I am Gavin, 29 years old, Captain of the Royal Guard of Arcadia, and I just found out that the man I have sworn my blood and honor to protect has been compromised.

  Finding out that the King’s mind is not his own is possibly the second worst discovery the Captain of the Guard could make. I immediately head towards the Royal Guard Headquarters. I need to determine whether any of my men are also under the control of the fae. I order a call to arms. One of the guardsmen sounds the horn, its sharp blare echoing through the castle grounds. Within minutes, every guardsman not stationed at the front gate rushes into the courtyard and forms ranks, fully armed and armored.

  Moments later, I step outside, clad in my full suit of mithril plate armor, it’s polished surface catching the light with every movement. At my side hangs the Sword of Soles—a custom-forged mithril longsword, uniquely enchanted with the Drain Touch spell. It's a rare weapon, tailored to my specifications, and a symbol of what sets Arcadian knights apart from those of other nations.

  Unlike conventional warriors, Arcadian knights are trained not just in martial prowess, but in the strategic use of enchanted equipment. Our mastery of mithril weapons and armor allows us to stand against powerful mages and magical beasts alike. It is this fusion of tradition and arcane innovation that makes us feared on every battlefield.

  Before me, five hundred Royal Guardsmen stand at attention in five columns of five ranks, all eyes fixed on me. They wait patiently, the earlier murmurs of speculation fading into a respectful silence as I take my place at the front.

  I take a moment to survey the formation. These are not average soldiers. While a single Arcadian knight is said to be worth ten men from any other kingdom, the warriors before me are in a class of their own. Each one is a hardened veteran, handpicked by me, trained to perfection, and outfitted with the finest gear the kingdom can provide. Any one of them could take on twenty foreign soldiers without breaking a sweat.

  “Attention!”

  “Open ranks!”

  The formation spreads with practiced precision, each line shifting outward to create a clear path through the center. I draw the now cracked amulet from my pocket and begin a slow, deliberate walk down the aisle between them.

  To the others, it looks like a standard inspection, but in truth, I’m watching the amulet for any sign of a reaction. I stop in front of each guardsman, appearing to examine their stance or gear, while silently checking for the telltale yellow glow.

  I have to be certain. If even one of the guards assigned to the King or his son has fallen under a fae’s influence, the consequences could be catastrophic.

  I move through the ranks methodically, row by row, checking each man in silence. The amulet remains dark.

  Finally, I return to the front of the formation. Most of the guardsmen now wear puzzled expressions, their discipline holding even as confusion lingers just beneath the surface.

  "Guardsmen," I call out, my voice sharp and authoritative, "a threat has been made against the King's life. Effective immediately, all patrols and guard shifts are to be doubled. Anyone granted an audience with His Majesty must be escorted by no fewer than four guards at all times."

  I need to give them just enough truth to act with caution, without stirring unnecessary panic or confusion.

  “I will be leaving the capital to investigate this threat personally,” I continue. “Once dismissed, report to your platoon leaders for your new shift assignments.”

  “Yes, sir!” the guardsmen reply in unison.

  “Dismissed!”

  The formation quickly breaks apart into smaller units as platoon leaders call their teams over to distribute new assignments. While they handle the shift rotations, I head to the stables and select one of the warhorses kept in reserve. After saddling the borrowed steed, I mount up and ride straight for the castle gate. As I go, I glance down at the cracked amulet resting in my hand.

  What if it’s broken? What if all of this has been for nothing?

  There’s no way to be sure without testing it near a confirmed fae. Still, I remember it glowing when I stood near the King, even after the crack appeared. Didn’t it?

  I don’t have to wonder for long.

  As I pass through the main gate and ride close to one of the posted guards, the yellow crystal in my hand begins to glow faintly.

  I pull on the reins and bring the horse to a stop.

  Glancing down at the gem, then up at the young guardsman, I catch his curious gaze as he blinks at me.

