It was a strain to reach the top of the beanstalk. By the time Eve and Emrys stepped from the green stalk, Eve's arms were burning and her breath was coming in ragged gasps. She barely even recognized the fact that they were standing on a cloud. "Never ... again," she gasped out.

Emrys nodded, brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. "Agreed," he panted. "I thought I was going to fall a thousand times. I was trying to find some manner of spell to stop it."

Eve swept her hair up in a ponytail, using a ribbon she had tied around her wrist. "I guess we know what Story we're in," she said.

"Yes. Jack the Giant Slayer," Emrys agreed. He eyed Eve a little nervously. "Look, about what I said down there—I'm sorry. I assumed a lot about you, and I think I was wrong. Being from a Story without magic, learning of its existence was probably a terrible shock. And ... well, I suppose it was less of a surprise for me and Gwaine. And I shouldn't have blamed you for Ellen's death. I had way too much time to think of all the things I shouldn't have said and assumed as we were climbing the beanstalk. Forgive me."

Eve bit her lip hard, drawing blood. "Ellen was like my aunt," she whispered. "I saw her and Lana basically every day. I used to call Lana my sister. Seeing Ellen die ... seeing Lana in so much pain ... how can I not blame magic for it? I would give everything to be back in Nottingham with my parents, with Ellen alive, and not knowing about the existence of magic."

"Not all magic is evil," Emrys said.

"Maybe not," Eve retorted, "but I don't trust any of it."

The short sorcerer took a step closer to her. "Eve," he said quietly, "it's okay to cry about Ellen. Particularly when Lana's not around."

Quickly, Eve looked away, dashing a tear from her cheek. "I don't want to cry. I have to be strong, like my mother said for me to do."

"Crying doesn't make you weak," Emrys told her. "And you're grieving. You told me Ellen was like a member of your family. Who would judge you for crying about a person you cared about so dearly?"

Against Eve's will, tears started to stream down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. How could things have gone so horribly wrong? Why had it happened this way? Losing Ellen made it far too real. What if the same thing were to happen to her father? To her mother? How could she bear the pain?

To her surprise, Emrys took ahold of her wrist and gave it a comforting squeeze. "It's alright," he said. "It'll be alright."

"Ohhh, isn't this romantic?" Both Eve and Emrys looked up, startled. A dashingly good-looking young man stood there, brushing back his luxuriously curly straw-blond hair with a smirk. His nose was a little crooked, adding to his rugged charm, and his shining blue eyes had a light of good humor to them. "Am I interrupting? I suppose I should be a good chap and warn you that this place might not be so good for you to be sitting around and crying."

Emrys stood up hastily, brushing off his robes to recover from his surprise. Eve saw that his face was redder than a tomato. "I beg your pardon?" he stammered. It would appear that he was getting tongue-tied, as he'd told Eve previously. "I—I mean ... who ... who are you?"

The young man, only a few years older than Eve, smiled effortlessly. His delivery was so much smoother than Emrys's. "Me? I'm Jack. Some people know me as a giant killer. And I'm after two very particular giants, in fact. Ever since I killed my first giant, the rest of the giant world has sworn revenge against me, which means they're going to go after my mum. And I can't allow that, can I? No, sir."

"You're the giant killer?" Eve felt her eyes widen. "But, does that mean that we're ... my word, we're not in a giant's territory, are we?"

"Yes, ma'am, you are," Jack said. "And unless I miss my guess, you two must be here for his latest prisoner and dinner."

"Dinner?" Emrys and Eve echoed.

"Aye. Some black-haired bloke has gotten on the wrong side of Cormoran, I can tell you," Jack affirmed, stretching his lanky arms above his head. "Say, do you know him?"

Emrys looked like he was going to be ill. Eve really couldn't blame him. "I know him rather well. He's my—my father."

"Oh, really? He looks awfully young for that," Jack commented. "Well, to each his own, I suppose. I can take you two to him, if you want. You know, since you seem terribly unused to the concept of giant."

"That's not necessary—" Emrys began, perhaps the only part he hadn't stammered for.

Eve interrupted him. "We could use the help, thank you," she said. "I'm Eve Andric of Gisborne, and this is my ... well, this is Arthur Emrys. Everyone calls him Emrys."

Jack's bushy blond eyebrow shot up to his hairline. "Not the son of the great Merlin Emrys?" he said.

"Y-yes," Emrys muttered.

The giant killer thought about that for a few minutes. "Well!" he said at last. "It seems criminal to abandon the greatest sorcerer of The Story in his hour of need. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I let Merlin Emrys get cooked in a stew. It's just not right."

"Gl-glad you think so," Emrys said.

Jack grinned at Eve, looping his arm through hers without even asking first. "Come along, lovely Lady Andric," he told her. "The castle is this way. And unless I miss my guess, it's the pantry you'll be wanting to get into."

