by T. M. Smith
Kaden moved from where he sat in Aiyan’s lap on the couch, joining Gabry at the table facing Maeve. He grabbed her hand in his. “Maeve, you were thinking of this and did not share it with us?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought, well…” Maeve was squirming and it made Aiya want to laugh. She had never seen Maeve so unnerved. “I know how much both of you want a child, and I told you I only wanted one. I was trying to figure out a way we could all get what we wanted.”
Aiyan scooted to the edge of his seat. “And why can’t we move forward with this, Maeve?”
Maeve gasped, eyes wide. “Aiyan! You saw what Marcus did, and you want me to do the same thing he did? I can’t, I won’t hurt any of you like that, ever.” She was adamant.
Rian leaned down, speaking as quietly as possible. “Guys, we can talk about this later; can we let Gabry finish?”
“Oui.” Gabry stood, and everyone piped down. “I know this is a lot to take in, what I’ve shared with you here today. We will all be staying here at the palace for a few days thanks to Cirian, Rian, Amaya, and Amelia’s hospitality. Let’s take a break for now, and then we can talk more later, as I’m sure you will have more questions.”
Aiya thought to linger for a few minutes so she’d be able to speak directly with the Triad from her mother’s home House, but Rian and Gabry approached them first, so she shrugged it off and followed Sawyer to the kitchen for some lunch instead. There would be time to speak to them later, she was certain. Besides, little Ian was hungry apparently and using his mother’s kidneys as a punching bag to remind her he was there.
Chapter 3 | Foreshadowing
“Papa!” Apollo’s little legs ate up the distance between the garden and the doorway Raven and Tanis stood in. Raven knelt and held his arms open, swooping Pol up and swinging him in a circle, kissing the top of his head.
“You ready for dinner?” Tanis asked their son, an angry scowl his only response.
Raven laughed, tightening his hold on Pol’s wiry frame as the child squirmed, obviously wanting to be put down. “What’s this all about, Pol? Aren’t you hungry?”
He shook his head vigorously, and it took every ounce of self-control Raven possessed not to laugh. Apollo was not like other children his age Raven had met, interacted with. He was strong-willed, stubborn, and energetic. At times his sullen temper tantrums were more comical than anything else. “Wanna see Ian.” Pol pouted.
Aiya and Sawyer had made the decision to name their unborn son Ian, paying homage to their friend who’d been killed by Marcus while protecting Aiya. Raven had dreamed about the baby yet to be born on more than one occasion. He’d spoken with his mother, Gabry, about the dreams he’d been having as of late. Gabry reasoned; though Raven had chosen a different path from his birthright to become a Seer, he still carried latent abilities and the dreams were likely a manifestation of those abilities.
In one of the dreams, Raven had seen Apollo and Ian years down the road as a matched pair. He’d thought Aiya and Sawyer would be upset by the revelation, but they’d both not only accepted it as fact but encouraged young Pol when he would sit and talk to Aiya’s belly for hours on end. Occasionally when Aiya was uncomfortable or felt nauseated, Apollo’s presence worked like a sedative to her unborn child. Raven was drawn from his thoughts when a wiggling leg grazed his balls and he damn near dropped Pol on his butt.
Tanis reached for Pol, pulling him away and settling him on one hip, smiling and shaking his head. “Careful there, Pol, you don’t want to hurt Papa, do you?”
His little blond head shook. “No, Daddy.”
Raven stood upright and took a deep breath, shaking off the pain in his groin and slowly walking toward the kitchen. Tanis followed, still carrying Apollo, holding a quiet conversation with their son, promising him that only once he ate dinner would he get to go see Aiya, and essentially, Ian. Raven looked back over his shoulder, chuckling at Pol. Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, arms crossed over his small chest, Pol reminded Raven so much of his husband it was frightening. The two of them had the same blond hair and cornflower-blue eyes, and both had Raven wrapped around their fingers.
With everything that’d happened since the day in the clearing—the first time he laid eyes on Tanis and thought, This is the man I’m meant to be with—instead of feeling overwhelmed, he felt complete. Raven’s life now was so different, so much more, he no longer recognized the person he was before. Alone and content to be, he was happy, or so he’d thought. He’d never expected to fall in love, much less get married, and becoming a father hadn’t even been on Raven’s radar. Now, a year later, Raven couldn’t imagine his life without Tanis, Apollo, and the very large, loud Greek family he’d inherited when he and Tanis married on the beach in Greece.
That was a sobering thought, the wedding. Raven groaned, his husband turning to look at him. “Everything okay, babe?” He nodded. With his mom’s meeting, taking over the day-to-day business of The Order, and taking care of a toddler, Raven had completely forgotten about his and Tanis’s upcoming wedding at House Gaeland. Before he could spend too much time pondering exactly how he was going to rein in Tanis’s mother, Ari, his son hit the ground running and squealing the moment Tanis set him on the floor.
