Chapter 6
The garden shimmered beneath the morning sun, dew-laced and drowsy, the air sweet with blossoms I couldn’t name.
I stood at the edge of the courtyard, half-hidden behind a rose-covered trellis, watching my children play.
Eryx was skipping with a stick he’d decided was a sword, shouting about monsters as he tore through the wildflowers with sticky fingers and the single-mindedness of a warrior king in his prime.
Mireth, of course, had Fenric. We’d been here a week now, and she’d spent every spare moment dragging him all over the castle.
The poor bastard was seated on a carved bench beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree, his black clothing dusted in petals, his dignity steadily eroding beneath the weight of my daughter’s absolute adoration.
She had braided flowers into his hair.
He sat patiently while she wove another daisy chain and launched into the latest tale of Fenric the Fierce.
I should’ve rescued him. I should’ve done something. But instead, I stood in the shade like a coward.
Because part of me needed this.
The sunlight. The laughter. My children running, not hiding. The sound of Mireth’s voice rising with excitement not fear. The way Eryx screamed at a rosebush before falling dramatically onto his back.
They were safe.
Gods, they were safe.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
I turned sharply, breath catching—
And found Darian.
All sun-drunk and loose-limbed, leaning against the edge of the trellis like he belonged in that garden. Like the wild roses had grown around him, instead of retreating from his recklessness.
His golden curls were even messier than they’d been at breakfast, wind-tangled and haloed with pollen. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to imply sin without committing to it, and his smile, gods. That smile could start wars. Or end them. Depending on the mood.
I stiffened. “Are you following me?”
He gave a lazy laugh, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stepped into the sunlight. “I actually live here, you know. You’re the one lurking behind vines like a scandalous secret.”
I glared. “I wasn’t lurking.”
“Oh, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Scandalous secrets are my favourite kind.” He winked as though we were old friends.
I turned away, refusing to dignify him with a reply. But he followed anyway.
“You know,” he said casually, “most people who’ve just crossed into the fae realm are too busy vomiting, weeping, or committing accidental murder to enjoy the garden.”
“I’m not most people.”
“I gathered.” He glanced toward the children. “They’re incredible, by the way. Fierce. Brave. Mireth already threatened to have her mother stab me if I didn’t kneel to Fenric the Fierce.”
“Sounds like her.”
“She’s perfect,” he said. Not in a way that demanded sentiment, just stated it. Fact. Sunlight warmed his features, turned his eyes to honey. “So’s the little one. Eryx?”
I nodded.
“Do they know what it cost you?”
I flinched. “They know enough.”
Darian studied me then, the grin slipping just slightly. “I wasn’t trying to pry. Just…” He shrugged, as if unsure what to do with his own softness. “You don’t look like someone who’s had time to rest.”
“Because I haven’t.”
“You could, though.” He gestured to the bench near the tree. “Sit. Watch them play. Pretend, for one stars-damned second, that you’re not in the middle of a war you haven’t named yet.”
My jaw clenched. “You think I don’t know what I’m in?”
“No,” he said, and for once, his voice was quiet. Honest. “I think you know exactly. I just think you’ve forgotten how to breathe through it.”
Mireth glanced over, spotted me, and immediately screamed “Mama!” like I’d been gone a thousand years. She dashed over, clutching something in her fist.
“Look!” she beamed. “Fenric let me use his sword!”
Behind her, Fenric looked like a man who had just been thoroughly defeated by a six-year-old tyrant.
“He gave you a stick,” I said.
“It’s a training blade,” Mireth corrected.
Darian laughed, hands on hips. “Gods save us all.”
The garden thrummed.
A pressure beneath the soil, a hum in the stone. I could feel it in the soles of my feet. In my blood.
As though the world was whispering.
I tilted my head. Stillness blanketed the air, but under it—under everything—was that low, vibrating pull.
“What is that?” I murmured.
Darian glanced over, blinking like I’d just asked him if the sky was real. “What’s what?”
I took a step forward, toward the tree where Fenric sat cross-legged beside Eryx, both of them threading flower stems into loops. “That sound. That hum. You don’t hear it?”
He frowned. “I mean, the bees are pretty aggressive this time of year.”
“Not bees. The world. It’s like…” My voice trailed off, caught on something I couldn’t name. “It’s like the garden’s alive. Breathing.”
Darian shrugged. “Could just be the crossing messing with your senses. Fae and humans don’t process the world the same, especially not right away.”
I listened for another heartbeat, the sound pressed against my awareness.
