I straighten my spine and begin the descent into the Summer Court.
The stairs are steep and jagged, as if they were created by swells of an ocean that used to reach the height of these cliffs. Beneath me, the dark stone lights up with streaks of burnt orange and gold, veins of the earth itself seem to pulse faintly within.
It reminds me of the shifter lands–of wind that doesn’t ask permission, skies that stretch without end, and a life builtaroundwhat nature offers.
My hand skims the cliffside as I descend, fingers dragging across the rough stone for balance. When a sudden gust rises, fierce and unpredictable, I brace myself, nails digging into the rock until the wind eases and I can move again.
The sand finally meets me, glittering and inviting, and I don’t hesitate to unlace my boots and step free, letting my feet sink into the heat of it. The grains are soft and fine, clinging to my skin as I walkslowly toward the tide as I watch as the waves roll in and out–steadily, endlessly, like a breath that never pauses.
It stretches so far I can’t see where it ends once it meets the horizon.
For a moment, I can’t breathe beneath the scope of it and how small it makes me feel. It’s nothing like the dark ocean I saw at the edge of the Winter Court’s territory in my vision, littered with ships.
The wind rushes toward me off the water, warm and briny, curling through my hair and slipping beneath the collar of my dress. It drags the sun’s heat into my lungs like it belongs there.
“I never tire of that view,” a voice says behind me, low and full of reverence.
I turn as a lone figure approaches, without guards or fanfare, her presence quiet but commanding.
The wind pulls her copper hair back from her face, strands streaked with deeper tones. Her skin is sun-warmed and richly bronzed, scattered with freckles that trace across her cheekbones, shoulders, and collarbones. Gold jewelry coils around the curves of her pointed ears and wraps her wrists, glinting softly in the light.
She wears no crown, but she doesn’t need one.
There’s a quiet strength in her gaze, a burnt gold that looks like fire trapped in her eyes, and the longer I hold it, the more certain I become that she’s nothinglike the fae I’ve met so far. A soft respect blooms in my chest instinctively as I realize I’m standing before a woman who carries great knowledge, yet never wields it maliciously.
“You’re Wren,” she says.
I nod, digging my toes deeper in the sand. “And you’re the Duchess of Summer.”
She walks to my side and turns her eyes toward the ocean. Her clothing is simple compared to the embroidered finery I’ve seen in other courts–a sleeveless white dress that splits on one thigh and ends just below her knees.
“It’s your first time seeing the sea,” she surmises. “I can tell.”
“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” I murmur and cast my gaze back out to the water. “So loud and alive. So endless.”
She hums a quiet note of agreement. “It’s the oldest thing we have left. One of the only things in the world that doesn’t care what you are. It treats each living soul the same.”
I glance at her and the easy way she stands like she could be rooted to the spot forever and not voice a single complaint.
“You’re not what I expected,” I admit before I can think better of it.
That earns me a wry, side-glancing smile. “Good. If you considered me anything like the Duke of Spring,I’d consider that a failure. Sylvin informed me you’d be ending in my court.”
There’s a deeply grounded warmth about her. It doesn’t feel performative or like she cares to prove anything.
“You’re here to see if Summer calls to you,” she says after a moment. “To test if its magic answers when you reach.”
Nerves erupt in my stomach at the reminder. “Yes.”
“Then you can stay as long as you need until you find those answers.”
No questions or threats. No expectations hidden beneath her words. Just a sincere invitation.
“Let’s walk to my favorite stretch of the beach and I will show you a glimpse of my power. You can simply watch, or participate when you feel ready.”
She turns, and for a moment I hesitate, still caught in the sound of the waves crashing far below. But then I follow her, feeling a spark of hope in what I might find waiting for me at the end of this path. I leave my boots behind, not caring to feel confined and cut off from my connection to the ground through my feet any longer.
We walk in silence, the only sounds are the steady hush of the sea and the wind. It doesn’t feel like she’s leading me to a lesson, but as if she’s sharing a sacred part of herself.
