Page 152 of On Brutal Thrones

Coming home wasn't easy at first. There were nights I woke with a scream caught in my throat, certain the walls were closing in or Valtor's lightning was about to tear through the ceiling.

But I never awoke alone.

Sometimes Thorian pulled me against his chest before I even knew where I was. Sometimes Fenric whispered to me until my breathing matched his. Sometimes Talon's cool fingers found mine beneath the blankets.

Usually, all three.

Initially, we'd shoved several beds together to make room for everyone. Then Lady Fairewreth sent us a wedding present. I still remember Hilda standing in the entryway, staring at the enormous bed being carried through our doors.

“From Lady Fairewreth,” she'd said, covering her mouth. “A wedding gift.”

It had taken six men to carry the frame upstairs. Talon immediately declared Lady Fairewreth his favorite person. The bed has proven exceptionally useful.

Heat creeps into my cheeks at the thought, and I take another drink of wine before anyone notices. “Thinking about me?”

Talon's voice appears beside my ear.

I jump. Damn vampire moved from his chair to behind me without a sound.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Don't you have someone else to bother?”

“Several people, actually.”

He kisses my cheek anyway before wandering back to the table with Fenric and Thorian.

I watch him go with a smile.

There are rooms in this manor now containing things so expensive that I occasionally walk into them, stare around, and leave again because I don't know what else I'm supposed to do with them.

We have paintings by artists Talon insists are famous. Rugs from countries I've never visited. Crystal glasses so thin I'm terrified of holding them too tightly. Chests filled with jewels I haven't found an occasion to wear.

But none of those are my favorite things our winnings bought us.

Not even my fields overflowing with vegetables and grain, nor the orchards heavy with fruits come close to my favorite things. Although my people are happy enough about them. It’s the people that make up my world now that make everything we went through in the Trials worth it.

I spot Hilda and Ivor near the fire. Seeing them seated still makes me ridiculously happy. Hilda spent most of her life refusing to sit while anyone else needed something. Even after we came home rich enough to hire more servants than this manor could reasonably require, she lasted nearly a month still acting as our servant before I finally threatened to have Thorian carry her out of the kitchens.

He'd offered.

She'd retired the next morning along with Ivor to my utter delight. They were always part of the family. Now, it was just more official.

Now they're seated among our family and friends. Hilda wears a wine-colored gown with tiny gold beads sewn along the sleeves, and Ivor has somehow been convinced into a dark blue coat that fits him beautifully.

Neither of them is carrying a tray. Neither is checking whose glass needs filling. They have plates piled with food in front of them and wine in their glasses. One of our newer servants, a young woman in a neat cream-and-gold uniform, leans down to refill Hilda's glass.

Hilda immediately covers the top with her hand. “That's enough, darling.”

“Lady Nyx said your glass shouldn't ever be empty tonight.”

Hilda's eyes find mine across the room.

I raise my glass.

She narrows her eyes.