The Servant

by B. C. Burgess

  Sure enough, he scowled and flexed and arched his back.

  “Just let it out,” Quin encouraged. “Tell me how mad you are.”

  Farrow’s little fingers curled into fists. Then his face squished and reddened as he released a displeased wail.

  “There you go. Give those lungs a workout.”

  Quin left him to it while completing his nightly routine, and by the time he finished, Farrow had worked up to a full-blown fit, but the moment Quin pulled him from the bassinet, he settled down. “Your mom’s probably ready to burst in here and kill me for letting you cry like that. You’re going to get me in trouble.”

  With a finger in his mouth once more, Farrow innocently looked at his dad, and Quin laughed while returning to the bedroom.

  Layla’s jaw flexed as she watched their approach. “What did you do to him?”

  Quin raised an eyebrow at his son. “See? You worried your mother.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Nope.” Quin climbed into bed and leaned against the pillows. “He was just practicing his war cry.”

  “No war for these babies,” she objected. “But seriously, what did you do to him? They’ve never cried like that.”

  “I laid him down,” Quin laughed. “On a really soft blanket in a cozy little cradle. He stopped crying the second I picked him up.”

  “I didn’t like it.”

  “And that’s why they’re spoiled.”

  Layla’s lips twitched with a grin as she shook her head. “Whatever. Like I’m the only one who spoils them. It wasn’t me who offered to share our bed with our kids tonight. Besides, we lay them down all the time.”

  “Not alone. They always have each other.”

  “That’s true. I’m glad they have each other.”

  “Three times everything. The blessings and the stress, which is getting to you.”

  Layla sighed and rested her head on the pillows. “I wish I could lie, because the truth hurts.”

  “Why? All moms get stressed. It’s not a reflection of how much you love your kids. Parenthood isn’t all smiles and cuddles. It’s not like that for anyone. Why would it be any different for us? The battles we fought to get them here and the fact that we’ll have to leave them doesn’t negate the challenges of being a parent. Give yourself a break, love. I know you’ll feel guilty no matter what I say, but don’t feel guilty on my account. The standards you set for yourself are much higher than those I expect of you. I couldn’t be more impressed with the way you’re handling this, and seeing you stressed doesn’t change that.”

  “I didn’t feel you coming,” she whispered, referring to his earlier entrance. “I always feel you when you’re near.”

  Quin cradled Farrow on his thighs and ran a hand down Layla’s hair. “Don’t worry about it. You were busy loving our kids. When you’re sitting here so stressed you’re on the verge of tears, yet you’re still trying, still feeding them and talking to them and taking care of them – that’s love, Layla. Unconditional love. The best kind there is. When I walked in, you were drowning in it.”

  “I see what you’re saying, but I prefer cuddly love over stressful love.”

  “Look down.”

  She did, and her aura brightened and swelled as her thumbs stroked her babies’ cheeks.

  “Nursing them has been your biggest challenge,” Quin continued, “but the way you feel when they finally latch on makes the struggle worth it. Suddenly the tears in your eyes are no longer from stress, and you’re quick to blink them away so you can watch sweet contentment settle over their faces and auras. I’ve seen a lot of women nurse their babies, and something really special happens when they look down. I can’t explain it, but I see it. It’s a glow unlike any other, and you always shine brighter than the rest.”

  “I see it,” Benzio offered, cuddling with Arabella. “But it wasn’t like that with the nursing nanny at the guild. She was nice, but she didn’t light up when she fed the babies.”

  Layla’s face paled, and Quin rubbed her back while speaking to Benzio. “That’s because they weren’t her babies.”

  “Oh.”

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Quin suggested. “What did you think of your first Thanksgiving with us?”

  Benzio was happy to recount his day, and Quin kept him talking until the little guy could no longer keep his eyes open. With one hand on Arabella, he fell asleep by Layla’s legs, which left room for the triplets to sleep in the middle. Lilyana and Kaedan had already dozed off, so Quin laid them down. Then he began casting spells to monitor their vitals, help them breathe, and prevent them from being smothered.

