A chill had descended. I longed for the cabin’s warmth, for anything that felt like the home I once knew. It was all gone and now only this world remained. Everyone I knew was gone with it.
Lioran and Fyn spoke so softly that I could barely hear their words. Lioran’s gaze softened on me as he caught me watching.
He didn’t have to be kind to me.
He could have left me where he found me.
Golden glittering flecks cast a glow in the inky sky. Looking to the stars would always remind me of her.
“The stars hold our stories. They design our fate.” Lioran sat beside me. My palms caught the heat from the fire.
“My mother used to always tell me that.” I wiped a stray tear that escaped. “Where I’m from, no one else believes it.”
“They don’t need to understand it. Bailoc hasn’t experienced their call.” He offered a tender smile. “But you have.”
A breathy gasp escaped my lips. The tower. The book. It was the start of it all.
“They chose the wrong princess.” I nervously laughed, but Lioran’s gentle expression didn’t falter.
“They don’t make mistakes.” His voice lowered. “Only those who are worthy of their favor are chosen.”
My heart stilled. No one had ever spoken that way to me before. Something settled within me—a calm that pulsed through me until my shoulders loosened. I had never felt it before.
“Few will agree with you. I am the princess of a kingdom that destroyed yours.”
“No one will challenge you in Lythira.” He looked around to the horses, to Fyn. “I’m Guardian of Lythira. This territory and the fae that live here are my responsibility.” He wrapped his hands around his knees. “As long as you reside in my lands, you are my responsibility, too.”
He brought me to safety. He even offered to find someone to train me. Despite everything he was taught about me, about my people, he was kind to me. Maybe he truly meant to protect me.
Lioran watched the fire flicker. His eyes avoided mine.
“It’s his fifth year in the role, and already he’s making lavish promises,” Fyn interrupted.
“Fifth year as prince?” I asked.
“No, fifth year as Guardian. My father waited until my brothers, and I reached thirty to assign our territories. Lythira is mine. Calyth overseas Eyrsea and Pyrran is responsible for Kybar. Each a living, breathing part of the Kingdom of Nythrel.”
“You’re thirty-five? I assumed you were much older,” I said.
“Do we look it?” Fyn warmed his hands by the fire.
I shook my head.
“We all know how old you are.” Fyn tilted his head towardLioran.
“You must have just turned twenty-five,” Lioran said.
“How did you know?” The hairs rose all over my body.
“The war started just after you were born.” Lioran exhaled slowly. “It’s not a year I can forget.”
Pain radiated deep within my chest—I would always be a reminder of the war. My lips parted, but as I opened my mouth to speak no words came.
“Do you all really think we live for thousands of years?” Fyn asked. A snort escaped my mouth.
“I thought I remembered it from my mother’s stories, but honestly it’s been so long since I’ve heard any tales of the fae to know whether I remembered correctly,” I said.
Lioran raised his brow. “I imagine they’re not shared frequently.”
