A Normal Day Part One
1576 Words
Ashen
“Papa,” my daughter whispered, “did Mama and the cinder boy ever get a normal day?”
I looked at the fire.
Normal.
It was a strange word to place in a story built from curses, crowns, bloodlines, and war.
My son leaned against the arm of the chair. “You always say normal like it was impossible.”
“It felt impossible then.”
“But did they get one?”
I smiled faintly.
“They tried.”
My daughter’s eyes softened. “Was it romantic?”
“It was supposed to be.”
My son narrowed his eyes. “That means something ruined it.”
I turned the ring on my finger.
“Yes,” I said. “She had fangs.”
The Frostveil elder did not take us to a palace.
He took us to a cottage.
At least, it looked like a cottage from the outside.
Snow covered the roof in thick white layers, blue lanterns hung from carved hooks beside the door, and smoke curled lazily from a stone chimney. Frostveil symbols were carved into the shutters—winter roses, crescent crowns, wolves with heads lifted toward a full moon.
It should have looked harmless.
But after an entire hidden pack had been forced to kneel and bare their necks to me, nothing in Frostveil felt harmless.
“This house is kept for royal visits,” the elder said.
He had introduced himself as Elder Morcant, though every wolf behind him still watched me like my voice might shove them to the ground again.
Royal visits.
The words sat strangely in my chest.
I had slept in kitchens. Stables. Storage rooms. The corner of a bedroom that was never truly mine.
Now an elder was opening the door to a house meant for Frostveil royals and their company.
Moon’s hand brushed mine.
Not quite holding.
Enough.
Solan limped behind us with more dignity than strength. Veyra walked beside him, pretending she was not watching every unsteady step he took. Ravenna trailed behind everyone, arms folded, red eyes narrowed against the snow as if the weather had personally insulted her.
“I was promised a royal house,” Ravenna said. “This is charming in a deeply rural way.”
Elder Morcant looked at her. “You are fortunate to be allowed inside.”
Ravenna smiled. “I am fortunate often. It is one of my more attractive burdens.”
Veyra muttered, “I could leave her outside.”
The red-frost mark around Ravenna’s wrist pulsed.
She looked at me with open hatred. “Tell the tree fairy not to leave me outside.”
“I am not telling anyone anything,” I said.
“Very noble. Very useless.”
Moon’s mouth twitched.
That almost made the entire day worth surviving.
Inside, the cottage was warmer than it had any right to be. Blue fire burned in a stone hearth. The floors were heated from beneath, the air smelled faintly of pine, bread, and winter mint, and soft fur blankets were folded over carved wooden chairs.
A small kitchen stood to the left, stocked with more food than we had seen in days. To the right was a sitting room with wide windows looking out over snow-heavy trees.
Three doors lined the back wall.
Elder Morcant cleared his throat.
“There are three rooms.”
Solan looked at him. “Of course there are.”
Ravenna moved instantly toward the largest door. “Mine.”
Moon arched a brow. “You did not even ask.”
“Former queens do not ask for bedrooms. They occupy them.”
Veyra stepped forward. “You are not queen here.”
Ravenna opened the door and peered inside. “And yet the room remains mine. History is mysterious.”
Solan sighed. “I nearly died, crossed a border, was forced to bare my neck, and now I must share a cottage with a vampire who steals rooms.”
Ravenna glanced back. “You’re welcome for the glamour.”
Elder Morcant looked deeply tired. “Prince Solan and the fae guardian may take the second room.”
Veyra and Solan turned to him at the same time.
“No,” they said together.
Morcant blinked.
Solan pointed at Veyra. “She insults me in my sleep.”
“I do not need sleep to insult you,” Veyra snapped.
“You hover.”
“You almost died.”
“That was one time.”
“It was yesterday.”
“Emotionally, it feels distant.”
Ravenna leaned in the doorway of her stolen room. “This is why I avoid wolf-adjacent housing. Everyone smells like trauma and courtship.”
Moon looked toward the third room.
Then at me.
My body understood before my mind did.
Ashen and Moon.
One room.
Together.
Heat rose slowly up my neck.
Moon’s cheeks colored too, but she lifted her chin as if daring the room to comment.
Ravenna, naturally, commented.
“Oh, how precious. The snow prince and the moon princess get the mate room.”
Moon’s eyes cooled. “Ravenna.”
“What? I said precious.”
“You said it like a threat.”
“It is one of my talents.”
I looked at Elder Morcant. “Is there another house?”
“No.”
“Another room?”
“No.”
“Another country?” Solan asked.
Veyra elbowed him.
The elder’s gaze moved over me, and for a moment, I saw the same fear from the clearing. He was being polite because his wolf had forced him to recognize something in me. Not because he trusted me.
“Rest,” he said. “Prince Kaelor has been sent for.”
My uncle.
The one who had slipped away.
The one whose eyes had carried hatred instead of grief.
Elder Morcant seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.
“He will come when he chooses.”
“Does he have answers?” I asked.
Morcant hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“Some,” he said.
“Not all.”
“No.” His eyes lowered. “Not all.”
Then he left us in the warmth of a royal cottage that felt less like shelter and more like a pretty waiting room before another knife.
Moon and I placed our bags in the third room.
There was one bed.
Of course there was.
Large, carved from pale wood, covered in white blankets and a blue fur throw. A frost-glass lamp glowed on the bedside table. The window looked out over the trees.
Moon stared at the bed.
I stared at the floor.
“I can sleep in the chair,” I said.
Moon turned to me.
Her expression softened in that way that made me feel seen and cornered at once.
“Ashen.”
“It is a good chair.”
“It is a terrible chair.”
“I have slept in worse.”
“I know.” Her voice gentled. “That is why I do not want you sleeping in it.”
I had no answer.
She walked to the window, fingers brushing the curtain.
For a moment, the blue light touched her face, and I remembered the ball. Her gown. Her crown. Her hand in mine. The way she had looked at me before she knew my name mattered.
Before I knew my blood did.
She was quiet for so long I asked, “Are you all right?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Honest.
My chest tightened.
Moon looked back at me. “I am tired of pretending I am.”
I stepped closer.
Not too close.
Close enough.
“What do you need?”
She smiled faintly. “A normal day.”
The words surprised me.
“A normal day?”
“Yes.” She leaned back against the windowsill. “No hunters. No prophecies. No blood contracts. No secret kingdoms. No one bowing unless they dropped something.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
“What would that look like?”
Moon looked embarrassed suddenly.
That made me more curious.
“Well,” she said slowly, “I have always wanted to go on a date with my fated mate.”
Something in me went very still.
“A date.”
“Yes.”
“What happens on a date?”
Her brows rose.
I regretted the question immediately.
But she did not laugh.
She only studied me with a softness that hurt.
“Flowers,” she said. “Dinner. Something mildly ridiculous to do together. Walking somewhere pretty. Talking. Maybe dessert. The whole thing.”
“The whole thing,” I repeated.
“It sounds silly now.”
“No.”
“It does. We are in Frostveil territory after fleeing bounty hunters, and I am talking about flowers.”
“You want flowers.”
“I want…” She looked down. “I want one memory that does not belong to fear.”
That settled inside me.
Quietly.
Deeply.
I could not give her a palace.
I had no money.
No town.
No music.
No fine dinner.
But I could give her something.
“I need to check the house,” I said.
Moon looked up.
“Of course.”
I saw disappointment flicker before she hid it.
I hated that.
But I only nodded and left before I ruined the idea by explaining it too soon.
It took me an hour.
- Writer
