Thekettlescreeched,cuttingthrough the restless hum of the city outside Emmaline’s window.
“All right, all right, I hear you,” she grumbled, hurrying to pour the steaming water over a sachet of tea.
“Now, where’s the bloody lid?” She shoved aside a stack of papers and a stray hairpin just as the missing top rolled off the edge with a clatter.
“Of course.” Bending over to retrieve it, she knocked the cup while straightening, sending a slosh of tea across the counter. “Really? Fantastic. If it’s not one thing, it's another.”
The rest of the day after brunch had passed in restless anticipation, every moment stretched with the expectation that someone—anyone—would knock on the door. Surely, the Patrol would come about the missing Lady. Or perhaps Lord Caelith himself would appear, not to scold her but to thank her for her quick thinking and boldness. Or maybe Deyric would barge in with more veiled threats. There’d been something too deliberate, too knowing about the way he’d watched her. Was it suspicion—or something else entirely?
But no one had come.
Her one-bedroom apartment in the northern quadrant felt smaller than usual, the scuffed bark walls pressing in around her. Nestledin one of the aging tree buildings far from the grandeur of the city’s central spires, the twisting wooden staircases and walkways creaked under constant use while the faint murmur of distant voices seeped through the thin walls.
She had kept herself busy or tried to. Scrubbing counters, rearranging shelves, and then pacing the floorboards until the planks groaned underfoot. The neighbor's music played too loudly, and her dinner—a bland medley of root vegetables—had done little to soothe the restless energy crawling under her skin.
But as night slowly fell, she convinced herself that everything was fine. The Patrol had no reason to come. Deyric’s threats and then odd politeness were just posturing. She didn’t even know why he worried her so much.
And as for Caelith... well, he was undoubtedly thinking of her.
The hum of the city outside her window had eventually lulled her into a fitful sleep, her thoughts tangling around the same belief that had carried her through the last twenty-four hours: everything would work out.
The next day had come like any other Sunday. Sunlight filtered through the small, round window, painting golden streaks across the floor. The muffled sounds of the city waking outside mingled with the rhythmic creak of tree branches swaying in the early morning breeze.
By the time she finally capped the rogue cup of tea and tossed it into her satchel, she was already late. Grabbing a cloak, she headed out the door before hesitating. Was it a good idea to visit Cassidy at the Rider School today? She’d heard that some Corgis could smell crime or violence.
Shaking her head, she forced herself to focus. It would draw more attention if she didn’t go. She went every Sunday, answering questions and giving small tutoring classes on finances for the young elves. Skipping now would only raise questions she couldn’t afford to answer.
Emmaline stepped out into the narrow wooden walkway connecting the towering tree buildings. Down on the street below, a flock of butterflies, their wings shimmering like gemstones, darted through the wide pathways, collecting magic in their wake. Their flight wove a chaotic path down the street, and a gaggle of laughing fae children and oversized Corgi pups bounded after them. The dogs’ stubby legs pumped furiously, their tongues lolling as they barked in excitement while their young handlers shrieked and giggled in delight.
Emmaline paused, leaning on the railing as she watched the chase with a soft smile. The scene was almost enough to calm her lingering nerves. Following the butterflies as they scattered into the sun-dappled sky, she thought,Will my children with Caelith look like that? Will they chase butterflies?
Sighing, she banished the daydream and made her way toward the city center. One step at a time.
Before long, the school loomed ahead. Massive copper pipes wrapped around its stone walls, hissing with bursts of steam that fed the rotating turbines flanking the arched entrance. Clockwork mechanisms ticked and whirred on the towering iron gates, their intricate gears shifting to allow passage. It was a stark contrast to the ancient Rider School she could barely remember in Wales, where history and magic were interwoven into every weathered stone. This version ofthe school was practical and brash, its steely edges unapologetically modern.
Inside, the air thrummed with purpose. She passed a pair of elves who greeted her with polite nods, their somber expressions softened slightly as they stepped aside. A horse-sized Corgi padded past, its glossy coat catching the light. The massive creature paused, turning its head to give her a solemn nod before continuing down the hallway.
“Morning,” she murmured, suppressing the itch to run away as she made her way toward the healers’ corner.
The space was quieter there with only the soft sound of conversation and the occasional clink of glass. Inside a large room off to the right, Cassidy was bent over a young elf with bright yellow hair, her arm secured in a fresh bandage.
“Looks like you had an adventurous morning,” Emmaline said, stepping closer.
Cassidy glanced up, her face lighting with a grin. “You have no idea. And you’re late.”
Emmaline rested her hand on the doorframe. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to come. You know, given everything.”
Cassidy glanced over her shoulder. “It’s Sunday. It’d be odd if you didn’t come.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Emmaline sagged in relief. She hadn’t even realized how nervous she’d been to see the Corgi Rider again.
“Good.” Cassidy turned back to the patient, deftly adjusting the bandage on the girl’s arm. The young elf flinched, a soft grunt escaping her lips.
“Shush, you. It’s not that bad,” Cassidy chided.
“Maybe if I were a troll,” the girl muttered through clenched teeth. “And you weren’t a sadist.”
Cassidy gave a low, amused grunt. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before diving off the Heights without a Corgi to guide you.”
