I didn't mean to go straight to Serenya's Garden. But after training with Felix, I found my feet turning there before I could think of anything else. I was still in my sweat-damp tunic, my hair messy from drills, my sleeves rolled up and smudged with dust. I hadn't even stopped by my room to change or wash.
Maybe that's what trust feels like. Not knocking. Not asking. Just going. The moment I stepped under the archway of the garden gate, I could feel the difference. The sunlight always lingered here a little longer. The air carried scents of orange blossoms, violets, and faint cinnamon. Everything felt a little softer. Even the wind seemed to tread more gently.
And in the middle of it all—like a spinning petal in the breeze—was Ruby. She was in her human form, twirling barefoot on the grass. Her cherry-red dress flared with every turn, curls bouncing wildly around her head. She looked like one of those little princesses in the stories I used to pretend I didn't listen to when the older girls read them aloud.
Her laughter echoed like wind chimes. High. Clear. Bright. "I'm a flower today!" she shouted when she saw me, throwing both arms into the air. "A blossom with magic petals!"
"You're going to trip," I said.
She scoffed, hands on her hips. "Flowers don't trip." Then she spun again. And tripped. Right into the fountain. The splash was loud. Big enough to scare a few birds from their perches and make me take a step back.
She disappeared under the surface for a second—only a second—but by the time she came back up, her whole dress clung to her like a wilting tulip. Her curls were plastered to her forehead, one ribbon hanging off her wrist like a wet streamer. She blinked up at me with wide green eyes. "…Oops."
I didn't laugh. But I did sit down on the edge of the fountain. "You good?"
She pouted. "Water's cold."
I extended a hand and helped her climb out. The grass squelched beneath her feet as she stumbled beside me, dripping and sniffling dramatically. "You're not going to get sick," I told her. "You're not human."
"Still cold!" she whined, wrapping her arms around herself.
I rolled my eyes. But I didn't argue. That's when Serenya arrived. She didn't run. Didn't shout. Didn't ask a single question. She simply walked up, one hand resting on her slightly swollen belly, the other brushing a strand of hair from her face. She looked at Ruby, soaked and muddy. Then at me—just tired and sweat-stained. And smiled. "Well," she said gently, "I suppose it's bath time."
She didn't call for anyone. Not even one of the palace maids. She just took our hands—one in each—and guided us through the side door of the Sun Palace, the same one I used with Caelum when we first came to visit.
Her pace was slow but certain. I noticed she walked differently now. A little more careful. A little more centered. But her hands were still strong. She brought us to a bathing chamber near her personal quarters. The room was tiled in soft greens and golds, with vines painted across the ceiling and glass windows that let in pale golden light. Steam curled from the surface of the large round bath in the center.
Ruby ran ahead and dove into the warm water without waiting. I stood awkwardly at the edge. My clothes stuck to my back and knees, and my boots had left dirt prints on the marble. I was about to mumble something—maybe offer to bathe later, maybe apologize—but Serenya just smiled and reached for a cloth.
"It's alright, little one," she said. "Come here."
I didn't flinch when she undressed me. That surprised me. There was no rush. No tugging. No cold fingers or scolding tones. Just soft hands. Gentle cloth. A warm voice humming something like a lullaby.
She helped me into the bath beside Ruby, who had already turned the bath into a pretend pond. She was scooping bubbles into little flower shapes and naming them after herself. Serenya kneeled beside the tub. She rolled up her sleeves and dipped the cloth into the water. Then she began to gently wipe the sweat and dirt from my back.
She didn't press hard. She didn't even speak. Just small, circular motions across my shoulders and down my arms. She washed behind my ears. Brushed stray hair from my cheek. Checked my elbows and knuckles like she was memorizing the shape of me. No questions. No judgment. Just presence. "You're a little hot," she said quietly.
"I ran a lot today," I whispered. "I'm not sick."
She washed Ruby next, who let out a dramatic sigh. "I didn't mean to fall in," Ruby declared. "The fountain tripped me."
Serenya chuckled. "Fountains don't trip people."
"This one did. It lunged."
I smiled. Once we were clean, Serenya helped us out of the bath and wrapped each of us in thick, warm towels. They smelled like lavender and a little like sunshine—if sunshine could have a scent.
She guided us into her bedroom and sat us on the edge of her wide bed, where the curtains were drawn and the light was soft. The sheets were white. The pillows fluffy. The kind of bed you could fall asleep in just by looking at it.
"I'll go get you both something to wear," she said. "Stay here. And no more fountains."
Ruby giggled. "No promises."
When she left the room, I looked at the space around me. Everything here felt… loved. The window had lace curtains and dried flowers in vases. The walls were lined with paintings of stars, moons, and blooming trees. A basket sat in the corner, filled with fabric dolls and folded linens.
And above the mantle, a single portrait of Alric and Serenya—painted not with formality, but warmth. They weren't in royal clothes. Just simple smiles. Arms around each other. Like people. Like parents.
Ruby scooted closer and leaned her head on my shoulder. "Serenya's nice," she said.
"Yeah."
"She treats me like a kid," Ruby mumbled. "Even though I'm not really one."
"You kind of are."
"But I'm not human."
"Neither is Lisa. But Serenya still treats her like she matters."
Ruby blinked. Then smiled. "Yeah."
When Serenya returned, she brought two sets of folded clothes—one for me, one for Ruby. Mine was a soft tunic in light blue with pearl buttons, and a pair of white leggings. Ruby's was a simple green dress with yellow flowers stitched along the hem.
I didn't ask how she had our sizes. But I knew. Because mothers. Mothers always know. Even if you're not hers. Even if you were left behind somewhere. Even if you don't know how to ask. As she dressed me, buttoning the shirt carefully and smoothing the hem, I looked up at her. "Your baby will be lucky," I said quietly.
She paused. "Hmm?"
"Your baby," I repeated. "They'll be lucky to have you."
Serenya's eyes softened. She knelt in front of me and cupped my cheek in her hand. "You're my baby too, little one." She kissed my forehead. And something warm bloomed in my chest again. Something I didn't have a name for. But it felt like… love.