When Magic Fades: Talented, #5

By Amy Hopkins

This is it. The final challenge. And boy, is it a doozy.

Emma must complete her final tasks for the Guardians -- locate and train the successor for the Horned God, so he may lay down his mantle and let a new generation lead the Fae.

The problem is, he doesn't want to. And there is one last test to be given before Emma has officially atoned for the crimes of the Talented.

With all of magic at risk, Emma must decide what is most important to her, and just how much she is willing to sacrifice for a community that has shunned her for all her life.

Please note, this is the fifth novella in the Talented series, but there is a short story that comes before it chronologically. Please read A Festive Day before embarking on this final adventure with Emma and her friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Hopkins
• Release date: Mar 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798215266694

Book preview

For my readers.

There’s a note at the end – I didn’t want to spoil anything by leaving it here.

Do you have the whole Talented series yet?

A BOGGART’S JOURNEY*

A DROP OF DREAM

A DASH OF FIEND

A SPLASH OF TRUTH

A PROMISE DUE

A FESTIVE DAY*

WHEN MAGIC FADES

*denotes short stories in this series

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Chapter One

The doorbell rang, filling my kitchen with a sweet melody. I cursed and dusted the flour off my hands, sneezing when a plume of it wafted in my face. It was an hour before guests would arrive, and I was nowhere near ready.

Snow? Can you get the door? I called, hurriedly shoving one last tray of biscuits into the oven.

I closed it with a thud and tossed my apron aside. Grimacing at the mess in my kitchen, I wondered what would be worse—to host New Year’s celebration with a disaster like this lurking behind a closed door, or the ratty old house dress I wore in anticipation of the mess I knew I would make in the kitchen.

Gibble be cleaning up, Lady. The boggart gestured at my clothes. While Lady be putting on the clean dress.

Thanks, Gib! I hurried out of the kitchen, almost colliding with Martin and Snow in my haste.

Martin grinned and raised a basket covered in a white cloth. I brought food, he said by way of explanation. I see you’ve embraced the latest fashion trends. Bee would be proud.

I socked him in the shoulder hard enough to make him yelp. Shut up, you. I’m running late and haven’t had a chance to get dressed yet. You’re running early. Go make yourself useful and clean my kitchen.

He peeked over my shoulder and winced. Was there an explosion?

We were making biscuits, Snow explained. You should see all the food Emma has made. Martin, she baked three types of cake! And Ellandra gave us a Fae recipe. It was like toffee, but it was all sparkly—

And there was an explosion. Martin shook his head regretfully. She gave me that recipe, too. I thought it was something I did wrong, but if it happened to you, too, I wonder if she wasn’t just having us on.

The glittery splotches Gibble attempted to wipe off the ceiling gave evidence of my failed attempt at crafting the Fae delicacy. "I don’t think Ellandra is the sort for practical jokes, but by the gods it made a mess."

Go and get dressed, Martin said, grasping my shoulders and turning me towards my bedroom. Snow and I will get started in here with Gibble.

I ignored Snow’s grumbled protest and hurried off to get changed. Thankfully, I had already laid out what I intended to wear. I stripped off my flour-dusted clothes and wriggled into the soft green dress Bee had made me for the occasion. It was simple, like I had asked, but elegant. More to the point, it was free of the finicky buttons or clasps that usually adorned her creations. In a few short minutes I had dressed, and a few quickly traced spells left my hair clean and styled. Just as I was fiddling with the clasps on a pearl necklace, there was a soft knock on my door.

Come in, I called. I cursed, unable to get the clasps to cooperate. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to get a swear jar.

The door cracked open, and Harrod peeked in. Hi. He noticed the jewellery clutched in my hand. May I?

I passed it to him gratefully. Harrod moved behind me, and I watched in my mirror as he carefully draped the string of pearls around my throat. The warmth of his breath on my neck sent a hot flush to my cheeks, and I had to resist the urge to wriggle nervously. Once he’d secured the necklace, I turned and gave him a hesitant kiss.

Has it only been a week since Christmas? Our blossoming relationship was fragile and new, still tinged with the awkwardness of two people who were not quite sure what to expect.

Happy New Year, Em. Harrod wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in a warm hug. When he pulled back, it was he who kissed me. It was a gentle, brief peck on the lips. I have a bad feeling we’re about to be interrupted, he murmured.

I sighed as I recognised the thunderous sound of a herd of buffalo racing up the narrow staircase leading to my door. "I sent those two out to burn off energy, not to find more and bring it home with them."

Perhaps you can put that energy to good use?

Harrod’s suggestion was a good one. I stepped out into the hallway and reached back to take his hand, pulling him along with me. If I have to face this, so do you.

