Banyan’s parents’ home was just as he remembered – large and imposing. It had been remodeled over the years, adding even more rooms which were unnecessary in Banyan’s opinion. He was certain the wing on the north side hadn’t always been there. Why did the two of them need additional space? If he had several siblings like Urijah, the house wouldn’t seem so ridiculous. Rafael’s manor was almost as large, yet it didn’t feel like wasted space. He and Kaya were expecting a son, and according to Sinclair, the King planned on filling their home with as many offspring as Kaya would allow him to have.

Gautum stood shoulder to shoulder with Banyan. “This isn’t home,” Banyan whispered before turning to look at his uncle. “You know that, right?”

“I do, my boy. You will always have a home with me. Still, this is where you belong now.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Banyan said to himself.

Freyda stepped up to his other side and looped her arm through his. “We’re here for ya, Banyan. Whatever you need.”

The front door opened, and Banyan had to stare hard to decide if it was Brynna he was looking at or his mother. “Banyan? Is it really you?”  Definitely his mother. His sister would have bounded down the steps and tackled him. It’s what she did when he found her several years earlier.

“Ja, Mor.”

“Well come on in,” she said, not bothering to greet her brother or Freyda. He and Gautum grabbed their bags and led Freyda up the steps to the massive structure. Sigrid Holgersen was still a stunning female, but when Banyan reached his mother, he couldn’t help but notice her eyes. The sparkle he remembered wasn’t there. The bright blue was gone, and Banyan wanted to know why. He dropped his bag and pulled her into a tight embrace. She barely hugged him back before she was squirming away. “Enough of that.”

It didn’t matter that he was a centuries old Gargoyle; Banyan’s feelings were hurt. He had expected to receive the same warm welcome from his mother he’d gotten from Freyda and Halina. Then again, he had stayed away for a long time.

“It wasn’t necessary to bring help. We have our own,” she said, implying Freyda was a servant.

What the hell was wrong with her? Banyan didn’t remember his mother being anything other than kind, but it had been quite a few years since he’d last been home. “Momma, I’d like to introduce you to Freyda Andersen. Freyda is a dear friend of Gautum’s.”

Sigrid waved her hand in the air. “Yes, yes. Freyda. My apologies. Do come in.” Banyan glanced at his uncle who shrugged. According to Gautum, he hadn’t spoken to his sister in quite a few years either.

“Where is min far?” Banyan asked. They had called ahead and informed his parents they would be arriving that afternoon. He expected to be greeted by both parents.

“He’s…” Sigrid looked around the large entryway like she was expecting the King to be standing there. “I’m not sure.”

“Momma, are you all right?” Banyan asked.

“Banyan? Is that you?” she asked again.

Banyan had a sinking feeling something was horribly wrong with his mother. Gargoyle females were susceptible to human ailments, but he had never heard of one getting dementia. “Yes, it’s me.”

“Banyan,” his father acknowledged his presence as he rushed down the hallway. “Sigrid, you should be resting, my love.” Asmund no longer looked like the stoic King of Norway. To Banyan, he looked like a harried husband dealing with an ill spouse.

“Gautum, it’s good to see you. And I don’t believe we’ve met,” Asmund said to Freyda.

Gautum introduced Freyda to the King, and she bowed her head in reverence.

“It’s a pleasure, and please, Freyda, while you’re here, we are family. Formalities aren’t necessary. Banyan, I need to get your mother settled in her room. I’m sure you can find your way to your old room. Gautum, you and Freyda can stay in the north wing. Lawrence will show you where that is.” Banyan’s father put his arm around Sigrid and spoke softly to her as he guided her down the hallway he’d come from.

A servant – Lawrence, Banyan assumed – spoke up, “If you will follow me, please.” He turned on his heel, expecting Gautum to follow, not bothering to help with their bags. He either didn’t know who Banyan was or didn’t care.

“I’ll meet you both back here in twenty minutes,” Banyan said as he took his duffel and made his way to his old room. It was strange walking through the hallways he’d known as a small boy. When he told Gautum this wasn’t his home, he meant it, and now that he was inside, he meant it even more. Was he expected to take his father’s place as King and live there alone? Would his parents remain with his father guiding him through the first few months of taking over? Banyan had never felt more alone than he did in that moment.

