The courtyard was alive with activity, servants bustling about with trays of breakfast, linens, and fresh flowers as I headed back towards the west wing. The sunlight filtered through the canopies, dappled patterns playing across the cobblestone paths. Despite the hustle, an eerie silence hung over the place, the kind that set my teeth on edge.

Reaching the terrace that overlooked it all, I paused, my fingers gripping the cold stone railing. The breeze swept past, carrying with it the faint scent of salt from the nearby sea, tugging loose strands of my hair to brush against the neckline of my dark blue gown.

Below, I could see Luciana flitting between clusters of staff and barking out orders. By her side was another elf, also with silver hair but shorter and tied back, her posture equally poised as she directed a group of attendees preparing for the witch’s supper. A recent addition to my staff, I assumed. Watching them work seamlessly, I felt a flicker of relief. At least some things were in capable hands.

“Pensive this morning, aren’t we?” Devon’s voice came from behind me unexpectedly.

Startled, I turned to see him stepping onto the terrace, and I cursed myself for letting my thoughts distract me. He wore his official General black coat, the silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar a subtle nod to his rank. His hair was swept back, though a few strands had rebelliously fallen across his brow, softening the sharp lines of his face. His smile, though—Gaia, that smile—had the power to stop my heart and start it all over again.

“You’re not exactly chipper yourself,” I countered, leaning back against the railing with my arms crossed.

His gaze swept over me, lingering just long enough to make my pulse quicken, before he closed the distance between us. “I thought we had an agreement,” he said, his voice lowering as his hand lifted to brush a stray curl from my face. The calloused warmth of his fingers sent a thrill through me. “You’d tell the staff what to do and take the morning to rest. That’s why they’re here.”

“I don’t have the luxury of resting,” I said, exhaling slowly as I tried to rein in my frustration. “There’s so much to deal with. I don’t suppose you know my mother already scheduled the witch’s supper for tonight.”

His grin widened. “The impossible Saffron informed me last night. The witches couldn’t step foot onto the island without my official seal of invitation, which she insisted I stamp after the ceremony.”

I snorted, shaking my head. Of course, she’d cornered him. Probably right after leaving my chambers. “That woman doesn’t miss a beat,” I muttered, though a wry smile tugged at my lips. “I can only imagine how you escaped that conversation intact.”

“Barely,” he said with a soft chuckle, stepping closer until we were nearly touching. His hand found my waist. “But I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“For now,” I teased, sliding my hands up to rest on his shoulders. Why was his body always so warm? “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

His lips crashed into mine, stealing my breath as he pulled me firmly against him. His kiss was fierce, a hunger that made my heart race, as though he was trying to imprint this moment on my very soul. When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed lightly against mine, his stormy eyes searched my face.

“I have to join the regional council,” he said. “Something urgent has come up. I’d invite you along, but you’ve got the witch’s supper to prepare for.”

I nodded, my fingers brushing absently against the back of his neck. “I know. Yeon told me about it earlier. Just” be safe out there, okay?” I whispered, leaning in until our lips were a breath apart. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

His hand slid along my waist in a reassuring and possessive grip. “Count on it.” His lips found mine once more, softer this time, lingering as though reluctant to let go.

“Lord Irving!” A sentinel’s voice broke through the quiet, and we both turned toward the squadron waiting a few steps away. The lead sentinel, a tall man with a sharp, focused brown gaze, gave a respectful nod. “The carriages are ready.”

Devon straightened, his presence immediately shifting from lover to leader. His hand remained on my waist as he addressed two sentinels who stepped forward from the group. “Marcus, Edward,” he said. “You’re now in charge of my mate’s protection moving forward. Recruit as needed to form a capable squadron that will remain with her at all times, Marcus.”

“Yes, my lord,” Marcus replied without hesitation, bowing his head.

Edward glanced at me, his eyes softening a bit before he, too, nodded. “You’ll be well-guarded, your grace.”

I glanced back at Devon. “I don’t need a whole squadron,” I muttered, earning a small smirk from him.

“You’ll take it anyway,” he said, brushing a thumb along my jaw in one last tender gesture. “I’m not leaving anything to chance.”

