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I did not expect Callan to be shielding Darwin. “Do the other heirs know?”
Callan shakes his head. “Not all of them. It’s part of their sesquicentennial initiation, although Cathal figured it out before he reached his centenary.”
Not telling your kid something this big for a hundred and fifty years? That takes some determination. Callan might be even more stubborn than I am.
“Do they know we only have twenty years left?” Darwin asks his father.
Callan shakes his head.
“There’s a possibility we could stop it,” Darwin says to Callan. “We found a place rich with wild magic that had been destroyed. A dead spot where even the wild fae could not survive. We brought it back. We healed it.”
“How?” Callan asks.
Darwin and I trade small smiles.
“Let’s just say it’s not something we could teach anyone else,” I say. “The important thing is we fixed it. I don’t know if we can heal the infertility of the high fae, but the four of us can stop the doors between the fae courts and the mortal worlds from closing.”
“I see,” Callan says slowly. When he smiles, it reaches his eyes. “Show me how well you learned my lessons, son. Take the throne. Seize it. Once you show the Oak King this ability, no one will dare challenge you. You’ll be the single most powerful king the fae courts have ever known.”
Darwin turns his head and kisses me on the temple. “That’s never what I wanted, father. I don’t want the Oak Throne. I don’t want your regency. Donnchadh is your firstborn. I never wanted Donn’s birthright—”
“You’re my brightest, most ambitious son. It should be yours.”
“I don’t want it,” Darwin repeats. “I never did. You taught me never to let anyone force me into making a bad decision, but that’s what you’ve been trying to do since I was seven—”
“You could be the next Oak King. Our people need a strong leader, born in this age of silicone. Not in the days of iron.”
“Idon’twant it,” Darwin hisses.
“You’re young,” Callan says, placing his hands flat on the counter between us.
I swear if he tries anything, he’s spending the rest of the night as statuary.
Chapter48
The Quaternion
The banging of the back door breaks the stand-off.
Charlie tosses a grocery bag on the counter and moves with a lacrosse-player’s swiftness, interposing his big body between us, shifting me and Darwin behind his back.
“Sir,” he says to Callan. “Respectfully, back the fuck up.”
Callan narrows his eyes at Charlie, which has me looping my arm around Charlie’s barrel chest and including him in our stone circle.
“Mr. Miller,” Callan says. “I will tolerate some insolence from Teddy because of her gender, but I will not countenance interference. Darwin is still my son—”
“And he’s my fiancée,” Charlie growls. “No one threatens or intimidates him.”
Charlie reaches back between us and gropes for Darwin’s hand. When Darwin gives it to him, Charlie threads their fingers together, ring to ring.
I turn my head to look for Gabe, since I don’t have a hand free. He’s only a step away. Then he’s there, pressing up against me.
Our quaternion surges so brightly it’s like setting off a magnesium flare inside the kitchen.
Callan blinks against the glare. He sits back on the stool and folds his hands in his lap.
“Most impressive,” he says quietly. “You can all relax now. I asked for a truce tonight. I would not violate the terms of a truce I requested.”
