Gretta pulled out the small vial hanging from the chain around her neck. Inside, a few drops of azure fluid shimmered in the lantern light. She had stared at it every day for years. It had been easy to ignore before the gray crept into her hair. Before her joints stiffened, before her skin lost its smoothness. Before old wounds started aching when the weather turned.

  She rolled the vial between her fingers, listening absently to the sounds of The Green Rook. Through the walls, the low murmur of voices from the tavern mixed with the scrape of chairs and the occasional burst of laughter. The scent of roasting meat and herbs drifted in from the kitchen, where Bool, a Sulky, was likely perched near the fire, stirring the evening’s meal. The water fairy usually preferred the pond out back, but she took pride in cooking, and as long as Meg and Gretta kept her waters clean, she seemed content.

  Beyond the kitchen, Gretta could hear the distant arrival of the merchants—new voices, heavy boots, the metallic jingle of coin.

  The world bustled on without her, but Gretta remained where she was, staring at the vial.

  It had been a gift. Meg had given it to her after she’d been in Fairy for five years and still hadn’t found her mother. Just a little more time, Gretta had said, over and over, long past the point when even she believed it. Meg had heard, and Meg had answered. She had bought Gretta time. Literal time.

  A sip, and Gretta would be bound to Fairy, never aging, never sick. Without her goddess’s favor, Gretta was aging like any other human.

  And yet, she had never uncorked the vial.

  Because taking it meant never going back. Never knowing what had happened to her father. Never setting foot on Earth again. And despite everything she had built here—despite the home she had made at The Green Rook—she couldn't make that choice.

  “Considering it again?”

  Gretta startled, her grip tightening around the vial as Meg’s voice rumbled from behind her. She turned sharply, finding Meg standing just a few feet away, massive and unmoving. Gretta scowled. “Do you have to be so quiet?”

  Meg smirked. “You were distracted.”

  Gretta tucked the vial away, rolling her shoulders. “Nah, I’m headed back to Earth soon,” she said. Same words as always. This time, they tasted like a lie.

  Meg snorted, unconvinced. “Staying in Fairy isn’t a bad price for immortality.”

  Gretta crossed her arms. “A disciple of the Wild doesn’t chain herself to anything.”

  Meg shrugged, unbothered. “I’m not bound, and I never leave. What’s the big deal?”

  Gretta held her gaze but didn’t answer.

  Meg exhaled through her nose, shifting her weight. “I came to tell you something.”

  Gretta raised an eyebrow, waiting.

  Meg hesitated, then shook her head. “Dorian’s in the Summer Court.”

  Gretta stilled. Her fingers curled around the hilt of her obsidian dagger, jaw tightening.

  Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years of anger, of knowing he was still out there while she had been stuck here, waiting. And now he was close.

  “If he steps foot in here, I’ll put him down myself.”

  Meg grinned. “Might not have to. Somebody already cracked his skull open.”

  Gretta blinked. “You mean broke his nose?”

  Meg let out a barking laugh. “Nope. Skull. If he hadn’t landed right in front of a healer, he’d be a corpse.” She snorted. “No such luck.”

  Meg exhaled sharply. “When he finds out you’re here, he’ll come.”

  Gretta’s fingers tightened around her apron. “And?”

  Meg met her gaze. “I’ll deal with him.”

  Gretta scoffed. “He works for the Queen. There may be consequences.” Her voice was steady, but she could already feel the shift in the air. Everything was about to change. “Maybe it’s time I move on?”

  Meg’s brows drew together. “And where would you go? To Winter’s lands?” She snorted. “That might keep you safe from Thadius a bit longer, but the Winter Queen will make a stew out of ya.”

  Gretta shook her head. “If Thadius was after me, we’d have seen him already.”

  Meg’s expression darkened. “The only reason he hasn’t come after you is that he didn’t know about you. But once Dorian tells the Queen…” She hesitated. “He’s been building power, Gretta. You know that. And he’s not alone anymore.”

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

  Gretta’s stomach twisted. She unfastened her apron and set it aside. “Even you can’t protect me from Thadius.”

  “Nope,” Meg agreed. “There’s nowhere to hide. The Queen’s spies are everywhere, and the only reason she hasn’t cared about you is that you were just a nameless human under my aegis. Not worth the trouble—until now.”

  Gretta exhaled slowly. She had spent twenty-five years staying out of sight, treading carefully. But there was no more safety. Not now.

  She turned toward her room. “Then I have to get to Dorian first.”

  Meg exhaled. “Ya gunna stab him before Thadius gets ya?”

  Gretta pulled her dagger from its sheath, turning it over in her fingers. Obsidian, sharp as ever, but against a demon? It was nothing. A splinter in a wildfire.

  “I’ve seen you fight when you were twenty years younger,” Meg said. “We all have, and we respect ya for it, but you aren’t going to fight a demon with that piece of glass.”

  “I can’t fight Thadius,” Gretta acknowledged. “He’s out of my weight class. For that matter, he’s out of your weight class.” She shoved the dagger back into its sheath and reached under her bed, pulling out her pack.

