Chapter Twelve

Kerren woke to the sound of a gasp. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, then sat up. He didn’t need to ask what surprised her because now he saw for himself. Leaning against one of the bedposts and staring at them both was Lorelei.

She twirled a lock of white-blonde hair around her fingertip and pursed her lips as if holding back a laugh.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” he asked dryly.

As long as he was back on Prism he had to be polite to the Queen’s personal messenger, even if he wanted nothing more than to send Lorelei packing. Her pale gold eyes zeroed in on him.

“Royal summons,” she announced mysteriously.

“Again?” Brook asked. “Wait. Now am I in trouble?”

Lorelei shook her head. “No trouble, just summoned. And this time, I come for His Grace, though you are welcome to attend as a soon-to-be member of the court. I was told you may arrive at your leisure, but I will add personally that sooner would be preferred.”

“Let me guess. Within the hour, you’d say?” Kerren asked.

“The King and Queen seemed a bit… anxious,” Lorelei said carefully. “But you didn’t hear that from me,” she added with a wink.

“And I suppose you can’t say what this is regarding,” he guessed.

She shook her head. “I do apologize. It’s quite rare that I’m sent out with such little information. First, Brook’s questioning, now this. You know I’m usually much more in the loop.”

Lorelei certainly wasn’t lying. Kerren had been summoned before, but there was usually an apparent reason. Summons weren’t meant to be secretive, after all.

Usually, it was to face a punishment for a discovered crime, or on more pleasant circumstances, to award something. Occasionally, Lorelei was used in lieu of a paper invitation to formal gatherings—which was the highest form of flattery.

Being dropped in on out of the blue not once, but twice, was severely trying on Kerren’s patience, and he could only guess how Brook felt to awaken to a stranger watching her yet again.

“We’ll be there as soon as we’ve eaten,” he said. He did his best to keep his annoyance out of his voice. Glancing to Brook, who sat silently beside him, he clarified, “I assume you’d like to accompany me? See the proceedings from a guest seat rather than a spotlight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I’m curious to see what you’ve done this time around,” she said with a grin.

He turned to Lorelei. “There you go. We’ll be there.”

“Wonderful.” She took a step back and dissolved into a cloud of gold and pink glitter.

Kerren groaned and fell back, head hitting the pillow with a gentle thump. “I detest when she does that. And the staff won’t be by to clean it since technically I no longer live here.”

“What?”

“The floor.”

The bed shook gently as Brook crawled her way to the edge.

“Oh my God, she left literal glitter. I thought that was just a magic thing, like the flame from when you changed,” Brook squealed. “Wow. That’s actually super cool.”

He laughed and placed a hand to his brow. Of course, she’d be amused by it.

“Your reaction is probably why she did it. Lorelei is a sprite. She revels in all things… flashy. She doesn’t have to toss confetti or smoke or in this case, glitter, but she can and will if it’ll make a point.” He sat back up and crawled behind Brook, wrapping his arms around her and looking over her shoulder at his sparkling carpet. “I could burn things with my fire but generally I see no purpose. Though, I’m not one for the dramatic.”

“I guess we should get dressed and see what’s going on?”

He nuzzled her neck and wondered if there was a chance of subtly hinting at his current morning stiffness. “I’m not really in a hurry…”

“Hmm, but I’m starving. I’ll help you cook this time?”

The slight whine to her voice made him abandon hope of a pre-breakfast quickie. Then he was struck with the more obvious issue. He slid from the bed and stepped around the contaminated floor. “Sounds fair. Guess I’ll scamper off and let you get dressed.”

“Yup. I’ll be down in a few,” she promised.

He headed out and pulled the door shut behind him. Leaning back against the wood, he made a decision. After the summon, he’d ask Catriona for permission to have a relationship with Brook. The sex and flirting weren’t enough. He needed more and was tired of giving in to unnecessary insecurities.

Every fiber of his being knew that Brook was the one. They were in sync and at ease. He found himself touching her as if to remind himself she was real. Now he just had to make sure that she always would be.

* * * *

Kerren stood in the center of the royal emblem on the tile floor of the throne room, watching King Artur and Queen Catriona whisper to each other. To his left, Brook sat surrounded by the fae who were now her peers. They seemed to be getting along well, and it didn’t escape his notice that some of the fae capable of glamour—changing their appearance at will—had already stolen her bright ruby hair color.

He couldn’t help the smile that crested his lips at seeing her chatting away, though her eyes constantly returned to him.

“Kerren Aodhán, Duke and protector of the esteemed Weylan Barrows, you are called to the court, so we may have witnesses over this proceeding,” King Artur finally announced.

His eyes regarded Kerren with more attention than he’d ever warranted before from the King. Kerren kept his rigid posture and neutral expression. He could have asked what was going on, but he’d know soon enough. For now, silence was fine with him.

Artur settled back in his chair and rubbed his temple with one hand while the other squeezed around Catriona’s fingertips. Catriona stared at Kerren with a strange expression, one he didn’t recognize but that put him on guard.

Possibilities of what he could have done wrong flashed through his mind, but nothing stuck.

“Many years ago, my dear Catriona and I kept a secret. And enough time has passed that perhaps the few others that knew of it have forgotten it,” Artur said in a clear voice. “That secret was a pregnancy.”

The hum of whispers crept over the room until Artur held up a hand and commanded silence.

“It was a secret because of one thing that all have known: Catriona and I have not been able to produce an heir,” he continued. He looked at his wife, who turned her head away, eyes clenched tight. “The child was carried to term but died immediately before labor. We kept our secret, and our child was buried that night.”