  “Guardsman Edgard, right?” I ask, slipping the amulet back into my pocket.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Well, today’s your lucky day, Edgard,” I say, forcing a smile. “Come with me.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  I lead Edgard back to headquarters and call over his platoon sergeant. Both of them exchange puzzled looks as I deliver the unexpected order.

  “Edgard is being placed on immediate leave,” I say. “He’s to turn in his weapons and armor and stay away from the castle until further notice. He’ll continue to receive full pay during his time off.”

  The sergeant raises an eyebrow, clearly unsure what to make of the command. Edgard looks even more confused, glancing between us as if trying to figure out whether he’s being punished or rewarded. Still, the promise of paid leave softens his hesitation, and he nods.

  "Maybe take that young lady you’re always talking about on a nice trip to Puerta Bonita," I suggest casually.

  Edgard's face lights up. "Alright, Captain. Don’t need to tell me twice!" he says, grinning. Without another word, he turns and heads off toward the armory to return his equipment, a rather goofy smile plastered across his face.

  Once he’s gone, the sergeant leans toward me and mutters with a wry smile, “If that’s what trouble gets you, maybe I should go get in trouble too.”

  “You don’t want that kind of trouble,” I reply, then turn and head out once more.

  With the immediate risk inside the castle addressed, I finally set off for Stonebrook. I push my warhorse into a fast trot, the quickest pace it can maintain under the weight of my full armor. These horses are bred for strength and endurance, trained to carry armored knights over long distances—but even they cannot sustain a gallop for hours without collapse.

  The journey across the northern plains takes six hours. As the landscape rolls by, my thoughts turn inward. I rehearse every possible outcome of the confrontation awaiting me with Lady Willow.

  In one version of events, this is all a mistake—an unfortunate misunderstanding. I show up, realize I’ve been wrong, and owe her a sincere apology.

  If Willow is the monster, then she already knows I’m coming. If she’s been seeing through the King’s eyes, she would have watched me discover the truth. She may be waiting for me now, planning to strike before I reach Griswald’s estate. That would be the most strategic move—eliminate me quietly before I can expose her, and without breaking her cover.

  Then there’s another possibility: she doesn’t yet know I’m coming, but once I arrive, she’ll realize that I’ve seen through her illusion and understood what she is. If that revelation happens while I’m near Ren—or any other innocents—then a cornered fae might resort to the most effective tool at her disposal: hostages. She would use them to stall me, to keep me from fighting at full strength. She would turn them into shields, using their lives to stay one step ahead of my blade.

  And that kind of advantage… would almost certainly cost me my life.

  In truth, I run through dozens of scenarios in my mind. Most of them end with my death.

  But knowing that doesn’t paralyze me. It sharpens me. It pushes me to prepare, to consider every angle, to account for every risk.

  And if, despite all that, I fall in the end... then I will die doing what I was meant to do—defending my kingdom, my people, and my friends.

  But I have no intention of dying. I’ve slain men, monsters, demons, and even fae. This time will be no different.

  I reach Griswald’s manor in the early evening, with the sun still high and several hours of daylight remaining. The guards at the checkpoint spot me and open the gate, offering friendly waves as I approach. They are bundled up with scarfs and heavy cloaks against the cold. I return the gesture, relieved to see familiar faces.

  I make my way up to the mansion and dismount, the heavy thud of my armored boots echoing against the stone path. The warhorse exhales sharply, releasing a thick plume of vapor into the cold evening air—as if relieved to be free of my weight. I give its neck a gentle pat.

  “Gavin!”

  Before I can even tie the lead to the hitching post, I hear the excited voice of Abigail. She bursts out of the front door, races down the steps, and leaps into my arms. I catch her lithe form easily, holding her in a tight but gentle hug.

  “I wasn’t expecting you today!” she says, beaming.

  My heart leaps, and suddenly my armor feels too warm and restrictive. Her smile, her voice, her cheek fur rippling in the cold winds, and the sheer joy in her face at seeing me, my face warms; I am completely lovestruck, as I am every time I see her. But a sense of duty prevails, and I force myself to focus.

