The two remained silent during the long journey. Edward kept his posture upright, his head held high. His face now looked more mature, and golden locks fell over his serious, reddened eyes. Emília walked a little behind him but noticed that he always slowed down, making sure they never got too far apart. The air was tense, and she glanced at her injured arm once again.
"Your... Edward, I'm sorry," she said softly, but the young man stayed silent until they reached the stables.
"How long has it been since you last rode him?" he asked, approaching a white horse with brown spots and stroking its ear gently.
"The last time was with you," Emília replied, walking up to her horse. "Every day we talk about the old times, don't we, boy?"
The horse nodded, as if understanding her words. An older man entered the stable, bowing slightly upon seeing Edward.
"Your Majesty, I see you've returned safely from the last expedition," he remarked, adjusting his overalls and pulling a pink bridle from one of the large pockets. "Emília, I'll get Pipoca ready now."
Emília nodded and patted the animal, encouraging it to cooperate with the man's preparations.
"We've returned, but I must hurry as I have an announcement to make soon," Edward said, stepping away and leaving Emília, Pipoca, and the old man behind.
"I hope he stays this time," Emília remarked to José, the man responsible for caring for the castle's horses. "It feels like I've seen him no more than three times all this while."
"Every year, the dangers out there grow worse, Emília," José replied, lightly patting the horse's head. "Edward has to do what needs to be done for the kingdom—and for your sake too."
Edward returned, mounted on Veloz, a purebred black horse with a long, flowing brown mane. Next to it, Pipoca looked almost like a mere pony. The thought made Emília laugh, and she clumsily mounted her horse after years of not riding.
"I see you weren't lying when you said you hadn't ridden Pipoca in a while, Emília," the blonde teased, chuckling.
"Shut up, Ed." Emília snapped automatically, covering her mouth quickly. "Forgive me, Your Majesty."
"Let's not worry about that, I've told you before it's not necessary," he smiled, and once again, silence fell.
They advanced through the vast expanse of sand, which gradually turned into small hills. The sun shone with soft, late-afternoon rays, lighting the path and the young riders on their journey. When they reached the top of a small mountain, they stopped. It was as far as Emília could go because of the bracelet on her wrist.
"You like it here," Edward said—not as a question, but as a statement. "I can see it in your eyes."
Emília laughed, embarrassed. "You think so?"
"I'm certain!"
"It's nice to look out at all these endless trees, and in the distance, the village. Sometimes I imagine a fictional family living there, and what they might be doing. I picture a girl named Alice and a boy named Eustace.* She went to buy bread with the children, and they returned by four o'clock. The little ones run when they see their father, and they sit around a wooden table to share their meal."
"Did you miss me?" Edward asked suddenly, and Emília looked at him nervously.
"Aren't you going to say anything about my story?"
"I heard everything, but I think... you've been alone too long without me," he said, gazing out at the distant village. "You've spent your time with books, and creating these stories was your way of not feeling completely alone. That's how it seems to me."
Emília looked down, blushing. How could he know her so well?
"Maybe... there's a grain of truth in that."
"I missed you," he admitted, and both fell silent again until Edward reached into his shirt pocket. "I found something that reminded me of you. After your reaction to the last gift, I learned you don't want jewels, so I brought you something different."
It was true. On Emília's seventeenth birthday, Edward had returned early from an expedition with a small box containing a ruby. She had refused it, and since then, he had not given her any more gifts. For a moment, she thought he never would again.
"It was night, and we were fleeing. The deal with Martri had fallen through—it was an ambush. Soldiers hid in the sand dunes, waiting for their queen, Python, to give the command. I fell from my horse, and before I could get back up, I found this on the ground," he said, revealing a small green shell with delicate markings, a golden hairpin attached to it. "A seashell, in the middle of the desert! I sought out the best artisan and asked her to make this hairpiece for you."
Emília took the gift in her hands. It was beautiful! She quickly pinned it into a strand of hair on the side of her head and looked at the blonde once more. He was staring at her, almost transfixed, and for a moment, seemed flustered.
"Does it look good?" Emília asked, smiling ear to ear.
"You... look okay," he said, turning his face away.
"What do you mean 'okay'?"
"Okay is good," he replied, still avoiding her gaze. They held this playful tension for a moment, then Emília reached into her pocket and pulled out a wrapped package.
"I wonder how you convinced Helena to sew that dress with pockets," Edward said, laughing.
"I'm a librarian. I need them." She handed him the package wrapped in red. "Here. It's for you."
"You remembered?" he asked, searching her face, but she kept her head down, embarrassed.
"How could I not?"
"Is it for my coronation or my birthday?"
"It would be strange if it were for the coronation. That might seem like celebrating his death." Emília instantly regretted her words. The young king's expression darkened. "Edward, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."
"It's fine, Emília," he replied, trying to cheer himself up as he looked at the gift in his hands. "So what's the occasion?"
"Your birthday, of course," she said, though she noticed he still seemed heavy-hearted. "Edward, I..."
"Why red?" he asked, turning the package over in his hands, trying to guess its contents.
"Well, because... you know..."
"The color of my eyes?"
"Y-yes..." she admitted, defeated, but the spark returned to the young man's face.
He tore open the wrapping to reveal a white shirt inside.
"Emília, this is... You know I won't have many chances to wear it."
"It's a request, Edward," she said, stepping closer to him. "Please, stay. This time, stay with us."
The king sighed, lowering his head for a moment.
"It's getting dark. We should head back."
The ride back to the castle was silent. The moon shone, lighting the forest, though the darkness between the trees remained untouched.
Emília heard a noise, but before she could warn Edward, she felt an enormous weight crash down upon her, hungry and wild. It was a werewolf.
*Easter egg "O reino cristalino" book from the same author.