The wind whipped at my face, tearing strands of hair loose from my tightly braided style as he carried me swiftly through the forest. Every gallop of his massive hooves seemed to reverberate through my body, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through me as we plunged deeper into the darkness.

Trees blurred past us, gnarled branches reaching like skeletal fingers toward the moonlit sky. Shadows danced around us, their movements eerily alive, and the cool night air sent chills across my skin. I gripped his mane tightly, the strands surprisingly soft for a creature of his nature. The rhythmic pounding of his hooves against the forest floor was the only sound, a haunting drumbeat in the otherwise silent woods.

As we rode further, the atmosphere thickened. An unseen energy pulsed in the air, crackling against my skin like static. It was as if the forest itself was alive, watching and waiting. My heart raced—not entirely from fear but from the undeniable allure of the magic surrounding me.

He eventually stopped in a tiny clearing, his form looming like a shadow among the ancient trees. The gnarled giants stood sentinel, their branches whispering secrets to the wind. The energy here was more potent, almost suffocating, and my senses tingled with its intensity. I slid off his back, landing unsteadily on the soft, mossy ground.

Before my eyes, his massive form shimmered, shadows curling around him like smoke as he shifted effortlessly back into his human form. The transformation was seamless, as natural as breathing. Even Hawke, the Light Court's most skilled shifter, couldn’t move between forms with such ease.

The path through the Black Forest narrowed ahead of us, forcing us to slow down. The eerie glow of bioluminescent moss clung to the trees, casting a ghostly light over the twisted roots and uneven ground. He abruptly stopped, his sharp gaze scanning the shadows ahead.

“We walk from here,” he said curtly, his voice as calm as if he’d just announced the weather.

“Wait, what?” I blinked, looking at the dense thicket of trees and underbrush ahead. “Walk? As in, with our feet? Why?”

“Because your screaming hurts my ears,” he replied with a slight smirk. “And your queenly stamina has its limits.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “You dragged me halfway through this nightmare of a forest, and now you’re saying we’re walking? No carriage, no magic portal, no... giant horse form?” I gestured vaguely toward him, remembering how effortlessly he’d transformed.

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I could transform again if you’d like, but I doubt you’d enjoy clinging to my mane for the rest of the journey. You were already hanging on for dear life last time.”

My face heated. “I was not hanging on for dear life. I was maintaining an appropriate level of caution.”

He crossed his arms, leaning slightly toward me. “Is that what you call screaming in my ear about how fast I was going?”

“I did not scream!” I protested, though my voice cracked slightly at the memory.

His brow quirked. “Really? Because I’m fairly certain, I still have an echo of it bouncing around in my head.”

I huffed, stepping past him. “Fine. Walking it is. At least I won’t have to worry about you galloping into every tree branch and low-hanging vine in the forest.”

He chuckled and followed. “Careful, Your Majesty. Pride is a dangerous thing to bring into the dark realm.”

I glared over my shoulder. “Pride isn’t the problem. My problem is a certain insufferable fae who thinks he’s hilarious.”

“Only because I am,” he shot back, grinning as he stepped beside me.

I rolled my eyes, but as we trudged deeper into the forest, I couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the shadows around us.

The forest loomed around us, its towering trees casting twisted shadows that danced in the pale light filtering through the canopy. Every snap of a twig and rustle of leaves sent shivers down my spine, but I refused to let it show. After all, I had a kingdom to represent—even if I felt like a lost lamb being led to the slaughter.

Shifter walked a few paces ahead of me, or at least that’s what I called him in my head since he had yet to introduce himself. His movements were fluid, almost predatory, and his silence was unsettling. For someone who is escorting a queen into enemy territory, he didn’t seem too concerned about making introductions. Or maybe he thought I wasn’t worth the effort.

“You know,” I began, stepping over a gnarly root that looked suspiciously like a claw, “a guide usually gives their name. It’s only polite. But I suppose manners aren’t a strong suit for someone who lives in a creepy forest full of...whatever’s watching us right now.”

He didn’t break stride, but I swore I saw his shoulders tense just slightly. “It’s not the forest you should worry about, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice dripping with dry amusement.

“Well, that’s comforting,” I muttered, swatting at a branch that decided to smack me in the face. “Do you ever lighten up, or is brooding your permanent state of being?”

This time, he turned his head just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his smirk. “Brooding is better than babbling, wouldn’t you agree?”

I stopped in my tracks, placing my hands on my hips. “Babbling? I’ll have you know that I am a highly respected monarch. I do not babble.”

“You’re also lost and have sticks in your hair,” he pointed out, finally turning to face me fully. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, starkly contrasting his otherwise stoic demeanor. “So maybe it’s best if you save the royal lectures for when you’re not wandering through enemy territory without a clue where you’re going.”

My jaw dropped. “I am not lost! I am being escorted—by you through this miserable forest. And since you’re so knowledgeable, oh mighty tour guide, what exactly is the plan when we get to your ominous, shadowy palace? Am I supposed to curtsy to your boss, or do I sign my name in blood and hand over my crown in order to get answers from him?”

He chuckled, and the sound startled me. It was low and rich; honestly, I wasn’t prepared for it. “You asked to come. I wanted some entertainment for dinner. As for curtsying, let’s hope you can manage it without falling over this time.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “That table was slippery!”

“And yet you managed to land face-first into it with the grace of a newborn deer,” he teased, his grin widening.

I glared at him, but I couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching.

“Keep up,” he said, turning back around with a shrug. “I’m sure you’ll come up with a proper royal retort eventually.”

As he strode ahead, I followed, grumbling under my breath about infuriating dark fae and their stupid smirks.