I sighed but couldn’t help the smile on my lips. “Fine. But they’d better be good.”

“They’re the best,” he promised, stepping back reluctantly. “I’ll see you soon, C—il.”

And then he was gone. His presence and intoxicating scent faded as he walked off with the sentinels, disappearing down the path. A pang of frustration hit me, and I resisted the urge to call him back. Oh no. I’d forgotten to tell him about the Faerie contract.

“Edward will remain with you, your grace,” Marcus said as he gave a respectful bow. “I’ll see to the rest of the squadron.”

I nodded with a brief incline of my head. Satisfied, Marcus turned and left with quiet efficiency, his steps fading into the distance.

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out if I should go to Julia now to get started with the contract or try at the very least to tell Devon before. Then a thought struck me. Could I reach Devon through the mind link without him in sight? There was only one way to find out.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the bond thrumming between us like a silken thread tying us together. Devon? I thought, pushing the words outward, hoping they would find him.

The silence stretched, and for a moment, I thought it wouldn’t work. Then his voice echoed back in my mind. Miss me already, C—il?

A smile broke across my face, and I huffed softly. You’re lucky I do. I forgot to tell you about something important. The Faerie contract.

There was a pause, then his tone became more serious. Go on.

Julia is summoning the Faerie associated with her house to mediate the contract. It’s happening before the witch’s supper tonight.

Another pause, and I could feel his consideration even across the distance. Be extra careful, C—il. Faeries are unpredictable, even the ones bound by servitude. I won’t be there to intervene if something goes wrong. Promise me you’ll take every precaution.

I will, I assured him, closing my eyes to focus on the connection between us. Marcus is assembling the squadron you left to protect me, and Edward is right here. I don’t take unnecessary risks.

His voice came back lighter. That’s debatable.

A soft laugh escaped me. I trust you, he continued. But I expect a full report when I return. Understood?

Understood, I replied, my lips curving into a smile. The same goes for you, love. Stay safe.

There was a beat of silence, and then his response came, almost reverent, and wrapping around me like a gentle embrace. Love?

I felt a heat rise to my cheeks, but I didn’t pull back from the link. You heard me, I said, my thoughts brushing against his like a quiet, steady pulse.

His chuckle was low and warm, and I could feel it as much as hear it. I like the sound of that.

Good, because I’m not taking it back, I teased, letting the connection linger a little longer before drawing back.

The link quieted, and I opened my eyes, the courtyard coming back into focus. Even in his absence, he felt close, as if I could reach him no matter how far he was. I was truly beginning to appreciate this mind-bending ability more than I ever thought I would.

“I’m heading back to my chambers,” I said to Edward. He nodded without a word, falling into step a few paces behind me.

When we reached my chambers, I pushed open the doors and paused, blinking at the sight before me. The once serene, pristine space had been utterly transformed. My bedroom now looked like something out of a vivid dreamscape—like the heart of an enchanted forest. Lush greenery lined the walls, interspersed with vines and flowers that shimmered faintly as if touched by moonlight. Soft, glowing orbs floated lazily through the air, casting ethereal light that painted the room in hues of gold and green. But the most startling feature wasn’t the plants or the lights—it was the delicate creatures flitting about.

At first, I thought they were butterflies, but a second glance revealed translucent, gossamer wings and faintly humanoid forms. They weren’t butterflies. They were sprites.

“Stand guard out here, Edward,” I said firmly, drawing myself back to the present. “No one comes in unless I say otherwise.”

Edward gave a short nod and took his place by the door. I stepped fully into the room, the door clicking shut behind me.

“Julia,” I called, weaving my way through the swirling sprites toward the centre of the room. She was there, crouched beside a glowing circle drawn into the floor with precision and care, her violet wings shimmering faintly as she worked.

“Ah, your grace,” Julia greeted, glancing up with a bright smile. Her hands moved deftly, placing what looked like small crystals at evenly spaced intervals around the circle. “You’re just in time. Preparations are almost complete.”

I crossed my arms, taking in the spectacle around me. “You’ve been busy.”

