Serena

MOTHER—JUST WHAT EVERY GIRL WANTS to hear after she admits to liking someone who confessed to bonding with her in the womb. And why did he jump away from me so fast?

The air whistles around me, and I turn in a composed manner and come face-to-face with Queen Ophelia.

I’ve heard rumors throughout the supernatural world about her insane beauty. They say it brings mere mortals to their knees, and haunts the demigods in their dreams.

Standing in front of her, I can say it’s all true. She’s beyond stunning. My lips part in awe. It’s like seeing a rare flower that you’ve only heard exists until it’s in front of you.

The sun beams off her golden-blonde hair, highlighting the long strands. She has it braided on one side, entwined with lime leaves. The scent is citrusy, crisp, invigorating.

Cognac irises that mirror Tristan’s meet my awed gaze, and a kind smile crosses her cherry lips as she curtsies. The long, flowing forest-green dress she’s wearing cascades across the grass in a dream-like fashion. A chiffon olive cape drapes over her slender figure as she returns to her full height and her gaze meets mine.

“Princess Serena, it is a great honor to welcome you into the woodland realm.” Her voice is sweet. Angelic.

After a moment, I come to my senses and curtsy. “Your Majesty, it’s I who am honored.” I find my voice.

Queen Ophelia dips her chin, pleased with my manners, and holds out an olive branch, which I take with a smile.

“The twig is a friendship token among the woodland nymphs. It is a symbol of peace and love,” she explains.

“It is a most treasured gesture, Your Majesty,” I reply, recalling my training in formalities of state. “Thank you.”

“Mother,” Tristan steps toward her, taking her hands and kissing each cheek lightly. “You look beautiful, as always.”

At the sight of him, her eyes light up, filling with adoration. Her palm lifts and rests on his cheek. “It’s good to see you, Tristan. Are you well, my dear boy?”

“I am, though I won’t be if you keep referring to Serena as Princess. She’s not fond of the title,” he informs her. “It angers her. To no end. Like, death-threat-inducing rage.”

The queen’s brows pinch before she slides her concerned gaze to me. “Apologies, Serena. I meant no disrespect.”

I force a smile and vow to kill Tristan in his sleep—with a pillow. Suffocation is definitely the way to end him.

“It’s fine, Your Majesty,” I reply. “Truly, you’re welcome to use the title. Or call me whatever you’d like.”

Tristan throws me a victorious smirk before turning back to his mom. “She prefers to be called raindrop.”

“Raindrop?” his mother repeats, bemused.

“Actually, I don—,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Have you received word from Zander?” he asks her.

She nods. “The Diablo Fairies have been held off, for now. Serena’s family has returned to London.” Her gaze slides to mine. “Your guard was badly injured, but is being cared for. Zander has placed your friend, Magali, under the safekeeping of a young protector named Ethan,” she explains, and turns to Tristan. “Your brother will be returning this evening, once Magali is settled, per a promise he made.”

I exhale, grateful for the news, yet worried about Rulf.

“Good,” Tristan replies.

Queen Ophelia shifts her focus between Tristan and me.

“Raindrop,” she stumbles at the name. “Your uncle Asher has requested that you remain in our realm, under our protection, of course, until he releases the order.”

“Serena,” I interject, and Tristan chuckles. “I’d prefer to be called Serena, Your Majesty.”

Ophelia shoots an annoyed glare at Tristan. “Of course,” she sighs. “I should have known better. I do hope, despite my son’s tongue-in-cheek behavior, you will do me the honor of being our dinner guest at the castle this evening.”

“I would be happy to, despite Tristan’s attendance,” I respond, and an amused expression crosses Ophelia’s face.

“I do believe you’ve met a worthy verbal opponent, son,” she says and turns on her heel—a signal for us to follow.

We make our way through the woodland realm, and I can’t help but notice how lush and picturesque it is.

It’s almost as if the land was hand-painted, each stroke as lovely and vivid as the next one.

Queen Ophelia runs her fingertips over a tree’s leaves as we pass by. In an instant, it brightens, as if waking. The jade color deepens, like she breathed life into it.

“Our realm is ancient, despite its youthful beauty. We owe much of its health to the water realm,” she explains.

Tristan grunts next to her.

“We owe nothing to Oren,” he retorts.

Ophelia presses her lips together. “Ignore him. When the prince is hungry he becomes disenchanting.”

Tristan throws an annoyed glance her way, causing me to smile. I like that they have a normalish relationship.

“He must be hungry a lot, then,” I banter.

Queen Ophelia releases a hearty laugh at my jab.

When we reach the end of the path, it forks off, and I wait to see which direction we’re heading in.

Ophelia takes my hands and offers a gentle squeeze.

