Found You

Back in her nightgown, Veila tossed and turned for hours. She was caught at a dangerous crossroads, juggling secret deals with both Cael and Senna. Cael was trading his memories for the throne, but was that his true end goal?

The next morning brought a much more immediate threat.

While Veila walked through a deserted hallway, Prince Dorian cornered her, pinning her against the stone wall. His suave front was gone; his amber eyes were cold.

“I knew it,” Dorian snarled, grabbing a fistful of her red hair. “My useless brother could never afford a foreign advisor. He had to resort to witchcraft. My court mages have detected a suspicious amount of magical residue since you arrived. But those tricks won't save you.”

Veila didn't flinch, even as every muscle screamed at her to bite the man’s neck clean off. “Or perhaps,” she smirked, “you are just terrified of losing your edge. Magic means nothing if you lack the brains to wield it.”

Dorian raised a hand to strike her.

Before his fingers could graze her skin, a hand shot out, clamping around Dorian’s wrist. Cael had materialized out of nowhere.

“Keep your hands off my advisor, brother. Consider this your only warning,” Cael said. His voice was calm—smooth yet laced with fury.

Dorian wrenched his arm free and stepped back with a bitter click of his tongue. Without breaking eye contact, Cael opened his palm. Veila took it, letting him lead her away.

***

Cael didn't let go until they were safely inside his study. The moment the door clicked shut, he tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear. “Did he hurt you?” he whispered.

“Not at all,” Veila whispered back, her fingers resting over his. Even as the magic hollows him out, she thought, his eyes still remember how to be kind.

Cael pulled her into a tight embrace. Veila melted against him as he collapsed, burying his face in her neck with a sigh of exhaustion. She wrapped her arms around him, petting his hair.

Eventually, they settled onto the couch. Cael rested his head in Veila's lap. As she rhythmically stroked his blonde hair, she relayed the details of her alliance with Lady Senna.

Cael's eyes widened in surprise, and a genuine laugh bubbled from his chest. Yet, it was weaker than the wild laughter from the forest. He tried to continue planning, but his voice grew heavy, his eyelids fluttering shut mid-sentence.

Veila gently traced his cheekbone. Was the real Cael the carefree boy in the forest, the rigid prince of the court, or this exhausted man seeking refuge in her lap? Which soul was she contracted to consume?

Perhaps it doesn't matter. As a greedy spirit, she was going to take all of him.

From her mouth came a raspy lullaby, for the tired soul in her lap.

***

The trap Veila and Senna designed sprang flawlessly. Playing the role of a bored, ambitious princess, Senna lured Prince Dorian into her orbit. Driven by his ego and the promise of Valerius' wealth, Dorian formally petitioned King Aldric to dissolve his brother's engagement so he could claim Senna for himself.

While Dorian gloated over stealing his brother’s bride, Cael quietly cashed in every secret alliance he and Veila had secured in the shadows. When the final succession summit convened, Cael dominated the floor. Swayed by his diplomatic ruthlessness and ledgers, the court bent the knee.

Dorian had won a wife, but Cael officially won the crown.

The moment King Aldric proclaimed Cael the Crown Prince, Veila should have felt satisfied. Her contract was fulfilled. Yet, the glowing sigil on her chest only ached, echoing a void.

As the Crown Prince took his seat, the final toll slipped out of him, sealing the coffin of his humanity. The stolen magic drifted across the room and settled over Veila’s shoulders in the phantom shape of an embrace. On the dais, Cael looked composed—yet his golden eyes were dead.

She could have left. She could return to the forest. But she couldn't move when Cael reached out and took her hand.

His grip was tight, as if his soul was terrified of losing her. He led her away from the celebrating court to his private bedchamber. Standing there, Veila stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace—exactly like the one he had given her in the study.

Her heart sank like a stone.

Cael didn't hold her back. His hands remained awkwardly, stiffly at his sides. He just stood there, completely blank. He had forgotten how to return a hug. The final toll had taken that away too.

Veila pulled back, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “Your true wish...I could never grant it to you. It was always impossible.”

To make his mother proud, the prince had acquired the throne. Yet, he no longer even remembered that she was gone.

“But there is one thing I can do. A parting gift, my prince.”

Veila whispered an incantation, and Cael’s eyes fluttered shut. Catching his weight, she lowered him onto the bed. Pressing her hand over the sigil on his chest, Veila began to chant a forbidden spell she had never thought she would use.

The bedchamber erupted in white light. In the center of the magical storm, the three tolls she had stolen poured from her chest. They swirled in a vortex: the pink of the carnation's memory, the yellow of the forgotten lullaby, and the green of a loving embrace.

The sigils shattered.

The contract was broken. Veila paid the ultimate price—centuries of magic that kept her immortal, and the power that sustained her human form—all burned away.

When the light dimmed, Lady Veila was gone. The bedroom door sat ajar, and a small, red fox dashed down the hallway.

***

Cael woke with a start in the dead of night.

His mind was groggy, yet his chest felt full. The memories of his mother—her legacy, her smile—rushed back into the hollow spaces of his heart.

“Veila?” he called out hoarsely.

His last memory was of vibrant red hair and a blinding light. But the room was dead silent. His heart dropped when he saw the pile of emerald silk on the floor. He tore open his shirt. The contract sigil was gone.

He didn't think. He just ran.

He sprinted through the palace halls and out into the night air, shouting her name.

He reached the clearing with the old tree stump. “Veila!” It was empty. Cael fell to his knees in the dirt.

A rustling came from a nearby patch of mugwort.

Cael froze. Crawling forward, his shaking hands parted the mugwort. Sitting in the shadows was a red fox with a white streak on her ear. She looked up at him, a coo vibrating in her throat.

The newly crowned Prince choked back a sob. “Found you,” he laughed, tears spilling down his cheeks.

The fox launched herself into his lap with such force that Cael tumbled backward into the dirt. As she licked the tears from his face, whimpering, Cael wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

“Veila,” he whispered into her red fur. “Would you like to stay with me? I promise to spoil you rotten for the rest of my life.”

The fox blinked. Her tail began to wag, her ears fluttering in delight as she snuggled deeper into his coat.

***

“Once upon a time, there was King Cael, the most successful ruler the kingdom had ever known.

He was never seen without a pampered red fox by his side, accompanying him everywhere from court hearings to royal banquets.

He never married. Instead, when he grew old, he passed the crown to his nephew—the son of his military commander, Dorian, and the kingdom's Chief Advisor, Senna.

And the red fox lived happily ever after with her prince.”