Page 43 of Maleen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE MOMENT I STEP INTO the war room, the air is charged. Suspicion and hope saturate the air and it’s nearly overwhelming. Fae I recognize—and some I don’t—are standing around the long, wooden table. A table that hasn’t changed during the years away from here. A memory rushes to the forefront of my mind and the emotion from it clogs my throat. It’s of me running into this room time and time again after meetings my parents held. One of my fathers always scooped me into his arms and held me close, whispering words of love and gently chastising me for entering as they escorted me out. It became a game, but I only entered after the talks were dismissed.

I clear my throat and notice Talyn and an older male exchanging harsh words, their hands lingering on their weapons. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Talyn doesn’t lower his gaze from the male, and his words are laced with frustration. “We are being accused of being in league with the Lords because of our blood connection to them.”

“Princess Maeven would never show up with you all willingly! Not after what you have done to her family. Now, you can go to the dungeons willingly, or you can be forced there!” the male snaps, his dark hair greying with age and his wrinkled eyes narrow, but with the way he moves, you would never think he was an elder.

“You will not lay a hand on my fated mates!” I growl. “They are not in league with their fathers. In fact they’ve been the head of the rebellion against them, aiding Vathia with the war. A war that is not over, let me remind you all.” It’s not how I wanted to address the fae of Maleen, but if one more male or female threatens what is mine, I won’t be nice about it. “You can either listen to what we are about to tell you, or you may leave.”

“Fated,” he scoffs. “There haven’t been fated mates in eons.”

I search the gazes of my friends and chosen family, noting their strength and trust in me and the curious gazes of fae I’m sure I’ll come to know well in these coming days. I turn back to the male. “We bear the marks and the bonds, though you will need to take my word that, unless you wish for all of us to disrobe in front of everyone. I would never purposely lead the enemy into our home.”

My mates growl but they don’t interrupt, knowing I need to handle our first impression.

His gaze rakes down my form, but not in a creepy way like how Bracken used to; it’s more assessing, and yet I can’t help my eyes narrowing in response as my males growl. “This will need to be documented. Fetch a healer,” he snaps to the younger male beside him. “They can determine whether or not these marks are fated or artifice.”

Killian takes a step forward and my hand darts up, pressing it against his firm, amour-bound chest as I push into his mind. “No, we will give them what they want for now. He’s not going to harm us, once he determines we aren’t lying.” As much as an ass as this male is being, it’s understandable. After everything they’ve been through, I would be just as suspicious.

A younger male darts out of the room and it’s only ten minutes of uncomfortable, silent posturing before he returns with a fairy healer in tow, her belt of herbs and tools clinking at her waist.

“I was summoned, Sir Geoffrey," she murmurs, dipping her head at the elder male who’s still glaring at Talyn.

“Yes, Tabitha. I need you to determine whether these mate bonds are real,” he states gruffly.

She gasps slightly and nods. “Of course…” Her gaze meets mine and I can see the gears ticking as she puts together who I am. After all, the whole city must know I’m back after I brought down the barrier, even if word hasn’t reached every ear. “Your Majesty!” She falls into a deep curtsey.

“Thank you, Tabitha, but if you don’t mind hurrying this along. We have things to discuss and put in order before nightfall.”

“Nightfall?” Sir Geoffrey inquires.

I ignore him for now, waiting for the healer to answer me. “Of course. I would only need to see one of the marks—”

“All of them. Our Princess is claiming all the lords’ sons are her mates.”

The room full of fae bristle, and I’ve had enough. “I will not strip down in front of strangers, so if you all could wait out in the hall while Tabitha does her assessment, then we can get over this pointless hurdle.” The room slowly clears and Geoffrey stays.

Jesper takes a menacing few steps towards the male, undoing the laces of his leathers before dropping them—thankfully he’s wearing briefs—making Geoffrey’s gaze widen in shock as he stutters, but Jesper tsks, cutting him off. “You can see us disrobed, but you will avert your gaze when my mate shows the nice healer her mark. Or I will take your eyeballs for her familiar, as he happens to have a penchant for collecting them from the people who wrong his fae. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” he grumbles before he eyes the completed and darkened mark on Jesper’s leg.

Tabitha’s gaze stay firmly on me as she swallows. “Your Majesty, do I have permission to assess the mark?”

I tamp down on the urge to claw her eyes out, but I understand this must be done. “Yes,” I grind out. I don’t like having another female look at my mates, but at least her profession is a healer, and fairies are known for their healing and nurturing abilities. And at least she had the decency to ask.

She makes quick work of looking it over. “There’s no needle scarring,” she states in awe. “How did this come about?”

I shrug, “They all appeared after I bonded my dragon and fell from her. We think that must have been a trigger.” I don’t tell her that I didn’t know about it, even though all my mates knew something had happened and suspected our fates were tied.

Jesper thankfully yanks his pants back up and all I feel is relief.

“Him next,” Geoffrey states, nodding his head towards Talyn, and I nearly grind my teeth, but if I need to prove my mates are innocent and not working with their fathers, then showing our bonds is an easy way to do that. Even if it’s taking everything in me not to help add to Nero’s collection.

“Wait, Tal… Are you okay with…” My words fall off as I dip my eyes to the scarring I knows lays underneath his tunic.

He smirks but that doesn’t stop me from noticing the subtle bob of his throat as he swallows. “It’s fine, Rav. I can handle this.”