Soren
Patton limps down the wide, golden hallway somewhere on the fourth floor. He’s dressed in a brand-new tuxedo, something of Jane’s doing, I’m sure, but it fits him like a glove. He checks his watch.
Voices drift through the air and the sun beams onto the pristine, crimson carpet. I catch my reflection in one of the many mirrors along the golden walls and stop to adjust my hair, sweeping the chestnut curls away from my forehead.
The black-on-black tuxedo I’m wearing was Evander’s idea, even though I could be in sweatpants and a T-shirt right now. The electric hum of the crowd gathered around the palace walls reaches the upper levels of the grand house I now call home, but it’s been like this since the earliest hours of the morning when Maeve sent warriors out into the street to proclaim the birth of the princess.
She was, technically, born three days ago, but we’ve had a lot to do since then. Mostly… rest. In fact, Maeve, Fallon, and I haven’t done much but sleep, eat, and sleep some more since Maeve came to rescue me when Blake’s grand plan went sideways.
But, I’ve had to face the men in her family a few times since then. I met Alpha King Ryan, who I adore, to be honest. He’s… perfect. He was exactly the kind of buffer I needed when his twin brother, Sydney, began grilling me about what Blake had been up to for the better part of five years, with me as an accomplice.
Ryan seemed to be more entertained with my stories of the Roguelands than anything else, as were his daughters, Nora and the foreboding Lexa, who might be the only woman in the world other than my mate who could kick my ass and make it hurt.
The one man I really wanted to speak to was Blake, however, and he’s been holed up with his parents for days.
“How do I look?” Patton asks under his breath before we reach the archway where a dozen voices mingle.
“Expensive,” I say with a shrug.
“Good,” he breathes, adjusting his lapel.
He steps into the room before me, smiling grandly at the faces that turn in his direction–the celebrities he idealized and now falls into the same social circles with, living in the same palace. Jane beams when she sees him, and I lose him in the crowd of family and friends gathered to listen to Maeve’s address to her people to mark the birth of Fallon, our royal princess. My daughter.
Fallon, being the new baby of the family, is being passed between Ella, who wants me to call her Grandma, but I’ve refused so far, and… Maddy. Yeah, that’s her name. She’s Isaac’s mate–the tall, silver-haired man standing in the corner talking in quiet tones to Ryatt, who hasn’t asked me to call him Grandpa, thank the gods.
A brute force hits the back of my legs and topples away, a quick, shrill whine splitting the air before settling into a grumble of half-words and broken vowels. I turn ever so slightly as Kieran uses my legs to get back on his feet, rubbing the back of his head and scowling at his light-up sneakers.
“You good, man?” I ask, and he blinks up at me, his deep green eyes narrowing before he nods, trying to look tough, but he’s on the verge of tears.
It takes all of the strength I have to ignore those all-to-familiar pointed ears I’ve yet to bring to anyone’s attention. I scoop him up, settling him on my shoulders, where he tangles his hands in my freshly gelled hair and screeches with delight.
Brie looks up from her conversation with Misty and Cole and smiles, waving at her son, but the men in the room turn to watch us. I move toward my mate, who’s standing just a few feet from the balcony and just out of the view of the sea of people below.
Instead of a sweeping, ethereal gown, she’s wearing a sleek crimson suit jacket with matching trousers that pinch at her narrow waist. Her royal crown of jewels from every corner of her kingdom rests atop her head, sparkling in the sunlight as winter finally submits to spring.
Kieran pats the top of my head like a drum while I hold Maeve’s gaze and turn him toward Brie, where I kneel, allowing her access to the wriggling little boy, who must be about three years old, Ella appears beside me.
She gently releases her hold on Fallon, who slumps sleepily in my arms, dressed in a cream colored dress of lace that makes her look like a frosted cupcake. “It’s a ridiculous dress in my opinion,” Ella teases, glancing at Maddy, who scoffs.
“I made it myself!”
My mouth tugs into a half smile. I turn back to Maeve, Fallon resting in my arms, and walk to her side.
She glances at her watch before meeting my eyes with a soft, almost nervous smile. I inspect her crown, saying, “Now, this one would’ve fetched me a damn good payday at the fence.”
“I doubt you’d have been able to even carry it. It weighs a thousand pounds.”
She reached up to adjust its weight with a wince.
Brie floats over and steals her attention for a moment, and I turn to scan the room. Everyone’s dressed all neatly, but they’re not pulling out all the stops like at her coronation. There’s a tension I can’t shake but I assume it’s because these people welcomed me into the family with very little reservations. I scan the room, catching Blake’s gaze, and hold.
He’s standing near the far wall, alone, nursing a glass of scotch. His eyes are… withdrawn, lacking their usual light. I move through the crowd on impulse, but he shakes his head at me, and turns, leaving the room all together.
“Don’t take it personally,” Evander says, walking past me as he moves through the crowd. “He’s going back to Crescent Falls for a while, I guess. I just spoke to his parents.”
“Is he all right?”
“He’s fine, I assume. He’s always like this.” Evander halts his progress to stand beside me for a moment, but Kenna sees him and waves him over. He sighs, checking his watch, and says, “You and I need to talk. You’ll be in Veiled Valley next week for the start of our Mating Festival. We’ll speak then.”
“About what?” I ask, but he walks away, side-stepping between Misty and Cole.
I stay where I am, bouncing Fallon. She opens her eyes and looks around, squinting up at me. I wait for her fussing to begin, but the second I take a step back in Maeve’s direction, Ryatt’s voice reaches me in a low, near whisper.
