Page 93 of The Queen's Box

Poppy grinned and elbowed Willow in the ribs. “Speaking of roots—our Serrin’s got a fine root on him, I’d wager. He’ll have you ripening in no time.”

Willow did a spit take, spraying hot chocolate down the front of her nightdress.

“Oh, miss, look what you’ve done!” Poppy tutted.

“Sorry, sorry,” Willow said, trying to laugh it off. Poppy’s bawdy joke shouldn’t have surprised her, after all. If Willow was to be Serrin’s mate... well, what did mates do, after all? They mated.

Only, Willow didn’t want to mate with Serrin. She hadn’t known it until just that moment, but now the truth pricked her like a thorn and would not dislodge.

It wasn’t fear. She wasn’t frightened of bodies or heat or want—she’d felt all of that, raw and real, when Cole had kissed her in World’s End. That kiss had crackled. It had pulled her into the now.

Serrin didn’t pull her anywhere.

Of course, Willow hadn’t seen him yet. Not properly. Not in the flesh. That was all it was, surely. That had to be it. Once they were face-to-face, once his hand touched hers, once his gaze met hers across some moonlit expanse...

“All right, miss,” Poppy said, heaving herself up from her fireside seat. “Let’s get you to bed. With the Mating Ceremony just two days away, it’s no time to skimp on your beauty sleep.”

~

As Willow was sipping her honeyed tea the next morning, Poppy dashed with flushed cheeks into Willow’s chamber.

“Miss, miss!” she exclaimed. “You’ve been summoned!” She laid a parchment in front of Willow that bore Severine’s sigil pressed in wax.

“Isn’t it thrilling?” Poppy said. “Perhaps it’s for a dress fitting—or maybe to rehearse tomorrow’s ceremony!”

Willow rose, heart quickening. “She didn’t say?”

“No, but queens never do,” Poppy said. “That’s what makes them queens!”

Willow hoped it was a rehearsal she’d been summoned for. All she knew about tomorrow’s ceremony was that Serrin, the crown prince, would gaze into the sanctified scrying pool and see his queen-to-be. He’d stand tall and say Willow’s name, and then... and then...

Her new life would begin.

Poppy tugged her toward the wardrobe, muttering about sleeves and seasonal colors. “You need something understated but not too understated. Velvet always reads well on the lawn...”

Willow let herself be dressed like a doll, her insides buzzing. Aesra arrived to collect her, as stern and dour as always, and soon Willow was trailing the silent Secret Sister down corridors she’d never seen before—hushed halls where stained-glass windows spilled fractured light across the marble floor. It felt like walking through a half-remembered dream.

Aesra halted before a tall door carved from weathered stone. She pressed it open and gestured Willow through. “Go on, then.”

Willow stepped out into a space she hadn’t known existed. This was no mere lawn. It unfurled before her in sharp geometry, a vast chessboard carved from living foliage, its squares alternating between dark grass and tiles of pale pink blossoms. Towering figures loomed above the grid—serpents, unicorns, a gryphon with vast leafy wings. At the board’s center crouched a dragon wrought from thorny vines, head low, eyes glittering with dewdrops. Smoke trickled from its parted jaws. A quiet hiss escaped as Willow passed.

“Ah, Willow,” said Severine, gliding forward in a lavender gown. “What a pleasant surprise.”

It was hardly a surprise. The queen had summoned her here. But politesse existed in Eryth just as it did in Atlanta, and Willow had learned how to play the game.

“Indeed,” she said. “And what a lovely courtyard.”

“Shall we stroll?” Severine asked, offering her arm. Willow stepped forward and looped her own through it.

They walked. Aesra trailed behind, more watchful than usual. Willow caught flickers of motion at the edge of her vision, the sharp snap of Aesra’s tunic as she turned. Whatever this was, it mattered.

“I wanted to thank you,” Severine said. “You’ve done so well since you’ve been here.”

Willow blushed with pleasure. “Thank you. I’m glad. I just... I want to help Serrin. That’s all.”

“And you have—more than you know.”

They rounded a bend, and Willow’s stomach tightened. In the distance, a low iron gate stood ajar. Willow knew that low iron gate.

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