He gave a long-suffering sigh, then neatly sidestepped as Lenny and Barg tore past us, coming to a skittering, sliding halt just before they crashed into the end of the hall. Barg slid off Lenny’s back and once the two had righted themselves, Barg saluted and clicked his heels together. Greetings, humans!

Lenny gave an excited ‘wuff’ and sat proudly beside his friend.

I’m so glad you’re here, Barg. I put a hand to my chest dramatically. I need a hero. One who can face the unimaginable horror of what I have to show you.

Barg’s eyes lit up. Yes, Lady! Barg will be the most harrowing hero Lady has ever seen!

I led Barg and Lenny to the living room, then pointed at the kitchen door. I could hear Martin and Snow banging pots and pans in there and directed the hobgoblin to assist. Please? I added. It would mean a lot to me, and I need Snow to go and get ready.

Barg peeked inside the kitchen, then let the door swing shut again. He heaved a sigh. Very well. It is not a chuffling chase through a dirigible dungeon, but Barg will be Lady’s most best hero and be assisting the searching and rescuing.

Search and rescue? Harrod murmured as Barg dived through the kitchen door, Lenny right behind him.

I shrugged. Let him go. Gibble will keep them in line. I paused. That, or by the time the guests arrive, I won’t have a kitchen anymore.

I could... Harrod twitched his wand—not a spell, but a suggestion.

I shook my head. A bit of hard work never hurt anyone. Besides, I have plans for you.

Oh? A grin tweaked at Harrod’s lips as I pulled him towards the dining room.

Earlier, I set the table with glistening silverware, all worked intricately by Fae craftsmen and polished to a shine only someone with Ellandra’s patience and hard work could attain. The crisp white tablecloth was smoothed to perfection, and a sprinkle of plastic glitter-shapes between fat candles gave it a touch of festive feel.

Can you... I don’t know, fancy it up? I waved my hands vaguely. I was going to buy a big centrepiece, but I ran out of time.

Harrod chuckled. It’s perfect, Em.

"But your dinner parties—" I stopped when he swept me into an embrace.

My dinner parties are stuffy and formal, with far too much pomp and ceremony, remember? Martin had bestowed those very words on him more than once. And to be honest, I had thought it myself. "This is your celebration. Your family and friends, your home, and it’s perfect."

Aww. You always know just what to say. I rested my head on his chest, breathing deeply. It was the first moment of quiet I’d had all day.

Of course, it did not last long.

Emma, did you want—oh, never mind. Martin stepped back and slapped a hand over his eyes. I didn’t see anything!

What didn’t you see? Snow yelled from another room. Were they kissing again?

Oh, gods. I dropped my arms from Harrod’s and hid my face in my hands. So much for a private moment.

Not much chance of that today, Em. Martin winked. Now, do you want my stuff in the kitchen, or shall I set it out in the living room?

I regarded him warily. That depends entirely on what you’ve brought. If it’s anything like those Fae concoctions you served up last time we visited the Duke and Duchess for dinner, you can leave them in your car, thanks.

None of you appreciate my good taste, Martin said, not bothering to mention the particular delicacies he had provided that night were inedible even to him. Nonetheless, I expected I would be catering for unrefined palates, so I stopped by the deli and grabbed a selection of cold meats and cheeses.

A spike of anxiety hit me. Did you bring food because you had a premonition? Oh, hells, it’s the roast, isn’t it? I made to dash past him to go check on the pork.

Martin grabbed my arm, pulling me up short. Nothing of the sort, Em—I swear. Just relax! I wanted to help, that’s all.

Ugh! I threw my hands up. I don’t know why I’m so worried. It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone. Right? I angled a gaze toward Harrod.

I’m sure Lord Ventrin will be perfectly happy with anything you set out, he told me with a wry grin. You’re his favourite person right now. You could even make him eat one of Martin’s horrible dishes, and he wouldn’t complain.

Hey! Martin screwed up his face in mock outrage. "It was one time. How was I supposed to know the Fae think fish-breath and sour milk is the peak of refined taste?"

Sour milk is the epitome of Fae shenanigans, I pointed out. And besides, you spend almost as much time with them as you do with us. Of all the people I know, you’re the one with the least excuse for serving up a Fae dish you’ve never tried yourself.

We’ll argue over this another time, Martin said. "Ventrin is happy as a pig in mud that he even got an invitation to the much-loved and very highly esteemed Lady Emmeline’s New Year’s Eve party. Everyone was talking about it in the City, you know."

They were? I winced. Martin, it’s not even a party. Not really. And I only said Ventrin could come because Toby begged me to invite them.

Toby’s adoption by his uncle had only come through a month ago, and despite a few hiccups in their relationship—understandable when a half-blood foster child moves in with a stuffy, high-born Lord with zero experience raising children—they seemed to get along.

