“Airlie, this is Prince Gage Briarfrost, King Galen’s son, and this is his brother, Prince Gideon; the heir to the Briarfrost throne. Along with their battalions, they’re staying at Yregar with us for the foreseeable future and are mywelcomeguests.”
Gesturing to the witch still smiling pleasantly from between the goblin princes with a curt nod, I continue. “This is Cerson Crane, a member of Rooke’s family and household. She, very graciously, journeyed back to the Southern Lands to aid our escape from Yris and transported the rest of the Unseelie Court still loyal to me back here, as well. She will be treated with the same respects as any royal; my word on this is final.”
Meeting each of my household’s eyes firmly, I almost do a double take at the awe in Aura's eyes as she stares between Cerson and Rooke. Wringing her hands with eager energy, her entire body is turned in their direction as though waiting for an opening to fawn over them. I turn to Airlie for an answer to this drastic change of heart only to find her gaping at her mother as though she doesn’t recognize her.
My aunt steps to Cerson and grasps both her hands. “Such a long journey, we must get both of you taken care of! Let me see you to one of the guest wings, Cerson, where you can preparefor dinner. My daughter is an excellent host and we dine in her chambers for our meals as she’s loathe to leave my little grandson, even as he sleeps peacefully.”
Rooke stares at Aura with suspicion and Cerson doesn’t have to look at her sister-in-law to feel it, the dangerous smile growing on her face. “Are the guest’s chambers far from Rooke’s? I must admit, I’m reluctant to leave her side after so many months of separation. If there’s too much castle between us, I'm sure I'll become a nuisance of myself.”
Airlie glances between the impending mess before us, ready to cut in and offer up her own guest chambers to keep the witches close together, but I’ve had more than enough of this.
Grasping Rooke’s elbow, I attempt a level tone at my aunt and fail miserably. “Cerson is staying with Rooke and I. Airlie, please see Prince Gideon and Prince Gage into the guest chambers on the Celestial side of the castle and Aura… you can help Firna with the new arrivals.”
She bows deeply to me and moves off without question, stepping into the Grand Hall as though she’s always this helpful and not a nightmare for her daughter and I at the best of times. I don't bother looking in Airlie's direction as she bows to Gideon and Gage happily, my fingers still clasped on Rooke’s elbow as though there’s a danger of her slipping away from me if I let go for even a second, and Cerson follows us without a word.
Rooke waits until we’re climbing the first set of stairs before she murmurs, “Not that I intend on arguing with you over every little thing, Soren, but I did promise my protection to Thea. Leaving her down in the healer’s quarters by herself is unsettling.”
“I’m sure not as unsettling as me reducing this entire castle to rubble will be if I have a magic slip.”
She sighs, casting me a stony look as she finally pulls her arm from my grasp. “Your efforts at learning control have beennothing short of heroic and we both know it. I can't just abandon her down there.”
I incline my head at one of the maids as she walks past and she bows her head respectfully at the three of us, a small smile on her face as she rushes off to her duties. Cerson smiles at her as well, dimples cutting deeply into her cheeks.
“I'm not sure it’ll hold if I'm startled awake and you're nowhere to be found.”
I don’t mention her nightmares that only one to bring them up but if she refuses to see good sense, I’ll use whatever I have to ensure she’s at my side. She grimaces at me, her mouth sealing shut and glances back at Cerson to find her looking around the castle. The way she's pointedly ignoring our conversation is respectful but in the way of family, the true sort of respect that comes from a deep underlying affection. The warnings of the rest of her family’s opinions still ring in my ears.
Her husband is the only fae I care about winning over, and ensuring his wife is only treated with the utmost respect is a good start. Keeping the gazes of all the unmated males in Yregar from her will probably also gain me favor, already proving difficult as the guards all shift and turn slightly in her direction as we walk.
The soldiers standing guard over my chamber bow and open the doors for us, both staring at the ground when I glare at them for their lingering gazes. Rooke gives me a careful look, but Cerson strides ahead of us both and makes appreciative noises at the design of my chambers. I haven’t touched anything here since I moved in centuries ago and only Firna is allowed in here to clean, but it’s furnished with all the opulence of the Unseelie Court’s designs.
Rooke hovers awkwardly, unsure of what to do, and I scoff at her, pushing open the door to the queen consort's chambersand gesturing to Cerson. “If there’s anything you need, please let Firna or one of the maids know and we’ll see to it.”
She shoots Rooke a look, wiggling her eyebrows, before she bows to me respectfully. “Rest assured, I over-pack and there’s very little I could possibly have need for.”
I’m not surprised when she flicks her wrists and her sleeves split the same way Rooke’s do but when a sword appears in her hand with a pop of light, my eyebrows hit my hairline. Made with Seelie steel, the pommel is cast in gold with intricate carvings in the grip and dozens of jewels lie nestled in the design. There’s a kingdom’s worth of riches in that weapon alone.
“I know you told me not to bring you anything but couldn't bear the thought of you swinging the other one around.”
I frown at her but Rooke steps forward and takes it with a sigh, her hand fitting the grip perfectly though she doesn’t move to unsheathe the blade.
“I swear you're trying to split me open and lay my insides out today, and after all these months away, I was expecting a far kinder reception,” she mutters under her breath, but Cerson laughs.
“I’m doing no such thing! I just want to be sure that when you cleave Kharl Balzog’s filthy head from his shoulders you do it with your own sword and not whatever random one you've brought along with you.”
Rooke chuckles, shaking her head. “I did no such thing and you know it. Even the thought of swinging this one at raving witches makes my skin crawl, I don’t think I can do it.”
Cerson shrugs as she kisses Rooke’s cheek, bowing her head to me before she steps into the queen consort chambers, shutting the door firmly and a sound barrier wraps around the room.
When Rooke avoids my gaze, I place a hand on the base of her spine and steer her further into the chambers to our room.When I take my cloak off to hang it up, I do the same with hers, then both of our swords as well. When I turn back to her without commenting on the extravagant blade, she hesitates and opens her mouth only for her gaze to flick back to my reception room as the door opens and half my household arrives to see me for orders.
I step forward, grasping her cheek. “I need to speak to Kytan to see the goblin soldiers housed comfortably and ensure my expectations for their treatment are clear. Whatever plans we make to deal with my uncle and the Betrayer, they’ll happen after the winter solstice tomorrow.Everythingcan wait until then.”
She nuzzles into my palm a little, and I can’t help but duck down to press our lips together, enjoying the sound of her breath catching. “Go enjoy a long bath. I’ll try not to kill half the castle while you’re gone.”
Kytan and Alwynlisten to my orders for the barracks and my commands regarding the goblin soldiers with bowed heads as they stand before the desk in my reception room. Tauron and Tyton sit in the two armchairs set off to one side while Roan seethes by my side. His gaze stays firmly away from where Gideon and Gage stand by the wall, a small concession, and Reed stands between them and the door further into my chambers as though he’s guarding Rooke from them both even now.
The animosity hasn’t been so thick in this room without Rooke and Tauron’s involvement for centuries and it’s no wonder Kytan keeps glancing at Roan like he’s expecting the Snowsong Prince to take a swing at someone. Alwyn doesn’t darelook up, but his shoulders are tight and his hands are fisted at his side as though he’s struggling not to stand defensively.
