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Anselm smirked. “Hell yes, she did. You’re gonna have fun putting some reins on her, brother.”
“Reins?” came an amused voice from the doorway.
I glanced up and saw Aunt Cass watching us. She looked as lovely as ever, but much paler than usual. I smirked and held my hands up. “I didn’t say it, Anselm did.”
Cass chuckled. “Well, you better not let my daughter hear anyone say it... she’s already frothing at the mouth over how you’ve treated her the past ten years.”
I sobered immediately. “It wasn’t... I didn’t...”
Cass put up her hand to silence me, always the queen. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Where’s Veronica?” I asked, already assessing my body and trying to figure out whether I had the strength to stand up or not.
I did, but it wouldn’t be pretty.
“She’s with her father.”
An ominous cloud descended on the whole room.
I pushed myself to my feet, my leg throbbing hard. “Take me there. Please.”
If Veronica’s dad died, would she ever forgive me? He’d used up every last vestige of strength to get home... to get help, for me. Would she blame me? Probably. Then where would we be?
Two fated mates unable to be together? Or something even worse?
Chapter 6.
VERONICA.
My father’s chest rose and fell like he was simply asleep, but there was a deathly pallor to his face I’d never seen before. It scared me, seeing him like this. Weak, and vulnerable. It wasn’t something I was used to, with my dad. The great King Damon. The King of the North. The savior of the Winter Palace.
The door opened behind me and light footsteps on the carpet made their way to the other side of my parents’ massive bed.
“I’m here, Damon. My old friend,” Marienne whispered, reached out to touch my dad’s hand. “Whatever has happened to you?”
I looked up at Anthony’s mom, the Queen of the Black Mountains, and my eyes filled with tears. “Can you help him? Please?”
She sat on the bed and reached out to pass her hand over my father’s chest, closing her eyes as her magic rippled around her like a cloak.
I waited, holding my breath. All I could hear was the thumping of my own heartbeat in my ears. The door opened again and Mom hurried in. Iain was behind her, limping his way to a chair in the corner.
My gaze was drawn to him even though I was still furious with him.
For everything.
For being so mean to me in my teenage years. For not telling me the truth. For almost dying before I could wring his neck for the other two offences.
Yet, inside my chest my dragon settled with him in the room. Almost... happy. As much as I could be, in the circumstances.
Fucking traitor.
Marienne turned toward Mom and me. “He’s tired. I don’t know how else to put it. His body is healing, but I can only feel how exhausted his soul is. His mind doesn’t want to wake up.”
Mom’s sob sounded moments before she swallowed it down.
I stood up and wrapped my arms around her. “It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to be strong for us. Not now.”
My mother didn’t cry in front of us; she never had. But it wasn’t for lack of emotions, her heart beat hard and strong. The strength of her love for my father had never been in question. Even when they fought... screamed the castle down some days in their passion for a brighter, better future, we knew they loved each other.