“Nephew, come see me.” Maeve stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall, reaching for Pol, the boy jumping into her arms. She carried him over to the table that sat in one corner of the massive kitchen. Pol slid onto the bench beside Aiya, reaching his small hand over to caress her large belly. Aiya didn’t seem to mind, not even looking over—in fact, she continued the quiet conversation she was having with Sawyer. Maeve took the seat beside Pol while Raven and Tanis sat across from them, Tanis grabbing a plate and filling it with fruit, some cheese, and a biscuit, then sliding it over to their boy.
“Tank you, Daddy,” the boy said, pulling the plate closer before becoming distracted again by the belly beside him.
“Clean your plate, and I’ll take you out to the stables to brush the horses,” Tanis coaxed. The boy would go all day without eating if he wasn’t reminded, and his fathers were not above bribing him. Apollo loved anything involving horses and would gladly comply with any request if there was a promise to see them attached to it. Eyes wide, grin wrapping around his face from ear to ear, he nodded and began stuffing pieces of apple and several small grapes into his mouth.
Raven laughed. “One piece at a time, Pol; no one is going to take it from you.”
Cook brought over two mugs of coffee, setting them down in front of Raven and Tanis before she went back to the cabinet, grabbed a glass, and filled it with juice for Apollo. “So, once we’re done here, you can take him out to see the horses, and I’ll go find my mom. I want to talk to her more about this trinity thing, see what she knows. I know there is something she’s not saying; I want to try to find out what it is,” Raven whispered to Tanis.
When Gabry said her visions were subjective, it wasn’t a lie. Whatever choices everyone involved made from the moment she told them, those choices could likely change the outcome. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing remained to be seen.
***
“You know I can’t share every aspect of a vision, son. People have to be able to steer their own course, and if I tell them certain things, they’ll take it for truth and follow that path instead of the one they are meant to.” Gabry spoke the truth, and Raven knew it. But it was still frustrating for him, especially having become a father, to be in the dark when it came to matters involving his family.
Sighing, Raven dropped down onto the couch beside his mother. “I know Mom, I know. It’s just harder for me to accept now when I have Tanis and Apollo to think of.”
Gabry turned to face him, wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. Raven lay his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of chestnut that always enveloped his mother. It calmed him, reminded him of being a toddler and curling up in her arms as she told him bedtime stories from the fabled fai
ry tales of the time before GWI. His favorite was The Raven King, the story that’d provided his name.
“Listen to me, my son; though it would break the vow I took when I stepped into the shadow of my mentor, I would not be strong enough to allow harm I had foreseen come to you, your husband or my grandson. So trust in this—if I envision harm or death, though I may not speak directly of it to you, I would do everything in my power to strike that alternative from your path.” Gabry kissed his forehead, her grip on him tightening as much as her tiny frame would allow.
Raven pulled air into his lungs, slowly exhaling. Instinct once again knocked, and his first thought was to go find Tanis and Apollo and lock them away. When he was a boy, but five- or six-years-old, his mother had spoken in riddles and circles as she’d just done, trying to sway him from a hunting trip with his fathers, Gaspard and Euan. Deep into the forest, riding between his fathers and their guards which had accompanied them for the hunt, his horse dug her heels into the ground, refusing to follow. His fathers assumed the horse was spooked by something and sent the guards on ahead to scout for danger. When they never came back, Gaspard climbed off his horse and carefully followed the trail the Guards had left. Returning moments later, eyes wide, he mounted his steed and led his child and husband back toward House Gilley.
“The earth fell, taking the men and their horses with them to a watery tomb at the bottom of a ravine. I think our boy’s hesitation mayhap saved all our lives, Euan.” Gaspard gave his son an appraising smile. Raven could remember being a little bit curious, wanting to see what his father had spoken of. But mostly, he was afraid of what might have been, had his horse not faltered along the path. When they returned to House Gilley, Gabry paced the open area of grass beside the stables, obviously awaiting their return.
“Raven?” Gabry pulled back, her unseeing yet knowing eyes trained on him. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, mother.” He nodded, pulling her close and hugging her. Standing, Raven walked toward the door of his mother’s room.
“And Raven, stick close to Aiya, would you? I fear she could go into labor any time now, and it worries me,” his mother warned.
Oh God, not Aiya or the baby. They’ve been through so much already. But he kept his thoughts to himself. “Of course, mother,” Raven closed the door behind him, hurrying down the hall toward the kitchen, the sounds of the storm raging outside only darkening his mood. A storm of a different kind was heading their way if he’d read the hints his mother dropped accurately. Holding true to his faith and keeping the ones he loved close were paramount—now more than ever.
Chapter 4 | Expectations
Rain fell in heavy rivulets around him, the wind only intensifying the sting of the water as it pelted his skin. His long red hair lay damp and tangled, stray strands blocking his view. He refused to allow the elements to break his focus, lifting the bow and taking aim again. Having already mastered the crossbow when the sun shone, not a cloud in the sky, he knew when the time came to exact his revenge there was no guarantee Mother Nature would cooperate. So here he stood, deep in the woods that stretched as far as one’s eyes could see, challenging himself to a game of target practice while a vicious storm raged around him.
