Princess Willowyn's Arc

Chapter 63 of 70

Rain hammered the stained glass as Prince Atticus led Willowyn up the stone stairs. She had never meant to land at Graystone Castle. She knew nothing of this prince beyond a name and a garden full of drawn bows. He had called the archers off, but a kind word could hide a trap. She kept the minx pressed to her neck and watched his hands. His sword stayed sheathed. He did not look back at her, only climbed, steady and quiet. At the top, tall doors stood open. Colored light from the windows fell across the floor. A woman waited inside. She wore pale blue robes, and her brown hair curled loose past her shoulders. Willowyn braced for a demand, or a question about the dragon, or guards behind the door. Instead the woman looked past her own son. Her pale brown eyes softened. "You must be so frightened," she said. Her voice was low and gentle. She held out her hand. "My son will take you to a room. Please, you are a guest. The servants will leave you tea and bread for the night." Willowyn stared at the offered hand. She had come down out of a storm on a strange beast. She had held water at her side, ready to fight. And this queen met her with bread and rest. The fear she had carried up the stairs began to loosen. She took the woman's hand and nodded. "Thank you." "I am Gretta," the queen said. She pressed Willowyn's fingers once, then let go. "Atticus meant no harm tonight. My riders are quick to fear what they do not know. A dragon is a great deal not to know." A small smile crossed her face. "You are safe within these walls. That is a promise from my own mouth." Willowyn looked at Atticus. He stood with his hands open at his sides now, the sword forgotten. "My mother says it plainer than I did," he said. "You came in peace. We answer in peace." Something in Willowyn settled. There was no trap here. Only a mother and son who had chosen to open their doors to a stranger in the rain. She let her shoulders drop for the first time since the fountain. "Then I will trust you both," she said. Atticus lifted a candle and walked toward the far hall. Willowyn followed him this time without watching his hands. The dragon slept in the garden. The minx settled against her throat. She no longer wondered whether Graystone was a snare. It was shelter. And a queen had named her a guest, not a threat.