Between the berries I had eaten and the flower’s heady perfume, sleep began to sound more and more appealing. The Fae’s soft voice was lulling me to sleep, and I was powerless to stop it, the day’s exertion and emotional turbulence catching up to me. Part of me wished to hear the entirety of his poem, to find out if there was another verse, but I was suddenly so very tired…and my eyelids began to droop, growing heavy as it became harder and harder to stay awake.
I reclined fully and closed my eyes.
I jerked awake, immediately in tune with my body. I was not nearly as sore as I should have been—the deep aches and pains that had taken hold of me ever since I was tossed into the swamp oddly absent. I stretched, expecting my arms to brush soft grass, only to scrape against something cold and gritty. Instantly, the deep relaxation I felt soured as I whipped my head around to inspect my surroundings. Somehow, I was back at the sandy river shore, lying right next to my boat. The raven watched over me from atop the boat’s elegant prow.
The putrid smell of bog oil radiated from my satchel, reassuring me the day’s events had really happened. The sequence of events that had led me to awaken here, however, was a mystery. Someone had even pulled the boat out of the brush for me and removed the foliage. It was ready for departure.Not sure how I should feel about that…For the moment, after casting a few additional glances over my shoulder, I settled on gratitude for the effort it would save me.
“Doyouknow how I got here?” I asked the raven. “You didn’t carry me, that’s for sure.” I laughed at the mental image of the raven flying with my tall, willowy frame in tow. “Thank you for saving my life today,” I continued, much more somberly, inclining my head in a gesture of respect. The raven returned the gesture. I gasped as it took flight again, disappearing into the horizon.
A part of me hoped the bird might accompany me home. It acted as my faithful guardian all day after all. A strange sense of regret filled me. Had someone sent the raven to help me? The witch who attended the funeral? I might never know. At least I got to express my appreciation before it flew away.
Dusk was quickly descending, and it was well past time to be headed home. I pushed the boat off the shore and into the water, settling into its cozy interior, prepared to row back toward the island. Feeling rejuvenated, I pondered whether all naps in the Spring Court were so refreshing. If that was the case, I was definitely coming back. Froggie be warned.
The journey back to the island was uneventful compared to the relative chaos of the day. When I returned to its familiar shores, night had fallen. I was euphoric for the first time in moons. First thing tomorrow, I planned to add the bog oil to the lampposts that lined the pathway to my cottage. With any luck, they would light, and I would have achieved something significant, something Kaylin had never managed, or never attempted.
The melodic tinkle of the chimes above the cottage’s front door never sounded so pleasant in my life. I stepped into the cottage like I’d never before set foot within its walls. Nothing makes you appreciate your home anew like returning from a long, involved day of travel.
I looked at everything with a fresh set of eyes, never more grateful for my cozy, peaceful cottage. It may be modestly sized—an entryway featuring the pedestal stand and basin, two bedrooms down the hall, a kitchen, and a study—but it was home. I opened the door to my bedroom, eager to go to sleep.
The drawer of my armoire creaked as I pulled it open, reaching for the black nightgown neatly folded within its center. I touched the smooth fabric, rubbing my thumb and index finger slowly over the sheer silk. It was the nicest piece of clothing I owned.
I shimmied out of my clothing and into the nightgown with an audible sigh of relief. It was lightweight, the fabric paradise against my skin. I felt desirable wrapped in the stylish, feminine garment—appreciated the way the plunging neckline clung to the curves of my body. Slowly, I pulled apart the strands of my long braid until my hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders.
It might not have been my first choice in bedtime attire if I actually expected company, butthatwas unlikely to happen. Throughout the entirety of Kaylin’s fifteen-year tenure, not a single soul arrived to strike a midnight bargain. Our predecessors may have vowed to help visitors, but we’d never been given the opportunity. Of course, I hadn’t actually madeanyvows to the land yet, or the people of the realm. That would happen during the inauguration at the Winter Solstice. Because this year, I intended to step through the gateway when it appeared on the island. There was no one left to stop me.
There was no one left at all.
The melodic tinkle of chimes echoed throughout the cottage.
