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“They’ll love whatever you do,” I tell her.
“The little prince’s bottles are almost the right temperature.” She checks the pot of water with floating capped bottles inside. “I’m betting he’s hungry today with all the company. He’s been flying everywhere. Little show off.” She says the last as if she’s a proud grandma.
We’re all proud of Alex. From the day Rosemarie conceived, we doted on her as though her pregnancy made her fragile. Our queen would have none of it. She remained on the Bridge, helping souls cross until her water broke. Huey squawked and fussed for the few seconds it took us to reach her and fly her back to the tower.
After an hour with two terrified fathers—undefeated in battle but helpless at the birthing—and a brownie cursing in ancient tongue, the first gargoyle born instead of carved in thousands of years arrived, his tiny body wrapped tightly by blueish-purple wings.
With soft murmurs and the most delicate touch, Rosemarie coaxed Alex into opening those wings just a bit so we could see him. He moved and stretched like a human infant but with the blue skin of his fathers, delicate claws, and a little tail. Our boy stole my heart the first time he opened his eyes and latched onto Rosemarie’s breast to nurse.
A nip of his fangs had Rona insisting on bottle feeding, but I’ve found Rosemarie still nursing some nights with the careful nuh uh to keep his fangs from biting…mostly.
Now, her three friends—Ava, Meg, and Val—have visited again, and Rona acts as if the goddess herself has arrived.
“Did you see the kraken’s bride?” Rona asks. “Such a lovely woman with the funniest pirate stories and the cutest baby otter. What a sweet soul guardian. I have a salt-water tub for her to soak in the great hall. I need to get her another in one of the bedrooms.”
I don’t mention how the adorable otter can transform into a three-headed sea monster in an instant. Instead, I tell her, “Let me know how Jace and I can help.”
Her brow furrows, and she pops a dish towel in my direction. “You daddies can attend your queen and your prince. Get out of my kitchen. Why are you here anyway?”
“Rosemarie smelled your orange cranberry bread. It’s her favorite.”
Rona stops attacking my knees, and her face goes soft. “She always appreciates my baking.” As if caught in a moment of weakness, she scowls again. “Unlike you heathen boys.” She pulls a pan from the stove. “Tell our sweet queen that I’ll bring it as soon as it’s ready to serve, along with drinks for her friends.”
“Do you need me to ask them what they want?”
My offer to help gets shot down so fast I wonder what I’ve done to offend her this time.
“I memorized all their likes and dislikes from food to sheets to room temperature,” she says. “Now, go do something you’re actually good at. Like running the keep or doting on your queen.” She slaps a tray of drinks in my hand that she must’ve magicked from thin air. “Carry this up to them while you’re going.”
I hide my laugh. Rona hasn’t been this cranky since the coronation feast. She only gets grumpy when it truly matters.
Pushing through the safety gates we’ve installed at the doorway of the great hall to keep Alex from flying away, I deliver the drinks into a room filled with beautiful women and the most gorgeous queen of all time—mine. Jace lounges by the window like he’s checking for threats, but truly he has the look of a gargoyle who has finally found his true place in the company of queens.
Only Rosemarie wears her crown, the green stone looking radiant. It matches accents in her gown. She has Alex dressed in a diaper of the same colors. The Spidress had been delighted to outfit the legendary queen and the first gargoyle baby in millennia.
“He’s so cute,” Ava whispers. Married to the kraken pirate king, she’s also the heir to another realm’s throne. But right now, none of that matters because she’s holding Alex as if he’s the most important being in all the worlds. Which he is, right along with his mother.
“Those wings,” Meg gushes. The minotaur king’s bride, she’s queen of the labyrinth realm. Yet here, she wears paint-stained jeans with ripped knees and colored pencils in her hair. She draws Alex in charcoal on a sketch pad, bringing his wings to life in excellent detail. Although she likely has plenty of practice drawing wings given her soul guardian is a flying demon kitty. One who hops into the air to fly in circles with Hudyakis. At least Rosemarie’s guardian chooses to stay in his colorful owl form instead of the more intimidating one.
“Don’t, Monty,” Val says to her own soul guardian, though I have no idea why. The mongoose doesn’t have wings, but who knows with those ancient ones? He doesn’t budge, staying curled next to her hip. He chitters and eyes the others zipping around the room.
My son giggles at the two flying troublemakers and stretches his own wings. Within seconds, he rises out of Ava’s arms to join in the game of chase.
“I don’t get it.” Val sprawls sideways in a chair wearing a red jumpsuit that would suit our queen perfectly. “You hinted your kid was having trouble with his powers, but he seems to be a first-rate flyer. So what’d you want me to talk to Theo about?”
Both Jace and I tense at the dealing demon’s name. “Why would anyone discuss our son with Theodopolis?” I ask my mate.
“Relax,” Rosemarie says. “What happened with the portals and any promises was centuries ago, and demon royals are experts at controlling natural glamours so I thought he could help.”
“With what?” Val asks again.
Our son drops into her lap with a giggle and morphs into a human baby, never stopping his laugh.
“With that,” Rosemarie says.
Ava hurries to scoot Val over until she can join them in the oversized chair. “Oh gosh, he’s just as cute in this form.”
“He’s completely human,” Meg says as she checks Alex’s little toes and fingers. “Not a single hint of his tail or his wings.”
