Page 150 of On Brutal Thrones

Before Fenric can answer, someone walks behind his chair and drags her fingers playfully through his copper curls. The same colored copper curls that fall down her back.

“Leave my boy alone.”

Fenric groans. “Mom!”

His mother laughs and gives his hair another ruffle for good measure.

I smile as I watch her.

It took us nearly a month after returning from the Trials to find Fenric’s family. We brought armed men, expecting a battle, but they never had to draw their weapons. The moment Thorian, Talon, and Fenric saw what the slavers had done, their rage was more than enough. Before long, the slavers were dead, and the three men were already breaking the berserkers’ chains.

They freed every berserker held there, not just Fenric’s family. Most have since chosen to settle on our expansive lands, earning wages for their work and building lives that belong to them.

And Fenric’s family? They got to start their lives again as free people.

When Fenric's family first came to live with us, it had been impossible not to see what had been done to them. They'd been too thin, too watchful, too quick to startle. Some of that has faded over the months.

Some hasn't.

His mother wears a deep green silk gown tonight, fitted beautifully through the waist, but when she reaches for her wine, the sleeve slips back enough to reveal the pale bands around her wrist. Fenric's brother still has a scar cutting along one cheek. His sister laughs more easily now, but sometimes a door slamming or a glass breaking makes her flinch before she catches herself.

I notice.

I always notice.

But I also notice everything that's changed.

There's color in their faces now. Strength in their bodies. Fenric's mother complains about her gowns fitting too tightly because we keep feeding her too much. His brother and sister argue over stupid things and laugh until they're breathless, but still flinch if we move too quickly near them.

Maybe some scars will never disappear.

I just hope that someday the memories attached to them become smaller beneath all the good things that come after.

Fenric's mother moves behind Talon's chair.

“And you.”

Talon glances up suspiciously. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.”

She bends and kisses the top of his head.

Talon freezes. Completely. The shock on his face makes my chest ache. He rarely speaks of the family the gods took from him, but I know he still misses them. Fenric’s parents have never tried to fill their place. They’ve simply made room for him in their lives, and somewhere along the way, he’s begun to let them love him like a son.

Fenric bursts out laughing, and I nearly choke on my wine, watching as Talon's cheeks turn pink.

“What,” he asks carefully, “was that?”

Fenric's mother straightens. “A kiss.”

“I'm familiar with the concept.”

“Then why are you asking?”

Fenric is laughing so hard now that he has to put down his fork.

Talon points at him. “Don't.”