His bedroom was nothing like he remembered it. The furniture fit for a child had been replaced with pieces he was sure his mother had chosen a few centuries earlier. Banyan hated it. He tossed his bag on the bed and retraced his footsteps to the front of the house, not needing the twenty minutes. Instead of waiting in the front hallway, Banyan found the kitchen. It had been updated with modern appliances. A middle-aged woman was chopping vegetables when he entered the room.

“Hello, Banyan. Welcome home,” she greeted warmly. Placing the knife on the counter, she bowed her head and curtsied. Fucking curtsied. Who did that? Banyan felt like he was in an alternate dimension. “I’m Marcie, by the way,” she said as she picked up the knife and returned to the vegetables.

“Thank you, Marcie. I’m sure we’ll become better acquainted over the next few weeks as I get settled.” Banyan walked over to the refrigerator and opened it, helping himself to a pitcher of what looked like lemonade. He would rather have something stronger, but until he spoke with his father, it would have to do. “Glasses?” he asked, so he wouldn’t have to search through every cabinet in the kitchen.

“First cabinet to your right,” Marcie said, pointing with the knife. By the time he’d poured himself a glass, Lawrence had returned.

“Did you get the others settled?” Marcie asked.

Looking more closely at the two, Banyan could see they were related. Both had dark hair, but where Lawrence’s eyes were brown, Marcie’s were green. “Of course, I did,” Lawrence said before huffing off.

“You’ll have to excuse my brother. He has no manners.”

“Then why did my father hire him?”

“To help me out, honestly. Our family has been serving yours for hundreds of years, yet Larry thinks serving is beneath him.”

“What would Larry rather be doing?”

“It’s Lawrence, and I’d rather be painting,” the human said as he strode back into the room.

Banyan didn’t want to pass judgment too quickly, so he waited to speak to his father about their servants. Gautum and Freyda found Banyan, and the two looked like they would rather be anywhere but in Banyan’s former home. “Lemonade?” he asked, holding up his glass.

“I’d love some,” Freyda responded. Gautum nodded, and Banyan got up to get two more glasses.

“What are you doing?” Lawrence asked Banyan.

“Pouring my uncle and his girlfriend some lemonade. Want some?” Banyan asked.

“You’re the freaking prince, for Christ’s sake.”

“Larry!” Marcie practically screeched at her brother.

“It’s okay, Marcie. Lawrence, I’ve been pouring drinks for the last hundred years or so. Even owned a bar or two. I think I can manage.”

“That’s not what I meant. You are the prince. We” – he indicated himself and Marcie – “are the servants. That means we serve you.”

Banyan was at a loss. First, the man practically ignored Banyan, and then he decided to make a show of him being prince? Banyan shook his head and continued to pour Gautum and Freyda a drink. “Marcie, please tell my father he can find us out back,” Banyan instructed the cook and ignored her brother. She inclined her head, and Lawrence scowled.

“That man is a tool,” Freyda said as soon as they were outside and out of earshot of the humans.

Banyan agreed, but he didn’t say so aloud. “I definitely don’t see him staying on with his attitude. Maybe I’ll send him away to art school,” Banyan said.

“I’d send him away, but it wouldn’t be to school,” Gautum said, scowling. Banyan laughed at his uncle as the patio door opened and his father stepped out.

“Father, what’s wrong with Mother?” Banyan asked, not giving the King time to breathe.

“I…” Asmund hesitated, glancing at Freyda.

“You may speak freely in front of Freyda. She has been like a second mother to me over the years. She and Gautum are together, and I consider her family.”

“Your own mother would have fulfilled that role had you bothered to come home. Maybe if you hadn’t stayed away, her health wouldn’t have declined.”

“Do not lay her illness on me. I know what dementia looks like, and there is absolutely nothing I have done to cause it, nor could I have prevented it had I been home. You sent me away to live with Gautum. You didn’t bother to call me back home until it was convenient for you, so do not try to lay a guilt trip on me. I won’t have it.”

“Where is your mate? Is she arriving later?” Asmund asked, changing gears, obviously not wanting to argue in front of company. That or he knew Banyan was right and didn’t want to acknowledge as much. Banyan looked to Gautum for courage. If his uncle could accept the truth of Banyan’s sexual preference, hopefully so could his father. Then again, Gautum wasn’t the King. Still, he preferred to have that particular conversation in private in case his father blew up.