With Jack's amiable chatter in their ears, the three set off for the distant castle. It was even further away than it originally seemed, since it was much larger than any castle either Eve or Emrys had ever laid eyes on. The entire time, Jack kept up his monologue, never even seeming to pause for a breath. Handsome and dashing though he was, Eve was getting to be tired of his nonstop talking. She'd never been very good at listening for long periods of time to anybody, least of all a person she barely knew going on enthusiastically about giants' recipes for soup. The last thing she wanted to think about at the moment were the kinds of spices they'd cook Merlin with.

After what felt like decades, they finally reached the doors of the castle. Eve craned her head back, looking up at the massive wooden doors. "How in the world are we supposed to get in?" she asked, her voice higher-pitched than usual.

Jack laughed. "Not through the front doors, that's for sure!" he said. "There's a hole in the side. Don't ask me how it got there, but it's there, and it's how I've gotten inside in the past. Come on, then, no use waiting for the clouds to disperse beneath our feet. Dinner's getting closer all the time." He finally took his arm from Eve's, and they followed him as he went around the side of the castle.

True to Jack's word, there was a hole in the stone wall of the castle, big enough for the much-taller giant killer to crawl through. He let Emrys go through first at the sorcerer's insistence, and Eve went last. Once inside, Eve saw that they were in what looked like the dining room, judging by the massive table in the middle of the room with two chairs on either side. "My word," Emrys breathed. "This place is huge."

"Hold on," Eve said, her eyes widening. "Do you hear that?"

Not only did she hear it, she could now see it. A thudding sound was making the plates on the table tremble. Jack's face went pale, revealing the light freckles hidden on his cheeks. "It's Cormoran!" he breathed. "Quickly, we need to go!"

"We can't," Emrys said. "Not without Father!"

"Go to the table," Jack insisted. "Go now!" He grabbed Eve's hand and pulled her along behind him as they sprinted for the table. It felt hopelessly far away. Behind them, Emrys puffed in his efforts to keep up.

"Come on, Em!" Eve urged him on.

"Don't—call—me—that!" was Emrys's strained response.

"Almost there," Jack said. He barely sounded winded. "Just a little further, Evey."

"Don't call me that," Eve told him flatly.

She and Jack reached the table and hid beneath it, finding a single slipper beneath it. They concealed themselves inside the slipper. Somehow, Emrys had fallen several steps behind them just as Eve spotted a gigantic foot appear in her line of sight. Jack pulled her down into the slipper, and she wrinkled her nose. It smelled foul—like the smell of feet multiplied by the giant, who was probably twenty-five to thirty feet tall.

"Fe-fi-fo-fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman!" the giant bellowed. Eve cocked her head. Apparently that part of the book she'd read hadn't made up the ridiculous phrase the giant used.

Emrys gave a strangled shout, and she looked out to see the giant grab him around the midsection and pull him out of sight. Her eyes wide, she watched as the giant Cormoran thudded his way off again, taking the short sorcerer with him. "Jack!" she cried, turning to the giant killer. "We've got to save him!"

"I know," Jack said soothingly. "Chances are, he'll be put with his father. So it should be a simple matter of rescuing them both, particularly for a man of my talent. Come along then, Lady Andric. We've got work to do. And Cormoran to avoid."

. . . . . . . . . .

Emrys grunted as the giant tossed him into a cell and slammed the iron door shut. Unlike the rest of the castle, the dungeon was of an ordinary size, indicating its usual occupants. The floor was damp from perspiration, and there was no window to light the dank place. It was only when his cellmate spoke did the sorcerer realize he wasn't alone. "So, you're to be the side-dish, hm?"

Emrys turned, lighting his hand with a fireball. It was the only spell he could cast when under pressure, and even then, it only lit his fingertips. "Who are you?" he demanded. "You—you're not my father."

"No, I'm a little young for that," the other young man said with a humorless laugh. "I'm Morph. I got on the wrong side of Nimueh, I guess. And you are ...?"

"Emrys." If the other prisoner didn't feel like revealing his whole name to Emrys, than why should he? "What exactly are you?"

"I'm ... a demigod, I guess," Morph said, a little reluctantly. In the light of Emrys's dim flame, he thought the other looked a little familiar. His cold, clear-blue eyes seemed fairly alien in the darkness, and his black hair was sticking to his forehead. Massive black wings extended from his back, feathered and twitching with nerves. "Judging from your last name, you're a sorcerer."

"I am," Emrys said. "You were joking when you said I was going to be a side-dish ... r-right?"

Morph shook his head. "I wish. Nope. I'm going to be soup, since I'm too skinny to be anything but boiled. You've got a little more meat on your bones, so you might be an appetizer. Whatever the case, the only place the two of us are destined for is the dining room table."