Maeand the castle’s attendants have outdone themselves, preparing a banquet beneath a white-draped gazebo at the heart of the gardens. Trays gleam with sugared berries, lavender tartlets, warm bread glazed in honey, spiced lamb skewers,and chilled elderflower wine beading with silvery condensation. Lanterns hang from the branches like small, patient stars.
Mariel collapses beside me and snags a tartlet. “It’s a miracle,” she declares around her bite. “Or a bribe.”
“Both,” I reply, and for the first time in weeks, the tightness in my chest eases.
“Seriously, Selene, well done,”Vivianchimes in, snatching one for herself.
I finally told them my true name the morning after I told Keiren. My last secret. The last barrier standing between me and my closest friends. It feels as though a great weight has lifted from my shoulders. In some strange way, these women have become my family. My sisters.
We eat and laugh. Later, we ride gentle horses along the orchard’s edge, letting petals drift into our hair like snow. By the time we return, the tent is fuller: Goblins ferry warm plates, sprites weave sugar into delicate nets, and Mae herself floats down with a basket of still-warm rose cakes.
A shadow lingers at the edge of the pavilion. Pale green silk. The familiar tilt of a sharp chin.
But before I can call out to her, Seraphina disappears back into the keep, alone. A tug of apprehension pulls at me, but I push it aside. Today is for merriment, and I won’t let her ruin this.
Mariel, Vivian, and I circle into an easy, aching conversation—the kind that only happens at the verge of a chapter ending. Mariel speaks of the healer’s apprentice she almost married. Vivian admits she still writes letters to a soldier she’s never met. I tell them, haltingly, about Kat’s engagement—and how home can turn on you without warning.
“I love you both,” I say suddenly, and the words feel right. “We may not be related by blood, but I consider you all my sisters.”
Mariel nods, and Vivian grins.
“Good,” Vivian says. “Because I made you something.” She reaches into a small satchel and pulls out a narrow ribbon braided from three threads: red, black, and white. She sets it in my palm. “We call it avigil braid.Back home, before any great trial, we knot three truths into it and wear it on our wrist or in our hair. If you lose yourself, touch the braid, speak your true name, and the last knot will unravel the lie.”
The gesture steals my breath away. I tie the braid around my wrist and run my fingers over its edges.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Tomorrow,” Mariel says.
“Tomorrow,” Vivian agrees, squeezing my hand.
Twilight pours through the trees. The orchard smells like wet earth and promise. Beneath flowering branches, I feel the last threads of loneliness slip away. We stand together at the edge of a world that wants to unmake us, sharing bread and secrets. The vigil braid hums faintly against my pulse.
And suddenly, I know where I have to go.
I rise, gathering my skirts. “I’ll see you at dawn,” I tell them, heart quick with courage I didn’t have an hour ago.
“To Keiren?” Vivian asks, already smirking.
“I can’t. He told me that the curse prevents him from helping us the night before the Trials.”
“Selene,” she sighs, exasperated. “For someone so smart, you can be truly hopeless.” My brows knit, and she leans forward, eyes gleaming. “He saidhecan’t come toyou.He never saidyoucan’t go tohim.”
The realization hits like a spark.
Mariel winks. “Go.”
I touch the vigil braid once—Selene, Selene, Selene—and step into the gathering dark.
Every candle in Keiren’s chamber burns low, illuminating the gold-threaded tapestries. The air smells of smoke and salt and the faintest trace of him. I slip inside, heart pounding, the weight of tomorrow pressing against my ribs.
He stands by the hearth, his shirt hanging loose and open, exposing his chest, the fire painting his skin in hues of bronze and ember. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing his taut forearms. The sight steals my breath.
“Keiren…” I whisper, voice trembling.
He turns instantly, concern flickering across his features. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Before I can answer, he’s already closing the distance, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me against his chest. My hands rest over his heart, feeling the familiar rhythm beneath my palms.