A flock of birds took flight when an arrow pierced the tree in which they’d taken cover, and he quickly took aim, firing off a series of arrows and taking down all but one of the birds. His wicked laugh went unnoticed as he was the only person braving the storm. Something small, furry, and fast zipped across the wet ground at his feet and he gave chase, veering left and right as he ran through a patch of tall grass, ducking under a low-lying branch that nicked his cheek. A sharp, searing pain caused him to clench his jaw, but he was undeterred.
He wondered then—when the time came, would the young Prince take his sister, tuck tail and run much like the vermin he chased? Or would he stand and fight to protect his family? From all August had learned over the past several months, the twins weren’t the type to back down from a fight. Hell, they’d even brought the fight with them when they took down Cillian’s team of misfits and Outkasts nearly a year ago. No, the murdering bastard would likely use any means necessary to save his kin. Just as August would die trying to make Aiyan pay for his twin sister, Autumn’s death.
Completely lost inside his head and the thrill of the kill, August damn near went over the edge of a steep embankment. Skidding to a stop, arms flailing to keep himself from tipping over, August cursed his wandering mind. He trudged through the wet grass and mud at a slower pace as he made his way back to the edge of the forest where his camp was set up. Behind him, there was a soft rustling sound. Spinning around, his eyes scanned the foliage, landing on a bush about fifty yards away. The animal was small, its nose and ears pointy, fur almost as red as August’s hair covering the muzzle, leading up to ears outlined in black. Amber eyes seemed to be scanning the area around it with a wild hesitancy.
Taking one slow step forward, then another, August spoke quietly. “Ah, so it was you that outran me earlier. You almost got me killed, you sneaky little bastard.” He chuckled. When he’d cut the distance between him and the small wiry fox in half, the animal hunched down, and August could swear the feisty fucker growled at him with narrowed eyes. August laughed again, his grip on the bow in his hand tightening. Stopping a few feet away, he squatted, staring into the angry amber eyes of the animal, seeing something very familiar…hatred. There was no fear, only anger.
“God, you’re a beautiful animal.” August stayed low to the ground as the fox straightened, then turned and trotted off. The little shit didn’t even have the courtesy to run.
***
Back at the camp, August decided to shower and change before searching out Robert and Cillian. “Thank fuck for running water.” He sighed, the spray of warm water washing away the mud and grime.
Some of the Outkast encampments were nothing more than a series of tents and partitions with no actual buildings, much less running water. August had been born into the first and largest camp there was among the Outkast community, an extension of House Gaeland as it were. Over two hundred years prior, the first settlement of men and women that refused to conform to the strict rules Anthony Smith had set in place for the Houses across the world pitched their tents in the place August now called home. Old-world terms like money and jobs were concepts they’d lost after GWI. Everyone worked, of course, including the children—once they reached their teens. But work was based on individual skill. Farming, building, teaching, music, protecting…these were but a few skill sets the people in August’s camp provided.
A few men that were of strong mind and body were part of the Gardai, Gaeland’s army, and were offered the opportunity to live full-time at the palace. Those without families usually took advantage of the perk. Several women worked at the palace as maids, seamstresses, or nannies when needed. It baffled August that Cirian, Rian, Amaya, and Amelia would allow Outkasts to work for them but not give them equal footing within the House. But then, August’s father had told him on more than one occasion that he was simpleminded. The term spoke of someone who was stupid and weak, and August was anything but. At six foot three inches tall and roughly two hundred pounds, August was not a weak man. His long flowing red hair and slightly effeminate features were something shared with his identical twin sister, Autumn, as were the emerald-green eyes.
Autumn—thinking of her, remembering her, the pain of losing his twin…his best friend…it was all still very fresh and painful for him. He knew the moment she’d been taken from him, from the world, the feeling of being choked and unable to breathe bringing him to his knees the night of her murder. As soon as he had his wits about him again, he’d mounted the first horse he came to in the small stable and had ridden off in search of her. In all his years, he’d never felt the kind of pain and anguish he did when he found his sister lying in a pool of her own blood in the clearing, her throat slashed damn near ear to ear. His mother’s screams when she first saw Autumn would h
aunt him for the rest of his days. His father’s anguish turned to scorn toward him in the weeks following the funeral.
“He misses her so, and you remind him of what we lost, son. Please, be patient with your father; allow him to work through his grief on his own terms,” his mother had begged the night August packed his few meager belongings, the ones he wanted to take with him at least, and moved from the home he’d lived in with his family since birth to the barracks that housed the majority of the single men from his camp. He shared a room with Robert, a man larger-than-life with skin black as night. He and August had grown up together and loved each other like brothers. The only difference the two men shared, aside from the color of their skin, was their sexuality. While Robert was straight, an Outkast and opposite through and through, August was gay.
The water running cold put a stop to August’s wandering thoughts, and he shut it off, grabbing a cloth and wrapping it around his waist before gathering his clothes from the ground and heading back toward his room. Robert was sitting at the foot of his bed tying his boots when August pushed the door open. The big man’s smile quickly morphed into a frown, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “What is that smell? Smells like a wet dog; is that you?” he asked, waving his hand in front of his face.