Toby, however, still held a lot of grief over losing his sister, Fade, to the Other. In that respect, Snow had been a godsend. She had taken the boy under her wing, consoling him when he was upset and teaching him the ways of nobility, thanks to the lessons she had wheedled out of Harrod.

Not that Snow was a perfect student herself. In fact, she spent most of her lesson time with Harrod teasing him. About his station, his house, his clothes, and most recently, his relationship with me. He had taken it in stride remarkably well.

Speaking of Ventrin, what time did you tell him to arrive? Harrod asked.

Eight. I glanced at my watch. Which means he’ll be here in twenty. Oh, crap!

Calm down. Harrod gently took my shoulders and turned me so I looked him in the eye. You’ve never given a damn about what the First Family thought of you. Why start now?

Because it’s the first time he’s taken Toby out as his ward, I replied. "And I want it to go perfectly. For both of them!"

Our conversation ended when another round of footsteps clattered up the stairs at a hasty clip. I made it to my living room just in time to see the door burst open.

Uncle Marty! The small boy with a beaming smile was just a little bigger than the last time I had seen him and a whole lot happier.

Artie ran inside and threw himself at Martin, only to detangle himself hastily to ask where Lenny was. Rather than send Artie to the kitchen, where he would almost certainly end up a right mess, I called Lenny and Barg out. The duo appeared with all the clumsy haste I had come to expect. Moments later, the boy, the dog and the hobgoblin had disappeared into one of the back rooms that had mysteriously appeared right around the time Barg had begun spending the night.

I peeked down the stairs to see Deirdre and Dominic making their way up at a more sombre pace.

Emma, dear, I must apologise for arriving a little early. Deirdre’s usually pristine curls held a slight frizz. "Artie has been ready since seven. In the morning! He’s been begging to come all day, and I thought it might be okay if I offer to help you prepare."

It’s fine, Deirdre. I stepped back to let her and Dominic enter. Why don’t you sit down and have a cup of tea?

Any suggestion that Deirdre might have felt a bit frazzled vanished at the slender eyebrow she arched in my direction. Are you suggesting I look like I need it?

You do. Martin saved me from answering the loaded question. Come on, Didi. I’ll make you a lovely sip of lavender and Calm, or perhaps Emma has a blend called ‘Patience of a Saint’. You need it with that one. He nodded in the direction Artie had vanished.

Ever since he’s been allowed to go out in public, it’s like someone put batteries in him, Dominic said. Ones that don’t wear out.

Is he running you both ragged? I asked sympathetically. I held back a remark that Dom also looked like he had found a new lease on life in recent months. The once pale, withdrawn boy now had a healthy colour to his skin and a growing air of confidence.

Artie is certainly enjoying his newfound freedom, Deirdre said. He especially loves going out to meet people.

You can’t blame him. Dominic gave me a rare smile. Thanks for letting us come tonight, Lady Emma.

I had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair. He was old enough that it would not be appreciated. "I didn’t let you come. I wanted you to. You guys are practically family now—you know that, right?"

Mentally, I made a note to make sure I invited the boys around more often. They had visited Harrod’s a few times, and we had met at the night markets once for fish and chips, but the very fact Artie had grown so much made me realise it was not enough.

Dom smiled shyly, then leaned in for an awkward hug. I wrapped my arms around him, just long enough to make him feel welcome but not long enough that a teenage boy might regret the impulsive decision. Did you know Toby was coming, too? I asked.

Dom’s eyes lit up. Deirdre had told me the two were now fast friends, often texting each other and hanging out when they were able. Toby was older, but Dom had age beyond his years, and their status as abandoned half-bloods meant they shared a bond few would understand.

He should be here soon. With that realisation, a fresh needle of nerves poked me in the gut.

As if he could sense it, Harrod put a steadying hand on my elbow. Is there anything left to do, Em? he asked.

I quickly ran through my mental list. The table was set, the living room decorated, all the food was prepared... all that was left was to serve up the roast when it was time to eat. Assuming the kitchen is getting cleaner and not messier, I think we’re ready.

Then I’ll take that cup of tea, thank you. Deirdre shooed Martin away to go make it, then settled herself on one of the living room armchairs. I must say, it is nice to be visiting you for an occasion other than an emergency, Emma.

I can’t disagree there, I admitted. In fact, the last six months have been wonderfully quiet. Well, apart from that small run-in with the Bandersnatch.

And the gnomish bank robbery, Deirdre added. She had, of course, been the one to heal me up after I had broken a wrist tackling one of the offenders, who had tripped just at the wrong moment.

Oh, and remember that time the barrow fiend baby fell through the window and broke your toe? Harrod asked.

How could I forget? I really am the worst possible choice to have as a friend, aren’t I? Deirdre, I’m sorry I drag you here for so many emergencies.

Deirdre laughed. "My dear, I’m so