In Fantasy

Chapter 9: Secrets in the Dark

Ingrid fled back to the glade after Hans's departure and crumpled upon the rock at the edge of the waterfall. As she wept, snowflakes apparated from above to punctuate her misery.

"Child, what happened? Where did the prince go?"

Mabbie's voice broke through the mist, if only for a moment. A sheen of light ice fractals spread out from under Ingrid, making the surface of the rock slick and glistening.

"He left."

Bulda came to sit by her, cautious of the ice, and brushed a hair from her face.

"You can tell us, dear."

Ingrid shrugged with effort, sniffling. "He said he had to go back," she replied. "That he needed to know something—but he wouldn't say what." Her nose wrinkled as she fought another onslaught of tears. "He wouldn't promise that he'd come back."

Mabbie closed her eyes. "Oh, dear."

Bulda, however, huffed. "Scoundrel! To leave our Ingrid in such a state! I would've knocked him off that horse if I'd known—"

"Bulda, that's quite enough."

The trio started at the entrance of Grand Pabbie, who hobbled towards them while holding onto his staff, his expression stern and grim.

"Grand Pabbie," said Bulda, flush with embarrassment, "I didn't know you were there. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," the elder troll pronounced, nodding back towards the clearing. "Go to the others. Tell them everything's all right, and I will be there soon for the closing incantation."

"Yes, Grand Pabbie," Bulda replied reluctantly even as she curtsied and hurried off, looking back over her shoulder with every step.

Ingrid stood up out of habit, red-faced. "Grand Pabbie..."

"There's no need to explain," he stopped her, holding up a wizened hand. "Grand Mabbie told me everything."

Ingrid swallowed. "And... how much did you hear just now?"

"Enough," he replied, his voice firm but kind. He paused at her wary look. "Do you have any idea what it is that he's setting out to do tonight?"

She shook her head. "No. But I don't think he's going to tell anyone about my magic, if that's what you're worried about."

At Pabbie's raised brow, she continued: "If he hasn't told anyone else already, why would he now?"

The troll was perturbed by the question. "Perhaps he knows enough to cause real harm."

Ingrid frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mabbie and Pabbie exchanged a brief look before Mabbie took one of the young woman's hands in her own, patting it. "We're just worried for you, dear. That's all. You said yourself that you don't know him very well, and—"

"Yes, but enough to know he wouldn't do such a thing," she interrupted. "And even if he did... what then? You really think people will believe a crazy story about some girl who lives with trolls in the mountains and has ice magic?"

"But you are not just 'some girl'—"

Pabbie raised his hand, cutting Mabbie off, thunderous caution flashing below his bushy brows.

Ingrid looked between them, unsettled.

"What...?"

"I just mean that you are no ordinary young woman," Mabbie corrected herself. "You are our precious Ingrid, the jewel of this Valley." She pressed Ingrid's hand for effect. "We promised your parents all those years ago that we would look after you when they could not, and so we have, and always will—if you let us."