  As soon as Farrow’s hunger was satiated, his suction got lazy, and his lashes fell over dark eyes as his lips suckled at empty air. Layla smiled, her own lids fluttering shut, so Quin pulled Farrow from her arms. After relieving his tummy of air, Quin tucked him in with the others, and Layla fell back on her pillows, her pale cheeks accentuating the dark circles under her eyes.

  Her breasts were still on display, and she hadn’t pumped her extra milk, but Quin didn’t mention it. After double-checking his spells, he extinguished the lights with a wave of his hand and lay down.

  She took a deep breath and turned her head, meeting his stare. “Hey.”

  “Hey, back.”

  She smiled and rolled onto her side, careful not to wake the children. “Today was a good day.”

  He reached across the snoozing pile and played with one of her curls. “Do you like the big family holidays?”

  “They’re magical. And I love how much you like them.”

  “It’s all I know.”

  “It’s all you want,” she countered, piercing deep with her shiny gaze. “It’s where you belong.”

  His lungs filled, his heart skipping a few beats as he speculated about the hopes and fears running through her head. “I belong with you, Layla, wherever you are.”

  Considering the intensity in her eyes and aura, he expected her to argue, but she just smiled and took his hand. “I’ve been watching you embody the spirit of Thanksgiving all day, from the moment you woke me up until you talked Benzio to sleep. I should have known it would be this way. You live every day like it’s Thanksgiving, so of course you’d embrace the purest aspect of the holiday, but it’s still surprising how dedicated you are to walking the path you preach. Saying you’re grateful and living gratefully are two different things, and you’ve mastered the latter. Watching you love your life inspires me to love mine. I have so much to be grateful for, and dozens of people to thank for it, but as I counted my blessings today, taking note of everything beautiful in my life, I realized all of it has one common denominator.”

  Quin had several guesses on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t confident enough to spit any of them out.

  “You,” she laughed, pulling his knuckles to her lips. “Everything I have, all the good in my days and nights, I owe to you. My parents gave birth to me, Katherine raised me, and Travis and Phyllis repaired my wings, but it was you who taught me to fly, it was you who brought me home, and it was you who gave me a family of my own. The people in this community, this house, and the kids in this bed – I wouldn’t have any of it if it weren’t for you. So while you’re busy finding blessings to count, all I have to do is find you, and I see everything I love about my life.”

  Quin ached to close the distance between them, to touch deeper than the soft flesh of her lips, to pull her close and not only prove he was the man she saw in him, but that she was the driving force behind every move he made. She always had been, even before he knew her, but it wasn’t until he met her that his life turned in the right direction, finding the fulfillment that had long escaped him. The light in her eyes illuminated his way, her willingness to let him lead provided the strength to keep going, and the smile on her face when they pulled through together made him look forward to the next challenge. As long as she was in his life he’d never stop loving and living it gratefully.

&
nbsp; He slid his fingers from her lips to her cheek. “I’m glad you see how happy I am with our life. I know you struggle to shed your guilt and responsibility so you can achieve the same, and I’m honored I’m the man you turn to for help. Nothing in life pleases me more than to look at you and find you looking at me.”

  “That’s good, because I look to you for everything. Not to make my life easier, but to make it better. No one loves me like you do.”

  “I’ll make sure it stays that way,” he whispered, thinking about the parts of her he’d been neglecting. She was neglecting them, as well, and he feared taking control of this one might backfire on him, but she looked to him for everything, so he needed to figure out a way to give her everything. “Tomorrow will be a long day. Let’s try to get some rest. Maybe being near us will help our babies sleep.”

  She resituated her pillow, lying so she could hold his hand. “Or maybe they’ll wiggle over here and help themselves. You never know with these three. They defy all the odds.”

  “Our little miracles.”