  I give her a kiss on the forehead, lingering a moment longer than I ought to, then reach into my pocket and pull out the amulet. Relief washes over me as I see it remains dark.

  “Is something wrong?” Abigail asks, noticing the shadow behind my smile.

  “It’s alright,” I say as I replace the amulet. “I just need to speak with Griswald. A bit of business.”

  It’s not entirely a lie. I do need to check that my friend hasn’t fallen under fae control. I don’t want to trouble Abigail with the full truth—not yet. With any luck, I can resolve this quickly and quietly. No matter how this plays out, I intend to keep Griswald safe.

  “Abigail,” I begin, hesitating, “could you… uh, fetch us some of that pear wine you love so much?”

  She raises a brow. “Pretty sure the master keeps plenty of that stocked whenever you visit. I could grab a bottle and head up to our room. What are we celebrating?”

  “Honey,” I say, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I’d really like you to get fresh wine from the shop in town. Please.”

  She frowns slightly. “Wouldn’t you prefer something aged?”

  Moments like this remind me I’m terrible at lying. Not enough practice, maybe.

  I lean in close and whisper in her ear, “I can’t explain right now, but I need you away from the mansion for the next hour.”

  She looks back at me, innocent and trusting.

  “Please,” I plead with her, my heart aching with the thought of harm coming to her.

  “What’s going on, Gavin?” Abigail’s joyful expression fades into deep concern, and the shift breaks my heart. But this is how it has to be. She’ll forgive me when I explain later—or, if I don’t survive this, she’ll understand why I sent her away and forgive me all the same.

  “I love you, Abigail. Please, trust me and do as I’ve asked,” I whisper into her large fox ear as I pull her into a tight hug.

  “Okay,” she says softly as we separate.

  “I love you, Gavin. Please… stay safe.”

  She gives me one last look, then follows me back inside to collect her cloak. With a final quiet goodbye, she steps out and begins the walk to Stonebrook.

  “Where is she going, Gavin?” Silfy asks, stepping into the parlor with a cup of tea in one hand and a notepad in the other. A quill is tucked behind her ear, and it seems she’s still focused on her usual duties.

  “Sorry,” I reply with a quick smile. “I need to borrow her for the next hour or so.”

  “You usually take her for longer,” Silfy mutters, shrugging as I pass her. I discreetly glance at the amulet in my palm as she continues on her way.

  I enter Griswald’s study to find him seated at his desk beside Diana. Between them is a half-finished blueprint spread out over the surface. Diana’s eyes and fingertips glow softly with white enchantment magic as she rapidly sketches out an intricate floor plan, complete with measurements and material lists.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Griswald looks up as I approach.

  “Gavin,” he says with a chuckle. “Between you and that boy, it seems no one bothers to tell me when they’re planning to visit.”

  “Apologies for barging in,” I say, my voice distracted. “I had some urgent business with the boy, but I wanted to let you know I’m here.”

  As I speak, I glance down at the amulet, still hidden in my gauntlet. My odd behavior doesn’t go unnoticed—both Griswald and Diana pause, their eyes shifting toward my hand.

  I lower it slowly, relieved to see the amulet isn’t glowing. Still, their expressions are expectant and suspicious. I can tell they want an explanation.

  So naturally, I lie.

  I pull the amulet from my pocket and hold it up. “Lady Willow lent me this. I’m just here to return it.”

  “Appraisal,” Diana says calmly, casting the spell.

  My stomach tightens. I wasn’t expecting her to do that. A moment later, the glow in her eyes fades, and I know she’s identified the enchantments woven into the item. She knows exactly what it is—and possibly, why I have it.

  My mind races for a way to explain it.

  “Been out hunting something?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “What?” Griswald looks from her to me, clearly confused.

  "That amulet—" she gestures toward it, "—it's a unique item. It's meant to detect... something, though I'm not exactly sure what."

  “Right,” I say quickly, trying to sound unconcerned. “She lent it to me. I’m just returning it.”

  Without waiting for a response, I back out of the room, doing my best to appear casual, though I’m sure I look anything but. I can feel their eyes following me the whole way out.

