"This is..." Words fail me.
"A lot?" Lochan offers.
I nod. "In Newton, last year’s fall fair was considered exciting because they added a new funnel cake flavor."
They both laugh, but not unkindly.
"My mother would have loved this," I say quietly. "She always believed in magic, even when there was no evidence of it in our lives. She read me fairy tales every night before bed. Before they died."
Callen's fingers lace with mine. "Maybe she knew something you didn't."
The path curves again, and suddenly the trees part to reveal our destination. The palace rises before us, a structure that seems woven from moonlight and iridescence, its architecture both imposing and ethereal.
"Holy shit," I whisper.
Two guards stand at attention before massive doors that appear to be carved from a single piece of opal. Their armor shifts like liquid silver, and their faces remain impassive as we approach.
"Prince Callen," one guard says, bowing his head slightly. "The Council wasn't informed of your visit."
"The Council doesn't need to be informed when the crown prince visits his mother," Callen replies. His posture shifts subtly—shoulders back, chin raised. Gone is the playful man from moments ago, replaced by royalty. "I'm here to see Queen Maywen."
The guards exchange glances.
"Her Majesty is... resting."
"Then she can rest with her son at her side." Callen's voice is hard. "Unless you believe your authority outranks mine?"
I feel Lochan tense beside me.
The second guard steps forward. "Of course not, Your Highness. But protocol—"
"Protocol," Callen cuts him off, "dictates that the heir to the throne has unrestricted access to the queen. Or has that changed during my absence?"
The guard's jaw tightens, but he steps aside. "No, Your Highness."
"Excellent." Callen smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "We won't be long."
We continue forward, and I can't help but stare at everything we pass. The path beneath our feet glitters with flecks of some mineral I can't identify. Small creatures dart between flower beds that bloom with the most beautiful colors I've ever seen, some singing as we walk by.
"You're practically vibrating," Lochan whispers, leaning close.
"I never imagined..." I trail off, watching a fountain where the water flows upward instead of down.
A group of fae children race past us, their laughter like wind chimes. One of them, a little girl with pointed ears, pauses to stare at me before darting away to rejoin her friends.
"They can sense you're different," Callen says, his eyes scanning the grounds with practiced vigilance. "Your magic has a different signature than theirs."
"Does that make me an outsider here, too?" I ask, suddenly conscious of my plain dress. All around us, fae move with casual grace, their clothing as vibrant and otherworldly as their surroundings.
"It makes you interesting," Lochan corrects. "And potentially dangerous, which they respect."
We pass a garden where plants twist and curl of their own accord. In the center, a tree grows crystals instead of fruit, each one catching the light differently.
"My mother had that planted when I was born," Callen says, following my gaze. "Each crystal represents a year of my life.”
I stare at the tree laden with glittering crystals.
As we approach the palace proper, two more guards step forward, these with more elaborate armor and stern expressions.
