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I stick out my tongue at him. He could always have everything he asked of me.
He licks the tip of my tongue before he releases me, laughing.
Chapter47
A Visit From The Winter Prince
We cook the potatoes and I show Darwin how to whip them with butter and cream. While he’s doing that, I start chopping the dates for Auntie Jill’s sticky toffee pudding recipe. Yes, I’m spoiling my boys rotten. They’ll feel how much I love them with every buttery caramel bite.
Literally, because ... witch here.
I’m up to my elbows in batter when the front door opens and closes.
None of us ever come through the front door. I’ve created a small shrine to the Mother at the bottom of the back porch stairs. We all stop for a quick word of thanks and a blessing before we come up through the back.
I glance at Darwin, who is frowning in the direction of the hallway.
In a swirl of gray silk robes, his father strides into the kitchen.
I shove the cake fixings out of the way, plant my hand on the marble countertop and vault over the kitchen island. Positioning myself between Darwin and his father, I reach back, grab his wrist, and turn our skin to stone.
“You stay back from him,” I say to Callan, my voice the crack and tumble of a rockslide.
The fae prince lifts an eyebrow at me.
Darwin’s hands settle on my hips. His warmth presses against my back. “Father, I gather you’ve received my grades. I’ll have my GPA to an A again by finals. Teddy’s assisting me. She’s at the top of our class.”
Callan smiles. I’ve seen a number of his smiles in the future. Not this one. This one is brittle and sad.
“I’m not here about your grades, son,” he says.
“Why are you here, then?” I ask, reminding myself that this is not the Callan I know. This is not the Callan who made his peace with us, who dropped everything to help me get back to my own Time, who kept me smiling with references to movies I’d half-forgotten when I was sad.
This is the Callan who cut his son’s fingers off, bound him with iron, and left him to suffer the agony of blood poisoning.
“Am I not allowed to visit?” Callan looks around the kitchen, his eyes skipping over the island stools and settling on the dining nook. He skirts us and seats himself at the dining table, crossing his legs one over the other, his robes pooling around his boots. “To see this ... residence my son bought with his own money, without my permission. Although I very much like what you’ve done with it. It’s comfortable. Homey.”
“It’s a good investment, father,” Darwin murmurs.
I edge toward the table, still keeping myself between Darwin and Callan.
“This is a social visit?” I ask.
“It can be. As much as it warms me to see you so protective of my son, perhaps we should call a truce for today so everyone can relax.”
“For today?” I repeat, turning it into a question.
“I need to be back in court by midnight, so this evening will be the extent of this ... social visit. I’ll take the four of you to dinner if you’ll endure me that long. I’d like to get to know my son’s fiancées.”
I asked Darwin to marry me a day ago. We remade our rings hours ago. We’ve barely been anywhere but the Infirmary and our classes. But Callan already knows. His spies are more efficient than I’d guessed.
“We’re eating in tonight. Steaks, whipped potatoes, green beans, and puds. If you can stomach our cooking, you’re welcome to stay for dinner,” I say.
Callan clears his throat. “Darwin’s cooking?”
Darwin’s arm slides around my waist. “I am, father.”
“I see. Well, I sent you to Addlestone and Bevington to learn lessons other than the ones I had to teach you. Perhaps this is one of them.”