  That didn’t go well.

  Then again, subtlety has never been my strong suit. Crushing things into smaller things, slaying monsters, killing enemies—that’s what I’m good at. Cloak and dagger nonsense? Lies and misdirection? That’s the kind of skillset employed by the people I hunt.

  After leaving Griswald’s office, I make a quick pass through the manor to check in on the other maids on duty. I don’t stop to talk—I simply walk by like I have every right to be there, amulet in hand, checking it discreetly as I go.

  To my relief, it doesn’t glow for any of them.

  With everything else settled, all that remains is to go to Ren’s room and confront Lady Willow.

  I knock on Ren’s door and hear his voice call out, “Come in!”

  Opening the door, I’m immediately met with a familiar kind of chaos. The bed, the desk, and nearly every inch of the floor are buried under piles of books. It seems Ren has decorated his room in Griswald’s manor just as he did the first floor of his tower in the castle—by turning it into a library explosion.

  Knowing Ren, I’m not surprised.

  What does surprise me—what stops me cold in the doorway—is the little green kobold lying on the floor beside him. Her tail slowly thumps the floor beside her as she rests her head on her arms, her clawed feet in the air, slowly kicking back and forth. She’s reading along with Ren, both of them focused on an open book on the floor in front of them. Ren sits cross-legged, calmly pointing out something on the page.

  Kobolds can read?

  “So this is Lindenwood Moss, similar to Hassle Moss in almost every way,” Ren explains, “except Lindenwood is a key ingredient in healing potions, and Hassle is very poisonous.”

  “How can you tell them apart? The pictures look the same,” the kobold asks in perfect Common.

  And they can talk too? Apparently.

  “Hassle has an oily texture and smells sweet,” Ren answers, glancing up at me.

  “Hey Gavin, what’s going on?” he says casually—completely natural, like he isn’t just hanging out with a rare species that’s usually wary of humans and certainly not known for speaking Common, much less reading it.

  “Who is this?” I ask, momentarily distracted.

  “Oh, this is Jade—she’s my new friend,” he says, patting the kobold on the back. She tilts her head and gives me a casual wave.

  “Hey,” I reply awkwardly, mirroring her wave. There is something strange about her eye that catches my notice, but my attention is quickly pulled elsewhere.

  Lady Willow is sitting silently in a chair across the room, beside the desk, facing me. The way she’s looking at me—intensely, without a hint of a smile—gives me the distinct impression she’s been waiting.

  “Did you want to do some sparring?” Ren asks brightly. “He’s my weapons instructor,” he adds to Jade, who turns her gaze toward me with what I think is renewed interest. Hard to tell with a reptilian face.

  “Perhaps later. He’s here to speak with me,” Willow says, rising smoothly to her feet.

  “What do you say we take this conversation outside?” she adds, her voice like ice. That cold stare she gives me chills me to the core—eerily reminiscent of Edric when his demeanor turned so unfamiliar. I don’t dare look down at the amulet, but I start to feel a dull heat in the palm holding it.

  This woman before me… she lacks the serene gentleness I’ve come to know. And with how she clearly anticipated my arrival, I can conclude only one thing: she is the fae I have been searching for.

  But if that’s true—if she knew I was coming to expose her—why didn’t she kill me before I got here? Why give up the advantage of hostages? Why take it outside?

  I don’t know what game she’s playing, but one thing is clear: it seems in my best interest to play along. Outside and alone gives me the best chance to face her without risking collateral damage. Or… do I only think this is a good idea because she’s controlling me?

  Would I even know if she was?

  How can I be sure she’s not manipulating my thoughts—guiding me like the pied piper leading the unwitting to their doom?

  No… the very fact that I’m questioning myself, doubting my thoughts and motives… that must mean I’m not under her control.

  Right?

  “Sounds good to me,” I say, stepping back through the door I just entered. I move aside and hold it open for Willow.

