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She balks. “Why would you refuse her?”

“To protect her,” I snarl. “You think I wanted to refuse her? Every fiber in my being wanted to say yes, wanted to claim her as my own. I have waited centuries for her, but I will not rush things now. Rory’s spent her entire life known as Adelphi’s Sacrifice; she deserves time to be known as Rory, not just ‘Quill’s childe’ or ‘Quill’s mate.’ And I don’t want her to regret me. I⁠—”

The front door swings open as a pink-haired female glides into the cottage. She’s dressed in little more than a scrap of silk and netting with seashells woven into the braids of her hair and pearls dangling from her ears like teardrops.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” says Cora, her voice melodic and tinkling. “Eliphas sent word. The Mors Soluta paid him a visit, and he has confirmed he will be awaiting Quill and his mate’s arrival at Nightfell alongside Alyvia come midnight.”

“Thank you, Cora,” Nerissa says, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. “You must be famished.”

Cora glances at me nervously.

“I have no interest in you,” I say, waving her along.

“Unfortunately for you,” she says, flashing a hungry grin at me, “I can’t say the same. I’m famished, and a male your size would do my energy stores wonders.”

“There will be no eating my son, Cora,” Nerissa chides as she slips from her chair and back into the kitchen where she retrieves the second mug of tea and a heaping plate of food. “I’ve already prepared you breakfast.”

Cora eyes me up and down for a beat longer before she reluctantly scoots around the table to take the seat closest to her queen. No sooner does she sit then she digs in with both hands. Nerissa grimaces, and I hide my amused smirk behind the rim of my mug.

As the messenger drains the last of her tea with three large gulps, she relaxes, shoulders lowering until all the earlier tension that had contorted her delicate features seems to disappear.

She wrinkles her nose at me. “You’re pretty, but I fear you’d taste quite rancid.”

“He actually tastes sweet,” says Rory, padding into the dining area on silent feet. “It’s good to see you again, Cora.”

Cora lifts her chin. “As it is to see you.”

Rory looks at me next, and our gazes lock. All the stress from our conversation last night dissipates as we both blurt I’m sorry into each other’s minds.

I chuckle and offer her my seat. “Let me warm up some breakfast for you.”

My attention lingers on the ribbon tied loosely around her waist as she glides across the wooden floor wearing the same silk gown as last night. After a single kiss on her cheek, I drift into the kitchen while Rory peppers Nerissa and Cora with questions.

“Is it painful to exchange your tail for legs?” Rory asks.

“Not at all,” Cora says. “It only starts to hurt when we reject the call of the sea. As punishment, our legs begin to become permanent, and it’s like stripping away our most intimate parts one by one, scale by scale.”

“That sounds awful,” remarks Rory.

I turn the stovetop on and say, “Some fledgling vampires say the Embrace is much the same—a layered stripping of your mortality.”

“What was the Embrace like for you, Rory?” Cora asks. “I’ve asked Quill a dozen times, but the prick always skirts the question. Was it painful?”

There’s a long silence before Rory says, “It wasn’t painful. It was mostly… lonely.”

“Well, you don’t have any reason to feel lonely anymore,” says Nerissa.

A chair scrapes against the wooden floor. A moment later, Cora saunters into the kitchen, dropping her dishes into the small sink with a careful thud.

I reach for a mug and fill it with the warmed-up doe blood.

Behind us Rory laughs as Nerissa animatedly tells her a story about a fabled sea dragon and the ragtag group of sirens who tamed him.

Cora leans against the counter. “For what it’s worth, Quill, I think it’s brave of you to Challenge Mihal when you have so much to live for.”

Any snappy reply I think of dies on my lips as Cora follows me from the kitchen and joins in on the storytelling. Her bottle-green eyes light up with fervor as she describes in excruciating detail how delectable the sea dragon was in male form.

I slide into a seat beside Rory, replacing my mug with hers. She murmurs her gratitude and sips graciously as she asks, “What happened to Drache?”