“This fabric is so smooth.” I run my fingers over the delicate material. It’s lighter than anything I’ve ever worn, softer than even the silks the nobles in Tárnov used to boast about.
“It’s made from the finest silks we could find,” Naïa explains. “We wanted you to feel comfortable. And beautiful.”
Before I can respond, Mina steps behind me and begins combing through my hair, her claws working carefully to untangle the strands. “You have such lovely hair, Your Majesty,” she says. “It’s like the deepest pines after rain.”
I don’t know what to say to that. “Thank you,” I manage, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. “You’re all so... kind.”
Essin smiles as she weaves small flowers into my hair. “We’re just excited to have you here. You’re already fitting in so well.”
I glance at her reflection in the water mirror, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?” I ask, curious but unsure how to take the compliment.
“Because,” Mina says as she meets my gaze in the reflection, “you broke the barrier.”
“Not to mention,” Essin adds, holding my hand as she works, “you’re not screaming, fighting us, or even complaining about life here.”
I blink, taken aback at her honesty.
Naïa steps closer, her voice calm as she adds, “Elder Aïna told us humans might react that way—afraid or overwhelmed—since everything here is so different from what you’re used to.”
I hadn’t considered how they might have expected me to behave. How have I behaved so far? Confused, yes. Scared, definitely. And overwhelmed by these strange connections I can’t seem to shake. But I haven’t complained, at least not out loud. Not about the ridiculous distances I’ve had to walk from one tree to the next, to each building seemingly grown straight out of the forest itself. And those trees? They’re colossal, far beyond anything I ever saw from within Tárnov’s walls.
I didn’t say a word about it, though. Probably because I can handle it. I’m fit, always have been. Years of training have made sure of that. I remember back in the barracks, when the soldiers would compare their six-packs, joking and flexing like fools. I wanted so badly to join in, to roll up my tunic and show them what real definition looked like. But I didn’t. Authority and all. A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth at the memory.
“Is that smile because you’re thinking of Theron?” Essin teases, her paws planted on her hips.
Oh goddesses, no!
Heat rushes to my cheeks, my face betraying me in the worst possible way. With a sharp breath, I try to look anywhere but at them, eventually landing on the entrance like it might offer some escape. A white dove is sitting on the windowsill looking at me, and then it cocks its head to the side. This bird is really staring. How strange.
“Essin! Would you stop that!” Mina scolds as she rushes to my side. I turn toward her, absolutely lost for words, feeling more cornered than ever. Naïa, however, takes matters into her own hands... paws by pinching Essin’s snout with an exaggerated huff of disapproval.
“Um,” I blurt out, entirely by accident. Of course, that draws all their attention. Their gazes lock onto me, and I freeze, blinking like an absolute fool.
Then, without warning, the tension snaps. One moment of silence turns into a burst of laughter.
The air is warm and sweet, wrapping around me like a gentle embrace. These girls have been nothing but kind to me, their lighthearted teasing and careful paws a balm I didn’t know I needed. I’m deeply grateful for them. It’s been so long since I’ve had this sort of peaceful, tender moment. Just giggling, sharing stories, doing something simple and nice.
My mother would’ve loved this.
She always adored seeing girls happy. During the harvest season, the young girls of Tárnov danced around the village square, scattering petals given to them by the farmers who brought the annual bounty. Flowers were so rare in Tárnov, their arrival felt like a celebration of life itself. My mother would buy the most colorful flowers at the market. She’d hand them out to girls and grandmothers alike, always with a kind smile and a quiet wish for their day to be brighter.
The memory brings a lump to my throat. I can almost hear her voice, see the warmth in her eyes. These moments, so vivid and yet so far away, make me ache for her all over again.
I wish I could bring her back. Show her all the flowers in Ávera—so many of them, more than we ever dreamed of in Tárnov. She’d love it here. She’d lovethem.
After the fitting, Mina leads me to a clearing surrounded by towering trees. I take a deep breath and let the scent of nature fill my lungs. Here it is. The sacred glade.
Elder Aïna waits near the ancient stone, surrounded by a few of the nýmphí I met this morning. As we approach, they all bow to me. Mina, Naïa, and Essin are at my side.
“Elder Aïna, thank you for this beautiful gown. I’m honored,” I say, stepping into the glade.
Her expression is kind as she comes to meet me, the glow of the sacred glade reflecting off her silver fur. She holds out the pendant, but her eyes search mine.
“This crystal,” she begins. “It belonged to Ándor.”
“Ándor?” My fingers curl around the fabric of my gown. “Was he a vólkin?”
“Yes. He left Ávera long ago, before the barrier appeared. He claimed he’d seen his mate in his dreams and that he had to find her. This”—her paw tips toward the light blue crystal hanging from its new silver chain—“was your mother’s crystal, you say?”
