Chapter 2
Pippa
"Look at them," I said, gesturing toward a vendor whose cart was practically overflowing with spell-lights that flickered like captured stars.
Everyone was here this morning—townsfolk from Drakehaven with their enchanted wares, Library staff hauling boxes of decorations, even a few early-arriving Guild members who'd traveled from distant realms. "All dressed up with nowhere to go. "
Tess laughed, adjusting her glasses as she followed my gaze. "Tradition's tradition. No one sets up until the Solstice Keeper is named."
"Mmm." I tucked a wayward curl behind my pointed ear, my stomach doing little nervous flips.
Every year, I watched this same scene unfold—the anticipation, the reverent waiting, the moment when someone was chosen to shoulder the responsibility of the entire festival.
Usually someone older, more established.
A senior staff member or respected Guild leader.
Someone with gravitas and unshakeable composure.
Not the pixie who turned serious meetings into impromptu comedy shows.
Not the one who'd been caught way too many times using her magic to make the ancient texts glow in rainbow patterns just to see if she could.
Not the woman who'd spent the last few months feeling restless and disconnected from the very traditions that surrounded us.
"Speaking of traditions, shouldn't you be off somewhere with your collection of brooding men? I swear, Tess, you've got half the supernatural world wrapped around your finger these days."
She bumped my shoulder with hers, grinning. "Says the pixie who's been buried in romance novels even more than usual lately. What is it now—three this week?"
"I have not been—"
"Please. I saw that stack on your desk yesterday. And don't think I didn't notice you hiding that particularly steamy cover behind your research notes." Tess's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Not that I'm judging. I've got my own collection growing by the day."
My face heated. I'd always found it easier that way—safer to lose myself in someone else's happily ever after than risk my own heart. "Research purposes. I'm studying... narrative structure."
"Uh-huh." Tess's tone was far too knowing for my comfort. "You know, Pippa, maybe it's time to stop hiding behind other people's love stories. Real relationships aren't about losing yourself—they're about finding someone who makes you stronger. Union, not submission. Equality, not erasure."
She paused, studying my face with that uncanny ability she had to see straight through my defenses. "It's okay to want that for yourself, you know. To look for love in real life instead of just on the page."
The words hit closer to home than I cared to admit.
She continued, her voice soft. "So what are you going to wish for this year? When the Keeper puts out the pages for The Stories of Solstice?"
The question caught me off guard, and I found myself actually considering it instead of deflecting with humor.
What would I wish for? The past few years, I'd written silly things—requests for endless coffee, for the Library's more temperamental texts to behave themselves, for winter to be shorter. Safe wishes. Uncomplicated wishes.
Before I could say anything, Moriyana's voice rang out across the courtyard, ancient and commanding in a way that made every conversation stop mid-sentence.
"Friends, colleagues, honored guests." The Grand Luminary's massive form dominated the center of the space, her red scales catching the morning light like polished garnets. "Another year brings us to the threshold of the Winter Solstice, and with it, the time to name this year's Keeper."
My heart went into overdrive. Here it came. The moment when someone worthy would be chosen to carry the weight of tradition.
"The role of Solstice Keeper is not given lightly," Moriyana continued, her ancient eyes scanning the crowd. "It requires dedication, creativity, and above all, a heart open to the magic of the season."
I felt Tess tense beside me, and when I glanced at her, she was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Almost like she knew something I didn't.
"This year," Moriyana's voice grew warmer, more personal, "the honor falls to someone whose joy and mischief have brightened these halls for years. Someone who understands that the best traditions are those that bring people together in laughter and wonder."
Oh. Oh.
"Pippa of the Autumn Court, Arcane Conservator of the Dragonne Library—will you accept the role of Solstice Keeper?"
Everything went silent. Then it exploded.
Me. Me. The restless pixie who'd been questioning everything, who'd felt so disconnected from tradition that I'd buried myself in romance novels to escape.
But underneath the shock—underneath the panic that was definitely building in my chest—something else stirred.