“Rionach and I look forward to hosting you this evening. Until then, I do hope my son will mind his manners and be respectful of the fact that you are a guest in our realm.”

I sense her statement is a warning for Tristan, not me.

“We aren’t going to the castle now?” I ask, confused.

“I have some realm business to attend to. Since Tristan is your protector, you should accompany him to his home, where he will allow you to rest and freshen up. We’ll see one another shortly,” she says warmly, and gives me a small hug.

The queen turns to her son. “You may be a protector in the outside world, but in this realm, you are a prince. Remember your duties and oaths. The forest has eyes, son.”

His jaw tightens. “Of course, mother.”

She places a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Off you go, then.”

Tristan and I stand in silence as his mother takes her leave, before he runs his hand through his hair, aggravated.

“Shall we?” he asks, and motions to the other path.

“Sure,” I follow him. “What was it like growing up here?”

His steps become measured. “It was . . . wholesome.”

I laugh. “Interesting word choice.”

We walk next to one another for a while in silence before his voice startles me. “Until Zander came along, it was . . . lonely. My mother was always busy with her royal obligations. My father didn’t exist. I had hired nannies, guards, and playmates. At home I was schooled, trained, and taught as much as I could absorb about the supernatural worlds in preparation to one day become king.”

I wrap my arms around myself, because it sounds a lot like my childhood. Sheltered and lonely.

“I was under constant protection and watchful eyes for security reasons. Each day was the same. Then one day, my mother hired Rionach to oversee her security detail and army. With Rionach came Zander. With Zander came entertainment. For the first time in my life, I had a partner in crime. Someone to experience life with. To have fun and get in trouble with. Zander’s friendship allowed me to take off the mask I had to always hide behind. You know?”

I meet his gaze. “Actually, I don’t. I’ve never had that.”

He stops and wraps his fingers around one of my wrists. “What about Magali, Ethan, Ireland, and Ryker?”

My toe kicks some dirt and rocks. “Their friendships mean the world to me. At the end of the day, though, they know who I am and where I come from. They may have lowered their expectations of me over the years, but they still see me as their future queen. My actions disappoint them in the same way they do my family. They just hide it better. I keep some form of my mask on to please them.”

A dark smile curls at his lips. “What about me?”

I avert my gaze from his. “What about you?”

“Don’t do that,” he orders, placing his palm on my cheek, forcing me to look at him. “Where’s the mask for me?”

“I don’t need it with you,” I reply, barely audible.

“Why is that, raindrop?”

“You break the rules with me. Let me breathe. You see past the façade and embrace the realness. I can just be me.”

Tristan swallows. “Though I have the title of Prince, I’m not one, Serena. I can’t be anyone’s Prince Charming.

“Well then, you’re in luck. I hate fairy tales.”

Tristan

Yeah, we’re not fooling anyone. The tension between us mounts as I stand here with her cheek in my palm. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help but touch her.

My skin comes alive with each moment that passes, and I feel like we’re becoming something else. Something bigger than either of us are prepared for. The fingertips of my other hand run over the soft skin of her other cheek.

“That’s good to know.”

“What is?” she exhales on a shaky breath.

“That you can breathe around me,” I reply. “Since I’m your pretend boyfriend, I feel like it would suck if you died from lack of oxygen while under my protection.”

Her grin appears. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

“Being your boyfriend? Or your ability to breathe around me?” My voice is raspy.

She steps closer. “Either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I whisper, my eyes trained on her mouth. And as the guarded walls I put up around my heart come tumbling down, I become addicted to her smile.

In this moment, even gravity can’t pull me back to the ground. I lean in first and she meets me halfway.

Our lips are a breath away.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t fall for him,” a deep voice says, and both Serena and I freeze. With a muttered curse, I release her face and step back.

My heart is in my throat.

“Pardon?” Serena turns and asks Zander.

“It makes it much easier on my conscience to steal you away if you aren’t in love with him. Being his—it complicates things between us,” he winks.

I curb my desire to strangle my brother.

“It’s probably better for your ego this way,” Serena replies haughtily, and I hide my pride at her sass.

Zander’s grin grows wider. “I do bruise like a peach.”

I exhale a harsh breath.

All of a sudden I’m exhausted.

“Is Magali okay?” Serena inquires.

“She is. I left her a little while ago with Ethan and Lucas. They’re going to have her stay over for a few nights. Your dad and uncles are okay too. Rulf took a pretty big machete to the gut. He’s in a stone state sleep, healing. It might be a few days until he’s recovered, so Asher would like you to remain here in the woodland realm until things calm down and Rulf can return to his guard duties. Since my brother is your boyfriend, I’m guessing you’ll be okay with that,” he teases.