And gods help me, I wanted to answer it.
My lips parted before I could think, a wordless note building in my throat. The melody wanted to spill out of me, wanted to join whatever song the garden was humming beneath its breath.
But then Mireth came tearing across the grass like war incarnate in a dress.
“Mama!” she cried, nearly tripping over her own feet. “Fenric said he would fly me if you said it’s okay. Can I, can I, please?”
“He said what—?”
Fenric approached, already looking apologetic, his hands held slightly out like a man preparing for arrest.
“I didn’t mean to promise,” he said, his voice apologetic. “Only that I could, if you approved. I wouldn’t take her without your permission.”
My eyes narrowed. “How high?”
His lips twitched, but he smothered the amusement instantly. “No higher than the garden walls. I swear it.”
Mireth clutched my hand. “I’ll be safe. Please?”
I stared at Fenric, who stood straight and still, a perfect portrait of confidence.
“I swear on my wings,” he added.
Gods. That sounded serious.
I exhaled slowly. “Fine. But if you so much as tilt her toward a roof tile, I will personally shoot you out of the sky.”
His mouth twitched again, but he nodded. “Understood.”
Mireth squealed in delight. “Yes!”
And then—
Wings.
With a sound like unfurling silk and a sudden snap of motion, they exploded from Fenric’s back.
I jumped. Not outwardly—I had some pride—but my heart did try to flee through my ribcage.
The fabric of his shirt didn’t even ripple.
How? Why didn’t it tear? Did he have—was it enchanted? Flexible seams?
But I shoved the thought aside. Because his wings were breathtaking. Massive, blood-red feathers that caught the sunlight and shimmered with veins of molten gold. They were weapons disguised as beauty. And as they spread to their full, impossible span, Mireth clapped her hands in delight.
Fenric crouched, arms extended. “Ready, little warrior?”
Mireth nodded so hard her hair fell from its ribbon. He lifted her easily, one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back.
And then he launched upward—
Not far. Just enough.
They hovered. Wings beating slow and steady. Gold catching in the air like sparks. Mireth laughed. A bright, shrieking sound of pure wonder.
Eryx screamed from the ground. “Me next!”
Darian barked a laugh behind me. “He’s not getting out of this anytime soon.”
But I wasn’t watching him.
I was watching my daughter, held in the arms of a warrior I barely knew.
“You know,” Darian said, coming to stand beside me. “You could smile a little. Just once. You’ll sprain something otherwise.”
I didn’t miss a beat. “Careful. Telling women to smile is how wars start.”
Darian blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then he laughed.
“Fair. But I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “Just that your daughter is flying. Your son is pretending to be a dragon. You’re allowed to enjoy this.”
I looked away.
Because he wasn’t wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain that joy didn’t come easily anymore. That letting myself feel it was like walking a tightrope over a pit full of memory and blood.
Fenric had crept just a little higher, wings flaring wide as he floated in slow, lazy circles with Mireth cradled in his arms. Her shrieks of joy floated through the morning air, so full of life it almost hurt to hear.
Darian was all sun and swagger and easy banter, but that was the problem. Nothing was that easy in this world. Not kindness. Not laughter. Certainly not trust.
A rustle came from the hedge behind the flowerbed.
Darian went still, the tension bleeding into his shoulders even as he kept his voice light. “You hear that?”
I nodded once. My hand was already moving to my side—no blade. Of course.
Another rustle. Closer now.
And then it leapt.
It was a wolf. Almost.
But too big. Too wrong. Its limbs were bent at angles that made my skin crawl. Like someone had built a beast from memory and gotten it just enough off to make your stomach twist.
Its fur was patchy, thick in some places, slick in others. Veins pulsed beneath its skin like something alive was writhing inside.
And its eyes—
Violet. Wide, gleaming, pupils blown so far the colour was nearly swallowed whole. And when its mouth opened, its teeth were too long, too sharp, shining like glass.
I barely had time to move.
Darian launched first, thank the gods. His body snapped into motion, freeing his sword from its sheath as he shoved me back.
I screamed Eryx’s name. But Fenric was already moving.
He dropped, wings folding as he dove.
Eryx had only just started to run, his tiny arms pumping, face twisted in fear—
Fenric snatched him from the ground in one fluid motion, wings snapping open with a crack like thunder as he caught the air again, soaring upward with both children locked in his arms.
Eryx screamed. Mireth shrieked. Fenric didn’t falter.
My knees nearly buckled from the relief—
But there was no time.