I look at him then—reallylook.
Moonlight silhouettes his form, carving him from shadow and silver. Dark hair stirs in the wind. The mist recoils around him as if giving ground. And his eyes—
Oh, stars.
Blue fire. Bright at the edges, burning like lightning trapped behind glass. Too beautiful. Too terrible.
“Who…” My voice trembles. “Who are you?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his calloused fingers brush stray strands of hair from my face, his touch impossibly gentle.
The world narrows. My limbs go weak, the night folding inward.
The last thing I feel is his hand steady against my cheek—hot enough to burn.
Then darkness takes me.
I jolt upright in bed. The fire has been rekindled, crackling gently in the hearth. Pale morning light spills through the velvet curtains. My lantern rests on the bedside table, but I could’veswornI’d lost it last night when I explored the castle. Right?
For a moment, I’m too stunned to move. What time is it? Was it all just a dream?
But it can’t be. My hair clings to my skin, still damp with dew—though that could just be sweat. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my feet touching the floor. Glancing down, I see my robe is damp at the hem and stained with grass marks.
And my arms…
I lift them slowly. Thin scratches run along my forearms, a few even dotted with dried blood.
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.
Before I can answer, Marb flutters in, balancing a tray with both hands. Her wings shimmer pale gold in the dawn light, and she looks… entirely unfazed.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” she chirps, hovering in the doorway. “I brought you some breakfast.”
I push myself up on my elbows, still half-dazed. “What… what is this place called?”
Marb’s wings flick once, scattering motes of light across the walls. “Mortals call it theOnyx Keep. But the fae and dragons know its true name.” She gives me a knowing look. “And for the record, Ididtell you not to leave your room.”
Heat creeps up my neck.
Marb smiles and lowers her voice, as if the walls themselves are listening. “The king’s Keep is called—” She pauses, letting the silence stretch just long enough to matter.
“Noctyras.”
The word settles into me like a stone dropped into still water. Dark. Ancient. A name that feels less spoken than claimed. Night-bound. Watchful.
Of course this place has a name like that.
Marb hums to herself as she helps untie the ribbon at the neck of my robe, unperturbed. She lifts a new gown from the wardrobe and holds it up for me to admire.
But I barely even notice. Because just then, something small falls from the fold of my dressing robe.
A petal. Dark, almost black. Veined in dried crimson.
As I kneel to pick it up, my eyes catch something else on the bedside table: a velvet-red rose in full bloom. Its petals gleam faintly in the firelight, as if kissed by stardust.
I lift it slowly. The stem is warm in my hand.
Itwasn’ta dream. And neither was he.
