Almost as if his feet had minds of their own, Raith walked down the unfamiliar path to the infirmary. There had been no war during his lifetime, and since the fae rarely got sick, he’d had no reason to come to this part of the castle.

Except once.

He and Cade had snuck into the battle wing after their classes one day. Their father had told them a million times to stay away until they were old enough to start training, which only fueled their curiosity. Raith was twelve, Cade seven. It would be three years until Raith was old enough to train. He only wanted to see what the battle wing was like. They’d be careful.

“We’re going to get in trouble,” Cade said as they made it into a room full of weapons.

“Not if you keep quiet.” Raith admired a set of daggers hanging on the wall. “These are amazing.”

Cade glanced over Raith’s shoulder. “Whoa. Real weapons.”

“Here, let’s fight.” Raith tossed one of the daggers at Cade’s feet.

Cade picked it up and twirled it in his hands. “We shouldn’t.”

Raith struck his dagger, making contact with Cade’s.

Cade didn’t swing back.

“Don’t be a baby,” Raith said. “Fight.”

Cade raised his dagger and gave a half-hearted swing at Raith. “This isn’t a good idea. Mom wouldn’t like it.”

His mom wouldn’t like it. Kassandra was not Raith’s mother. “Awww, momma’s boy, are you?”

“Shut up,” Cade said.

“Does she still rock you to sleep at night.” Raith hit Cade’s dagger again.

“Stop,” Cade said.

“Gonna go cry to mommy?”

“I said stop!” Cade screamed as he sliced his dagger at Raith’s face, the orb on the dagger’s handle glowing green.

Raith lunged backwards as the dagger came toward his eye, scraping the top of his eyebrow. “Ow.”

“I’m sorry.” Cade dropped his dagger and stepped to Raith.

“Get away.”

Even with Raith’s enhanced healing power as a fae, the wound wouldn’t close. He would have to tell his father what happened. As he pressed his sleeve into the cut, he saw the panic on Cade’s face. So, when he found his father, he lied. He told him he snuck in alone and was throwing the dagger in the air when it came down and sliced him. His father gave him a long stare, but said the cut was punishment enough.

Raith had to go to the infirmary to have a nurse look at his wound. She told the king that it had been done with a blade enhanced with summer magic. She could make the bleeding stop but there may still be a small scar.

Raith hadn’t been back since, but the nurse had been right, the scar still remained.

When he opened the infirmary door, a nurse looked up. Her expression softened when she recognized Raith. “The king is at the end, behind the curtain.”

It was the same nurse who fixed his eye—the best she could, at least.

Raith nervously walked to the king.

His father looked frail lying on the bed, his legs tucked underneath blankets. His gray hair nearly reached his shoulders now—a big change to the neatly trimmed cut he wore when Raith was a child.

The king opened his eyes. A smile formed on his face. “My son.”

Raith magicked a chair from across the room next to the bed and sat down. He took his father’s hand into his own. “What’s happened to you?”

His father coughed. “She’s consumed my mind.”

“Kassandra?”

The king shook his head. “Your mother.”

Raith didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent.

His father continued, “I see her in my dreams and when I’m awake. She haunts me constantly. I watch her scream in pain, watch her die. And then she returns.”

Ghosts weren’t real. His mother had died long ago. She was gone.

“I miss her more than anything.” The king squeezed Raith’s hand.

Raith held in the tears forming behind his eyes. He wouldn’t cry. Not now.

“Would you like to see her?” his father asked.

“She’s gone, father.”

“No, son. In my mind. The good times, not the bad.”

Raith nodded and closed his eyes.

He dove into his father’s mind.

The king rode through the dark forest on a gray mare. The smell of pine enveloped him. He’d always loved to ride but rarely ventured far from the castle. His father always discouraged it.

But now—his father was gone and the king could do what he pleased. His horse picked up speed, gracefully galloping through the thicket of the trees.

Why had his father been so fearful of the woods? It was lovely here. He slowed the horse down and hopped off, tying her to a tree by a creek. As the horse drank, the king explored. Twigs crunched beneath his feet as he wove a path through the trees. A note was stuck to one of the trunks.

He meandered to it, paying no attention to his footing. As he reached for the note, a rope strangled his ankles and sent him flying upward, feet first. His crown clunked to the ground. He struggled, but something tied a chain around his wrists. The king tried to use his magic to free his feet, but his magic didn’t work.

“Gotchya.” A short creature with long, pointed ears and ash brown skin looked the upside-down king face-to-face.

A goblin.

It bent down and picked up the crown from the ground, inspecting it carefully with its long, thin fingers. It bit down on the metal.

“Let me go,” the king demanded.

The goblin laughed. “You have no room to bargain here, King.”

He was screwed. Of all the stupid things to do, getting caught by a goblin was high on the list. Goblins were nasty creatures, greedy to their core.

An arrow flew through the air, missing the king’s face by two inches. The goblin cocked its head around. A woman, with long, mahogany hair approached them.

“Next time, I won’t miss, goblin.”

The goblin snarled at the woman, but it dropped the crown and scurried away into the woods.

The woman glanced at the crown and then to the king. “A Summer Court fae, caught by a goblin of all things.” The woman laughed, propping her bow against a tree. With a wave of her hand, the rope at the king’s feet untied and he dropped to the ground with a thud. She bent down and pulled the chains off of his wrist.

He had never seen a more spectacular woman. The life in her eyes shined like a comet in the night’s sky.

Whoever she was, he wanted to get to know her better.

Raith pulled back into his own mind. A tear dripped down his father’s cheek. Raith choked back his own emotion.

“I loved her,” the king said. “So much.”

“Me too,” Raith said.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a good father to you.”

Raith shrugged. “You could have done better. But you weren’t all bad.” He wouldn’t sugar coat it. The older Raith got, the more distant his father became. But they’d had good times. That’s what made it hurt.

A coughing fit attacked the king. He closed his eyes and rested his head on his pillow.

“I’ll let you rest.” Raith gave his father’s hand one last squeeze.

He was already late for his training session with Scarlett. He hadn’t planned to visit his father, but he was glad he did. Seeing his mother through the king’s eyes brought both happiness and anger to Raith. At one time, they were truly in love. And then his mother died and everything was ruined.

Raith shifted his thoughts to the battle as he climbed the stairs in the training tower. Jaser and Scarlett were talking when Raith entered the battle room.

“And he honors us with his presence,” Jaser said. “Scarlett and I were just getting to know each other a little better while we waited for your late ass.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“My, my, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Jaser said.

Scarlett just stared at Raith. Thanks to the blessing bond, he knew she could sense his mood. He could feel her concern for him, mixed with her own turmoil.

“Let’s get started,” Raith said.