“We will discuss that later. I’d rather you tell me what is going on with mother.”

 “Sigrid has been steadily declining for about two years. I have someone who sits with her, but when she’s lucid, she gets angry with me, stating she doesn’t need a nurse. Now that you are here, I plan on taking her to see a specialist in Switzerland. He is the best there is in degenerative mental health issues.”

“So that’s it. You’re turning over the throne and leaving?”

“Yes. Being King in this day and time isn’t like it was centuries ago. I can tell you all you need to know in the next few days. I will send out a missive to all our Clan stating you are taking over the throne. We will invite everyone to the ceremony where I will officially hand over the title to you, and we will have a party afterwards. I doubt many will show up considering this is merely a formality, but a week should be sufficient time to prepare the house and grounds.

“Speaking of the house, it is yours as are most of my assets. The paperwork has already been drawn up renaming you as owner of the estate as well as putting your name on all bank accounts. I have set aside some money for your sister, if she ever decides to return home. I have also put a small sum of money into another account for your mother and me. Should the doctor not be able to help Sigrid, she and I will travel with the nurse to all the places your mother has ever wanted to visit.”

Gautum, who had been listening silently, said, “I didn’t realize her health was failing, or I would have been to visit sooner.”

“She didn’t want you to know, but now that you’re here, I think you should spend as much time with her as possible until we leave. It might be the last you get to see of her, honestly.” Banyan hated seeing his father so defeated.

Gautum stood and solemnly took Freyda’s hand in his and led her toward the house. Once they were inside, Banyan crossed his arms over his chest and studied his father. The Goyle no longer seemed larger than life. Instead, he was a male whose mate was coming to her last years, and Banyan fully expected his father to follow his mother to the other side once she crossed over. He always thought that was how he would feel if something were to happen to Urijah. Now, he had a future as a solitary King with no offspring to take over.

“What’s the deal with Lawrence?” Banyan asked, getting off the depressing topic of his mother.

Asmund scrubbed a hand down his face. “He’s a pain in the arse is his deal, but I like Marcie. She’s been one of the best housekeepers we have ever had, and her cooking is unsurpassed.”

“How long has she worked for you?”

“Almost twenty years. She and Lawrence lived here with their mother. When Meredith passed away, Marcie transitioned smoothly into her mother’s place as cook and housekeeper. Where Marcie flourished, Lawrence lost his way. Marcie has done her best to be nurturing with her brother, but he has made it clear he does not want to be here.”

“Then why keep him?”

“Because Marcie asked me to,” Asmund explained. His father obviously had a soft spot where Marcie was concerned. Banyan could understand it, though. When you had someone taking care of you and your home, they became family, and you treated them as such. Banyan had to remember that when dealing with Lawrence. Not only was Banyan inheriting the house but the people who came with it.

“I will talk with her about that later. For now, I would like for you to go over everything I need to know to transition into my role as King. I want you and Mother to be able to go to Switzerland as soon as possible.”

“Then let’s get started.” Asmund led Banyan into the house and into his office. The room was as ridiculous as the rest of the house.

“Is it going to bother you if I remodel the house?” Banyan asked, looking around.

“Not at all. It has served your mother and I well, but like I said, it is yours. You can raze it and build something more to your liking. I am sure your mate will want her input as well.”

Banyan was surprised to hear his father suggest completely rebuilding, but he’d had the same thought. He preferred something smaller and less ostentatious. A large house would only serve as a reminder of how alone he was. He loved the land the house sat on. The view of the mountains was magnificent, but the view wasn’t enough to change his perception of the house. Maybe once Rafael had time to grieve his mother properly, Banyan would ask him to design something smaller for him. Something fit for a mateless King.

Taking a deep breath, Banyan said, “Before you hand me the keys to the kingdom, there is something we need to discuss.”

 

 

Urijah almost didn’t knock, but it had been so long since he’d been inside his parents’ home, he thought better of it. He knew they still lived in the same place they had for hundreds of years, because he and his father had discussed home when Urijah called inquiring about plans for the new armory in California. It was late enough in the day his father should be at the armory, and his mother would more than likely be sitting in the garden sipping her cider while reading a book. He might have been gone for centuries, but his parents were creatures of habit.

