“Helena,” Tristan repeated her name softly.

She nodded. “It means shining light, which I think is simply beautiful, so I do my very best to live up to that.”

Tristan’s lips twitched with a bemused grin.

“Do you have any idea what Tristan means?” Her face was so open and innocent—wide green eyes, elegant eyebrows the palest brown. There was something very enchanting and beautiful about her.

It was hard not to stare.

She tipped her head, looking like a curious sparrow as she studied him.

Tristan blinked and forced his eyes to the wooden floor. Finally he registered her question and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll have to look that up later, but in the meantime let’s just make something up.” Her eyebrows rose and she looked to the ceiling in thought, oblivious to the fact that she was still holding his hand and acting like no other teenage girl he had ever met in his life. “How about faint-hearted wanderer?”

He grimaced, his head jolting back. “What? No. I don’t—that’s awful. I don’t want to be that.”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her chin. “You’re right, not very complimentary, but so far that’s all I know of you. However, I’m sure you can change my mind.” Her grin captured him again and he was rendered speechless.

“Let’s see.” She let go of his hand, replacing it with the baseball before walking to the window. Tristan slid the ball into his hoodie pocket and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he watched her glide across the room.

Placing her delicate hands on the frame, she peered out the window, her hair forming a curtain around her. Tristan was still completely mystified by the strange girl, but it was a pleasant mix of intrigue and wonder.

She popped back into the room, flicking her hair out of her face and pulling it over one shoulder.

“Well, I must say, the climb was very impressive, so for that I am going to change the meaning of your name to faint-hearted adventurer.” She grinned.

He frowned. “I’m still not loving the faint-hearted part.”

Her expression turned from gleeful to astute, her eyes taking on a compassionate glow. “Me neither, but we’re going to work on that.”

Tristan’s lips parted, his brow creasing with confusion.

A creak on the stairs below made Helena flinch. Her green eyes bulged for a moment before she caught herself and flashed Tristan a jumpy smile.

“Now who’s faint-hearted?” His eyes narrowed, his expression smug.

Helena rolled her eyes with a self-deprecating smile. “There’s a difference between being fearful of a non-ghost and knowing you’re about to face a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Tristan glanced over his shoulder at the attic door.

“Just go,” she whispered, gripping his arm and genuinely looking scared.

He hesitated, suddenly swamped by an overwhelming urge to move in front of the beautiful girl. He needed to prove her faint-hearted theory wrong.

“Please.” Her fingers dug into his upper arm as she tried to yank him towards the window. “Go.”

He nearly tripped over her, catching her fragile body against his chest and steadying them both. Her expression melted to a look of wonder, her long fingers stroking his arm as she gazed at him. A loud creak just outside the door broke the spell and snapped her into action.

She jumped out of his arms and pushed him towards the open window before shuffling across the floor. Tristan swung his leg out, sitting on the sill, reluctant to leave.

She flicked her hand at him, her expression cresting with panic as the door handle turned. She snapped away from him, her fine hair rising in the air as she spun.

With a silent curse, Tristan shuffled out the window.

“Is everything all right?” Helena’s question was high and pitchy.

Tristan cringed as he carefully slid down the edge of the tower, clinging to the window ledge as he struggled to find his footing.

“For God’s sake, Helena, I was up here only moments ago closing this window! It’s too cold, and you know I like everything shut up by nightfall.”

The wooden frame snapped shut just as Tristan’s fingers left the sill. Clinging to the vine, he leaned against the house and sucked in a relieved breath. The faint sound of muffled shouting made him cringe.

He hated the idea of anyone yelling at that sweet girl, and couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to raise her voice at such a fascinating, captivating human being.

Captivating? What am I, a poet? What the hell is wrong with me?

With a rueful grin, Tristan shook his head and began a careful descent. As soon as he was confident he could jump and land without snapping anything, Tristan let go of the trellis and dropped to the ground, bending his knees to soften the blow.

Sneaking back the way he came, Tristan looked over his shoulder one last time, hoping for a brief glimpse of Helena. But the tower window was empty, and all he could hope was “the dragon” hadn’t done anything to harm her.

As he climbed the fence, Tristan was haunted by the flash of fear in her eyes. He landed on the other side with a pensive frown.

“Hey! He’s back! He’s back!”

Tristan didn’t even make it halfway down his driveway. The two boys bounded up to him, talking at the same time and throwing questions at him like he was the President at a news conference.

He dug into his pocket and held up the baseball in an attempt to shut them up.

It worked.

Sort of.

They went silent for a split second before letting out two breathy “whoas.” Tristan handed the ball to Matty, who smiled at him like he was his new hero.

The kid was too amazed to speak, staring at the precious ball and then back up at him while blinking furiously to ward off the tears.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Tristan buried his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Did you see the ghost? You were gone so long we thought she might have eaten you.” Little Red’s thin lips parted as he waited for the juicy story.

Tristan scoffed and shook his head, gazing over at the “haunted” house.

The truth was on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason he wasn’t ready to share it.

Instead, he shrugged. “No ghost, guys, just an old attic filled with junk. That’s why I took so long—the baseball had rolled under a couch and it took me a minute to find it.”

“Wow. You’re so brave.” Matty finally found his voice.

“Yeah.” Tristan’s reply was a half-hearted whisper.

Not according to the blonde princess in the tower he wasn’t. He wished he could figure out how to prove her wrong. He wished he could figure out why he even wanted to.

With their game restored, and no hope of a decent ghost story, the boys raced back to the park. Tristan let them go, waving when they turned to shout a final thank you.

Trudging up his back steps, Tristan placed his hand on the kitchen doorknob and looked over the fence to the tower that housed a shining light. His stomach bunched into a tight knot—a mixture of curiosity and wonderment. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see the strange girl again. Being called faint-hearted was hardly something to return for, but as he stepped into his house and lost sight of the tower, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to pull him back there again.