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“Not because of—” Eli tried to say, but Rowan ran off in a fit of giggles.
“They’re so childish and cute sometimes,” Iris said fondly.
“They’re nineteen,” he pointed out.
“True, true. It’s also adorable how protective Henry Dale is. I swear, if Rowan starts dating, Henry Dale will absolutely make the ‘I have power tools and a shovel’ speech.”
“Uh, speaking of protective, how much do I have to worry about meeting your parents?” Eli asked as Iris dragged him downstairs.
“Not at all. I mean, they’re weird, but good weird. To me at least. Actually, now that I think of it, I’m not sure how they’ll react to you. I’m basically a baby in their eyes.”
Eli gave a mock shiver. “Great, now I’m bathed in fear sweat.”
“Relax, it’ll be fine. Probably.” With that less-than-resoundingreassurance, Iris went downstairs to join everyone else in the front room.
The house felt much warmer than it had when he first moved in. A scientific explanation would be that the living floral carpet provided another layer of insulation, but he preferred the enchanting explanation. That it was Iris and her magic and all the light and laughter she’d brought to Violet Gables that made the difference.
Eli spotted the newcomers right away. They were both slim and lithe, and weirdly, he could identify them by scent. He shook hands with Rain and Fen, though they barely touched him, eyeing him with a careful, fearsome sort of interest. He glanced at Henry Dale, who for once had no advice to offer.
While Eli had thought the others were joking about the supposed infatuation, Rowan did seem to be crushing on one or both of Iris’s folks. “So about that visit to the Otherworld…” they mumbled.
“Soon,” Rain promised.
“I understand it’s a holiday,” Fen added. “We brought a gift. I don’t know if it’s appropriate for the occasion.”
With evident delight, Iris took the delicate basket that appeared to be woven from living flowers. What she withdrew was the most delicate hair ornament Eli had ever seen, and it caught the light, liberally embellished with flecks of gemstone.
Iris held it up, beaming. “It’s gorgeous. I love it!”
“Sally was telling us that you make personal adornments,” Rain said then.
“I would love to see your work.” Fen moved as if to head to Iris’s studio, but Rain put out a hand to stop them.
“First, we should greet Iris’s special someone. Did I put that correctly?” Rain asked Mira, who nodded.
Liz was eerily silent. Eerie because if you knew Liz, she just didn’t sit on the sidelines. Yet she gazed at these two beings with admiration and astonishment that verged on the religious. She opened her mouth once, but no words came out.
Mira laughed softly. “I know, right? Just wait until we tell our supervisors that we need vacation time to visit the Otherworld.”
Liz bounced back quickly, though. “I’m my own boss, so I can pack whenever. Just let me know.”
When Fen turned their full attention to Eli, it felt like their gaze would flay the skin from his bones, as if his every dark thought and insecurity was exposed for their inspection. His knees trembled slightly, but he didn’t retreat. Instead, he focused on his love for Iris, and the intensity of that scrutiny abated.
“He loves her,” Fen said to Rain without asking a single question.
“Enough?” Rain asked.
“Enough,” Fen confirmed.
Without warning, they embraced Eli on either side and pressed burning-hot kisses to each of his cheeks. Then Rain said, “That is our blessing. It will bring you great luck, prosperity beyond all mortal reckoning. But should you hurt our scion, should you cause our precious blossom even a moment’s unease, that boon will turn to poison on your skin, and you will perish in an agony unknown to modern medicine.”
Even Henry Dale looked impressed by that calmly spoken promise. “Now that’s how a parentshouldbehave,” he said.
Iris sighed. “That’s a bit over the top. You could’ve just asked him to be good to me.”
Rain flicked a strand of silky hair over one shoulder. “But that’s no incentive. You know that the fae cannot lie. I’ve said nothing untrue.”
“So I’m really blessed. Or cursed?” Eli asked, fighting the urge to scratch his face.
