Page 25 of Heart of Mischief

“Of course we speak English, human,” said the fairy with the twists in her hair. “We’ve lived in this realm far longer than you have.” She gestured to the purple-skinned fairy. “Fjólu here speaks over thirty-five dialects of the human tongue. I speak even more.”

Fjólu made a noise of annoyance. “Only because you’ve been alive two centuries longer than I have, Mysa.”

“Of course, darling,” said Mysa, patting Fjólu on the shoulder. “You’ll reach the basic fifty before you know it.”

By the gods, thought Charlie, watching the cattiness flow between the fairies.They’re just like high school girls. Only tiny. And hundreds of years old.

Henry squeaked, bringing Charlie’s attention down to him. He looked up at her quizzically.

“What?” Charlie asked. “You know I can’t understand your question, buddy.”

“Oh my,” said Mysa’s tinkling voice. “You cannot communicate with your vätte yet?”

Charlie narrowed her eyes at the fairy. “What’s that supposed to mean? Henry can’t talk, but we do our best.”

Mysa tutted, exchanging a look with Fjólu that clearly read,classic idiotic human. She looked back at Charlie, laying a hand on her hip. “When a vätte and human become tethered, they gain the ability to communicate telepathically.”

“We…” Charlie’s eyes bulged. “What?” She looked down at Henry. “Is that true?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Well, why haven’t you said anything to me yet, then?” she asked.

“It is not a one-way street, Charlotte Hudson,” said Fjólu. “You must first open yourself up to his messages.”

Charlie looked at Fjólu sharply. “You know who I am?”

“Of course we do, sweetheart,” said Mysa. “Creatures of the forest talk.”

And älvor talk the most of all, Charlie didn’t add. “Right,” she said. “Well. Before we talk any further, can I get your guarantee that you won’t sing? I like being in the forest, but I don’t want to accidentally spend my entire life sitting on this stump.”

“Our song would not affect you,” said Fjólu.

“It wouldn’t?” Charlie wrinkled her brow. “Why not?”

Mysa and Fjólu exchanged wry smiles.

“I don’t know…” said Mysa. “The älvor’s network of information is coveted by all, but we don’t offer answers to just anyone.” She lifted a tiny eyebrow. “How much are you willing to pay for the truth?”

Charlie dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out two gold coins. She set them on the stump a few inches from the fairies. “Would this be enough?”

The älvor stared down at the coins, then looked up at Charlie.

“These coins are as big as we are,” said Fjólu. “Do you really think that they would be of use to us?”

“Oh.” Charlie blinked. She’d never known an Asgardian creature to turn down gold before. “Right. Sorry. Well…” She glanced helplessly around the clearing. “WhatcanI offer you as payment?”

“Information always works,” Mysa said. “So long as we deem it worthy.”

“Information,” Charlie repeated. She knew what they really meant. They wanted gossip—and not the kind that her classmates swapped every day in the cafeteria. They wanted Asgardian gossip.

What could she offer the älvor? They seemed to already know everything. What news could she share with them that they might not already be privy to?

“Two Valkyries visited my high school today,” she blurted, regretting it almost immediately. She was probably supposed to keep their visit a secret. Sharing it with the most gossip-prone creatures in the forest mostdefinitelydid not count as secretive.

Mysa and Fjólu shared a meaningful look.

Crap.