Soren
It’s dark in Moonrise when we return to the palace–to Maeve’s entire family in wait. Blake is whisked away by his parents and a trio of healers. Jane, blubbering, reunites with Patton and the two disappear to the clinic to have his wounds tended.
Sydney brought us back within minutes of Maeve using her magic to scorch the island into a blackened heap of rubble, and we’re back, but… everything feels different.
Ryatt stayed behind with the Ghosts and Evander, but I feel his presence everywhere I step. Maeve clutches my hand tight, her fingers like ice, and we rush through the castle toward her suite. Our suite, I suppose.
Toward the daughter I promised I’d be here to witness coming into the world.
Maeve’s armor clicks as she moves like the wind, ignoring the shouts coming from the end of the hallway where we landed only moments ago. Warriors and healers rush after us but neither of us turn around. My heart is in my throat as we climb the final staircase to the sixth floor.
Kenna steps out of the grand double doors marking the entrance to the royal suite. Her thick, dark hair is pulled back from her face, and her silver eyes shine with relief when she sees us and opens the door wide, stepping out of the way while Maeve drags me beside her.
My legs feel like lead. My lungs refuse to cooperate as we cross down a hallway and into the open, fire-lit living room where the curtains are drawn against another dreary, late winter day.
Brie rises from an armchair, her glossy, light brown hair falling down her shoulders and back. She turns with a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Kieran, the little boy I’d seen throwing a knock-out, drag-out tantrum on the balcony all those months ago, clutches his mother’s robe, hiding behind her.
Maeve lurches forward. Brie places the baby in her arms and scoops Kieran up, resting him on her hip. And I stand perfectly still several feet away, unable to move.
The sun is only just starting to rise over the mountains when Brie brushes past me, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “It’s nice to meet you,” she whispers with the softest of smiles. I follow her as she heads toward the hallway where she stops to speak quietly to Kenna.
But I see Kieran in full then. Dark, coiling curls bounce around his… pointed ears. My stomach hollows out. I meet Kenna’s gaze, and she knows exactly what I’m thinking right now based on the withdrawn look on her face.
A question was just answered for the family, wasn’t it?
Brie leaves, her footsteps soft and echoing before I hear the door close, but Kenna remains as a quiet presence when I turn to look at my mate and take in what she had to do for me.
Maeve’s fingers are nearly blue as she tucks our daughter into her arms, shushing the baby as she rocks side to side, like she’s always had a baby there to comfort. Golden blonde hair peaks from the blanket in gentle curls as fine and thin as silk threads. I close my eyes while my chest caves in with guilt.
“I promised I’d be here.”
“She couldn’t wait,” Maeve says in a sing-song voice, such a sharp contrast to how she normally sounds. She turns to me and lowers the velvet soft, yellow blanket away from the baby’s face, and I… see her.
She’s… indescribable.
“Do you want to hold her?” Maeve looks up into my eyes, but I’m looking down at the child we made, a vivid reminder of our love. Our journey. Of every sin and injustice I had to commit to get here.
I don’t deserve this, and I know that.
“I’ve never–I’ve never held a baby,” I murmur, the words wobbling off my tongue.
Kenna appears at our side with her hand resting on my forearm. “You won’t break her. They’re surprisingly sturdy little creatures.” Her smile lights the room but does nothing to calm the storm brewing in my heart.
“I’m filthy,” I argue, but Kenna forces me into a chair, and Maeve holds my gaze as she places our girl in my arms. She’s… so small, but heavy, I guess. Heavier than I thought she’d feel. She has a perfectly round face with chubby cheeks, and her tiny mouth forms a perfect O as she jerks, surprised, then settles. I don’t so much as blink, let alone breathe.
“Go change. I left some herbs in your room that help speed up your recovery. You depleted your powers again, didn’t you?” Kenna’s voice sounds far away as I gaze down at the baby in my arms. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay with them.”
The world around me fades, replaced by a memory that took place several months ago during the single night Maeve and I had to truly be together.
She’d fallen asleep in my arms to the sound of rain pounding the rusted metal roof. Darkness cloaked the room, shadows creeping between crates and dust covered furniture, and we’d lain on the floor covered by nothing but our skin and a filthy blanket. I traced every inch of her that night. I pressed my lips to her skin and memorized her scent. I laced my fingers through her thick hair and worshipped her like the goddess she is, laying myself at her altar like a sacrifice, begging her to take my life, to let my blood be what stains her hands in exchange for never living another day without her, but she wouldn’t do it.
I knew she was my mate then and couldn’t bring myself to reject her. I wanted that… piece of us. Something that bound me to her for eternity, even if it was selfish. Even if I had to lie about how I felt and how it felt to watch the train speed into the distance without me on it beside her.
A cup of tea is placed on the coffee table in front of me. Kenna sits across from me, weaving her fingers together, leaning toward us, smiling at the baby.
“We all agree that she looks like you,” she says softly. “The blonde hair really surprised us.”
I close my eyes, my jaw clicking as it flexes. “You shouldn’t even be letting me hold her right now.”
