Dax nodded slowly, his mind already working through the logistics. They had the materials in their workshop and the skills to create something worthy of her. As they carefully lifted her body and carried her back to the cottage, Gage felt a strange sense of purpose cutting through his grief. They would honor her properly.
The next few hours passed in a blur of activity. They worked through the night. Grief gave them a terrible, manic energy. They mined the purest vein of crystal quartz they had. They worked the gold they had hoarded for years, melting it down to frame the glass and adorned the sides with gems and jewelstones of many colors. They built her a resting place not of wood and nails, but of light and treasure. Dax stood back to admire their work, his expression thoughtful. “She's a princess,” he declared finally. “She deserves a royal funeral. We should take her to the castle.”
“But not Queen Liora's,” Gage said quickly, the words surprising even himself.
“The castle to the west,” Dax agreed. “It's farther, but it's the right choice.”
They prepared for the journey with solemn determination. Dax would ride ahead on Grimm to arrange the funeral proceedings with the king, while the rest of them would carry Shay's glass coffin. They would walk the long distance together, giving her the procession she deserved.
As they set out the next morning, the sun rising behind them, Gage felt a strange sensation of being watched. He glanced around but saw nothing unusual. Unbeknownst to any of them, Hunter followed at a distance, his presence hidden by the early morning mist.
The journey was long and arduous, but the men carried their burden with unwavering dedication. At night, they camped under the stars, taking turns keeping watch over her. Each man spoke to her in quiet moments, sharing memories and promises, as if she could still hear them–Harry telling her jokes, Drew humming songs, Bennett professing her beauty even in death, Silas lamenting the loss of his spooning partner, and Gage whispering apologies. They walked through wind that howled like their own grief. They walked through nights where the only light was the moon reflecting off the glass of the coffin.
When they finally approached the western castle, they found preparations already underway. Trumpets sounded as they entered the grand courtyard, their procession drawing the attention of courtiers and servants alike. The coffin gleamedin the sunlight, showcasing Shay's ethereal beauty to all who passed. A rumbling of gossip and rumor rose from the crowd as the men passed by with the coffin atop their shoulders. Whispers of the beauty of the coffin itself and the girl inside. “The princess,” they heard, “Wilhelm's heir.”
At the front of the courtyard, near the grand steps where the king awaited them, the procession paused, and as tradition demanded the men carefully opened the coffin lid to allow the final blessings to be spoken directly over Shay's body. The king himself—a distinguished man with kind eyes, a fur cloak, and silver-streaked hair—stood to receive them. He had clearly been briefed by Dax, for his expression was one of genuine sorrow.
As he spoke to the crowd, giving honor and reverence to a neighboring ruler's lineage, his words were drowned out by commotion from the king's son.
Prince Jacob sat astride a magnificent grey horse, dressed in a pristine white riding coat that seemed to glow in the sunlight. His golden hair was perfectly styled, his posture regal yet approachable. No longer a boy, he was handsome, noble, and beloved by his people.
As the procession stood at a halt, Prince Jacob's gaze fell upon the glass coffin, and his breath left his lungs in a rush. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though she was. It was a sense of recognition. He stared at the girl in the intricate coffin, heartbeat quickening. He dismounted with practiced grace, eyes never leaving the girl's lifeless face.
There was something in his expression—surprise, wonder, and a deep, aching longing. He moved closer, his steps measured but urgent, until he stood directly beside the coffin. The men bristled, hands going to their weapons, but Dax held up a hand. “Wait,” Dax assured his men.
Jacob knelt by the coffin. He looked at her closed eyes, her dark hair. Then his gaze dropped to something shiny at her neck.His eyes widened as he noticed the simple necklace—a delicate cord with a small silver pendant. His hand touched the matching falcon embossed in his chest plate. Recognition dawned in his features, followed by a look of profound emotion. “This is her,” he whispered to no one, his voice filled with awe. “The girl from the stables.”
Bennett, noticing his matching falcon chest plate, and feeling hope and heartbreak at once, confessed, “She wore it every day. She cherished it. She said it was a promise.”
Jacob looked at Bennett and then back at her. His heart beat louder. He had looked for her in every ballroom, in every court. The men exchanged confused glances, but before anyone could ask what he meant, the royal chaplain began speaking the funeral rites.
Ignoring the proceedings, prince Jacob stooped forward, his hand reaching out to gently cup her face. His eyes filled with tears as he looked down at her, his expression one of heartbreaking tenderness. “I've dreamed of your lips since that day,” he crooned, his voice barely audible but carrying clearly in the hushed courtyard. A feeling of regret and action washed over him at once. Before he knew what he was doing he leaned down and kissed her cold lips in a gesture that surprised everyone present.
For a moment, nothing happened. The prince lingered, his lips pressed gently against hers, his hand still cradling her face. The crowd held its collective breath, some turning away in sorrow, others watching with morbid fascination.
Then, something extraordinary occurred. A warmth began to emanate from where their lips met, subtle at first but growing stronger. Prince Jacob felt it immediately—a softening, a responsiveness that hadn't been there before. He pulled back slightly, his eyes wide with disbelief. At that very moment, colorreturned to the dead girl's cheeks, and Shay's eyelids fluttered open.
Her gaze was hazy at first, clouded by the lingering effects of the poison, but it cleared quickly.Where am I? What happened? Who is this—is that…?
She blinked again as she tried to focus on the face above her. Recognition sparked in her eyes, followed by confusion, then amazement.
“You? You're…you're alive,” Prince Jacob breathed, joyful and relieved.
Shay blinked slowly, a small smile forming on her lips. “I think I'm dreaming again,” she whispered.
The courtyard erupted in cheers as the reality of the miracle sank in. The men who had carried her so faithfully stared in stunned shock, their grief transforming instantly into overwhelming happiness. Even the king looked astonished, though a proud smile soon spread across his face.
Shay's eyes searched Prince Jacob's face, her expression filled with gratitude and something deeper. “I've dreamed of you. All this time,” she said softly, “I never even knew your name.”
“You must be Princess Shay, daughter of King Wilhelm,” he replied, his voice warm with affection. “And I am Prince Jacob.” He took her hand gently, helping her sit up in the coffin as the crowd continued to cheer around them. “I never stopped thinking about you,” he confessed, his eyes, still full of amazement, never leaving hers. “Even when it didn’t make sense.”
Tears welled in Shay's eyes. She reached up to touch his face, as if confirming that he was real—thatshewas real. “I've thought of you too—so often,” she admitted. “I wore your necklace every day, hoping I might see you again.”
Again, action overtook logic and Jacob leaned in quickly for another fast kiss, as if his lips would cement her in life.
Shay’s gaze flew past the prince’s shoulder, latching onto the six men who were slowly retreating toward the gate, eyes on the ground, heartbroken.
She scrambled to sit up further. Panic spiked in her chest. “No! Stop! Don’t you dare,” she cracked, her voice fierce and breaking. “You cannot leave me now,” she cried.