  He scanned his kids then returned his gaze to Layla, watching her lashes fall as she murmured through a yawn. “Happy Thanksgiving, my thorough hero.”

  Her aura flowed smoothly around her relaxed body, so he softly squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. “The happiest, my love.”

  Chapter Three

  Quin got out of bed early Friday morning to plan for the stressful day, but he tried to conceal his tension from Layla while pulling strings to keep her morning as laid-back as possible. Neither of them would relax until everyone returned safe from the refugee camp, but by easing her burdens, his own became bearable.

  When the family gathered on the lawn with Tristan and Drexel, preparing for a guarded flight to the refugee camp, Quin summoned Layla’s cloak then took a time-out to scan her body. She wore a long, A-line gown made of champagne-pink silk chiffon, its layers woven with filaments of rose gold and sprinkled with soft-pink morganite. The sheer cap sleeves flowed into a deep V-neck, and the waist was cinched with rose gold ribbon. Her curls were smooth and glossy; she’d painted her nails to match the morganite; and her cheeks had more color than the night before, but she still had dark circles under her eyes.

  Quin stepped closer and took her face in both hands. Then he gave her a lingering kiss while sliding his thumbs across the tender skin below her eyes. When he straightened, the circles were gone, and she looked as fresh-faced as the day they met. “You’re beautiful,” he offered, summoning an ivory rose with soft-pink tips.

  She held still while he tucked the bloom in her hair. Then she let him help her with her cloak. “Thank you. This is a fancy dress.”

  “They’re expecting an angel, so we’ll give them one.”

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

  “This day will be uncomfortable for you know matter what you wear. We organized this dinner to honor them, but it’s you who’ll be in the spotlight. You and our children. Give them a good show and it will be the last we have to put on for them.”

  “So embrace the angel and pretend I’m better than everyone else.”

  He shook his head while carefully raising her hood. “You’re not asking them to treat you like royalty, Layla, but there’s no denying you’re worthy of admiration. Not because you’re better or beautiful, but because you’ve taken a stand against murderers, taken mercy on the accused, and saved hundreds of lives. These people were once called the Unforgivables. It’s hard to imagine a more condemning title, but because of you, it’s been wiped away.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “I only stood up to Agro because he had me backed into a corner, and when I lost it on that glacier, there wasn’t an ounce of mercy in me. I would have killed them all if they stood in my way.”

  Quin had been donning his cloak. Now he halted and looked at his stubborn love. “There were other ways out of that corner, and everyone on Agro’s side of the glacier posed an immediate threat to your family. Men have been called heroes for far less noble acts with much higher body counts. Like it or not, you’ve made an impressive mark on the magical world, and few have felt it more deeply than the people we’ll see today.”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine, I’ll be an angel.”

  He laughed as he lightly tugged on her pout with his thumb. “You are an angel, Layla. Just be yourself – graceful, kind and humble. And try not to worry about security. I have people taking care of that.”

  She grabbed his hand before he could pull it away. Then she gave his fingertips a kiss. “Of course you do.”

  The flight to the foothills of Mount Hood was uneventful, and as Quin descended through snow-dusted branches into the refugee camp, he was pleased to find twinkling lights and seasonal flowers following the winding trails that connected several small clearings. The last time Quin and Layla had visited the refugee camp, it had been in a different location, and most of the open spaces had been filled with tents – an endless and depressing sea of canvas roofs. Now every gap in the timber held tables and chairs and festive decorations, and the magical lights and auras gave the shadowed gathering a tranquil and romantic glow.

  Quin released his concealment spells. Then Layla did the same while scanning her surroundings. “Wow.”

  “They really went all out,” Quin noted, checking the triplets’ vitals.

  Layla slowly nodded while lowering Benzio’s feet to the ground. “It’s pretty. Nothing like I imagined.”

  They’d already drawn the attention of everyone in the camp, but no one approached until Brietta alighted and broke the ice.

  “Look at this place,” she gushed, spinning in a circle.

