When was the last time I’d seen her this happy? This fearless?
When was the last time I’d let myself feel this light?
The answer came swift and brutal.Not since Navaire died.
The thought should have cut. Should have sent me spiralling back into that familiar darkness where grief lived and breathed and fed on moments exactly like this one.
Instead, something else rose in me. Something that felt like... permission.
He would have loved this,I realised, watching Eryx finally lose his grip and tumble into a pile of hay, immediately popping up to chase after his former mount with delighted determination.He would have been right there with them, probably encouraging the most dangerous stunts possible.
“How are you feeling?” Darian asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp with genuine concern. “Now that your fae form has had time to settle, I mean.”
I rolled my shoulders, testing the strange new strength that hummed beneath my skin. “Odd,” I admitted. “Everything feels... more. Like I’ve been looking at the world through dirty glass my whole life and someone finally cleaned it.”
Darian grinned. “Well, it suits you. You look less like a wild skathra, at least.”
I blinked. “I don’t know what that is.”
“They’re basically feral skeletons that haunt forests,” a voice said behind us, dry amusement threading through the words. “So it’s a good comparison.”
I glanced back to spot Brynelle approaching, her iridescent wings folded neatly behind her, magenta-streaked braids catching the light.
I snorted. “So I’m a feral skeleton?”
“No,” Darian said, though his grin suggested he was enjoying this far too much. “But you did look like one when you first arrived. All hard edges and hollow cheeks, ready to bite anyone who got too close.”
“Well,” I shot back. “You spend a year on the run with a three and six-year-old and see how you look.”
Darian mock-shuddered. “No thanks. I’ll stick to my well-fed, castle-dwelling existence, thank you very much.”
A fresh wave of chaos erupted from the training ground as Mireth discovered she could get one of the hatchlings to breathe actual fire—tiny puffs of flame that sent Eryx into raptures ofdelight. The bronze hatchling looked immensely pleased with itself, puffing up like a scaly rooster.
“They’re going to burn the castle down,” Brynelle observed mildly.
“Probably,” I agreed, making no move to stop them.
Movement across the field caught my eye. A woman stood watching the chaos with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, her long, light brown hair cascading in waves past her shoulders, strands catching in the dappled light like spun gold interwoven with chestnut and honey. They framed a face that was gentle, but not fragile—alabaster skin, high cheekbones and a mouth that hinted at wisdom shaped by both kindness and sorrow.
She was beautiful in that devastating, effortless way that made you forget to breathe for a moment.
“That’s Eilrys,” Darian said, following my gaze. His entire expression had gone soft, reverent. “My mate.”
The wordmatecaught in my mind. The term had come up in the old fae fables I’d heard as a child, tales whispered by the wind and passed down in stories, where it was said that some fae were bonded in a way that went deeper than friendship or even love.
Brynelle drifted a few steps away, her attention caught by something none of us could see—a butterfly, maybe, or the way light fell through the leaves. She hummed under her breath, the melody strange and haunting.
“Mate?” I asked, the word sitting strangely on my tongue.
“It’s… complicated,” he admitted. “A bond. Powerful, lifelong. Not a choice, exactly. It finds us.”
Ice skittered under my skin. A bond that found you. A bond you didn’t choose. I forced my breath to stay steady. “So, what, you’re just bound to someone forever? You just wake up one day and that’s it?”
Darian chuckled at my obvious horror. “I mean, it’s not always instant. Sometimes it can take time to settle, years before it’s felt. For others, it’s immediate—like lightning.”
Brynelle paused in her humming, something darker flickering across her features. “Sometimes it never settles at all,” she said, the statement carrying a weight that made both Darian and me glance at her.
“It’s not a choice,” Darian added, either not catching the shadow in Brynelle’s tone or choosing to ignore it. “But for most, it’s a good thing. The best thing.”
