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Jeremiah kept stroking his head for a minute, not saying anything, and then asked softly, “Why did you choose to go to Hillsland University? There are several schools a lot closer…”
He let out a shaky breath. “It seemed important.”
“What did?”
“Getting away,” he whispered. “Standing on my own two feet, away from the shadow of the throne and my birthright. Proving I could be independent. I could just be… me.”
“I see.”
Remi hoped he did, even though most of him didn’t feel that way anymore. Especially after everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Sure, the idea of being king one day was still terrifying as fuck, but it was getting harder and harder to justify—even to himself—why separating himself from his family was so important. The complications of royal life aside… sometimes he just really wanted a hug from his mom, and that was pretty difficult when he was hundreds of miles away.
Jeremiah ran his hand over his back slowly, staying quiet, and Remi let his heat and scent soothe him. He had less than a year left before he graduated, and then he’d… Well, he’d have to figure out the rest of his life. Maybe without Jeremiah.
His fingers clasped harder on his soft T-shirt reflexively, and Jeremiah tightened his arm around him, humming in question. Remi shook his head and pushed his face into Jeremiah’s neck, clutching at him. He knew he was being needy and annoying but couldn’t bring himself to care. If he’d only have Jeremiah’s strength and steadiness for a little while longer—he’d soak up every ounce he could get.
“I’m trying to remember,” Jeremiah said slowly, voice quiet in the peaceful room, “but I’m not sure your major was included in the information we put together on you. What are you studying?”
Remi bit his lip. “Promise not to laugh?”
Jeremiah threaded his fingers through Remi’s hair and gave him a tug backward so they were face-to-face. His beautiful eyes were serious and captivating. “Never.”
Heart flipping in his chest, he admitted softly, “Well, since I’ll learn everything I need to about… being king from my mom, I chose something that interested me, not something I needed to know.”
“Okay…”
“Literature.”
“Oh. That’s not what—”
“With a concentration in folklore and mythology.”
Jeremiah’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “That’s… specific. And not at all what I was expecting.”
Remi waited for Jeremiah to make a joke or tease him, but he just stared back at him expectantly. “What?”
“Tell me a folklore or myth,” Jeremiah urged, tucking his free hand behind his head. “Your favorite story. Or one you’ve read that was surprising.”
“Oh, um.” He glanced away, thinking. No one had ever asked him something like that before. He and his dad talked about books quite often, but his dad preferred biographies or historicals. He’d told stories to the twins before, but he usually had to change things to make them less scary.
Resting his chin on his hand, he thought about what he could share. He considered a Siren folktale but decided against it quickly, not wanting to focus on his history or people.
He could tell Jeremiah about the myth of a Hellhound’s fated mate being immune to their hellfire, but that seemed cruel to them both.
“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Jeremiah rumbled at him, amusement clear in his tone.
“Hush, you.” He poked at Jeremiah’s bristly cheek, laughing when he pretended to bite his finger. “Oh, I know. Have you heard the story of how the first Hellhound came to be?”
Jeremiah stiffened beneath him. “Everyone knows Demons kidnapped and impregnated female werewolves against their will to create an army of—”
“Okay, yeah, no.” Remi pushed up to see Jeremiah’s face better. “That’s propaganda bullshit.”
“Remi—”
“For real, the first records of that story are only like a hundred years old.”
“Really?”
“Yup. But there are other stories—thousands of years old—that don’t mention anything like that. Now, do you want to hear this or not?”
