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Theodor grunted, fighting, struggling, when his wind grew more intense.
What are you doing to me?
Electricity shot down Boraleashe’s spine, making him jerk in Theodor’s unflinching grip.
“You believe you are cursed and unlovable, but I was made only for you, Boraleashe.” Theodor whispered the words against his temple, and Boraleashe had zero doubt in his mind that he was indeed. “Your frozen heart is no match for me.”
Boraleashe couldn’t suppress the shudder that racked his body. He wanted to believe so badly. Desperation yanked hard on him, overriding his sense of caution. “Theo—”
“My lords, I apologize for interrupting,” Mozraath murmured, bringing a dramatic halt to Boraleashe’s submission, their combined winds fleeing along with the moment.
“Yet, you did after I specifically asked you not to,” Theodor growled at his friend.
Mozraath appeared apologetic when he responded. “And ordinarily, I would not disobey you. But your father demanded I retrieve you and the guest of honor. The dinner has already commenced, and everyone is waiting.”
“They can continue to wait!” Theodor raged.
Boraleashe shook his head, trying to compose himself, at least enough that he could stand on his own. He slowly pulled away and smoothed his hands down his still-pristine tunic.
“Are you feeling well, Boraleashe?” Theodor asked after Mozraath disappeared on the other side of the door.
Boraleashe nodded, feeling lighter and calmer than he had in a hundred years.
Theodor
The Guest of Honor
The house-lords had done an amazing job decorating the formal dining hall. The long table was adorned with colorful red, orange, and yellow floral arrangements, and each seat had its own gold-embellished twelve-piece setting. The hall seated fifty people at the head table, but tonight, only the most dignified guests were invited to dine with Boraleashe and his court.
The dinner consisted of a variety of harvested vegetables and fruit platters, but the meisters of the kitchen also prepared a decadent roast lamb and, of course, two other kinds of meats for Notalus’ wolf-mate.
Most of the attendees were having quiet conversations with the people closest to them, no one engaging their northern guest. It could’ve been because Boraleashe was the least approachable person in existence, his spine straight and his face a dispassionate mask. He pushed his food around on his plate, appearing to want to be anywhere else but there.
Boraleashe would steal a glance in his direction every few moments, and Theodor was staring right back each time he did. He wasn’t sure if anyone else was picking up on their tension, but Theodor’s father was. Notalus sat at the head of the table with Dustin, and Boraleashe and his viceroy were to his right. Theodor didn’t like being at the opposite head of the table, so far away from his interest, but that was his position, so that was where he sat.
Mozraath leaned toward him and whispered near his shoulder, “Theo, I think you should stop staring at him like that. Your father has been watching you two for a while.”
Theodor didn’t shift his gaze. “Then he can keep watching. My father is retired and happily wed…” He clenched his jaw to keep from snapping his frustration. “I am not.”
Theodor was pulled away from his conversation by the sound of Lady Arbelladon’s arrogant voice. She was part succubus and angel from a sacred land that was blessed by the gods, a tall, gorgeous woman known for her rude demeanor and vicious tongue. Her lands were in the Realm of Autumn, but she ruled it as if she were the titan of this world, not him.
Arbelladon’s Dream Shore providence consisted of all women, and if a man dared step foot on the stones of amethyst and sapphire that made up their roads, he was met with arrows to the chest first, then questioned later.
The women were passionate lovers of themselves and despised the still-present archaic patriarchy. They professed to all who would listen that the worlds would be far more prosperous and wars practically nonexistent if they were ruled by strong women. And many would often agree with her.
The lady cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room. “Lord Boraleashe. You have had the entire realm in a state of frenzy since your remarkable, albeit unannounced, arrival.”
The room fell silent enough they could hear the leaves rustling across the courtyard outside while they waited for a response. Boraleashe slowly shifted his glare from Theodor to hers.
Oh no.
“How have you enjoyed your visit to Fhomhair? I hear the women of Notalus’ nearby villages are beside themselves at your sheer presence.”
“Not only the women, my lady… but the men, as well,” Boraleashe retorted.
Lady Arbelladon stuck her pointy nose in the air and scoffed at the comment. “And are there not enough prospects for proposal in Tir an Amárach, lord?”
“Perhaps not,” Lady Arbelladon’s third wife spoke up, her beliefs just as unreasonable as her other wives. “I hear that the sun rarely shines there. Do the people even come out of their homes at all? It sounds absolutely dreadful.”