  She strides out gracefully, not sparing me so much as a glance, yet somehow managing to keep just outside the one-meter radius of the amulet in my hand. I fall in step behind her, matching her brisk pace as we move down the hall, through the parlor, and out the front door. Without a word, she turns left and begins walking along the side of the manor.

  As I follow, my thoughts twist and churn. Her behavior doesn’t align with the monster I suspect her to be. Could I be wrong? The amulet still hasn’t reacted in her presence… but do I really need it to? Is the fact that she knew I was coming not enough proof?

  She leads us around the back of the manor, onto a worn path through the fields behind the estate, heading toward the lake. The only sounds are the soft rustle of the wind, the steady clink of my mithril armor, and the thud of my boots on the ground. Willow, in contrast, moves with otherworldly silence. Her steps make no sound and leave no mark. It's as if the earth itself refuses to acknowledge her presence.

  It is eerily reminiscent of the monster I saw in the recording, flitting from victim to victim like a spector as it tore them apart.

  If I think back, I realize I’ve always known this about her—that quiet, unnatural poise. But it never felt strange. In fact, I’ve always felt... comfortable around her. At ease. Safer in her presence than anywhere else.

  And that’s what terrifies me.

  Have I been under her influence this whole time? A subtle manipulation to make me trust her? To ignore the signs?

  Was our friendship just another illusion?

  With each step, I silently cast enchantments over my mind and body, steeling myself for the confrontation to come. Willow finally comes to a stop a few meters from the lake’s edge, gazing out over the water. I stop two meters behind her, the amulet gripped tightly in my left hand, my right resting on the hilt of my sword.

  “You’ve come all this way,” Willow says flatly. “Ask your question.”

  I’m caught off guard by how direct she’s being. I hadn’t expected a conversation… but I do have questions—questions that deserve answers. If she’s willing to talk before we try to kill each other, I won’t stop her.

  I’ve always faced danger head on, so I ask my question directly. “Are you a fae?”

  “Yes. I am a fae.”

  “You’ve enchanted the King, Ren… and one of my guardsmen?” I press, my voice hardening with accusation.

  “The King is under my control,” she answers without flinching. “Mr. Edgard is merely a borrowed pair of eyes—I’ve but touched his mind; his will remains his own.” She pauses, then slowly turns to face me. Her gaze hardens with something bordering on contempt. “But Ren… I have never harmed nor controlled Master Ren.”

  Her voice sharpens with conviction, but it doesn’t matter.

  “I can’t let you continue to manipulate the King’s mind,” I say, stepping forward, my voice low and resolute. “You’ve admitted it yourself. That’s all I needed.”

  She tilts her head, and for the first time, something shifts behind her calm exterior.

  “You think you can stop me?” Willow sneers.

  “I’ve slain fae before.”

  That’s when her smile stretches—unnaturally wide, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Her blue eyes flare yellow, blazing with raw mana. Her form begins to change, stretching unnaturally as her limbs elongate. Her skin darkens, her fingers sharpen into claws, and her presence expands, towering above me like a shadow given flesh.

  “Gah—!” A sharp burning in my left palm snaps my focus away from her.

  I glance down just in time to see the amulet. The metal frame glows red-hot, and the crystal at its center shines so brightly it burns spots into my vision. I gasp and drop it instinctively.

  CRACK!

  The amulet explodes, shards of crystal and silver bursting in every direction.

  I raise an arm to shield my face as the pieces scatter across the grass.

  And then I hear it.

  A deep, inhuman growl, resonating with power.

  “Not one like me.”

  The monster looms above me now—no longer hiding behind her human mask. Murder blazes in her glowing yellow eyes.

  I draw my sword in a flash, holding it at the ready.

  “Stop!” comes Ren’s voice from behind me.

  I glance over my shoulder and see him running up the path, the little green kobold sprinting beside him.

  “Get back, Ren—” I turn back toward the beast, only to find it once again the gentle maiden Willow; beautiful, calm, and human in form. Her posture is relaxed, her expression serene.

  I hesitate. I had been ready to strike, but the sudden shift from monstrous to harmless gives me pause.

