I read her moods now as clearly as those of the tumultuous men around her, and so I let her sit in the garden with me for a moment to collect herself before I stop my work to join her.
She inclines her head in greeting, but when she doesn’t offer an explanation, I attempt to coax one out of her. "Is there something that I can help you with, some wrongs that we must make right together?"
The corners of her mouth twitch upwards but the smile never takes root, a frown falling over her delicate brow as she looks up at me. "I'm hiding from my mother for a little while. I knew your presence would keep that female from following me, so I’m using that to my advantage. It's quiet and nice as well. The smell of the garden is so familiar and yet such a rarity, I keep finding myself wandering down here."
I carefully dust off my hands and take a seat a few paces away from her, gesturing at the dirt covering my robes from my work as she gives me a questioning look. She shakes her head at me, but the small smile finally stays put.
"Are you going to get into trouble with Prince Soren for avoiding her? I thought she was using her position on the Unseelie Court to force you into enduring her presence."
She sighs and adjusts her son in her arms so she can feed him. The happy baby sounds soften some of the anger in her face as she strokes the small cap of dark curls on his head then traces the point of his tiny ear.
"I think he was pretty close to killing my mother himself and bearing the consequences. She's certainly outstayed her welcome, but with Yris closing their doors and locking up half the Unseelie Court, she has no better options. There's certainly no other castle with enough protection to house her safely, not unless we sent her to Fates Mark, and I would never do that to Prince Roan."
My eyebrows slowly creep up, and Airlie nods when she sees my expression. "We heard the news the same day that Soren imprisoned you once again. Not to make excuses for him, but it was a very trying day for the household. Tyton and Tauron's mother is one of those imprisoned, as well as my father, but he won't care about being trapped there. If anything, he'll enjoy the holiday away from my mother's demands. We seem to be at a stalemate, waiting for the winter solstice and your nuptials to see what the regent will do next."
We fall back into a relative silence as I think over her words. I've met the regent only once, when he traveled here and I was dragged in front of the Unseelie Court as a spectacle for them all, but he hadn't seemed as dangerous as they all say. A skillful ruse, his docile demeanor has surely been a hardship for such a barbarous male to uphold for so many centuries but no matter how cunning his disguise, I won't fall for it. The damage to the kingdom cannot be borne without someone being held accountable.
"My mother asked why we named my son Raidyn and not Roan. It's tradition to name the firstborn sons in the Snowsong family for their fathers, and every heir for centuries has been given that name, a mantle all its own." Airlie rubs a hand over her son's soft cheek, but as she looks down, there's sorrow seeping out of her.
She doesn't need to say another word.
Prince Roan, her firstborn son, was sent to Elysium on the funeral pyres after the curse took him from her. Raidyn's birth and survival doesn't change that fact; the past is still etched into the stones of history no matter how many years pass.
She blinks back tears, swallowing roughly as she glances back up to smile at me. "Roan and his father both agree with me; we've already named a son Roan and honored the tradition of their bloodline. Naming Raidyn the same thing feels worse than distasteful to me, it’s abhorrent. Nothing—andno one—could ever replace my firstborn but, no matter how many times I explain that to my mother, she just keeps nagging me. She doesn't even care about the traditions of the Outlands, and yet she's picking away at this, regardless.”
Staring out at my garden, it takes me a moment to collect myself to ensure my tone is level enough to hide some of the fury brewing in my gut at her mother, but I also refuse to diminish the actions of that vile female. “What a terrible burden she wishes Raidyn to bear, to grow up in the shadow of his brother instead of the light of his own making. Bringing a child into the world after the loss of another is an unpredictable and heart-wrenching joy that already holds many difficulties. Don’t let your mother’s selfish desires demean the honorable path you’re walking; steady and true, no matter how painful it may be. Raidyn is a very lucky boy, to be loved by a family who longed for him and fought so ferociously for him… he’s not a replacement, but an addition to your family.”
She clears her throat again as the tears threaten to choke her once more, and then says, quiet but firm, "My son existed. He mattered. We longed for him for centuries, and he'll live in my heart forever. Even if my mother forgets, Roan and I...we won't."
I have to swallow against the lump in my own throat, rubbing her shoulder for a moment before I turn back to my garden, letting her feed her son in the peace and quiet of the carefullytended garden. Her eyes slip shut as she takes deep breaths and calms her heart once more, Raidyn's small gulping sounds the only noise to be heard in the quiet. It's soothing, healing, and yet I know it's a bittersweet joy for them all.
Firna's rage and contempt at Aura becomes ever more understandable to me as time goes on. Far more than a vain and shallow thing, Aura would happily sacrifice every good part of her daughter for the sake of their name and the reputation it holds, a vile way to be.
Eventually Firna comes looking for her princess and ushers her back up to her rooms, sharing a concerned look with me at Airlie’s general demeanor. I send her off with the promise to visit them both the next day with cups of healing tea and old stories of magic and lore. Both are topics that Airlie is eager to learn more about, and it puts some color back into her cheeks, a small smile creeping over her lips as Firna mutters her own kindnesses to her.
I contemplate stalking my way through this castle to find that high-fae female and enact the dozen tortures I could easily bestow upon her, though every last one of them would probably cost me my life. Being a sitting member of the Unseelie Court is a cloak of protection Aura can wrap around herself even as she lashes out and tears everyone to ribbons just to see what colors they truly bleed.
I despise the woman.
In the late afternoon, and as the chill of the evening begins to roll in, there's a knock at the healer's quarters. When I call out, Roan steps in and nods at me firmly in greeting as he lets the door swing shut behind him.
I step away from the stove where a pot of water still boils, the first roiling bubbles collecting there as I prepare myself another tea. As I meet his grave eyes, I gesture toward the chairs at the workbench, but he shakes his head.
With a fist clasped to his chest, Roan bows to me. "I wanted to come and thank you for attending my son's naming and for everything you've done for our family. My father reminded me this morning that the Fates bring us exactly who we need in moments of dire urgency, and I truly believe that you've been brought here to save my family and this kingdom. It would be remiss of me not to offer you my gratitude."
Surprise ripples through me, warming my coldest depths. He's the first of these males to ever say such a thing to me, and I clasp my own hand to my chest to bow back to him with the same respect.
"It's an honor to offer my aid, and an even greater honor to be able to speak oaths over your son's name. I meant them and intend to uphold every word."
He nods again, no smile gracing his handsome face as he looks around the healer's quarters once more. His eyes catch on the small comforts that have crept in, but he still looks deeply unsatisfied with my situation.
"I'll speak to Firna about furnishing this place properly. We can send for anything you need with the next wagons from the Western Fyres—they should be arriving soon and heading back shortly after. We’ll make this place more comfortable for you… especially if you intend to stay down here."
There’s no force in the Southern Lands great enough to convince me to move into the rooms set aside for Prince Soren’s mate. With his presence a constant threat and the weakened state I was in, the few waking hours I’d spent in that bed were bad enough. The bunk here might be uncomfortable, and the entire room too drafty, but I’d choose to sleep in twelve inches of snow with no tent over the luxury of his chambers.
I hold up my hand, dismissing his proposal. "There have been many offers, from many kind and considerate fae folk, butmy tastes are simple. So long as I have wood to burn and a garden to toil in, I'm happy."
The frown between his brows deepens a little, but he lets it go, taking me at my word. Silence falls between us once more. It’s not uncomfortable, but the longer he lingers, the more my curiosity sparks.
