Freya (Book 8 of The Land of The Forgotten Series)

Castell Noctra

Ynysoedd Tywyll

Tir Anghofi

It was a cool winter day, even for the southern reaches of Tir Anghofi.

Winters here were usually mild, more suggestive than seasonal. A crisp bite to the air and a sharper edge to the wind coming off the Southern sea, but rarely anything that demanded more than a light cloak and a passing complaint. Snow was a different matter entirely. Rare and exclusive, it was almost mythical.

And when it came... The entire island seemed to pause.

Markets shuttered without warning, their colorful awnings left to flutter in the cold breeze. Lessons were abandoned mid-sentence, instructors giving up the pretense of discipline with indulgent smiles. Even the most serious of nobles found themselves drawn outside, dignity forgotten as laughter echoed through the streets.

Children ran wild. Adults followed close behind.

For a few fleeting hours, Ynysoedd Tywyll forgot itself.

Freya loved those days. They were her favorite. There was something about the way the world softened beneath a blanket of white. The way expectations melted just as easily as the snow itself. No duties. No watchful eyes. No whispered reminders of who she was supposed to be.

Just... freedom.

Too bad they didn’t happen more often. Though she supposed, if they did... they wouldn’t feel nearly as special.

Her fingers tapped absently against the arm of her chair, her thoughts drifting as her gaze slid, slow and deliberate, toward the coat draped across the back. It didn’t belong here.

Not in her suite, where everything was curated and intentional. Silks and fine fabrics in soft, elegant tones. Dresses chosen for appearances. Clothes chosen for presentation.

But today, she was going to escape.

Her gaze lingered on it a moment too long. Then her teeth sank into her bottom lip, worry traveling through the quiet excitement building in her chest. The last thing she needed was for someone to notice her creeping out of the castle dressed for the cold.

Servants talked. Not maliciously, not always. But idle curiosity had a way of turning into conversation, and conversation had a way of traveling farther than it should.

Guards noticed things. It was their job to notice a subtle shift in routine. Like a princess slipping through corridors she had no reason to be in.

And if word somehow made its way back to her father... Her stomach tightened. That would end her plans before they’d even begun.

Her gaze flicked toward the door, half-expecting it to open, for someone to step inside and shatter the fragile, secret thing she was building in her mind, but it stayed closed.

The castle beyond remained quiet. It was like a cage dressed in gold and silk.

Freya exhaled slowly, steadying herself, then looked back at the coat. Just a few days. A few days, when she wasn’t a princess. A few days, when no one was watching. A few days, when she could walk through the world without feeling like it was already closing in around her.

Her pulse quickened at the thought, a spark of something dangerously close to excitement flickering to life. She pushed to her feet before she could think better of it. If she hesitated too long, she wouldn’t go at all.

And that felt far worse than getting caught.

With a small flick of her fingers, magic sparked softly in the air.

Her coat vanished in a quick flash of light, dissolving into nothing as it slipped neatly into the small pocket realm she kept tucked just beyond the reach of the physical world. Just in case she needed it.

Her pocket realm was just a hidden space. A secret she’d carved out for herself.

Safe, hidden, and unseen. Something no one else could access.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on her.

Her lips curved faintly as she stood, brushing her hands down the front of her pants out of habit more than necessity. Everything about her still looked... proper. Untouched. Exactly as she was expected to be.

Good. That was the point.

She pulled on her shoes with another subtle thread of magic, the leather tightening perfectly around her feet without so much as a sound.

Freya crossed the room and slipped out of her bedroom, easing the door shut behind her with careful precision until the latch clicked into place with the softest whisper.

The hallway beyond was blissfully empty. She stilled instantly, listening.

The castle had its own rhythm. Its own pulse. If you lived in it long enough, you learned the difference between normal and wrong.

This was normal.

Distant voices echoed faintly from somewhere deeper within the castle, muted by stone and distance. A servant, maybe two. The low murmur of conversation. Nothing urgent. Nothing sharp enough to draw attention. And beneath it all, the ever-present whisper of wind brushing along the outer walls. A soft, hollow sound that curled through the corridors like a secret.

Freya let out a slow, controlled breath. Perfect.

Moving quickly now, she slipped down the corridor, her steps light. She didn’t rush. Rushing drew attention. Rushing made noise. She moved as if she belonged there, like she had every right to walk these halls. Like she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Because she did, but she was being overly cautious, and she knew it.

Familiar passages unfolded before her, each turn already mapped in her mind. She didn’t hesitate. This wasn’t her first time memorizing escape routes... just the first time she was daring enough to use one.

