I stop cold and turn to face him, anger flaring hot and bright in my chest. “Don’t.”
He laughs, a deep, rich sound that echoes around the glade and seems to make the flowers shiver. “You chose him? Of all the people in all the Mortal Realm? The bumbling mutt who looks like someone kicked his favorite toy?”
“I’m not doing this.” I spin and walk away, fury rising like a tide. How dare he judge Sam? How dare he act like he knows anything about us, about what we’ve been through?
“Starlight, wait?—”
“Don’t call me that!” I shout back, the words ripping from my throat with more force than I intended.
He follows, of course he does. I can hear his footsteps behind me, steady and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to wear down my defenses.
The forest shifts around us, responding to my agitation. The path appears beneath my feet like a gift, guiding me home with the same intuitive understanding it showed me earlier. Branches sway to let me pass without catching my hair or dress. Roots draw back from my steps so I won’t trip in my haste to escape.
Locke is still behind me, his presence both maddening and magnetic, like a gravitational pull I can’t quite resist. “Don’t be mad. I was only teasing.”
“Your version of teasing needs work.”
He hums, a sound of consideration. “Or maybe you just need more practice taking it.”
I ignore him, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, on following the path that winds between trees whose bark seems to pulse with inner light. The cottage comes into view through the undergrowth, and relief floods through me.
Then the door bursts open like it’s been kicked.
Sam barrels out like a cannonball, his body already shifting in motion, muscles expanding, canines elongating, clawssprouting from his fingertips as his wolf rises to the surface. His eyes blaze gold instead of green, and a growl is already ripping from his chest before he’s fully outside.
“Esme, get behind me.” The words are more snarl than speech, barely human.
“I’m fine—” I start, but he’s not listening.
“Who the fuck is this?” Sam demands, stepping in front of me with enough force that I stumble backward. His whole body vibrates with barely controlled violence, every instinct screaming threat, danger, protect.
Locke raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, completely unbothered by the display of aggression. If anything, he looks amused. “Easy there, pup. No need to piss on the grass to mark your territory.”
Sam snarls, a sound that would make most people wet themselves, and takes another step forward. I can see the moment he decides to fully shift, can feel the magic gathering under his skin.
“Sam, stop—” I rush around him to stand between them, one hand pressed against his chest where his heart hammers like a war drum.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Sam asks, and beneath the anger, I hear the hurt. The fear that I’ve found someone else, someone who belongs in this realm in ways he never will.
Before I can answer, before I can even begin to explain what I don’t understand myself, my mother steps through the cottage door.
Her presence fills the clearing like a storm front, magic crackling in the air around her until the very atoms seem to vibrate with tension. Her eyes are narrowed, and when she speaks, her voice carries the authority of someone who once held power in the Blue Mountain Coven.
“Locke Erron,” she says, and his family name falls from her lips like a curse.
Locke’s entire demeanor shifts in an instant. The playful mask drops away, replaced by something wary and respectful. He turns toward her and bows properly this time, the movement fluid and formal.
“Cashira.”
“What brings you to my part of the forest?” she asks, and ice forms in the syllables.
Locke straightens, and for the first time since I met him, he looks serious. Dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with charm or flirtation. “The king has summoned you and your guests.”
My mother goes very still, her hands clasp in front of her so tight her knuckles are white. She looks at me almost nervously, then back to Locke. “My daughter will not be going to court.”
He looks between the two of us, those impossible green eyes widening slightly as understanding dawns. “Well, this is a revelation. I can see the resemblance now, the bone structure, the way you both hold yourselves like queens in exile.”
Then his playful smile shatters completely, expression going hard as granite, voice like stone grinding against stone. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid a royal summons isn’t the kind of invitation you can refuse.”
