“That crazy old woman is growing on you, isn’t she?” He says with a faint frown. “She’s lucky.”
“Maybe one day you’ll learn to tolerate her,” I tease as we begin to walk toward the dining room.
He grunts. “A cold day in hell.”
The corridors of NightShade stretch ahead of us, candlelight blooming along the walls as we pass, one flame lighting the next like the manor is guiding us forward. The floor beneath my feet is warm, and I get the sense that the house knows this moment matters.
Liz falls into step beside us. “There you two are.” Her gaze flicks briefly to my neck before she grins. “I’ve heard rumors of a feast. Hope you’re hungry.”
“Famished,” Archie says cheerfully, slipping out of a shadowed alcove.
I stop short, blinking at the space he emerged from. Nestled beneath a wide window is a small bench and a tiny wooden door I’m positive wasn’t there before.
“Where did that come from?” I ask.
“The Keep isn’t the only magical house,” Archie reminds me. “NightShade just doesn’t show off as much as you described The Keep doing.”
Right. The Keep had certainly been eager to be my best friend by the end.
As he climbs up my leg to my shoulders, I ask, “Are you sure that’s enough space?”
“I’ll mostly be sleeping there,” he says, curling around my neck like a living scarf. “Don’t worry about me.”
Fat chance of that.
We continue on, and when we reach the dining room, the sight waiting for us makes me pause. Elias and Marius are already seated on opposite sides of the table, which is strange enough until I notice the handwritten name cards resting on each plate.
Oh. Iris hasplans.
The room itself looks transformed. Fresh flowers spill from vases that hadn’t been there this morning, their scent soft and calming. Twinkle lights weave subtly through the beams overhead, glowing like captured starlight rather than anything electrical.
NightShade didn’t just prepare a meal.
It prepared a moment.
One I feel like I finally belong in.
Iris bustles in moments later, hands clasped in front of her like she’s personally orchestrated a royal banquet, which she practically has.
“Oh, good. Everyone’s here,” she declares, surveying the table with satisfaction at the head of the table. “Sit and eat. No one is allowed to discuss councils, kidnappings, or potential impending doom.”
Liz arches a brow. “That last one feels oddly specific.”
“I’m serious,” Iris says, pointing a finger at her. “Tonight is for family.”
The word settles over the table in a way that makes my chest ache a little.
I take my seat between Cade and Liz, Archie still draped around my shoulders like a living stole. Elias sits across from us, posture relaxed, eyes softer than I’ve seen them in days. Marius is a few seats down from me, quiet and watchful, but present in a way that I appreciate.
NightShade responds the moment we’re seated.
Dishes appear with a gentle shimmer—bowls of roasted vegetables, plates piled with perfectly cooked meat, bread so fresh it releases steam when Iris breaks it open. Wine glasses fill themselves with something dark and rich for those who partake, and with bubbling apple cider for everyone else, based on the sweet scent.
Archie peers down at the spread, chirring approvingly.
“I’m starting to think you might just belong here, Rowan Prescott,” Liz murmurs to me.
She might be right, but I don’t say anything back. While NightShade has begun to feel like home, I heard Cade tonight.
