Silence settled between us as we rode on, the thatched-roof cottages of Moonhollow slowly appearing in the distance. I stole another glance at Zara and smiled as I saw her eyes wide with anticipation.
We entered the village gates, the winding cobblestone streets guiding us through bustling markets and lively storefronts. Tiny shops with arched doorways lined the way, and the air was rich with the scent of spices, freshly baked pastries, and tobacco smoke curling from pipes.
Zara’s gaze darted from shop to shop, tracing the villagers' movements and soaking in the vibrant surroundings. Her eyes seemed to glow with a quiet longing, and I couldn’t help but wish we had more time to show her everything this village had to offer.
“Pixies,” I said, leaning toward her on my horse and nodding toward a market booth selling bundles of wrapped silk. Three hovered above the blankets, each no larger than a hand. Their blue-tinted skin was covered in leather, each sporting tiny daggers strapped to their side. All three had heart-shapedfaces with large black eyes and long black hair. Their delicate, translucent wings fluttered rapidly, keeping them effortlessly afloat as they watched the crowd walking by with sharp focus.
“They’re known for their fine silk and embroidery,” I continued, watching Zara as her eyes lingered on the tiny creatures. “Pixie silk is sought after by anyone who can afford it.”
Zara wrinkled her nose, no doubt remembering the attack by a few on our journey here.
I laughed. “They won't bother anyone here,” I said, winking at her, and she gave me a look that seemed to say she wasn’t too sure about that.
An ogre lumbered past Zara, its massive one eye narrowing on her as it stomped by, startling her.
This ogre was about eight feet tall, and had light colored leathery gray skin. His bulky body was large and covered in bright green moss. The moss covered the top of its head, giving him the illusion he had hair. He wore typical ogre fashion, deer skin vest and matching pants.
Zara had been staring at him and I cringed inwardly at not preparing her for the different types of Fae and creatures she might encounter. I made a mental note to do so as soon as possible.
Ogres weren’t mean; in fact, they were among the kindest creatures in these lands. But they were painfully self-conscious. This one likely thought Zara had been fixated on the mole dominating the side of his face, oblivious to the fact that she had simply never encountered someone like him before.
Sure enough, as the ogre turned away, his massive fingers brushed self-consciously against the mole, his shoulders hunching slightly.
Zara audibly gasped as we approached the center of the village. A majestic oak tree towered over the landscape, its gnarled branches stretching toward the sky like the fingers of anancient god. A grand house with a stage stood at its base, serving as the central gathering place for the community. Three faceless statues depicting our three gods—the three fates, were placed at its center. Because nobody knew what the fates looked like, and were often described differently, artists usually depicted them without faces to avoid offending them.
It'd been known throughout history for the fates to make themselves known and to intervene. Every recorded encounter depicted them wildly differently than the previous one. One encounter reported they appeared to be an old woman, another a young boy. Some have reported them as creatures or as nothing but voices in a dream. There hadn’t been a sighting or interaction reported for nearly a thousand years now, and most thought they had abandoned us. I rarely thought much about them, but lately, with everything going on, I couldn’t help but wonder what they had planned.
I led us away from the stage and toward a large wooden building separate from the other shops. A creaky wooden sign hung over the door.
“The Wobbly Oak”
The sign swung in the breeze, and smoke and the smell of meat wafted toward us from its large stained-glass door. Its image depicted a large oak tree, just like the one in the middle of the square. The door was ajar, and when we unmounted our horses, laughter and the clink of glasses sounded from within.
“I'll meet up with you later,” Jaxon grumbled as he walked past me, disappearing into the crowded streets before I could stop him. I glared after him, turning to find Zara and Dedra doing the same. My lips twitched at the sight.
“Come on, we should eat.”
Chapter 27
Zara
I glared after Jaxon, watching his broad shoulders maneuver through the crowded cobbled streets. He had sulked back again on the journey, and I wasn’t as upset about it today—not after our fight last night. Dedra had ridden next to me for most of the journey, explaining what to expect today in the village. I suspected Xavier wanted to do this because he kept glancing at me all morning.
As I recalled the previous night, a flush of embarrassment washed over me. It was stupid of me to have shown my emotions like that, especially to him.
When we had approached Moonhollow, the sight of camps had emerged on the outer edge of the forest. Their large tents had risen in the distance like looming shadows. Guards in emerald and black moved between the tents and I had seen them patrolling the outer edge of the village, just as they had at Blackrock.
Entering the village, I had kept stealing glances at Xavier. Villagers nodded or bowed in his direction, though he seemedoblivious to it. His focus seemed fixed on me. No one approached or called out to him, but the respect in their eyes was clear. Whispers of admiration trailed in his wake, and I noticed more than a few people staring at him, hoping he might stop at their stall or shop. The women, especially, seemed to swoon as he passed, their lingering gazes filled with longing. A strange discomfort had settled over me at seeing it, though I couldn’t quite figure out why.
I had mainly been alone with these men since I met them. Besides the dinner Xavier had hosted, I hadn’t seen him interact much with anyone outside his close circle. Observing how others looked upon him with reverence and desire made me see a different side of him. I kept forgetting he was a king.
I trailed behind Xavier and Dedra as we stepped into the Wobbly Oak, the village tavern Xavier had guided us to. The warm, honeyed scent of ale and wood greeted us as we entered. A bar stretched along the far wall, its polished surface gleaming beneath the soft glow of lanterns. Tables were scattered haphazardly across the room, leaving just enough space for a raised platform in the corner. A man sat there, playing a lively tune from his fiddle, but what caught my eye were the other instruments—harps, and flutes—that played along with him, strumming and plucking as if by invisible hands.
The tavern buzzed with chatter and laughter as we made our way through the busy room. Patrons and barmaids greeted Xavier as he passed, their eyes lighting up at the sight of him. Every table had a different type of creature or Fae that I dared not look at for too long. One in particular caught my eye—a hulking figure like the one I had seen while passing through the village. Its massive single eye swiveled toward me, narrowing with unsettling precision, just as the one in town had. I quickly looked ahead, keeping my gaze on Xavier's broad back.
Xavier led us to a secluded table in the far corner, where the flickering shadows of the lanterns offered a small measure of privacy. Xavier pulled out a chair for me to sit, my back to the wall so I could look out into the tavern. His hand brushed against my shoulder as he walked past, taking a seat to my right, and my mind drifted back to last night, to how Xavier had held me, how he had made me feel safe.
I caught Xavier's eye again, and for a brief moment, neither of us looked away. There was something in his gaze—concern, certainly—but beneath that, something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to confront. My heart skipped, and I quickly averted my gaze, my cheeks heating slightly. I then realized Dedra was no longer with us.