Julia straightened, brushing off her hands and grinning. “You can’t call a faerie into dull surroundings, your grace. They’re easily bored.”

I arched a brow, glancing at the sprites flitting through the air. “And the sprites?”

“They came on their own,” Julia said, waving a hand dismissively. “Probably curious about what’s to come. Don’t worry, they’re harmless.”

I wasn’t entirely sure “harmless” was the word I’d use, but I trusted Julia’s expertise. She seemed at ease in the chaos she’d created, and her confidence was infectious.

“Let’s get on with it, then,” I said, stepping closer to inspect the circle. “What do I need to do?”

Julia’s grin widened. “Just stand in the centre when I tell you, your grace. I’ll handle the rest.”

The sprites darted closer as I took my place, their faint, chiming laughter filling the air. It was as if they knew something I didn’t.

The circle pulsed as I stepped inside, and the glow of the inscriptions carved around it glowed brighter. The vibrations were subtle at first but grew stronger as Julia worked her magic.

The sprites danced around us, their laughter mingling with the melodic whispers of the enchantment Julia was casting. I couldn’t tell if they were cheering us on or simply amused by the spectacle.

“Stay still, your grace,” Julia instructed in a whisper. She guided the energy that swirled within the circle with her hands. “Faeries will sense hesitation, and that could complicate things.”

Nodding, I planted my feet securely and clasped my hands in front of me. I waited impatiently, my anticipation building with every flicker of light.

“What should I expect?” I asked.

Julia glanced at me. “Expect the unexpected, your grace. They’re creatures of whimsy and mischief. They’ll test you—see how far they can push before the binding takes hold, if they so choose.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting, but I didn’t let the unease show on my face. Instead, I focused on the glowing symbols at my feet, and the rhythmic pulse of the circle right below me.

The light got brighter and brighter, filling the room with warmth that wasn’t oppressive or particularly comforting. It simply existed, like a presence taking shape. The sprites grew quieter, their movements slowing like dancers at the end of a performance, as they retreated to the corners of the room.

Then, the light coalesced, gathering into a single, brilliant point at the centre of the summoning circle. It pulsed once, twice, and then expanded, shifting into the form of a creature.

When the faerie appeared, they weren’t what I expected. I had envisioned something akin to the Fae; ethereal, humanoid, but familiar. This” being defied every expectation. She towered over me, at least seven feet tall, her form both graceful and disconcerting. Her “skin” was an unbroken canvas of pure white, devoid of imperfections, and her face—if it could be called that—lacked eyes, a nose, or hair. All she had were lips, full and painted black, standing out against her featureless visage.

Her dress was a swirling masterpiece, black as night, and constantly in motion, as if alive. The effect was haunting, and strangely beautiful, like a living piece of art.

Julia dropped to her knees immediately, bowing her head so low it nearly touched the floor. “Your Excellency,” she whispered, and her voice trembled with reverence. It was a tone I’d never heard from her before, and it made me anxious.

The faerie tilted her head down toward me, her lips parting into a slow smile. When she spoke, her voice was a melody, every note intentional, every word imbued with a lilting cadence that felt both enchanting and dangerous.

“Celeste Le Torneau,” she said, and the sound of my name lingered like the final note of a song. Her lips curved further as she leaned in, her featureless face somehow alive with expression. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Her giggle followed, and it sounded so musical.

Holding my ground, I smiled a little as I angled my head. “And you are?” I asked as my eyes traced the exquisite details of her form with open curiosity. “You are” magnificent,” I admitted, the word slipping out before I could stop myself.

Her laughter rang out, louder this time, a rich, lilting sound that danced off the walls. Her form swayed gently, like a tree in a soft breeze, her movements fluid and mesmerizing. “Oh, I know,” she said with playful vanity in her voice. “But flattery will only get you so far, little witch. Now, what is it you seek?”

I stole a glance at Julia, who remained frozen in her bow, her head still lowered as if afraid to even breathe wrong. Then I turned back to the faerie, meeting her eyeless face with a smile. “As if you don’t already know,” I said. “Why else would I summon you?”

The faerie’s lips curved further, her smile both a thing of beauty and menace. “A contract,” she mused, tasting the word like a fine vintage. “How delightful. Do tell me, little witch, are you prepared to pay the price?”

