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“Thanks,” I said, accepting the bowl she held out to me and joining her on a low log bench that some humans had just vacated.
She nudged my shoulder with a feathery wing. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I replied, trying to sound unbothered by all the things that weighed on me. She looked skeptical, but nodded, taking a bite of her stew.
Carnon flopped down at my feet, his head back and resting on the log next to me. “How do you feel about another library visit tomorrow, Red?” he asked, smirking up at me as if nothing had happened between us. As if he hadn’t just confessed his love moments ago. I realized that irreverent smirk was part of the face he wore as the Demon King, and I raised a brow at him in question. “Herne says there might be some information in the temple archives that will help us understand your gifts,” he continued, nodding vaguely at Herne, who was standing like a sentry behind Cerridwen.
“Sounds interesting,” I said noncommittally, taking a bite of the stew. “Will you be abandoning me again to a stack of dusty books?”
“Not if you ask me to stay,” he replied, giving me a heated look that made the necklace hum at my throat. Carnon huffed a light laugh, twisting the black ring on his thumb.
“I’ve never asked,” I said, realizing that I’d have to start asking more questions rather than just tumbling into his bed. “What is the ring for?”
“Ah,” Carnon said, looking down and twisting the ring again. “It’s shadow stone, actually. The twin to yours.” He nodded to the necklace, twisting to look up at me. I had to resist the urge to run my hands through his hair, which felt too familiar a gesture after I hadn’t returned his feelings. “Passed down by every Demon King before me. I feel it thrum sometimes, when you’re near, or feeling strong emotions.” His smirk turned feral. “Or thinking about me.”
“Really?” I asked, touching the stone on Mama’s necklace. My necklace now, I supposed. “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”
Carnon shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
I made a sound of annoyance and he raised a brow at me. “Ask me literally anything, Red, and the answer is yours. I’m an open book.”
I scoffed, and he squeezed my calf lightly. It was such a casual gesture of affection that I gave in, and ran my fingers through his hair. He purred like a cat, and I laughed.
“You should do that more,” he said, his eyes closed and his head back against the log under my ministrations.
“What, stroke you?” I said suggestively.
He cracked an eye open at me. “Laugh,” he said, squeezing behind my knee and making me yelp. This time Carnon laughed, and I felt Cerridwen’s wing brush my shoulder again.
“You two seem to be getting along,” she whispered, giving me a hopeful smile.
“Don’t meddle, sister dear,” Carnon drawled, clearly listening to every word.
“I’m not meddling,” she proclaimed, pouting at him in such a ridiculous way that I laughed again. “But fine.” She rose, stretching her arms above her head and her wings out wide. “Will you take me dancing, my love?”
She looked up at Herne with more softness than I could imagine looking at the hulking demon with, and his lips twitched at the corner, the closest thing I had ever seen to a smile. Wordlessly, he gripped her hands, lifting her over the King and spinning her away into the crowd.
Carnon and I watched the dancing and revelry in companionable silence, neither of us moving from the places we had claimed, me on the log and him on the forest floor beside me.
“How was it, growing up here?” I asked finally.
“Hmm,” he said, dropping his head back on the log again. “Cerridwen’s been giving you history lessons.”
“A few,” I confessed. “I’m…” I hesitated, not sure if I should offer my condolences and reveal what I knew. I decided to risk it. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said tiredly, opening his eyes for a moment, then closing them as I ran my fingers back through his soft, dark hair.
“Still,” I said, a painful twist wrenching my gut as I thought of Mama. Carnon must have sensed where my mind went, because he gave my calf another gentle squeeze.
“We will get her back,” he promised, eyes opening again to pin me with his serpentine gaze. “Your Mama.”
“What if it’s too late?” I asked, the words coming out a hoarse whisper as I voiced the worry that I hadn’t let myself dwell on.
“I don’t think it is,” Carnon said. “Artemis would have returned already if there was nothing to be done.”
We sat without speaking, the quiet between us weighed down by thoughts and worries. Eventually the bonfire dimmed and the laughter and music died, until we were the only two still watching the fire as it faded to embers. Cerridwen and Herne did not return, and Carnon kept his hand on my calf, a comforting pressure and an offer of companionship.
“It was a good childhood,” Carnon said finally, startling me from my darkening thoughts. “Growing up here.” He tilted his head back once again to look at me. “I was well cared for. Cerridwen and Herne raised me, and I wanted for nothing really.”