  A little girl pushed through a cluster of refugees and beamed at Brietta, her arms raised as if to say ta-da. “Isn’t it lovely?”

  Brietta whirled around and matched the girl’s enthusiasm. “The loveliest.”

  They met for a hug, and Quin stepped forward while urging Layla to do the same. “It is lovely. We appreciate the effort it must have taken.”

  The refugee named Anghus stepped away from his comrades and shrugged. “Everyone pitched in and made it easy. Welcome,” he greeted, offering Quin his hand. “We’re honored to once again have you and Layla in our midst.”

  Quin passed Farrow to Kemble to free up a hand, but he still had Kaedan in his left arm, drawing a kind smile from Anghus. “So these are the babies we freed.”

  “Yep,” Quin confirmed, giving him a better view.

  Anghus scanned all three infants before curiously glancing at the toddler clutching Layla’s cloak. Then he smiled at Quin. “A broken family reunited makes the sacrifices worth it. Follow me. We have seats for you and your family in another clearing.”

  He parted the crowd and walked along a wide and curvy trail, and Quin kept a hand on Layla’s back as he followed. “Those wounded in the raid on the Dark Guild – have they healed?”

  “They have,” Anghus answered. “They’re all around you. We memorialized those we lost as soon as we got home. That was the first time we’ve gotten the opportunity to do so as a group. When we fought for Agro, we usually burned our dead and moved on to the next fight.”

  Quin searched the forest and the faces peering around tree trunks. “We’re sorry we couldn’t attend your memorial, but your healing brings us peace. I hope no one regrets their decision to help.”

  “If someone doubts the worth of their sacrifice, seeing the innocent souls in your arms will convince them they made the right decision.”

  “Surely some of you disagree.”

  “Some did. They chose not to fly to Ireland and decamped while we were gone. We’re told they left peacefully. They don’t wish to harm Layla, but they don’t believe they’re indebted to her, and they didn’t want to stick around to mourn the consequences of another battle.”

  “I don’t blame them,” Layla cut in, raising her eyebrows at Quin.

  At her voice, Anghus
looked over his shoulder and tripped, nearly tumbling to the ground.

  Quin couldn’t stifle a quiet laugh or deny he and Anghus had a few things in common. “They’re not to blame, but their refusal gives further weight to the agreements. After today, we can call it even. No more debts between us.”

  “We can call it that if you’d like,” Anghus agreed, emerging into a larger clearing. “But the way we’ve changed one another’s lives won’t be forgotten.”

  “You’re right,” Layla returned, observing the accommodations.

  A large table stretched across one half of the clearing, and dozens of padded chairs lined the opposite side, all of them facing the same direction.

  Anghus led them toward the center seats while explaining the arrangement. “Everyone would like the opportunity to briefly speak with you and see the triplets, so we’ve given them room to do so in an orderly fashion. Some of us know very well the consequences of a rushed and unexpected approach.”

  “Trey,” Layla recalled, searching for the young man who’d risked Quin’s wrath to talk to her at the graduation party. “Is he here?”

  An enthusiastic voice floated through the timber. “Here, I am!”

  Layla found him, and Trey grinned while giving her a hyper wave. Layla returned his smile and gesture, but she tilted her head in confusion. “I thought you found your family.”

  “I did. They welcomed me back with open arms, but this was my family for a long time, so I visit when I get the chance. Plus I didn’t want to miss this.”

  “Miss what? My visit?”

  “Yes, and the Thanksgiving celebration. When I was growing up in Agro’s camps, there was a witch who took care of my sisters and me. She’s long dead now, but when she was alive, she was what we called a tent mom. She had little to work with, but she did her best, and every holiday that passed without recognition, she’d take a moment at bedtime to tell a story from her old life, when she was free to celebrate special occasions. That was the closest I got to Thanksgiving growing up. The same goes for most of Agro’s soldiers, so I wanted to share this day with them.”