  “We’ll see,” Meg murmured. “Been a few hundred years since I’ve had a challenge. Maybe it’s about time.”

  Gretta stilled. Then she turned to Meg, expression sharp. “You know you can’t beat him.”

  Meg didn’t flinch. “I know.” She couldn’t lie.

  Gretta tightened the straps on her pack. Her hands were steady. “Thadius killed half the Queen’s Court,” she said. “You are my friend. I won’t lead him to your door.”

  Meg’s expression softened, but her voice remained firm. “You didn’t strike me as the runnin’ type. Not in all these years.”

  Gretta shouldered the pack and turned to the door. “I’m not running,” she said. “I’m hunting.”

  Meg’s eyes flickered, assessing her. Gretta couldn’t shift into a tiger anymore, but the tiger had never left her. She wasn’t prey.

  Whatever happened next, she would not die hiding.

  Meg let out a sigh. “I can see I’m not going to sway you, but you’ve built a life here and you’re throwing it away.”

  Gretta paused at the door, glancing around the space she had called home for so long. The Green Rook had been more than just a tavern—it had been safe, steady. A place where the world, for once, had not been hunting her. She had lived here longer than anywhere else in her life. And now she was leaving.

  She turned to Meg, who stood watching her, arms crossed. No sadness in her face, but something else—something unspoken.

  Gretta exhaled, offering a small, lopsided smile. “It wasn’t the life I expected. But it was a good one.” She hesitated, then added, “You’re the best friend I could have hoped for.”

  Meg nodded. “I know.”

  A pause. That was all there was to say.

  Meg tilted her head. “Who will run the tavern?”

  Before Gretta could answer, heavy footsteps thundered toward them.

  “Miss Dew! Miss Dew!”

  Gammy came barreling through the kitchen entrance, his broad goblin frame nearly knocking over a chair. He skidded to a halt, looking between Gretta and her pack, his thick brows furrowing. “Why do you have your bag? You don’t take your bag when you go to the market.”

  Gretta sighed. “Yes, Gammy?”

  “Traveling merchants just arrived,” Gammy said. “They ordered dinner and a round of drinks for everyone.”

  Gretta let out a soft chuckle. “Of course they did.” She slung the pack higher onto her shoulder. “I’m putting you in charge. From now on, I want you to run the tavern.”

  Gammy scratched his head. “Beg your pardon, Miss Dew, but I’m the server. You run the tavern.”

  “You’ll have Meg to help you with the riffraff, and Bool to help you with the food. All the regulars know you. You can do it.”

  Gammy frowned, looking like he was about to argue, then seemed to think better of it. “If you say so,” he mumbled, still looking puzzled.

  Meg glanced at him, then raised an eyebrow. “That’s not why you came in here, is it, Gammy?”

  “Oh, yeah!” Gammy perked up. “The reason the merchants ordered a round for everyone was because they had a run-in with bandits.”

  Gretta snorted. “Sounds harrowing. I’m sure they’ll have plenty of exaggerated tales for the other patrons.” She adjusted the strap of her pack and started toward the back door.

  “They saw a human,” Gammy said, excitement buzzing in his voice. “Said the bandits were beating ‘em good.”

  Gretta stopped mid-step. A human? Here?

  Her fingers curled slightly. It could be anyone. Should be anyone. But coincidences weren’t a thing when it came to Rowan. Trouble clung to him like a curse.

  She forced her voice to stay even. “A human? What did they look like?”

  Gammy scratched his head. “Didn’t say.” He frowned in thought, then brightened. “Oh! But the guy said getting beaten was predictable.”

  Gretta closed her eyes. That did it.

  “What’s predictable?” Gammy asked.

  “Me, saving him,” she muttered. She let out a slow breath, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

  Meg, watching, smirked. “Would that be your roommate?”

  Gretta ignored the way her chest tightened at that word. Roommate. Partner. Friend. Someone she had spent years hoping would come for her. Someone who had finally arrived, just when she had convinced herself he wouldn’t.

  “You don’t have a roommate,” Gammy pointed out helpfully.

  Gretta sighed, opening the door. “I used to,” she said, stepping out into the night. “Just as unreliable as ever.”

  Meg followed, shaking her head in amusement.

  “What do I do?” Gammy called after them.

  Gretta didn’t look back. “Run the tavern while I’m gone.”

  When they reached the road, Gretta looked both ways. To the left, the path curved toward the heart of Summer, disappearing into golden-lit trees. To the right, the road stretched toward Winter, where the air grew sharper, cooler. Behind her, The Green Rook stood, warm and steady in the night.

  She would be back.

  “Thoughts?” Gretta asked.

  Meg tilted her head, listening. “I can hear them. Maybe a mile that way.” She pointed toward Summer.

  Gretta frowned. She could hear nothing but the usual hum of Fairy’s quiet nights. “Fae ears,” she muttered.

  Meg smirked. “What is a tryhard?”

  Gretta exhaled, shaking her head. “Somebody that has to save a god.”

  Meg let out a low chuckle, her lips curving in amusement. Then, without another word, she fell into step beside Gretta as they headed down the path.