Storm swings his massive head in my direction and stares at me for a long moment before he snorts, nudging my shoulder.
“I’ll take that as an ‘Of course, what do you take me for?’” I smile, shaking my head. Storm gives a slow, deliberate nod as if to confirm my words, then lowers his head, tearing into a mouthful of hay.
As I run the brush over his back one last time, a soft voice from behind startles me. “Excuse me, Your Majesty.”
Standing just a few feet away is a young man, his shockingly red hair instantly reminding me of Gideon. But as my eyes adjustto the dim light of the stable, I notice the differences—his skin is tinged with a bluish hue, and two small horns protrude from his unruly hair. His eyes, a piercing blue, meet mine hesitantly.
“Yes?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Would you like to see Nova?” His voice is soft, polite, though there’s an uncertainty in the way he speaks.
My lips curve into a small smile. “That would be nice.”
Placing the brush down on a nearby shelf, I give Storm a final pat on the neck before following the young man toward the stall door.
As we walk, I glance at him, taking in his features more closely. There’s something familiar about him, and after a moment, I can’t resist asking, “What’s your name?”
He slows to a stop and hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if debating whether to answer.
I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t bite, you know.”
That seems to ease him, and he smiles, though it’s small and a bit shy. “I know. I’m Gideon’s older brother, Malick.”
“Nice to meet you, Malick.”
Malick unlatches the door, stepping aside to let me through. But before I enter, I pause, turning to face him again. “Can I ask . . . What are you?”
Malick’s smile widens slightly, and there’s a hint of pride in his voice when he responds. “I’m a goblin, Your Majesty.”
I nod thoughtfully, filing the information away. Goblins. It makes sense now—the bluish skin, the horns. “Thank you, Malick,” I say, stepping into Nova’s stall, my heart lifting at the sight of her.
The walk back to the castle is wrapped in a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from our footsteps on the stone path. We cut through the gardens, the scent of night-blooming flowers filling the cool air. My magic hums softly at my fingertips, a familiar warmth sparking as I absently trail my hand along the rose bushes, brushing the petals as we pass. A gentle reminder of the magic that runs through every inch of this land.
“I’m surprised Raiden didn’t come barging into the stables to scold me.” I glance up at the moon, its soft blueish glow much more pronounced here in Faerie. It seems bigger, more ethereal, like it belongs to a different world entirely—this world.
“He did. I intercepted him,” Tristan replies.
I stop walking and raise my eyebrow in question. “I can defend myself against Raiden.”
Tristan’s lips tip up and he rests his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I know that. You’ve grown quite a bit in your time here, but I was more worried about her reaction.” He looks over at Zaria, who is currently pawing playfully at a night lily.
“Oh.”
“Come on, Princess. Let’s get you to your chambers so you can rest. The next few days will not be kind.”
I meet his gaze and swallow roughly, before falling into step with him. His presence is a welcomed comfort as we make our way through the familiar halls of the castle. Zaria pads quietly beside us, her movements graceful and calm despite the tension of the past few hours.
My heart speeds up as we approach the intricately carved doors of Maxon’s chambers. They stand tall and imposing in front of us. Too many emotions to name come rushing in like a wall of water, making me inhale sharply. Tristan pretends not to hear and reaches for the doors, pushing them open. Holding my breath, I step inside mine and Maxon’s chamber and I’m struck by the stillness that fills the space beyond. The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of a few candles, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.
“Thank you, Tristan.”
He bows. “It’s good to have you home, Princess.”
“It’s good to be back. I was so worried while I was in the Winter Court.”
Tristan smirks. “About us?”
“About everything,” I whisper, unclipping my cloak, and slipping it off my shoulders.