  “No! Stop!” Ren throws himself between us, arms outstretched as if to physically keep us apart.

  “Ren, she’s a fae. She’s dangerous. Get out of the way,” I say, frustration creeping into my voice.

  But as I look past him, I see it—Willow’s faint smile, her composed stance. She’s using Ren as a human shield. So that is her plan.

  “I know she’s a fae, Gavin. I’ve always known.”

  “You… knew?” I ask, stunned.

  “I also knew,” adds the strange-eyed kobold brightly, her tone cheerfully oblivious, like she just wanted to be part of the conversation.

  I glance at her. She’s standing casually off to the side, smiling and swaying slightly, as if she’s entirely unaware of how tense the moment is.

  “Yes, I knew,” Ren repeats firmly. “There’s no reason for you two to fight.”

  “Ren,” I grit out, “that creature has enslaved the mind of your father.”

  “She only used that power to stop him from killing me.”

  “What?” The word slips out of me, completely unguarded.

  “Yes,” Ren says, eyes locked on mine. “Willow isn’t the threat. She’s the one who’s been protecting me all this time.”

  “No… I saw her tear apart four men in an alley. I saw her attack you.”

  “You saw her kill four men who were sent to kill me,” Ren corrects. “She was defending me.”

  “Why, Sir Gavin,” Willow chimes in with mock innocence, didn’t you find it a bit suspicious? Four armed men in a dark alleyway with a child, and you thought that I was the problem?”

  Now that she mentions it… it was strange. Why didn’t I question that before?

  “Why didn’t you tell someone?” I ask, my voice quieter now, thrown off by the sudden turn in this confrontation.

  “Could you be a little more specific, Sir Gavin?” Willow replies with dry sarcasm. “Because Ren here has been the target of many assassination attempts over the years.”

  “All of which were stopped by me,” she adds, smugly.

  “You have?” I ask, glancing at Ren.

  “Yes,” Ren says, urgently, trying to calm the situation. “There are powerful nobles in Arcadia who’ve been trying to kill me my entire life.”

  “But… I came here to investigate her… this fae.” My words sound hollow now, the conviction behind them slipping away. This is far messier than I expected.

  “Gavin, please,” Ren pleads. “Your duty is to protect the royal family, right? Then the person you should be investigating is the one who sent those men to kill me.”

  “We should be on the same side,” Willow says smoothly. “All I’ve ever done is protect the prince.”

  “You… mind-controlled the King…” I say weakly, but even I hear the doubt creeping into my tone.

  “My father is one of the people who wants me dead,” Ren answers grimly. “And I believe Lord Fobos is helping him.”

  I sigh, my sword arm slackening as my conviction wanes. I don’t know what to believe anymore. But I do know this—Edric Drakemore has never shown warmth toward his second son. I always assumed it was grief, that Ren reminded him of the Queen’s death. It was wrong, and it was cruel… but I never thought he’d actually try to kill his own child.

  I’ve always seen something of myself in Ren—another son discarded by his father. That connection was why I looked out for him. Why I respected him. I never understood why the King’s heart had changed… but now I wonder just how deep his darkness runs.

  “Lord Cromwell told me the men you killed were his and Fobos’s,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. The pieces are starting to fall into place. “If that’s true… then they sent assassins after Ren, and you—Willow—stopped them.”

  “That wasn’t the first time,” Willow says, folding her arms, “and it probably won’t be the last.”

  “Then why didn’t you report it? Why keep it secret?”

  “I had no proof,” Ren says, his voice heavy. “And no power to get proof. The nobles I’d be accusing are powerful and deeply connected.”

  “If I said something without evidence, they’d have grounds to exile me… or imprison me. And either way, it would’ve made it even easier for them to finish the job.”

  “I’m probably the only one with the authority and position to investigate this and gather real proof… if any exists.” I sheath my sword with a weary sigh.

  “I can’t ignore what you’ve told me,” I continue. “If there truly is a conspiracy within the council, the only way to stop it is with undeniable evidence—evidence strong enough to present before the entire council. Only then will those responsible for treason be held accountable.”

