Seth’s jaw tightens. “I’ve been working.”
“Avoiding,” Vera corrects him with a sweet smile. “The word you’re looking for is ‘avoiding.’”
Catherine laughs. “Remember when he ducked into that supply closet when he saw us in the palace hallway?”
“I didn’t—” Seth starts, then stops. “That was one time.”
“Three times,” Eloise says cheerfully. “I kept count.”
I squeeze his hand, fighting back a smile. His sisters are ruthless, but there’s so much love underneath the teasing.
“We understand why, of course,” Marina says, her eyes softening as they land on me. “You were being protective. It’s actually quite sweet.”
“Sweet?” Seth looks as if he’s been slapped. “You’re calling my months of strategic evasion ‘sweet’?”
“Very sweet,” Vera agrees. “Completely unnecessary, since we’d already met Selene the morning after you mated and found her absolutely delightful. But sweet nonetheless.”
Seth groans and drops his head to the table. I run my fingers through his hair, unable to hold back my laughteranymore.
“We like her very much, Seth,” Catherine says more gently. “You did well.”
He lifts his head to look at his sisters, a vulnerable expression crossing his face. “I know I did.”
The rest of dinner passes with easier conversation—stories about Seth as a child that make him cringe and me laugh, questions about my work as a healer that make me feel like the women are genuinely interested and not interrogating me. By the time dessert arrives, I understand why Seth was so worried. His sisters are formidable. But they’re also warm, funny, and clearly devoted to their brother.
As we finish eating, Marina catches Seth’s eye. “Show Selene around, Seth. The gardens are lovely this time of evening.”
It’s clearly a dismissal, but it’s a kind one.
Seth takesmy hand as we leave the dining room and leads me through the massive house. The tension that held his shoulders rigid throughout dinner starts to ease.
“That wasn’t so bad,” I offer.
“They went easy on me because you were there.” He glances down at me, a smile tugging at his lips. “Next time, they’ll be merciless.”
“Next time?”
“Marina will insist on monthly dinners now. At minimum.” He doesn’t sound upset about it. “Fair warning.”
We step outside, and my breath catches. Lanterns illuminate winding paths through perfectly maintained flower beds. The fountain I saw when Marina and I arrived glows softly in the distance.
“This is beautiful,” I whisper.
“Wait till you see my favorite part.”
He leads me past the formal gardens, down a path that becomes less manicured, a little wilder. Trees close in around us, and then I see it: a treehouse, nestled in the branches of a massive oak, more elaborate than any I’ve ever seen.
“My father and I built this,” Seth says quietly, stopping at the baseof the tree. “Took us an entire summer when I was eight. Marina was furious because I wouldn’t let her help.”
“It’s amazing.”
“Want to see inside?”
The ladder is sturdy; Seth climbs up first, then helps me through the opening. The space is larger than I expected—tall enough to stand in the center, with windows on all sides. Someone has clearly been maintaining it; the wood is in good condition, and there are even cushions on the built-in bench.
“Marina comes up here sometimes,” Seth says, following my gaze. “When she needs to think. She’ll deny it, but I know.”
I move to the window and look out over the estate. From here, I can see the mansion lit up against the darkening sky, the gardens spreading out like a vision from a dream.
