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“Would you like me to contact her for you, Teddy?” Callan asks softly.
The hair on the back of my neck rises.
“Check, mate,” I say. “Nice moves. You’re good.”
The corners of his lips twitch. “So are you. My son wouldn’t have recognized the manipulation until he was already in my debt.”
Because somewhere under all the scars, Darwin’s still innocent.
I’m not sure I ever was.
“In twenty years, the doors to the fae courts will close,” I say. “Future-me was trying to stop it. But she failed. She didn’t have the quaternion behind her. I do. We can bring back the wild magic. If that doesn’t stop the doors from closing, then I’m only a step or two away from finding what will. I can stop it. I can prevent your Armageddon.” I take the bowl of green beans, rinse them, and toss them in a bit of oil. “But I’m only invested because of Darwin. He’ll be drawn back into the court if the doors close, won’t he?”
Callan nods tightly.
“Not if I break his bloodline.”
Callan goes even paler than his normal alabaster.
“I told Mr. Miller that I won’t abide inference—”
“I heard you fine, sir. I also heard you say you tolerate it from me because you see me as a brood mare, which I don’t appreciate very fucking much. You want a child from the age of silicone on your moldy throne? You’d better bring your ideas into this century, mate.”
Callan sets his beer glass down on the counter carefully. “I would rather have been your friend, Teddy.”
“Maybe we can be someday, sir. But it ain’t today. I know you’re playing the long game. So am I. Ironically, my window’s a lot longer than yours. When Darwin makes his play, you’ll listen to him. If what he asks for is possible, you’ll agree. And then we can try the friendship thing again.”
“And if what he asks for isn’t possible?”
“You know your son better than I do, sir. Will he ask you for something impossible?”
Callan’s mouth turns down in a sad smile. “No, he’s learned not to ask for the impossible.”
Because Callan taught him, through lessons like the Hall of Shadows, not to ask for the impossible.
Chapter49
A Father’s Heart
Imay not know Darwin as well as his father does, but I’m pretty sure what he’s going to ask for is time.
Time for us to get our degrees. Time for the houseboat. Time for Gabe’s herd in Wales. Time for us to be a family. Time when he doesn’t have to be a prince of the Thistlemist Court.
And if he doesn’t ask for that time, I will. Darwin deserves it.
“You will join us for Yule?” Callan continues. “The four of you?”
“I think it might be a few more of us, but, yeah, we’ll be there.”
Callan nods before picking up his beer and finishing it. I give the green beans a last toss before wiping off my hands and turning on the heat under a frying pan. He watches me cook, and takes a green bean when I offer it to him to test for doneness.
“Still a little crunch,” he tells me.
I turn off the heat. I like them that way. So does Gabe. Mushy veg are only fun when we’re playing kinky games with them.
I stick the dinner plates in the oven to warm, a trick my Auntie Jill taught me, before I take the utensils and set the table for five.
Jill was so much more a mother to me than me own mum. And I never even said thank you before I severed our bloodline.