The forest seemed determined to make my life miserable. With every step I took, my green dress snagged on something—thorns, branches, roots, you name it. By the fifth time we stopped, I could feel his patience wearing as thin as the hem of my dress, which now resembled some tragic piece of art.

“Are you trying to attract every shadow beast in this forest, or is it just a happy accident?” he grumbled as he turned back yet again to free me from a particularly stubborn bramble.

“It’s not my fault!” I snapped, yanking at the fabric. “This forest is actively plotting against me.”

He sighed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “spoiled princess.” Then, without warning, he grabbed the edge of my dress and, with one swift motion, ripped it clean off from the knees down.

“Hey!” I yelped, staggering backward as he tossed the tattered fabric into the underbrush. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Saving us both from an eternity of untangling your fashion choices from this forest,” he said flatly, brushing his hands off as though he’d just completed a tedious chore.

I stared at him, aghast. “That was a custom-made gown! Do you have any idea how long Deirdre worked on this?”

Quill shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’m sure it was stunning—when it wasn’t trying to murder our progress. Besides,” he added, gesturing toward the now knee-length skirt, “it’s more practical this way. You’ll thank me later.”

“Thank you?” I sputtered, holding up the ragged hem. “I look like a deranged forest sprite!”

“Better than a corpse,” he said with a smirk, striding ahead. “Now, can we move on, or should I start taking bets on how many more sticks you trip over before we reach the gate?”

I glared at his back as he walked away, then glanced down at my ruined dress. Fine. Maybe it was easier to walk now. But I wasn’t about to admit that.

“Don’t think this means I owe you anything!” I called after him, stomping to catch up.

“Noted,” he said over his shoulder, his tone too smug for my liking.

As we continued through the forest, I couldn’t help muttering about arrogant dark fae with zero appreciation for fine tailoring.

“I can hear you, you know,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

“Good!” I snapped back, refusing to let his maddening calmness win. He chuckled again as though this was all some grand joke for his entertainment.

I was still fuming when we reached a massive tree that loomed over the path like a silent sentinel. He stopped abruptly, and for once, I held my tongue. Something about how he stood, the sudden stillness in his posture, made the air feel heavier.

“Velkommen,” Quill whispered, his voice low and reverent.

At his words, the tree shuddered as though waking from a deep slumber. Its leaves rustled in response, not with the sound of the wind but something more profound, almost musical. My annoyance momentarily gave way to awe as the ancient being began to twist and shift.

Its branches groaned as they bent and wove together, forming a grand archway before us. Beyond it, a path glimmered faintly under the moonlight, its stones emitting a subtle, otherworldly glow. The air hummed with magic, brushing against my senses in a thrilling and unnerving way. I held my breath, caught between marveling at the sight and wondering what awaited us on the other side.

“This way,” Quill said, gesturing for me to follow.

I hesitated, my earlier irritation creeping back as I caught sight of his smug expression. Of course, he looked too pleased with himself, as if the magical display was a personal triumph.

“Do all dark fae go around charming trees, or is that just your party trick?” I asked, crossing my arms but reluctantly stepping closer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he replied, that infuriating smirk returning. Without waiting for my response, he strode through the archway like he owned the forest.

I muttered a string of unflattering descriptions under my breath but followed nonetheless, trying not to trip over the glimmering stones.

I stepped through the archway hesitantly, a shiver running down my spine as the magic embraced me. The forest seemed to close around us, its shadows dancing along the path. Whispers echoed faintly, like ancient spells carried on the wind. My heart thudded in my chest as I became acutely aware of every step, the crunch of leaves beneath my shoes impossibly loud in the enchanted silence.

Finally, the path opened, revealing a palace unlike anything I’d ever seen. Its dark spires twisted toward the sky like claws, black as obsidian and adorned with silver accents that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. The structure exuded power and mystery, every stone steeped in ancient magic.

"Welcome to our home, Your Lightness," he said, calm but carrying the faintest undercurrent of amusement. The way he said it felt less like deference and more like a private joke at my expense, but I let it slide, too preoccupied with the sight before me. "I'll take you to my lord before I leave."

I nodded, swallowing hard as I took in the towering fortress that loomed ahead. It was unlike anything I had ever seen—a blend of jagged spires and graceful arches, a dark stone that shimmered faintly under the pale light. The entire structure seemed alive, pulsating with ancient magic. It was beautiful and foreboding, a place that demanded admiration and respect but offered no warmth or comfort.

The air grew colder as we approached, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones and made you question the wisdom of every decision that had led you here.

He led me to a set of towering doors carved with intricate designs, each detail painstakingly etched to depict scenes of dark fae history. Battles, victories, and betrayals played out in frozen relief, a silent testament to the strength and ruthlessness of this realm.

Two warriors flanked the entrance, their blackened armor glinting in the flickering torchlight. They stood still as statues, their faces partially obscured by helmets adorned with curling horns. Despite their silence, their presence radiated menace, their piercing gazes cutting to the core as they assessed me.

My escort murmured something in the dark fae tongue, the words fluid and sharp, like a blade slicing through silk. One of the guards raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, before nodding and stepping aside. Together, they pushed the massive doors open with a slow, deliberate creak, the sound echoing like a warning through the stone halls.

The room beyond was a masterpiece of shadows and light. The high ceiling arched above us like the ribcage of some great beast, while the walls were adorned with dark tapestries that whispered as the air stirred. Torches lined the space, their flames flickering with an unnatural green hue that cast eerie patterns along the floor.

At the far end of the room, elevated on a dais of black stone, sat the throne—an imposing structure carved from obsidian and bone. The very sight of it made my chest tighten, its sharp edges and sinister gleam daring anyone to approach.

And on that throne was the dark lord himself.