My focus narrowed. Grump’s glare, Darius’ worry, the flickering torchlight—all of it faded until there was nothing but me and the target. The queen’s painted face. Her cold, cruel eyes.
Please let this work.
I exhaled. Released.
The arrow sang through the air—a streak of gold—and embedded deep into the target with a satisfying thunk.
Right between the queen’s eyes.
I fired again. Another bullseye.
Again. Dead center.
Again. Right through her painted throat.
The cavern went silent.
I lowered the bow, my heart pounding. Had that really just happened? Had I really just done that?
Darius’ smile was slow and warm, pride shining in his silver eyes. He leaned closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “You’re amazing, Fate.” He gestured toward the bow. “You were destined to have that—whether Grump wants to admit it or not.”
I glanced at Grump.
He stood frozen, staring at the targets. Four arrows. Four perfect shots. From a witch who’d never held a bow in her life.
His jaw worked like he was chewing glass.
He dragged his hand through his hair. “You shoot better than Archer. He didn’t shoot this well when his bow chose him.”
I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say. Every time I opened my mouth around Grump, it was wrong. I felt like I kept throwing gasoline on a fire. We’d barely patched things up after our last fight—the wound still raw, the truce held together with spit and stubbornness.
He walked over to me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Something in his expression had shifted. The hardness was still there but cracked at the edges.
“You’re so much like your mother.” His voice was quieter now. Almost gentle. “She defied me as well. And she could do the impossible.”
My throat tightened. From witch to this. I didn’t know which version of him to trust.
But hearing him talk about her—even just a glimpse—made my chest ache.
I thought of how her magic had protected me. The chest. The bubble. The impossible things she’d done to keep me alive.
I just wished she could have escaped the fire.
“You’re her daughter.” He put his hand on my shoulder—heavy, warm. “And mine. Your grandfather must have sensed you. I believe he left something of himself in that weapon. He must believe in you... Fate.”
My throat tightened.
My grandfather. A man I’d never met. A king who’d died before I ever knew he existed. And somehow, from beyond death, he’d reached out and chosen me.
I stared down at the bow in my hands. The gold was warm, almost alive.
All my life, I’d had Tinker Bell. Just Tinker Bell. And I’d been grateful—so grateful—but there had always been a hollow space inside me. Questions I couldn’t answer. Where did I come from? Who was I supposed to be?
Now I had a father who was still learning how to be one. Six uncles who wore their hearts in their loyalty. And a grandfather who had left a piece of his soul behind—just in case I ever found my way here.
I blinked back the sting in my eyes.
“I won’t let him down,” I said quietly. “Or you.”