After knocking, he let himself in and called out for his mother. While he waited, he stood in the den and closed his eyes, letting the feeling of home settle over him. Not once since he’d left this place had he found a home of his own. He and Banyan had found many places to live for months at a time, but never had they settled down in one spot for long before they moved on to the next adventure.

It wasn’t until Uri met Mishka that he thought he’d found a place with someone. New Orleans was never home him after Mishka was taken from him. Even New Atlanta didn’t seem like home, and he’d lived there for twenty years. Maybe it wasn’t for Urijah to ever have that again.

“Tabor, did you… Urijah?” his mother asked, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

Urijah opened his arms. “Yes, it’s me.”

Halina rushed into his embrace. “I can’t believe you’re here.” His mother squeezed him tighter, and he let her hold on as long as she wanted. Guilt hit him hard for not staying in touch. It had been too long since he felt her strong arms around him. Priscilla had shown him a mother’s love whenever he visited the manor, but that wasn’t often. He had missed the feeling and vowed he wouldn’t go so long between then and the next visit.

“How are you? You look… Let’s sit down. We have a lot to talk about.”

Uri let his mother lead him to the table. The same table he and Banyan had sat at when they were young. “Is everything okay?” he asked, getting a look at her troubled face.

“Two of my boys in one day. How did I get so lucky?” she muttered.

“Oh yeah? Which one of my brothers is here?” It had also been too long since Urijah had seen any of his older brothers.

“I was referring to Banyan,” Halina said looking over at her son.

“Banyan was here?” Urijah sighed and closed his eyes. He hadn’t planned on Banyan coming home, but it made sense the other Goyle would want to be around family, too.

“Yes, and if I might say so, he didn’t look too good.”

“Was he hurt? Tell me.”

“Oh, Urijah. That male is hurting in the worst possible way. His heart is broken.”

“His… What did he tell you?” There was no way Banyan would have confided in Halina about their feelings in the past or the fact they were fated to be mates. Would he?

“He didn’t have to tell me anything. I am your mother, and I might as well have been his. I knew when you both figured out what ya truly meant to one another. I kept waiting for the day you would come home to tell me you’d made it official.”

“You… What?” Urijah was so confused. His mother had known? “Where is he now?”

“He went home.”

“I drove by Gautum’s, but I didn’t see a rental car.”

“No, he went to his real home in Åsmundnes.”

“What are you talking about? His home is here with Gautum.”

“You don’t know,” his mother whispered. It was a statement, not a question, which meant whatever it was couldn’t be good.

“Don’t know what? Momma, you aren’t making a lot of sense. Are you okay?” Halina stared at Urijah, but she wasn’t really looking at him. “Momma?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell ya this, but I think it’s important. Gautum is Banyan’s uncle, not his father. Banyan’s father is Asmund Holgersen. King Asmund.”

Urijah laughed at his mother’s ridiculous notion that Banyan was the son of the Norse Gargoyle King, because if that were true, Banyan would be a prince and most likely heir to the throne. Uri would have known something so important about the male he grew up with. As he shook his head to deny what his mother was saying, Banyan’s words to Tessa and Trevor about finding Original blood came flooding back.

“Even though you think you know everything there is to know about me, I can assure you that you do not.” Banyan stood and turned his back on Uri. As he faced the others, Banyan fisted his heart and swore, “I, Banyan Asmund Sorensen, do vow on my honor, my King, and all that is holy, that I come from an Original bloodline.”

Holy gods. Banyan hadn’t been making his vow to Rafael; he had been vowing to his King. His father. “Why in the gods’ names would he have kept this from me?” Urijah stood abruptly and began pacing. “I was his best friend. His ma…” Uri stopped himself before revealing too much. He had to calm the fuck down. It was bad enough his mother knew – or thought she knew – he and Banyan had feelings for each other. If she did, was it possible his father knew as well? His father would have disowned him if he’d thought Urijah was gay. Wouldn’t he? The way he was carrying on did little to negate how Banyan affected him. Had always affected him and would probably continue to do so until he took his last breath.