My entire body froze, my mind wiped blank. I looked around in a panic as my capacity for thought slowly returned.Should I change? Should I grab my dagger?Indecision kept me momentarily paralyzed. I took a series of deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart and fortify my resolve. There was no oneelse who could investigate. The responsibility fell to me. Slowly, I creaked open the door, one agonizing inch at a time, until I could peer down the hallway, performing a precursory survey of the cottage.
There was a rustling sound coming from the direction of the study.
Cautiously, I made my way down the hall. I walked softly, cringing when my steps caused the old wooden floorboards to creak, giving away my approach. I had a single, initial priority. To grab the sword stored in the entryway of the study. Unless someone already had, in which case, I had little ability to defend myself. Either the island’s protections would help keep me safe, or I was about to have the shortest tenure in the history of the Midnight Sovereign. Presumably. There was no actual record of my predecessors that I could find. And I had searched the cottage for one. Repeatedly. It was as puzzling as it was infuriating, not knowing who came before me.
Steeling my nerves, I opened the study door the rest of the way and stepped inside. Right away, I grabbed the sword, still in its stand, and held it in front of myself, wielding it with far more gravitas than my skill level merited. The oil lamps in the study were lit, even though I had double checked they were out before bed—someone wasdefinitelyhere. I did a slow turn, pivoting around with the sword front and center, examining the study for anyone or anything that looked out of place.
A raven flew out of the shadows, and my fear immediately dissipated.
A broad smile lit my face as I returned the sword to its stand.
“You again! You followed me home! Did you fly in through the window—”
My raven friend started to shimmer and then—shifted.I stopped short, my jaw dropping open. A man stood before me, casually standing across from me in the study, like he hadn’t justbeen disguised as a bird. Like he wasn’t the first person in my life to ever visit the island at night. Like he hadn’t just thrown my entire world off balance.
My raven friend wasn’t a raven at all. I inspected him closely. He looked to be about my age, perhaps a few years older. Recognition finally clicked into place as I continued to regard him.The man from the mirror.I flushed. The same mirror I had been talking to like it was my own personal diary for weeks. My mind worked in overdrive, thoughts cascading over one another, trying to reconcile the man’s identity.
He was dressed in simple black clothing. Even more attractive in person, no longer concealed by the mirror’s aged glass. I took in the rest of his appearance. The cloak around his shoulders was the exact opposite of simple. It drew the eye, completely covered in feathers, besides a few minor bald patches of black fabric where some of the plumage must have fallen off. The garment wasn’t ebony black either, like a raven—the feathers ranged in color and pattern. I was able to pick out the pure white coloration of a dove and the metallic blue-green spots of a peacock. The rest of the feathers were harder to definitively classify at first glance.
A discordant, colorful mess.
The effect was mesmerizing. As I looked him over, he was doing the same to me—his eyes trailing a slow path over my nightgown. He ran a hand through his midnight-black hair. His ears were pointed, but not fully elongated. He had Fae ancestry. Probably going to live for several hundred years like me. Was he also born in Solaris?I’ve never heard of anyone with the ability to shift themselves into a bird before.Doubt overcame me, thinking that perhaps my education had not really been as thorough as I liked to believe it had been.
“So…you’re not just a bird then?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.
The stranger grinned, wide and easy. “No, not a bird. My name’s Corvin.” He bowed politely. “I’m sorry for not revealing myself sooner. I have my reasons for not wanting to shift too openly right now. But I wanted to make sure you got home safely. And based on what my father has told me, it seemed appropriate to greet you at midnight.” As if on cue, the island bell began to toll the midnight hour, its deep, solemn tones causing goose bumps to erupt all across my bare arms.
I looked at the golden antique mirror, with its delicately embossed feathers, and then back to Corvin. Should I admit I had seen him before today? How much had he heard of my nighttime, mirror-based confessions? I thought about our interactions during the day, reconceptualizing everything now that I realized he wasn’t just a random raven.I tied a flower crown around his leg!The memory flashed through my mind, mortification left behind in its wake. Had I done anything else embarrassing?