He stopped for a moment and kissed his wife’s hand. Kerren wanted to ask what this story had to do with his summoning, but the King’s confession was heartbreaking. As rare as children were, to lose one as he had was devastating. Emotions welled through the room, and with enough fae experiencing it, the effect became tangible, like a weight on his shoulders.

Catriona leaned forward now. “Our midwife handled the burial. I was too stricken with grief, and weak besides. She left Prism a few days later, which we assumed was due to her own pain through the ordeal. With everything else, we didn’t question it. But recently we called upon her.”

The side doors to the room opened and a guard escorted a frail young woman into the room. At the same time, another guard approached Kerren. He held a robe over his arm and bowed slightly as he came close.

“Kerren. Few know your spirit form, and I would not normally expose a fellow shifter, but I would ask you to please reveal yourself.”

Brook’s gasp was distinguishable from the low chatter of the rest of the room. Kerren kept his eyes forward, studying Catriona and Artur for any indication of reason. After a moment, he unbuttoned his shirt and pushed down his pants. Nudity wasn’t scandalous among the fae, but for nobility there were standards.

Still, he wasn’t ashamed of his body, and a royal command wasn’t one to be ignored. He kicked his boots off and gave Brook a cheeky smile. If nothing else, he didn’t want her to be worried.

Looking back to the King and Queen, with his hands modestly hiding his package, he concentrated on summoning his spirit forward. It wasn’t something that usually required thought, but the surrounding audience made it skittish. His skin tingled and warmed. Within a flash of green fae fire, he changed.

Now a cu sidhe, he took a step forward and circled before sitting. He used his form to hunt occasionally or to enjoy the wilds, but for the most part, he’d kept it secret. The loud din that now rose was exactly why.

Enough fae still lived that had seen his cu sidhe brethren through the war. They were scouts and heroes. The sight of the large green hound-beast brought tears to many eyes, and this group was no exception. His form was a symbol of triumph but also burden and loss.

The Queen was stricken as well, he noticed. As her tears fell he wondered why she would request to see what would only distress her. The King stood and snapped his fingers.

“Arrest Lady Sibeal,” he announced.

The confusion and chatter rose, and Kerren shifted back to his upright state, quickly snatching the robe from the guard and donning it. He looked back and saw Sibeal held by two guards, a wild look in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to believe such treachery,” Artur roared. “I didn’t want to hear that my sister, my flesh and blood, ordered our midwife to dispose of our son so that her own son could take the throne.”

“Mother!”

Kerren spun and saw Basil, Sibeal’s son step forward.

“Is this true?” he demanded.

“I wanted the best for you! We’ve too long been under the reign of Brea’s blood,” Sibeal sobbed.

“But I didn’t dispose of him,” a soft voice said. Somehow it carried through the noise, and Kerren realized it was the soothing sound of a siren. The frail woman looked up and spoke again, “After the baby was born, he did not cry. It was easy to say he was stillborn. But I could not kill him, no matter what threats hung over my head and the heads of my family.”

“Traitor!” Sibeal screamed. Madness filled her eyes, and the guards held her still. Dark bands of iron were clamped around her wrists to tamp down her magic temporarily. “One task for the sake of the Pure! Was it so much?”

The midwife ignored her, looking to Kerren. “That same night, Lady Bledwen did in fact miscarry. I brought the child to her before any knew the wiser. But even though I lied and told Lady Sibeal I’d followed her wishes, to please spare my family, she banished me off-world. She said if I returned she would haunt us all.”

“But…” Kerren frowned as the pieces came together. He looked to Catriona and finally recognized the emotion tearing her apart.

“Son,” she called softly. “How did I never see? You have my eyes.”

A hush fell over the room as she and Artur stood and walked down the steps from their thrones to meet Kerren. He didn’t understand, or rather, a large part of him denied this revelation.

“You have our brand,” Artur remarked. “Our royal marking, the sign of blessing from the aspects. And if you were a more boastful man, we would have seen it sooner.”

“The cu sidhe is a proud spirit, but not a braggart,” Kerren said dumbfounded.

“We had kept the royal marking’s specifics a secret, but there is no reason to hide it any longer,” Artur replied.

Catriona fell against Kerren, hugging him tight while weeping openly. “My son. The aspects have answered my pleas.”

Kerren stood still though his arms reached around his Queen—no, his mother. And though Bledwen had raised him with love, he still had room to welcome this new discovery. The more he looked at her, the more he saw the familiarity in Catriona’s eyes.

Wild and mixed genetics meant the fae didn’t always resemble their parents, so he’d never wondered about not looking like Bledwen and Peter.

Yet, standing between Artur and Catriona he saw the slight markings. Artur’s hair, though dark like night, had hints of green buried in the depths, and he shared Kerren’s same sharp nose. Catriona’s high cheekbones made him feel like he looked into a mirror.

Artur encased both Kerren and Catriona into a severe embrace as Kerren struggled to find words to express his state. He turned his head, hoping to spy Brook and read her face and take comfort in her presence. At the mere thought of her, the responsibilities and expectations of royalty came tumbling forward, stirring new fear in Kerren’s stomach.

If as a duke I was rejected to a duchess, could I then as a prince be bound to a human?

He leaned close to Catriona, squeezing his eyes shut as he spilled forth what he hoped would be an easily accepted request. The words came whispered but full of emotion.

“I wish to marry the human, Brook.”