  I turn to Willow, eyes narrowed. “And only then can your actions be excused.”

  “You’ll do that?” Ren asks, hope slipping into his voice.

  “Yes,” I nod firmly. “I’ll return to the capital and do whatever it takes to uncover the truth—if there’s truth to be found. But if I discover that all of this is a lie... if I find out you’ve used me, or manipulated me, I will return. And I will end your control over the King—one way or another.”

  “I am confident that you will find the truth, Honorable Sir Gavin,” Willow replies calmly.

  “Thank you, Gavin,” Ren says quietly.

  “However,” I add, “while I’m conducting this investigation, I need both of you to stay far away from the capital. If you’re anywhere near, I can’t be certain you're not influencing the outcome.”

  “That’s fair,” Ren agrees. “We’ll remain here.”

  “One last thing,” I say, turning my full attention to Willow. “Can you swear that you won’t harm Ren, Abigail, Griswald, or anyone in this household while I’m gone?”

  Willow meets my gaze without hesitation. “I give you my word. I will do nothing to harm them. I would never hurt the friends and allies of the prince.” and then she adds "And what would you offer in return?"

  “Willow!” Ren snaps, shooting her a sharp look of disapproval before turning back to me. His voice is calm but firm as he says,"I swear to you, she won’t harm them. You have my word."

  I regard Willow for a long moment, the weight of her deception pressing hard on my chest. Yes, she’s been protecting Ren—but that doesn’t erase the fact that she lied to me. That they both did.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice low with hurt.

  “We didn’t know if we could trust you,” Willow answers simply.

  “How do you think you would’ve reacted if we’d told you she was a fae the day we met?” Ren adds, his tone cautious.

  “I’d have killed her on the spot,” I admit bitterly. “The only reason I’m even listening now is because you are… were… my friend.” A sharp pang twists in my chest as I say it.

  “That secret has kept Ren alive,” Willow says evenly. “The fewer people who know what I am, the safer he is. Do not hold it against him.”

  I turn back to her, scowling. “Were we ever friends? Or was it all manipulation? Are you still manipulating me?”

  Willow doesn’t flinch. “It’s an intrinsic effect all fae have. We project a natural influence—something that encourages trust. I don’t control it, and it affects everyone differently depending on their willpower.”

  She gestures subtly toward the kobold, who’s been watching us with wide, curious eyes and slowly wagging her tail.

  “That poor creature,” Willow continues, “is clearly under its full effect.”

  I glance over at Jade. She meets my gaze and waves cheerfully with her tiny clawed hand, flashing a wide, unnerving grin full of sharp teeth.

  Willow then nods toward me. “Whereas you, and Ren, are barely affected at all.”

  “So you’re saying… our friendship was real?” I ask, instantly regretting how much it sounds like a wounded plea. Like some starry-eyed maiden heartbroken by betrayal.

  “The fae don’t make friends,” Willow says gently. “But I am your ally, Gavin—as long as our goals align in protecting Ren. And the kindness I’ve shown you? That was no ruse.”

  “I understand. I will be returning to the Capital at once to investigate your claims.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Gavin. I really am,” Ren says, guilt in his voice. “I was scared.”

  In that moment, I see him clearly. Not as a prince. Not as an apprentice or ally. I see a boy who was cast aside, left to find his own way in a world that offered him no guidance. A child who had to learn on his own the lessons a father should have taught. And in him, I see myself.

  “It’s alright, Ren. I get it. And I promise to keep your secret—so long as keeping it stays in your best interest.” With that, I turn and walk away.

  My thoughts churn as I put distance between us. I’m not sure how I feel about any of this, but it doesn’t change what needs to be done. Feelings are secondary to duty, and right now, my duty is to uncover the truth and protect the Prince.

  Behind me, their voices drop to a hush—Ren and Willow speaking softly. All but one.

  “Are all human males that huge?” Jade asks loudly. “You’re really short for an adult, Ren!”