorry for my social gaff, dear sister. Will you forgive me?” He straightened. Even though his face held no expression, Alva saw the sparkle of amusement in his dark-purple gaze as he watched Freyja’s nostrils flare and lips press together, as if she, too, was holding back laughter.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sure you’re not here just to vex me.”
The mirth disappeared from his gaze, and the room’s air grew heavier. “No, I’m not.” He pointed at the Glass before walking to the chair across from where Alva and Lilyann sat and dropping into it with a loud grunt. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed his beard and mustache before rubbing his forehead a few times, then let his hands to hang over each knee again. “I’m assuming you’ve seen the horror unfolding on Midgard?”
Freyja reclaimed her seat with a single nod. “I have. We were just discussing how to begin fixing it.” She threw Alva a quick glance. “Tell him your idea.” Turning her gaze back on her brother. “I think I’ve been missing out on some good advice from her over the last few years.”
Freyr fell back in his chair. “Probably. The bane of all gods and goddesses is that we don’t listen enough to those around us and, in my opinion, end up making things more difficult than they are.” He turned his dark gaze on Alva, which made her extremely uncomfortable as she fought the sudden urge to squirm. “So, Huldra, what is this amazing idea of yours?”
“All I said was to go back to the first event to be undone or changed. If we find the catalyst and fix it, then we should be able to revert history to what it was.”
Freyr stared at her a moment, then gave her an appreciative nod. “Return to the beginning. So simple.” Tilting his head, his gaze held hers. “And what do we know about this beginning? Do we even know what event started this?”