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The last one, most of all.

Until he learned that people were both good and bad, right and wrong, honest and false. They were honorable and misguided. They were courageous and frightened. They were made of flesh and wood, of truths and lies, of reality and fantasy. They were of the sky and the earth, of winds and roots.

Love was the past and the future.

Life was all those things and everything in between.

In this kingdom, the knight and the girl met. They were once enemies, who then became friends, who then became lovers.

The Crown revealed the truth to the public, all about the fairytale acorns, and the details of a dishonest love story. Some were entertained, others embittered, others disappointed. But with the Royals’ influence, most took the news with grace, accepting that the girl’s carpenter mother had found the second acorn fairly, and knowing the final acorn had brought the treehouse colony back to life, which benefited many.

It also explained the girl’s woodskin, fascinating all who met her. It didn’t stop strangers from staring, but she handled that with finesse. She walked confidently.

One evening, a year into their courtship, the knight rode his steed into the lower town, to the cottage workshop. The young woman had become a weaponsmith to nobles and fox mavens alike. She’d been newly appointed to design for the Royal guard, in service of the Crown. She’d become a timber girl in earnest, gaining the people’s respect through her craft, through her contributions to the kingdom.

She sat in her workshop, constructing by candlelight alongside her mother, while their woodpecker sidekick perched on a bird swing. Outside, fog floated through the stars. Inside, steam curled from a mug of cider, and a feather hat hung from a peg on the wall. Only the sounds of tools and wood filled the room.

She never did replace her burnt finger, even though they had a spare part.

However, she did replace her twin hatchets for a single larger one, more to scale with her body.

The girl had been finishing her day, placing the last touches on another axe handle, when a pellet struck the window. A little snap, and then another, and another. Three tiny nuggets in succession. Pebbles?

No. Not pebbles. Acorns.

The girl jerked, thinking,What the hell?

She rose from her stool, pried open the sash, and felt the nut of her heart skip.

The knight waited on the cobbled lane, standing amidst the torch lamps, his blue eyes gleaming up at her. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and a night breeze swirled around him, as though he’d descended from the clouds and shifted into being.

The timber girl took a moment to gloat and adore privately. With her living at the cottage and him at the castle, trysts were a challenge, ranging from her bedroom or his chamber, to a room at the inn, to outdoor hiding spots.

Once, during a jousting tournament, they’d christened his tent. She’d been awaiting his return from the field, wearing nothing but a spare length of his chainmail. He’d staggered in place upon seeing her, his dented shield slipping from his fingers. The roar of the crowd outside had drowned out the sounds they’d made.

But on this present night, she anticipated them going to their favorite spot in the castle orchards. He always brought candles whenever they made love there.

But it was too early. They hadn’t planned to meet for another hour.

She crossed her arms over the sill, batted her lashes, and teased, “What can I do for you, Sir?”

The knight grinned. “You can say,Yes.”

She blinked. Something in his tone. The loving tremor in his voice.

The girl’s mother dipped her head, smiling. Gathering her own teacup, she excused herself from the room. The giddy woodpecker chirped and flapped out the window, heading to her birdhouse.

The knight shocked the girl by climbing the cottage facade, ascending to the workshop. A gilded hero scaling the walls for her. A dramatic gesture that made her laugh.

He swooped through the window. And then he sank to one knee.

And from his pocket, he withdrew a ring.

And she stopped laughing.

She’d never seen it before, this circle of wood shaped like a feather. She recognized the craftsmanship, and she would have glanced to the stool where her mother had been sitting, but the knight’s voice stole the timber girl’s breath.

He asked, and she answered—once she’d finished squealing.