Lilya glides to his other side, the two of us comforting Alexavier for having a shite father. We ignore the bleeding man on the floor while he writhes, smearing his blood into the pure white of the carpet.
Alexavier kisses Lilya’s temple, and then mine, making me wonder just how it is tha I landed myself at this place in my life where princes kiss me so sweetly. “I think we’ve got some ivorum to collect. Shall we?”
Alexavier corrals us toward the exit, but not before my heavy boot stomps hard on King Fairbucks’ nose.
Alexavier hisses his disapproval. “Was that necessary, Addy-girl?”
“Nope,” I answer, unapologetic as we move out into the hallway, sending in the nearest fae guard to arrest the King of Faveda.
Chapter Twelve
Cranberries
Ronin
I am not dying. I know there’s no way I could be taken down by something as common as a fever. Yet as I contemplate sitting up to drink a few sips of water, my arm protests even the slightest movement.
Adeline would be a most welcome presence right now. I can’t decide if I’m angry with her, if I completely understand, if I’m proud of her, or if I’m just sad to be alone when people are telling me left and right that I’m going to die soon.
Either way, I wish she was beside me.
A popping sound draws my eyes to the corner of my bedroom. “Heidi?” I rasp.
She looks guilty, her hands behind her back, like she knows she’s done something wrong. “I’m not supposed to be here. Sad Mammy told me to leave ye alone.”
I should sit up, but again, it’s too much effort. The lantern’s light is dim, but does the job of flickering just enough illumination for me to catch the hesitance in her gaze. She looks so small like that, nervous and brave at the same time.
Has she always been that small?
I duel with my iron will and finally lift my hand to motion her forward.
As if I’ve set her free from certain judgment, she scampers to the side of the bed and immediately rests the back of her hand to my forehead.
Her mouth draws to the left. “Still too hot. How do we make ye cool?”
I can’t help but smile at the tiny intruder. “You broke the rules just to try and cure me?”
“Aye. You’re supposed to read me the stories of the vampires who founded Drexdenberg and only drank animal blood. Mammy tells it boring. She said ye probably drank from squirrels or whatever. Did they drink from lions or something fierce?”
I motion to the chair by my desk. “Pull that over here, and have a seat. I’ll tell you all you want to know.”
My brain feels fuzzy and my throat is dry, but after I manage the feat of sitting upright, I’m able to get a glug of water, which helps.
I could do a better job of playing up the theatrics of Drexdenberg’s founding, but Heidi meets me halfway, not demanding more than I can give. She’s a sweet one, tiny hands upon her knees, leaning forward as if there might be a test later. Her eyes widen at the right parts, and her chin moves from left to right in judgment at the many missteps our founders took on their quest for staking their claim on a land that could be all theirs.
When I finish, I’m not expecting applause, but I am hoping for a break.
Heidi is not interested in letting me rest. “Can ye tell me the story of Uncle Destino and Aunt Lilya? How they met and fell in love?”
I narrow my eyes at her, but my smile betrays my irritation. “You know that one already.”
“Aye.” She looks down. “But if ye go to sleep, ye might not wake up. Ye should tell me stories. Whenever Mammy tells me stories, I never want to go to sleep.”
Sadness crashes into my chest, along with appreciation for this child’s thoughtfulness. She’s not irritating me for her own selfish whim; she’s trying to keep me alive, in her own way.
I twine my fingers and rest them in my lap, proud of myself for remaining sitting up this entire time. “Then I think you’re doing it wrong. Aren’t you the one supposed to be entertaining me with stories? Tell me about life in Jacoba. Tell me more about your mums.”
Heidi purses her lips. “Ye don’t want to hear about Jacoba.”
“I want stories about you and your mums. Feel free to pick the location.”
Heidi screws up her face while she sorts through her memory bank to pull out the perfect one. “We used to pretend food.”
“Like, wooden blocks for your dolls or something?”
“No, like we had bread, but we would pretend it was roasted vegetables with creamy sauce slathered over it. The bread could be anything we wanted: strawberries, oranges, carrots… I liked to pretend it was cranberries. Those are my favorite. Every year on my birthday, I get a whole bowl of them.”
I hate her story.
