Chapter 3 Midnight Guests
The carpet beneath my loafers felt strangely springy as I stepped out into the corridor.
I pulled my velvet robe tighter around my waist and took three cautious steps toward the main staircase.
Then I froze.
The left-wing corridor was stretching.
I blinked, rubbing my eyes, but the hallucination didn’t vanish.
The dark wooden floorboards were quietly sliding outward, extending the length of the hall by at least twenty feet. The sconces on the walls flickered, their warm electric glow shifting into a deep, flickering amber light. Archways expanded, revealing wide stone alcoves that definitely hadn’t been there when I went to my room.
“Okay, Maisie,” I whispered under my breath, my heart thumping against my ribs. “Either Honey slipped hallucinogens into that cookie, or you are severely sleep-deprived.”
The noise from the landing grew louder—a vibrant mix of chatter, clinking glass, and heavy footfalls.
I crept forward on tiptoe, keeping my shoulder pressed flat against the wood paneling as I eased toward the top of the grand staircase.
I crouched behind a carved stone balustrade, peering cautiously through the gaps in the banister.
What I saw down on the main landing completely destroyed any lingering logical explanation my brain was desperately trying to construct.
At the far end of the central hall stood a massive double door made of iron-bound dark oak.
It was wide open.
And beyond that doorway lay a world that shouldn’t exist.
I squeezed my eyes shut, opened them again, and stared.
Through the open threshold, I didn’t see the dark pine woods or the gravel driveway of Fable Hollow.
I saw a glowing, violet-hued night sky illuminated by two distinct moons. Towering crystalline trees lined a cobblestone courtyard outside, their leaves shimmering with a faint, iridescent light.
And if my ears weren’t playing tricks on me, a small golden bird perched near the archway was actively singing a crisp, melodic flute tune that sounded like something straight out of an animated fairy-tale soundtrack.
“What in the world...” I breathed, clutching the stone railing until my knuckles turned white.
An intricate procession of people streamed through the doorway, laughing and chatting as if stepping through a magical portal into an inn were a completely mundane Tuesday night activity.
They weren’t dressed like human vacationers.
There were no denim jackets, sneakers, or rolling suitcases in sight.
The travelers wore elaborate, high-collared tunics made of rich, jewel-toned velvet, sweeping cloaks edged with heavy fur, and long, embroidered robes that trailed along the floorboards. Silver brooches, glowing gemstones, and filigree daggers adorned their belts.
As a writer, my brain immediately classified them: courtiers.
Is this a historical reenactment group? I wondered frantically. A secret midnight LARP convention? Did Blossom rent out the villa to a massive fantasy cosplay troupe without telling me?
Then I spotted Blossom.
She was standing at the foot of the grand landing, holding a thick, leather-bound ledger and a brass ring of keys.
But she wasn’t wearing her usual floral apron and practical cardigan.
She wore a deep emerald dress with flowing sleeves, her hair pinned up with shimmering silver pins that seemed to glow in the dim light.
She was smiling broadly, greeting the incoming travelers by name with the practiced ease of an experienced host.
“Welcome, Lord Zorren! Room 208 has been prepared with extra hearthwood, just as you requested,” Blossom said warmly, bowing her head slightly to an older man wearing a heavy crimson cloak.
“Ah, Blossom, your house is always a sight for sore eyes after three days on the road,” the man replied, his voice rich and deep. “Tell me Honey has those spiced fruit tarts waiting.”
“Fresh out of the oven ten minutes ago,” Blossom promised with a wink.
My jaw hung open.
Blossom wasn’t just accommodating these people; she knew them.
She ran this side of the house like an entirely separate business.
Before I could fully process the absurdity of the scene, the chatter in the hall suddenly dipped into a respectful hush.
The crowd near the iron-bound doorway parted, stepping back to create a wide path.
Four towering guards marched through the threshold first.
They wore fitted leather armor reinforced with dark steel plates, long swords strapped to their hips, and dark blue cloaks pinned at the shoulder with a heavy silver crest depicting a crowned falcon.
And in the center of the guard detail walked a man who took my breath away.
He was the perfect leading man for my novel.
He was tall—easily six foot one—with a lean, athletic build visible beneath a dark, tailored traveling coat lined with silver embroidery.
His dark hair was semi-long, curling slightly at the nape of his neck and framing a sharp, strikingly handsome jawline. His skin was lightly tanned, catching the amber light of the wall torches, and his posture radiated a quiet, effortless authority.
Standing beside him were two other men dressed in rich, noble garments, chatting casually with him as if they didn’t have a small army shielding them from the room.
My literary instincts kicked in again, practically screaming the answer at me.
He wasn’t just a courtier.
That man was royalty.
“Ah, Your Highness!” Blossom called out, her smile growing even warmer as she stepped forward to meet him. “We were beginning to wonder if the mountain pass would delay you.”
The dark-haired prince paused, unpinning his heavy traveling cloak and handing it off to one of his guards without looking.
His voice, when he spoke, was a smooth, low baritone that carried easily up the stone staircase.
“The pass was clear, Blossom,” he said, a faint, dry humor lacing his tone. “Though my men insisted on stopping twice because Julian thought he spotted a shadow lynx in the brush.”
One of the nobles beside him groaned.
“It had glowing eyes, Cassian! It was six feet tall!”
“It was a badger, Julian,” the prince replied deadpan, not a single muscle in his face twitching. “A very rotund badger.”
Blossom let out a delighted laugh.
“Well, regardless of badgers, your grand suite is fully prepped and warmed.”
I leaned slightly farther over the balustrade, practically hanging off the stone edge to get a better look at his face.
Prince Cassian.
The name sounded like something right out of one of my own chapter outlines.
As if sensing the weight of my stare, Prince Cassian suddenly stopped mid-stride.
He didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t look around the room aimlessly.
His head snapped upward, his sharp blue eyes locking instantly onto the exact dark shadow behind the carved balustrade where I was crouching.
I gasped loudly, pulling back so fast my knee cracked hard against the stone floor.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
He saw me.
There was no way he didn’t.
His eyes had pinned me down with terrifying precision right through the wooden gaps.
I stayed pressed flat against the cold floorboards, holding my breath, waiting for the clatter of boots charging up the stairs to arrest the intruder in the velvet robe.
Downstairs, the quiet voice of Prince Cassian broke the silence. “Blossom... who is currently spying on us from the upper landing?"