My smile widened, as a touch of my mother’s bravery coursed through me. “I don’t intend to pay a price,” I said nonchalantly. “We will form a mutually binding contract because you and I? We’re bound to happen. Don’t you feel it?”

The faerie stilled, her head tilting slightly like she was considering what I had just said. It was so hard to read her, but I could guess from the way her lips parted, and how her smile had softened by a fraction now.

Julia shifted beside me and her voice was barely audible as she tried to speak. “Your grace’”

“Silence!” the faerie barked, her melodic voice cutting through the room like a whip. Julia flinched, her wings trembling as she pressed herself lower to the ground. The faerie’s attention snapped back to me.

“You’re bold, little witch,” she said. “Few dare to summon me and speak so plainly. But boldness alone won’t bind me. Convince me why I should enter into such a contract with you. Convince me” why you are worth it.”

I straightened, smiling a bit. “I don’t particularly care for being called a little witch,” I said coolly. “Witch alone would suffice.”

Her lips parted in a dazzling smile as she let out a lilting giggle. “But you’re such a tiny little thing,” she teased, her towering form swaying slightly like a child.

“In comparison to you,” I shot back with a shrug. “And we both know you could bring yourself to my size if you wanted to.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” she asked, bending forward a little and tilting her eyeless face as if she was looking at me.

“Here’s the thing,” I began, crossing my arms and meeting her faceless gaze without a flicker of doubt. “From the way you look—and might I add, you don’t exactly scream “common faerie’’I doubt you’re the one Julia intended to summon. What that tells me is that you and I already have some sort of bond. That’s why this summon brought you here instead.”

The grin on her face widened, and I knew she was enjoying our exchange.

“I won’t bother with flattery or flowery words to convince you,” I continued. “Because we both know you wouldn’t have come if you weren’t the least bit interested in forming a bond. And you certainly wouldn’t be here if you thought I wasn’t worth it.”

I took a breath before I stepped closer. “You’re here because you know we fit. You know we’d be fantastic together. That’s why you will bond with me.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that felt like the calm before a storm. Her head tilted further, as if she was savouring the moment. When she laughed, the sound spilled out like a hymn.

“You’re clever,” she said. “And confident. Perhaps even too much so. But I’ll admit, little witch, you intrigue me.”

Her gown shifted and rippled like smoke caught in a draft, and it kept pulling my attention. She leaned in, her eyeless face close enough that I could feel the faint warmth radiating from her presence. Though I stood my ground, my muscles tensed instinctively.

“Now tell me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Who are you?”

Her wicked smile deepened, and for a moment, I thought I saw the edges of her lips curl unnaturally, too wide for comfort. “Oh, little witch,” she purred. “They call me Mouriana.”

At the name, Julia made a sound, a barely stifled gasp, as if it had clawed its way out of her throat before she could stop it. Mouriana’s head snapped to Julia, her faceless gaze somehow searing in its intensity. “And your little attendant already knows why you should be trembling, doesn’t she?” Her smile returned, as sharp as glass.

I glanced at Julia. She was still bowed, her hands pressing into the floor as if she could sink into it and disappear. “Your grace,” she whispered, and her voice was strained with fear. “Mouriana is’”

“I’ll stop you right there,” Mouriana interrupted. “This conversation isn’t for you, little moth. Stay silent unless I grant you the privilege to speak.”

Julia’s lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see the tremor in her hands. My gaze returned to Mouriana. I already knew she wasn’t the faerie Julia had planned to summon. And that meant Mouriana had come of her own volition.

“Why are you here, Mouriana?” I asked. “If you weren’t the one we called, then what brought you to me?”

Her swirling form stilled, her smile softening into curiosity. “I heard the call,” she said simply, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “And I came because I was curious. It’s not often a witch like you steps onto the stage. I wanted to see for myself what made you so” compelling.”

“And what do you think?” I asked, and I could feel Julia’s silent plea for caution radiating beside me.

Mouriana leaned back slightly, her gown rippling again like restless shadows. “I think,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “you might be worth my time.”