Page 40 of Wrath of the Never Queen

“I prepared it for tonight.”

“Which means the servants prepared it.”

He looks affronted.

“Iprepared it. Myself. You are not the only one who visits the kitchens.”

I look at him for a long moment and accept the tea. It is soothingly warm. I take a sip, and it eases my throat, raw from crying. I glance at the basket and spy a long container there, likelywhere the tea is stored.

“It is still hot.” I cock an eyebrow at the prince. He picks up the container and pours himself a cup.

“A gift from Swordstead,” he explains. “There is a structure within which keeps whatever is inside warm for much longer than you would expect.”

“Extraordinary,” I murmur, running a finger across the container. It must have been a royal gift—I have never seen such an item in the merchant wares. Inadvertently, I think of Frostalm and all the new and wonderful things I would have learned there. A lump forms in my throat again. I take a large gulp of tea to ease it.

The prince opens the rest of the wicker basket to reveal an assortment of treats. Delighted, I pick out a small snowberry cake.

“What happened here?” I ask after taking a bite.

The prince frowns and looks at the gaping hole in the side of the room. A light wind whistles past the brick.

“I am…not quite sure. Dragons, perhaps?”

“Dragons?”

The prince spreads his hands and shrugs.

“They are the only things I can think of who can come this high.”

I chew on my cake thoughtfully. Below us, the chatter of staff floats up like leaves on a breeze.

“Dragons did live here,” I say. “Originally. The First Home of Dragons turned the New Home of Witches. I have not found any texts about why they moved.”

“Perhaps we moved them.” The prince’s voice is quiet. I look out over the treetops.

“Yes. Perhaps we did.”

The sun slips below the horizon, and the sky fades to a deep blue. The first stars start to wink overhead.

“I have never seen so much of the sky before,” I say, keeping my eyes on the stars. When the prince gives me a quizzical look, I continue, “The tree canopy is too dense. The only way to see the sky is to leave Mossgarde.”

Or to be imprisoned in the castle, I think with a bitter irony. It took losing my freedom to gain the sky.

“You are welcome here any time.”

I smile, stomach fluttering. The prince looks down at me and smiles back. We are standing close enough for our arms to brush off each other. Even though there are several layers of fabric, it is enough to send goosebumps along my arms. And then, out of the corner of my eye, the first firebug appears.

It ascends slowly, just a glowing orange dot against the trees. The sky deepens into black, and a hush falls over us both. We watch the firebug dance up and up until it soars well above the treetops.

It is followed by a few more. And then more. Before long, firebugs ascend in their thousands. They fill the night sky, drifting upwards and towards the horizon with purpose. They move nearly in tandem. It is as though they are not individual firebugs but one giant creature swirling like fluid. My breath catches in my throat, and I clench my hands over the wall.

In Mossgarde, once the firebugs cleared the tree canopy, they were no longer visible. But here, the prince and I watch until they disappear into the distance. Even after they have gone, I find my gaze stitched to the horizon, searching for them still.

“Thank you,” I eventually say. My voice is thick.

“It was my pleasure.”

When I look up at the prince, his chestnut hair flutters in the breeze. His eyes are soft, and they catch my gaze. My pulse quickens. Whatever feelings I tried to bury have come back twice over. And I have no hope of stopping them.

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