Serena rolls her eyes and pierces me with a hard look.

“Why do I have such a giant target on my back where the Diablo Fairies are concerned?”

I tip my head in the direction of my house.

“I’ll tell you all about it, but not out in the open.”

She nods her agreement and begins to walk forward, when I feel Zander’s hand grab at my elbow, halting me.

“What’s up, man?” I ask.

“Don’t fuck around and get attached to her.” His voice is low. He forgets Serena’s gargoyle ears can still hear him.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got this,” I reply, and he yanks on my elbow harder, forcing my full attention.

“I mean it, Tristan. I’m not sure what kind of game you two are playing with one another, but you and she have taken oaths that are larger than both of you,” he reminds, and hands me a duffel bag. “Magali packed a few things she thought Serena would need while she stays here. I added the condoms just in case. You are both adults. My warning was about feelings only. There is no reason not to have fun while waiting for fate to take over,” he adds, his tone lighter.

“See you at dinner,” I dismiss him, and catch up with her.

“The woodland realm is beautiful,” she blurts out.

“Don’t be fooled, darkness lurks,” I warn.

She points to the bag. “Weapons?”

“Clothes. Magali packed some stuff for you.”

I relax with the direction of the conversation. If she’d heard Zander, she isn’t going to bring up what he said. Relief hits me.

Serena stops walking and lifts her head. “Is this yours?”

I take in my house and smile. “It is.”

“It’s beautiful.” Her voice is quiet. “You must hate living at the Academy in that tiny room, when you have all this waiting for you here,” she says in awe.

I squint at the well-lit, wood, glass, and stone modern cabin. I’d never admit this to Serena, but this place isn’t really home.

It’s always empty.

Given the choice, I’d choose the small suite with her.

We walk up the cobblestone pathway, passing the fire pit and Adirondack chairs on the left. We climb the stone stairs, continue to the deck, and make our way to the front door.

I push it open and step aside so she can enter. Hesitantly she does, taking everything in with each step.

“The siding is made from poplar and the trim is made out of black locust log,” I explain, needing noise in the silence.

The house is meant to impress.

“It’s amazing,” Serena responds, turning back to the front wall, lined with large windows looking out into the woods.

I hold my hand out to her without thinking.

“Want a tour?”

She stares at my fingers for a moment before placing her soft palm in mine. Automatically, my thumb rubs over her rings before I guide her around, showing her the living room with high wooden ceilings and a floor-to-ceiling fireplace. The cozy couches and leather chairs add comfort.

‘This is the kitchen.” I point to the wooden cabinets and countertop with several chairs lining the outside. “Help yourself to anything while you’re here.”

She runs her hand over the pool table as we pass it, and I take her down the window-lined long hallway to the stairs.

Serena follows me up the two floors, where I continue to show her the bathrooms and guest rooms, before we stand in front of the master suite.

I push open the doors and reveal the expansive room lined on one side with open French doors that lead to a stone balcony, which overlooks a large lake.

Her eyes widen and she releases my hand, walking toward the two chairs and fireplace that face outside.

“This is . . . beyond breathtaking, Tristan.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s like a log-cabin castle,” she continues.

“Well, I am a prince in the woodland realm,” I joke.

Serena looks at me. “So you are.”

I lift my chin to the chairs. “Why don’t you relax a little? I’ll put your bag in the guest room across the hall and then we can talk.”

She nods her agreement and fatigue falls across her face.

“Be back,” I mutter, leaving.

After making sure the guest room is set, I pad down to the kitchen and grab two bottles of water before heading back to the master suite.

I stop in my tracks when I get to the doors.

The fire is lit, all the doors are open to the outside and Serena is curled up under a blanket on one of the chairs, staring out over the lake, wearing one of my T-shirts.

No one except Zander, the housekeeper, and my mother comes into my home. Her presence here is unnerving.

Sensing me, she turns and offers me a shy smile.

“Sorry, I just wanted some fresh air. But then I got a little chilly,” she motions to the fireplace and looks down at herself. “I also wanted to get comfortable, so I stole one of your T-shirts. Hope that was okay?”

“You lit the fireplace on your own?” I question, and place the waters on the table between the two chairs.

Her brows pinch before she starts laughing. “It wasn’t that hard, Tristan. You just flip the switch on the wall.”

I raise my eyebrows and give her a confused look.

“Really?” I question.

“It’s gas,” she smirks.

“Oh.” I sit in the empty chair next to her.

“You’ve never turned it on?” she asks, snatching a water.

“I can’t say that I have,” I reply.

“Sad,” she exhales, and rests her head on the back of the chair. “If I lived here, I would have it on every night.”

My chest tightens at the idea of her living here—forever.

All of a sudden, this house feels like home.