Kenna’s kind expression fades to something sharp and lightly frustrated. “Soren–”
I shake my head. “Take her, please. I need to–”
“To what? Leave my daughter?”
“No–”
“Soren, you don’t know us well enough yet to understand that… none of this comes as a surprise. You and Maeve. Your history–”
“I should be in prison,” I say through my teeth, arching a brow. “Not cuddling the Royal Princess of Eastonia.”
“She’s yours,” she whispers, her eyes a deep, glowing silver. “Nothing is going to change that. And you don’t belong in prison. You deserve every award for what you went through, for what you had to do to survive. Your circumstances were a failure on our part.”
I begin to shake my head again, but she interrupts by raising her hand to silence me.
“Evander remembers you. You were a boy when you came to the academy. The youngest and smallest in your class by three years. You trained with the fifteen-year-olds at only twelve, and your trainers kept you there because you had nowhere else to go.”
“I had a brother–”
“Tom,” she says, nodding. I’m surprised she knows, but she says, “Admittedly, Misty used her powers to paint us a picture of your past when you came here. Tom was who got you wrapped up in this.”
“He–he was a victim of circumstance. I could have gotten out. I had the skills I needed to get out and return to Moonrise–”
“You stayed for your friend.”
I close my eyes, holding the baby a little tighter than I mean to, but she remains blissfully unaware of the fact her father is starting to spiral.
“You don’t think you’re good enough for her,” Kenna says in a hushed whisper as Maeve, dressed in nothing but a bath towel, walks past us in silence, glancing at me and the baby with a tired smile before disappearing into the hallway. Kenna waits for her to move out of earshot before continuing. “Maeve wouldn’t be here if my mate hadn’t gotten over that himself. He’s spent his whole life feeling the need to prove himself to not only me, but my parents, when in reality, I’ve been the one working to be worthy of him all these years. You protected her against all odds. You guided her home, knowing you were separating yourself from your mate–”
“I’m a murderer,” I cut in, and she sighs.
“Blake,” she says under her breath, “is at fault for that. It will be dealt with.”
My lips part with the words, “Did you know about Skye?” but they fizzle out on the tip of my tongue.
“You love her,” Kenna says. Maeve appears again, carrying a stack of clothing and disappearing into our room. “And Maeve is… an almost impossible person to love, and I mean that in the kindest way. She’s… multifaceted. She’s glorious, beautiful, and funny. She feels so deeply and is kind, and strong. Being loved by her is like… being in the center of an epic storm. It’s electric. But she’s also… anxious and unsure. She can be terrifying, and I know she scares herself. Her powers are… untouchable. Just… immense. But you knew that. You were never afraid of her. You never once made her dim her powers. You make her shine, Soren.”
I swallow past the tight knot in my throat, unable to look her in the eyes.
“That’s what the family sees, not the assassin you were forced to be. And now you’re here, and she’ll never let you go, and your daughter will be the same. They will shine because of you, and that’s why you’re here. No other man could stand where you’ve stood and survive. No other man will be able to stand in a family of Firestone witches and hold his own. But you will. You have been, since the beginning, haven’t you?”
I absently smooth my hand through the baby’s silken hair.
“What now?” I whisper, my jaw flexed. “What happens now? Hannibal is still out there. Maeve isn’t–”
“She’s safe, and you’re free. The rest… we’ll figure out in time, but for now, sleep. Eat something. Spend some time with your girls. Evander will find you when he returns.”
Kenna rises as Maeve, now dressed in a bright pink pajama set, steps out of her room and stands expectantly in the doorway of our room.
But a shadow I didn’t notice is lurking in the hallway. Queen Ella. I rise as she steps into view and stares at me with a smile I don’t think I deserve, but she turns with Kenna and leaves the suite, her voice a whisper in the darkness as she says, “He reminds me a lot of your father when he was younger.”
The door shuts tight, and silence funnels toward us.
Maeve walks toward me looking refreshed, a new golden glow to her skin. She smells like magnolia blossoms and amber. She moves to my side, her hand a light touch against my lower back.
“You stink,” she whispers, running her knuckle over the baby’s cheek.
“Me, or her?”
“You,” she smiles, chuckling. “You smell like a bonfire.”
“I have you to thank for that,” I whisper into her hair before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, but I don't move away. I close my eyes, inhaling her scent, letting it wrap around me in a tight embrace.
“She has a name,” Maeve says, leaning her head against my chest.
“Fallon, I know,” I reply, my eyes still closed. “She told me.”
“You can hear her, too?” She looks up at me, slightly taken aback.
“Not like… words. She’s not even ten hours old. But… the name has been stuck in my head for a while now, and I didn’t know why. But the second I saw her, I knew.”
“It’s great, honestly. We won’t have to come up with a name for the next one if they’re all like this–predestined.”
I smile against her hair. “What do we do now, Maeve? Now that I’m… free?”
“Watch TV,” she says, roping her arm around my lower back. “Drink tea. I don’t know. What does a trophy mate do in his free time?”
My laugh wakes the baby, who looks up at us, her dark eyes not yet fading into what I know will be the same color as her mother’s.
Polished sea-glass.
Fallon smiles before falling back asleep in my arms.