“Do you regret what happened between us?” he asked, his tongue grazing my lower lip, sending a shiver through me.
“No,” I admitted, and he closed the distance between us, kissing me softly.
“But I think I need time to process all of this,” I said breathlessly. His golden eyes softened, reflecting an understanding that eased my worry. He pulled back slightlybut remained close, his body still solidagainst mine. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. He studied me for a moment longer before stepping back and turning toward the door.
He reached for one of my cloaks hanging on the hooks and wrapped it around himself. Turning his head toward me, he said, “I’ll be back, Princess. We still have a lot to discuss.” He then walked out, leaving me staring after him.
The events from today crashed over me as the door closed.
Jeremy wasn’t Jeremy; my stranger was his brother, and there was such a thing as magic and Fae, witches and other worlds. And that kiss… I was indeed in trouble.
Chapter 12
Xavier
The morning fog hung heavy over the castle grounds as I made my way to my Uncle Flynn’s cabin. When I had finally come of age and taken the crown from him, he had insisted the castle was no longer his home. After many protests, I built him a cabin, far enough from the castle but still close enough that I could pretend he hadn’t left entirely. I think the castle reminded him too much of my father, and he had only stayed there to care for me and my brother until we came of age.
The morning dew dampened my mud-soaked boots as I walked through the tall grass, and my steps sunk into the wet earth. The sun was a pale glow just beginning to push through the fog, but the castle behind me was already swallowed in clouds. I hadn’t slept, not after last night—not after what happened. Instead, I spent hours walking the empty halls, my thoughts running in circles, plans forming and breaking as quickly as they came.
My uncle’s cabin emerged from the mist as I crested the hill, its thatched roof blending seamlessly with the gnarled trunksof the trees that stood sentinel behind it. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, carrying the scent of burning wood with it. I exhaled in relief—at least I wouldn’t have to rouse him from sleep. But with every step closer, a knot tightened in my gut. The words I needed to say weighed heavy on my tongue.
I climbed the stone steps, their worn edges slick with dew, and knocked. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Flynn standing in the frame. His black hair, streaked with silver, caught the morning light as it fell across his chiseled jaw. Though shorter than me, his presence filled the doorway. There was a stillness to him, an unspoken authority in how his deep brown eyes settled on mine. Those eyes held a world of untold stories buried beneath the weight of years and loss.
Flynn was already dressed, his thick cloak draped over his broad shoulders. His warm and familiar smile softened the edges of his chiseled face, deepening the creases around his eyes.
“I'm not catching you leaving, am I?” I asked, forcing a lightness into my voice as Flynn stepped aside, motioning me into the cabin.
“I was just heading into town to check on the vendors' permits,” he replied with a knowing smirk. “Someone’s got to keep things in order.”
I tried to smile back, but it fell short. “Yes, well… things have been chaotic lately.” I paused, my throat tightening. “That’s sort of why I’m here.”
Flynn’s smirk faded, replaced with a look that was all too familiar—quiet understanding. “Come in. Sit,” he said, nodding toward the table. “I’ll fetch us some tea.”
The cabin’s warmth enveloped me as I stepped inside. The scent of burning wood mingled with the smell of dried herbshanging from the rafters. A simple bed lay against the far wall, and the table, chipped and wobbly, sat beneath a single window, casting a dim light across the room. Scattered paperslay on a desk on the opposite wall, and a stone chimney sat in the center of the room, acting as astove and hearth.
Flynn moved to the stove, lifting the kettle that was already steaming, its soft hiss filling the silence. He carried it over to the table where I sat, fingers tapping absently against the wood. Placing two mugs in front of us, he poured the tea. Once the cups were full and Flynn had taken his seat, he looked at me expectantly.
“Something has happened, or rather, happened.” I looked down at my tea, unable to stop the shame washing over me. Four centuries, and I still felt like a boy when it came to him. “Jaxon did something.”
“Spit it out,” Flynn urged, but his voice remained calm.
“He ripped my magic from me,” I said, raising my eyes to meet his.
For a heartbeat, Flynn remained still, the calm breaking in the flicker of his expression. His hand stilled on the mug, his fingers tightening around the handle as if grounding himself.
“I've been trying to search for him these past months; that’s why I've been away.”
“He did what?” Flynn breathed, his voice deadly.
“It's worse,” I continued. “He has opened the human realm and gone there in search of the book.”
Flynn only closed his eyes at my words and took a deep breath. His jaw clenched so tightly I could hear the grind of his teeth.
“He wouldn’t let the rumors go and none of us thought he would endanger me or an entire realm on mere rumor, but we underestimated him. I underestimated him,” I said, not daring to look away from my uncle. I would not show weakness; he taught me that.
Flynn’s mug exploded in his grip, shards of ceramic flying across the table, trailing scalding water in their wake. His hand remained frozen, the tension in his knuckles stark white.
“We have to find him. We have to get him and find a way to close that door,” Flynn said, rising to his feet, his movements rigid, controlled. But I only shook my head at him.
