My joy at seeing them is overshadowed by the fact that I can’t see them.
“Why are you wearing those?” I demand, hurrying to my boys.
Labdanum fills my nose, and I peer up into Ciaran’s shadowed face.
“It’s better this way,” he says. “The hoods make others comfortable.”
I think for a second I heard wrong, but the fact that no one is correcting him or elaborating has a hot surge of rage flaring through me.
“Excuse me?” I glance at each of them, waiting, and when none of them speak, I bark a laugh. “Who’s not comfortable? Did someone say something? Someonehere?”I wave an arm towards the path leading back to the town center. “I saw a shrub-man with mushrooms growing out of his ass, and they...” I pull in a breath, trying to lower my voice. “Show me. Who? I’ll beat the fuck out of their mythical asses.”
I shove past them and start in the direction of the square, fully prepared to start swinging.
“Whoa!” Malakar catches me around the middle and hauls me back. “Easy, sweetheart. We’re not mad about it.”
“Well, I’m mad,” I snap back, twisting out of his hold. “Who the hell do they think they are? They can’t treat you like that. You are my boys. Mine. And I’m not letting anyone ... take that shit off. Off!” I growl when they continue to stand there. “I swearto ... I swear, I will disembowel anyone who so much as looks at you with anything other than respect.”
They hesitate but gingerly do as I say and draw the hoods back off their faces.
“I’m sorry I yelled,” I say, willing all my remaining calm to take over. “This is not your fault. People are assholes. But you will not wear that shit, understand? If I’m the queen of this place, that means you have to do what I say and so do they.”
I think.
I’ve never been a queen, but I’ve seen enough movies and TV shows to feel confident in that answer.
“Yes, little one, everyone has to do what you say,” Ciaran pacifies gently. “If you don’t wish for us to wear them, we won’t.”
“I don’t!” I take a deep breath. “Unlessyouwant to. Do you want to? Honestly, do you want to wear those things?”
The trio exchange glances.
“We’ve been wearing them since the beginning. We’re used to them,” Aamon explains softly.
I hate that.
I hate that anyone could ever think this is okay. A place with so many different creatures. Some, who — in my opinion — look weird as fuck, but I didn’t judge. I didn’t make them cover their faces.
“Hey,” Malakar captures my chin and nudges my face up. “You’re going into that dark, scary place. Let it go, sweetheart.”
“I just...”
“We have something that will make you feel better,” Ciaran adds quickly when I have to calm myself down all over again. “But you have to promise you won’t start beating people up on our way back to the castle.”
I purse my lips and cross my arms. “I make no such promise. I see them looking at you sideways and all bets are off.”
“How did we get so lucky?” Malakar murmurs, leaning down and brushing his warm lips over mine.
I don’t respond because I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him that I was the lucky one who didn’t deserve any of them. Instead, I let them flank me with Ciaran at my back all the way to the town center. My gaze moves over every face we pass, searching for even one dirty glance. But no one seems to pay us any mind further than greeting me in passing.
But I believe my boys. They have spent all this time being forced to wear the hoods for a reason and I won’t let that continue. As long as they’re okay continuing with the hoods, I will accept it, but the second I feel they’re being forced, all bets are off. I will fight whoever I need to fight to protect them.
It’s only when we’re passing a food cart selling long spikes of roasted meat on flatbread that I realize I haven’t eaten or drank anything. I suppose it makes sense given I’m dead. My body no longer needs the nutrition. I wonder if that will change when I get pregnant. The baby would need food, wouldn’t it? Would the baby be human or ... a demiurge? All things I make a mental note to ask Vaelith when I see him.
“Where are we going?” I ask instead, redirecting my annoyance in a safer direction.
“You’ll see,” comes Aamon’s response.
It’s the walk through the woods back in the direction of our bedroom that I make the executive decision that we need to move closer, or I’m going to need a horse. I’m even open to the idea of being carried to and from bed every day but also know that isn’t feasible.
