The morning arrived with golden sunlight filtering through the wooden shutters and the distant sound of waves lapping against the shore.
I groaned, rolling over in the bed, only to come face-to-face with Coconut the Goat.
I blinked.
Coconut blinked back.
Then, without warning, the little demon opened its mouth and let out a horrifyingly loud bleat.
I yelped, practically throwing myself off the bed.
Noachus, who had clearly been awake and sharpening his sword like some medieval action hero, glanced up with one brow arched. "Ah. You have met our guest."
I scowled at the goat. "That thing tried to murder me."
Noachus sighed, setting his sword aside. "You named it."
"That was before I knew it was possessed." I glared at Coconut, who had now taken residence atop my pillow. "It's taunting me."
Noachus, infuriatingly calm, stepped toward the door. "Come. The villagers will be expecting us."
I grumbled, casting one last beware, foul beast look at Coconut before reluctantly following him outside.
The village was only a short walk from the cottage, nestled in a clearing where palm trees swayed and brightly colored fabrics hung between wooden huts. The air smelled of salt and roasted fish, and despite the early hour, people were already gathered near the shore, chatting and working.
The moment we stepped into view, all conversation stopped.
Dozens of eyes turned toward us—curious, cautious.
I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to awkwardly wave. Noachus, ever the composed one, simply inclined his head.
A man, older and sun-weathered, stepped forward. His gaze lingered on Noachus before shifting to me. "You return, Captain."
Captain?
I shot Noachus a look, but he didn't react. He simply nodded. "Aye."
The man—who I was mentally dubbing Grandpa Fisherman—studied me. "And who is the lady?"
"I'm Megan," I said before I could think better of it. "I mean—" I coughed. "María Georgiana."
Grandpa Fisherman squinted. "She speaks strangely."
Noachus sighed. "She does."
I shot him a glare. Excuse you.
Grandpa Fisherman grunted but nodded, motioning for the villagers to return to their work. He turned back to Noachus. "Your usual place is untouched."
Noachus gave a small bow. "You have my thanks."
Then, just like that, the conversation ended, and Grandpa Fisherman walked away.
I stared after him. "That's it? No questions? No screaming in outrage because you brought a random chick to their secret island?"
Noachus smirked. "You are not the first guest I have brought."
I narrowed my eyes. "That sounds very suspicious."
He chuckled. "Come."
The village was lively.
By midday, I had already met half the islanders, accidentally offended a fisherman by insulting his "ancient but trusty" boat (which, for the record, was ancient), and somehow ended up surrounded by a group of children demanding I tell them a story.
"Uh," I hesitated, glancing at Noachus, who was very unhelpfully leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, watching me struggle.
Betrayal.
One of the kids, a boy no older than ten, tugged on my sleeve. "Tell us about the land you come from!"
Oh boy.
"Well…" I cleared my throat. "It's, uh, big. Very big. And loud."
The kids gasped.
"Louder than a storm?" one girl asked.
I grinned. "Oh, way louder. There are carriages—uh, I mean, horses—everywhere. And buildings so tall they touch the sky."
The children's eyes widened. "No way!"
I nodded solemnly. "Way."
One of the older boys frowned. "But… if it is so grand, why did you leave?"
The question hit harder than I expected.
I glanced at Noachus. His gaze was steady, unreadable.
"Because…" I exhaled. "Because sometimes, the biggest places feel the most like a cage."
Silence.
Then, unexpectedly, the smallest girl crawled into my lap and hugged me.
I blinked, startled.
"Well," she said, "you can stay here."
My throat tightened.
I hugged her back.
By sunset, I had somehow convinced half the village that I was, in fact, starting a coconut empire.
"This is not a wise endeavor," Noachus told me as I stacked yet another coconut onto my growing pile.
"You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."
"I am concerned that you shall lose all sense and attempt to barter these for food."
I gasped, feigning offense. "I'll have you know, sir, that coconuts are a legitimate currency."
Noachus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I weep for this village."
But despite his words, when I stumbled carrying too many coconuts, he caught me before I could hit the ground.
And suddenly, we weren't joking anymore.
I was pressed against him, his arms steady around my waist, his breath warm against my cheek.
Slowly, I looked up.
His eyes burned into mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths.
"My lady," he murmured.
My heart pounded.
"Noachus," I whispered.
For a moment, the world held its breath.
And then—
"Megan, I swear to the gods, if you drop another coconut on my foot, I will throw you into the sea!"
I yelped, shoving away from Noachus as one of the fishermen—Tomas, I think—stormed toward me, rubbing his very bruised foot.
I winced. "Oops?"
Noachus sighed, running a hand down his face.
I grinned sheepishly. "Do you still love me?"
He groaned.
That night, we sat on the beach, watching the waves roll in.
For the first time in forever, I felt safe.
I leaned against Noachus, and after a beat, he let his arm rest around my shoulders.
"I like it here," I murmured.
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then, softly— "So do I."
I closed my eyes, letting myself believe that, just for a while, we could stay.
That we could be happy.
That we could have our own forever.
Even if the real world would come for us eventually.