The castle seemed to press in around her the closer she got to the edge of it, the weight of its magic brushing against her skin.

The wards.

She could feel them brushing over her, but she ignored them. Freya slowed just slightly as she approached, her heartbeat picking up despite herself.

Her jaw tightened.

Just a few days.

Before she could think better of it, she stepped forward. The moment she crossed the invisible barrier, something shifted. It wasn’t painful. Not even uncomfortable.

Just... different.

Like stepping out from under a weight she hadn’t fully realized she’d been carrying.

The air felt lighter. Colder. Sharper against her skin.

Freya exhaled, and for the first time since she’d left her room, it felt like she could actually breathe.

A slow smile tugged at her lips. Then she let her magic rise. It wrapped around her instinctively, fluid and familiar, slipping over her skin like a second layer. Not heavy. Not suffocating. Just protective and concealing.

A cloak woven from her own will.

Relief unfurled in her chest, warm and bright, as she moved unseen beyond the castle grounds.

No shouts behind her. No guards calling her name. No sudden, crushing hand of authority dragging her back where she was supposed to be.

She’d done it.

A soft laugh bubbled up in her chest, barely contained, the sound slipping free before she could stop it. It felt so good.

Today was her nineteenth birthday.

The thought bloomed in her mind, and something in her chest loosened even further, the quiet, coiled tension she carried every day easing just a fraction.

She was nineteen and not a child anymore. Not something to be managed and guided and watched at every turn.

She was an adult at least... in theory.

Her grin sharpened slightly, a flicker of something a little more defiant threading through it.

And she fully intended to make the most of it.

Her parents were going to kill her for disappearing for a few days.

Freya knew that.

She knew the exact look her father would wear when he realized she was gone. The tight control. The simmering anger barely held beneath the surface. The disappointment that would cut far deeper than any raised voice.

Her mother would worry. They would question, but she didn’t care.

It pressed at the edges of her thoughts, but she shoved it firmly away.

Rhodri would be pissed at her, but he’d get over it.

She didn’t care. Not today.

Because soon enough... this wouldn’t even be an option.

The future stretched out in front of her like something already decided. Responsibilities closing in from all sides, tightening with every passing year until there was no space left to breathe.

No space left to choose.

Her smile faltered for just a second. Then she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin slightly as she moved through the crisp air, invisible and untouchable.

Not yet. She still had time.

The word felt strange in her mind. Heavy and important. Like it was supposed to mean something more than it actually did.

They’d probably be furious that she’d vanished on her birthday, the thought flickered again, softer this time and easier to ignore.

She pushed it aside with a quiet breath. It was worth it.

Her smile returned, slower now. More certain. She was going to make sure it was.

She reappeared in the woods just beyond the castle’s territory, her form slipping back into existence between one breath and the next.

The world rushed in around her.

Cold air kissed her skin, sharper here, less controlled than within the castle walls. The trees loomed tall and dark, their branches bare and reaching, creaking softly as the wind threaded through them.

Freya didn’t hesitate.

She immediately set off down the narrow path that wound toward the coast, her steps sure despite the uneven ground. The trail was familiar, half-forgotten, and yet etched somewhere deeper than memory, like something her body recognized even if her mind hadn’t walked it in years.

Leaves crunched faintly beneath her boots.

The farther she went, the more the air changed.

The sharp, unmistakable scent of fish drifted toward her first, carried on the wind in uneven waves. It grew stronger with every step, clinging to the back of her throat, and she wrinkled her nose instinctively.

Some things never changed.

But beneath it, she could smell the salt of the sea.

Freya slowed, just slightly, her chest rising as she drew in a deeper breath, letting it fill her lungs.

For a moment, she closed her eyes as she walked, letting herself exist in that single sensation.

And just like that, her thoughts drifted. For a moment, she wished she were a mermaid. The idea slipped in easily, soft and tempting.

If she were, she wouldn’t need paths or plans or careful timing. She wouldn’t need to worry about who was watching or what rules she was breaking. She could slip beneath the waves without a second thought and disappear into the deep.

Swim for miles without stopping, her body carried effortlessly by currents older than anything on land. She could chase them wherever they led, through hidden coves and open ocean, past places no map had ever touched. See things no one else ever reached. Go wherever she wanted.

The thought wrapped around her chest, tight and aching in a way that felt almost dangerous.

Because that kind of freedom wasn’t just distant; it was impossible.

But that wasn’t her life.

The truth settled back in, heavier this time, and Freya opened her eyes.