“He wasn’t born there, you know.”
“Then I don’t understand your line of thought, Ryatt,” Isaac says in the same low murmur, a conversation obviously meant for just the two of them.
“I don’t doubt it. You haven’t spent time in the Roguelands–not like I have, or like he has.”
“I thought Aris would inherit the Roguelands.”
“No. That’s not how it works. Aris will be Alpha of Veiled Valley. He’s meant to stay there. That’s his kingdom, his little pocket of territory, as it has been for thousands of years. The Roguelands didn’t choose him as king.”
Isaac’s disbelieving chuckle reverberates through my bones. “You’re saying the forest decides to whom it bows?”
“Yes,” Ryatt says with marked certainty. “It chose me long ago. Me, a child of slaves. Me, a boy who led an army of bandits and rogues. I’ve spent the last two decades looking for my successor. The Roguelands finally gave me one.”
“You’re going to make him Alpha King?”
Ryatt brings his drink to his lips and nods. “The Roguelands already did. It’s decided. It was never my decision.”
Isaac’s brows raise, but then he slowly, slowly, looks at me from across the room. My heart drops into my stomach as Ryatt follows his gaze, the patriarchs of each line of the family looking at me while carving my future into existence.
I choose to ignore them. The roar of the crowd below reaches a peak. Maeve steps out onto the balcony. I quickly skirt through the room to stand just out of sight, ready to pass Fallon to her when she gives the order.
Maeve… doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to. The people below scream in excitement when she steps to the railing and waves down at them, beaming, scanning the crowd. She doesn’t give them a magic show. She doesn’t let that smile falter to look cold, fierce, and unforgiving like during her coronation. She just smiles–a real, genuine smile–letting her people see that she’s like them. Young and excited. Young and unsure. Young and trying her hardest to be what they need.
And that’s enough.
When she turns back to the doors, the crowd goes silent in anticipation. I step forward, remaining just under the cover of the archway. We discussed this moment in length. She wanted me to be the one to hand Fallon to her so she could show her people their princess. I will stay out of sight, in shadow, with her family.
Because I’m not a king.
I’m just… her mate. That’s enough for me.
Fallon frowns, her face scrunching as sunlight plays over her eyes, and Maeve reaches for her, but then her eyes meet mine.
“I love you,” she says, and squeezes my wrist.
“I love you,” I echo, smiling, but that smile fades to a shocked grimace when she tugs on my wrist, and I stumble into view of the crowd below–and the dozens of cameras perched on rooftops broadcasting the event all around our world.
Maeve steps back to the edge of the balcony. The crowd remains silent. Then, she turns, motioning for me to stand beside her.
And I… I do.
The reaction of the people below starts as a startled hum of confusion, then it ripples, the gasps turning to screams of glee from the street to the tallest rooftops.
“What do I do now?” I ask over the thundering voices all around us.
“Show them our baby.” She smiles, her cheeks burning pink, and her eyes… they’re beautiful. Bright and swirling with her powers.
I step into her and press a kiss to her lips. The crowd screams loud enough to rattle the windows on the highest level of the palace, and when I pull away, she’s still smiling, but with tears in her eyes.
I turn from her and lift Fallon, showing the world our girl.
* * *
Starlight flickers outside. I close the curtains, the city below still thrumming with life as a festival in Fallon’s honor rages.
Fallon, however, is having a hard time settling. Her whimpering cry of protest when Maeve tries to unlatch her from her breast pings from wall to wall. I turn, thankful to be out of my tux and in a soft shirt and sweatpants instead of the form-hugging fine fabric.
Maeve looks more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her right now, her hair spilling over her shoulders. She frowns down at Fallon, who’s now turning purple with rage. “She can’t still be hungry,” she says, exasperated. “She’s been nursing for over an hour.” She switches her to her other breast, not bothering to adjust the thin straps of her tank top, and meets my eyes. I edge toward the bed, giving me a sharp look. “Don’t gawk at me, Soren.”
“I can’t help it.” I slide into bed beside them, reaching for her, drawing my fingertips over her exposed breasts. “You’re gorgeous.”
“I’m covered in milk.”
“I like milk. What man doesn’t?”
“You’re a sick freak, you know that?”
I lean over her, pressing a kiss to the top of her breast. I want her. Badly. Deep in my bones but… we now share a bed with a baby who wants her as well, and I have to wait my turn, I guess. For whatever reason, my mind storms back to Blake, which ruins the mood immediately, and I lean away, falling back against the pillows with a sigh.
“Maeve?”
“Yeah?”
“Has Blake ever mentioned someone named Marianna to you?”
“Oh, of course. She was his teenage sweetheart or something.” She scans my face. “He refuses to talk about her, though. Where did you hear her name?”
Fallon unlatches, finally falling asleep with a deep, dramatic newborn sigh. I roll over onto my side, and Maeve lies down as well, Fallon sleeping like a starfish between us.
“Did he ever mention the name Skye?” I ask, my stomach twisting in a knot I haven’t been able to untangle since the moment Blake said her name.
Maeve thinks about it, her lips pursed tight, then shakes her head. “No, he hasn’t.”
Fuck, she doesn’t know. If she doesn’t know, no one knows about Blake’s… daughter.
I need to get him alone. I need to talk to him about this.
Because I can’t keep a secret like this from my mate.
“Maeve, don’t… freak out about this.”
“About what?” She laughs then takes in the stern, unsettled expression painting shadows over my face. “What is it, Soren?”
“I think Blake has a kid.”