Something warm and bright and desperately pleased.
She'd chosen me. Despite everything. Because of everything.
I stepped forward on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else, and when I spoke, my voice came out steadier than I'd expected. "I accept, Grand Luminary. It would be an honor."
The formal words tasted strange on my tongue, but the smile that spread across Moriyana's ancient features made them worth it.
"Excellent." Her voice carried easily across the courtyard.
"As Solstice Keeper, Pippa will oversee all festival preparations and activities.
She will collect the written wishes and stories left throughout the week and bind them into this year's Stories of Solstice.
And she will tend the dragonfire Hearth from its lighting until dawn after the Solstice itself. "
Each responsibility hit me like a small weight settling on my shoulders.
Festival preparations, the sacred wish-pages that people trusted to carry their deepest hopes.
And the Hearth... The Hearth was everything.
The flame that would burn for seven days and nights, fed by magic and tradition.
The responsibility of keeping it lit, of making sure it burned bright enough to carry everyone's wishes into the night sky, suddenly felt enormous.
"Don't look so terrified," I said aloud, forcing my trademark grin back into place. "I promise not to accidentally burn down the Library. Probably."
The crowd's laughter was warm, supportive, and I caught Tess squeezing my hand with fierce loyalty. But when my gaze drifted across the courtyard, it found a familiar figure standing near the edge of the group, and everything else faded.
Callen's steel-gray eyes met mine across the space, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just that connection. He gave me a single, deliberate nod—not polite acknowledgment, but something deeper. Something that looked like approval. Maybe even pride.
That simple gesture sent warmth spiraling through my chest, entirely too complicated to examine right now, but it settled something restless inside me. If Callen—serious, disciplined, impossibly controlled Callen—thought I could do this...
A shadow swept overhead, cutting through my thoughts.
The dragon's roar cut through every other sound in the courtyard—deep, resonant, unmistakably powerful. Conversations stopped. Heads tilted skyward. My heart did something complicated as I caught sight of red scales gleaming in the morning sun.
Caelith. Which meant—
"Well, well. Looks like I arrived just in time for the fun."
The voice hit me like a physical thing—warm honey over steel, with that fox-shifter's lazy confidence that had always made my pulse skip. But when I turned toward the courtyard entrance, the man walking through it was... different.
Jarek had always been lean and quick, built for speed rather than brute strength.
That hadn't changed. But the boy who'd left three years ago to pursue his Rider training had come back a man.
Broader shoulders beneath worn leather. Longer russet hair catching the light with copper undertones that matched his dragon's scales.
And when his amber-gold eyes found mine across the chaos of the courtyard, they held a confidence that was entirely new.
My heart actually stuttered.
He moved through the crowd with that same fox-quick grace I remembered, but there was something else now—an authority that came with earning his place among the Riders.
People stepped aside for him without thinking about it, and he acknowledged them with easy nods that spoke of someone comfortable with respect.
When he reached me, he stopped just close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. The grin that spread across his face was pure Jarek—sharp-edged and promising trouble.
"Solstice Keeper, huh?" His gaze swept over me in a way that made my skin prickle. "Should I be worried about what kind of chaos you're planning to unleash on this poor, unsuspecting festival?"
The familiar teasing should have put me at ease.
Should have let me slip back into our old pattern.
Instead, all I could think about was how his voice had deepened, how the leather of his Rider gear clung to muscles that definitely hadn't been there three years ago, how his eyes seemed to see straight through every defense I'd ever built.
"The usual kind," I managed, proud that my voice came out steady. "Explosions, mayhem, possibly a few accidental transformations. You know how it is."
"Mmm." His grin widened, showing just a hint of those slightly-too-sharp canines that marked his fox heritage. "Good thing I'm here to keep an eye on you, then."
The words were light, playful even. But there was something underneath them—something that made my pulse quicken and my magic stir restlessly beneath my skin.
Something that made it sound like he had other ideas about how I should be spending my time.
Ideas that probably involved significantly less clothing.
I was in so much trouble.