A sad smile stretches across my lips. “Every healer in the Sol Army fought at one point or another. We didn't have the luxury of healing camps or the safety of castle walls. If you didn't know how to use a sword, you’d die alongside those you were trying to help. If an enemy makes it all the way to your chambers, you won’t have to pick up a sword, Princess. I’ll make sure of that.”
She smiles and takes her son from me, easing him back into the sling and nodding to me once more. “What do you need for the ward? I’ll help you to lay your talismans wherever they need to be.”
With a sigh of relief, I explain the process to her. She listens intently and asks questions where she needs to, an intelligent ally to have. When she leaves me once more, humming under her breath at her son as she goes about the tasks, I begin assembling the pouches. Moonstone and unopened sundrop buds, leaves from the fae flowers and drops of my blood, I seal them together with the words of power my mother taught me. Using a small spool of thread and a sharp needle Firna brought me, I sew together pouches from torn scraps of linen until they’re assembled and ready. I’m not sure I have enough to cover the inner walls of Yregar but there's no going back for more moonstones, so I’ll have to make it work.
The guards watch it all but whether it looks like a banal task or they’ve been instructed to merely observe and report, I don’t know but they leave me to my task in peace.
A maid comes down with a simple slice of bread and the smallest wedge of cheese for my lunch, hours of work passing the day quickly. I take the food with a nod of thanks and, as she leaves, Airlie steps back into the room. She’s changed out of her comfortable dress and into one more suited to walking, but the sling is still securely wrapped around her, her precious cargo sleeping steadily.
She smiles at me in greeting, delivering her news without preamble. “I’ve spoken with my husband, and we both went to Soren. I told him that it's nothing more than an old tale, that couldn't possibly do anything, but my cousin still wants to escort us as we work. I’m ready now, if you are?”
Curse the man, I want nothing to do with him even as my stomach clenches in anticipation.
My spirit is still sore from the last time I was forced to endure him, but I nod to her, grabbing the leather satchel holding the talismans as I shove the bread and cheese into my mouth. There’s not much there, and in two hearty bites, my lunch is done.
I follow the princess out of the healer’s quarters and through to the courtyard, taking a deep breath before I face my Fates-cursed mate once more, shutting off the soft healer’s heart within me so he can’t do any further damage to my fraught temper.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
Soren
The witch stands with a leather satchel bound around her arm and a frosty look on her face as she descends the last of the castle steps into the courtyard beside Airlie. Her eyes never turn toward me, whatever attempt she was making to find common ground now abandoned, and a cold smirk of satisfaction stretches across my lips.
“Soren, you promised me a peaceful walk,” Airlie snaps.
I glance back to find her scowling at me, disapproval dripping from her. The baby is sleeping in the sling across her chest, and she's wearing a comfortable dress. Her beloved heels have been switched out for a pair of flat boots for the walk.
Worry still tugs at my chest, the small bundle in the sling too precious to be out on errands like this. “Is it safe for him to join us?”
The witch raises an eyebrow, but her gaze stays glued to the soldiers lining Yregar’s inner wall that encases the castle. “I’m certain thatyou’rethe one joiningusfor the walk, but it's good for the baby and the princess to get fresh air and a bit of light exercise. We won't go too far—this doesn't all have to be done today.”
Airlie tilts up her chin in victory, gloating as she waves an arm at the witch to lead the way, and we walk through the courtyard and up one of the staircases on the inner wall. Two soldiers—Reed and Alwyn— flank us, just to be sure that none of the villagers attempt to approach my cousin, and I called ahead orders for the soldiers already patrolling the village to prepare for our arrival.
The northern expanse of the inner wall is the only barrier between the village and the castle. Though we keep the gates open and guarded throughout the day, the deep unrest within the village isn’t something I take lightly. What snippets of truth I can discover here with this fruitless task is worth the risk and though three of the talismans the witch wants to bury will put us in contact with the village, the guards will stay with Airlie and the witch to ensure nothing goes awry. No matter how sure I am that I won’t need it, my sword hangs ready at my side as I guard my cousin and her baby.
“Do witches have naming days?” Airlie asks, and I roll my eyes, tipping my head back to stare up at the sky and the Fates above for a moment.
The baby's life is worth a lot of things, even the witch becoming Airlie’s new favorite obsession to dissect, but that doesn't mean I’m going to enjoy being forced to listen to all of this, no matter how soothing her tones are to me when she’s speaking calmly to my cousin and not the harsh ones she gives to me.
“We do. The next new moon after a baby is born, we hold the naming rites. It’s usually a quiet affair, calm and supportive for the mother’s health, but we do call the baby's name out to the Fates before the sun rises again. Witches believe that we're all given to this earth by the Fates to serve its needs, of course, but claiming the baby as one of our own and bringing them into the fold of the coven is a vital part of our beliefs.”
Airlie nods, casting a long look toward the haggard line of villagers at the temple below us. “The high fae do the same, I suppose, but with a larger party and more wine. I finally let my mother come to see the baby, and she’s insisting on inviting the entire Unseelie Court to meet him.”
I shake my head, my voice cold, but only about her mother’s involvement, “It’s too risky for such an event. She's going to have to get over her desires for pageantry and gloating.”
Airlie chuckles under her breath, adjusting the sling a little as the baby wriggles within. “Oh, she would love nothing more than to parade us both around under the regent’s nose and fawn over my son publicly so that everybody could congratulate her for such a wondrous gift. Roan and I discussed it, and we’d like something much smaller. We're hoping you will name him for us, Soren.”
A lump forms in my throat but she meets my eye with a small smile before she turns away, happy to leave my own reaction to such an honor private and not display it to the witch. Amongst the high fae, naming a child doesn't mean choosing the name for them, of course, Airlie and Roan will do that themselves. Naming refers to the ceremony that our people once took part in before the curse. It’s an honor they’re giving to me, and I would give my blessing to the baby first out of those in attendance.
Even now that Roan is home and well, I’ve barely laid eyes on the child. Airlie is far too protective to hand him around, fearful of the baby catching an illness or somehow having harm befall him, but I have seen that he looks just like his father, only with blue eyes shining back up at us instead of gold.
Firna told Airlie that the color might still change, some babies’ eyes do during the first year, but my cousin only smiled and nodded, happy to have as much of her husband shining back up at her as the Fates choose.
The witch pauses, looking over the side of the inner wall as she assesses the spot below, and Airlie clears her throat delicately and says to her, “Roan and I would like you to join us for the naming ceremony as well. Please, Rooke, it would be a great honor for us to have you in attendance.”
The glare I send my cousin is clearly expected, because the moment I turn to her, she's already glaring back at me defiantly, one eyebrow raised and her head cocked as she baits me to argue with her.
The witch studies Airlie carefully as we pass the sentries, and when my cousin gives her a questioning look, she nods. “You're moving well, it's good to see, and I thank you for the honor of the invitation. I wouldn't miss it.”
