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The walk to Cerridwen’s house was as uneventful as Carnon had predicted, and Akela was sitting on the stoop waiting for us with a bored expression when we arrived. He stood and padded straight past Carnon to nose me gently in the hip.
“Traitor,” Carnon mumbled as I scratched Akela’s ears in welcome.
“Hmm, a wolf of good taste,” I said, smirking at Carnon in victory. He rolled his eyes and pushed into Cerridwen’s home without so much as a knock, so I followed with Akela at my heels.
Cerridwen was stirring a large pot of something in her bright, steamy kitchen, and she threw us a smile over her shoulder when we entered.
“Wash your hands and chop those carrots, will you?” she said to no one in particular. I went to roll up my sleeves, but Carnon stopped me with an arm and rolled up his own.
“You sit,” he said, nodding toward the table as he went to help his sister prepare dinner. It was so odd seeing him do something as mundane as chopping carrots since reclaiming his persona as the Demon King. It made my heart ache a little for our time in the Bloodwood. He laughed at something Cerridwen said to him as he chopped vegetables like any normal mortal man, and I frowned, reminding myself that I was supposed to be angry at him, not touched by his brotherly display. I forced myself to scowl as he looked over a shoulder at me, which made him grin wider.
“Where is Herne?” he asked Cerridwen, loudly enough that I could hear. He sounded less than thrilled to be discussing his sister’s mate at all, and Cerridwen sighed, her wings drooping slightly.
“He isn’t coming,” she said tersely, in a way that made it clear she was not happy about his decision. “He said he won’t break bread with the Crone’s granddaughter. Not until he’s sure of her intentions.”
“So he won’t break bread with his future Queen?” Carnon growled, the room seeming to darken and rumble a bit in his fury. “Or his bloodsworn king who he basically helped raise?” I looked around in mild alarm as the rattling of dishes and the beams of the house grew louder and the room grew darker and colder. Akela whined, putting his head on my knee.
“Stop that,” chided Cerridwen, catching a porcelain dish as it rattled off a shelf. “You’ll bring the whole kitchen down.”
Carnon took a breath and the shaking and gloom seemed to dissipate a bit. No wonder few crossed the Demon King if this was his response to a declined dinner invitation.
“It’s fine,” I said, more to Cerridwen than to Carnon. She smiled at me appreciatively.
“It’s not,” she replied. “But the two of you can have it out tomorrow when the Daemon Lords converge,” she added, nodding to a still scowling Carnon.
“Tomorrow?” I asked, looking between the two of them, my alarm growing. “I thought we had a week?”
“We do,” Carnon growled, ripping a chunk off the piece of bread Cerridwen had set before him in a way that made it clear he wished it were Herne’s throat. “What do you mean tomorrow, Cerridwen?”
Cerridwen looked guiltily between us, biting her bottom lip. “Herne summoned the Lords early,” she said, looking nervously at Carnon, who was scowling darkly. “He promised he would tell you,” she added, handing Carnon a folded paper with an apologetic look at me.
“Well he didn’t,” Carnon gritted out, looking murderously at the note, his eyes scanning the swooping text. “Fuck.”
“What is it?” I asked, craning my neck to try to see.
With a snarl, Carnon handed me the paper as he stood to pace irritably around the tiny kitchen. I unfolded the paper to find some kind of report on the Bloodwood. It was difficult to make out the shorthand, but it seemed like someone had sent Herne a message about witches attempting to attack the wards around the Darklands.
“When did this arrive?” Carnon asked, still fuming.
“About two hours ago,” Cerridwen replied. “I told him he should go to you first, but he said he needed to tell the Daemon Lords before you, to get them here faster.”
Carnon let out a noise that was half curse, half roar. Cerridwen sighed.
“I don’t agree with what he did,” she said, hands raised defensively. “But he’s the Lord of Beasts, not me. I couldn’t prevent him, and you know it. Technically, he was well within his rights to summon them,” she added, giving Carnon a knowing look.
“He absolutely was not,” Carnon growled darkly, making the room rattle slightly again.
“What rights?” I asked, looking to Cerridwen for answers since Carnon seemed to be too enraged for reasonable discussion.
“The four Daemon Lords are charged with protecting the Darklands,” Cerridwen explained. At a noise of derision from Carnon, she added “along with the king, of course. If a Lord feels like there is a threat to the kingdom’s safety, they can summon the others to hold a conclave to discuss the threat.”
“And the king is not included in this conclave?” I asked, raising my eyebrows as Carnon attacked the piece of bread again.
“It is not required to include him, no,” Cerridwen said, frowning at her brother. “But they usually do. Just like they are doing in this case.”
“If by including me you mean summoning me and my betrothed without my knowledge,” Carnon grumbled. Cerridwen rolled her eyes.
“Herne is much older than Carnon,” she said, turning back to me. “As is the Lady of Shadows. The Lord of Blood came into his power at about the same time as Carnon, and the Lady of Sun is younger than all the others, but the older Lords play by older rules.”
