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“No,” they answer in unison.
“Who are we?”
“We are the mighty Spring army.”
I see Fleur running down the steps, her blonde hair flying about her face. “It’s a girl! It’s a girl! D’Artaron, Chloe had a girl!”
I sprint toward the palace, climb the steps three at a time, then stop, turn. Shit, forgot my kids. I sprint back and grab one under each of my arms, then run again as the boys laugh themselves silly, thrilled that I’m carrying them at top speed.
Fleur’s heels click behind me, and Guer shouts, “Hey, queens don’t run.”
That’s my boy. Mmhm.
Dise’s magic opens the door to the princess suite, and we burst inside just as the fate who sees all that’s happening in the present takes my small bundle of joy from Chloe and hands it to me. I put the boys down before accepting the baby.
The moment I hold my baby girl and peel back the blanket to reveal her cute, scrunched-up, little face, emotions flood me, mainly gratitude that she seems healthy. But also gratitude for the good things in my life. My sons, my fae-ted mate, the good friends who care about us.
Utterly unprepared for the fierce protective emotions that overcome me when I look at my daughter, I feel my control of my magic slip. Pots and pans rattle. Under us, the ground tilts, and I look up at Chloe, who sleeps seemingly deeply. Watching her serene face after a night spent in labor calms me, and after I settle my magic, I dismiss the staff.
I climb into the bed inside the chambers Chloe stayed in when she first arrived in the Spring court and kiss her forehead, then press my nose against my baby’s skin. I inhale her scent so that I’ll know her anywhere. She smells of orchids.
“Dad,” Dise whispers, “can we see?”
As I show them my girl and they look at her as if seeing one of the world’s smallest wonders, I think of a name: Joie. It means joy, a name that will reflect the happiness I never expected to find, but did with my fae-ted mate.
***