“Then we started living with ye, and there were fresh cranberries every day!” She fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “I’m scared tha if ye die, we’ll have to pretend again.” Her eyes meet mine with desperation a child should never have to deal with. “I’m tired of pretending.”
I could explain the truth: that Adeline is an employee of the throne, not of just me. She will have a job still if I die.
But I’m not dying. Clearly.
Heidi carries on, leaning forward so her little hands are clasped at my bedside. “Mammy thought she was being quiet when she cried herself to sleep, but I could hear her. More than tha, I can feel her sadness. She belongs to me. When she breaks, I’m broked.”
“Broken,” I correct her, unable to help myself. “And I know how you feel with that. When Adeline is sad, I’m at a loss as to how to help her. But I would, Heidi. I would help her slay whatever monster plagues her.”
“She knows tha. She’s just stubborn, is all. Mammy’s afraid of nice people just as much as she’s afraid of the mean ones. She laughs a lot more now. I think tha means maybe you’re chasing her monsters away just fine.”
Maybe I don’t mind talking with Heidi after all. “What do we think of Benny?”
“He fancies Sad Mammy,” she replies succinctly.
I chuckle, but the motion aches my chest. “I suppose so. What do we think of that?”
“I think Benny’s wonderful, and Sad Mammy’s new to the world. She’s not ready for something wonderful just yet. When you’re new, ye don’t know how good wonderful actually is.”
“I’m impressed,” I remark. “That’s quite solid wisdom.”
“I see more than I’m supposed to. Sad Mammy doesn’t remember how to make beet soup. Mammy said she used to make it for the family every weekend. But she doesn’t know how anymore. Doesn’t even remember the taste of it.”
“Is she sad about that?”
Heidi shrugs. “I think she’s too new to be happy or sad about much.”
“Then perhaps we should think up a better name for her than ‘Sad Mammy.’”
Heidi sits back in her chair, her nose pointed to the ceiling. “It doesn’t feel right calling her ‘mammy.’ She’s too new.” Her legs start to swing in a rhythm. “Mammy Maisie?”
“I think that’s splendid. She would probably like that far better than being reminded of her sad days. I’m sure she regrets the years spent not knowing you.”
Heidi snorts. “I doubt tha.”
I wait until she meets my eyes. “If I had to vanish from this world, I would very much regret not knowing you as you grew.”
Heidi’s eyes mist over, but just like her mum, she blinks away the tears before they fall. Stubborn girls, the both of them.
When I cough, she hands me my water, tipping it to my lips as if I’m incapable, which isn’t too far off from the truth.
“You’re not supposed to die,” she whispers. “I have more questions. You’re the only one who tells me the truth.”
“What do you want to know, then?”
Heidi sits on the edge of my mattress, all curls and rumpled clothing. Thank the clouds my demands for her to have proper pajamas wasn’t overlooked. She’s clad in a red nightg
own that touches her toes, and has ruffled pink sleeves.
Her face is all business, her tiny lips pursed. “When are ye going to be my da? I haven’t had one before, and I want one.”
“Your petulance is admirable.” I debate not telling her the truth, but as I’ve promised not to lie already, and I push forward. “I’ve asked Adeline to marry me.”
“I already know tha part. Why hasn’t she said yes? I ask for a da every year for my birthday, but all I get are cranberries.”
I smirk at her. Though I know Adeline should be the one to share this news with the spawn, I can’t pass up the opportunity to make this little one’s day.
“Actually, she said yes just before she left. So this year, you’ll be getting your wish. Though, if you prefer cranberries to me, I understand.”
Hope too brilliant for words floods Heidi’s small body, lifting her up onto her knees as she bounces atop the mattress. Her eyes are wide and her whole being shines with happiness. “You’re going to be my da? It’s really happening?”
I don’t know why this change strikes me like a lash across the chest. Logically, I knew that marrying Adeline would make me Heidi’s uncle. However, Heidi was raised by Adeline, and was legally adopted by her. Adeline is also her mum. I probably knew she would take to calling me her father, but I haven’t fulfilled that role in too many decades.
And when I did, I was rubbish at it.
“Can you fetch me the parchment and quill from my desk?”
She barks, pretending to be a dog, and does as I request. When she hands the supplies over to me, I straighten up as best I can.
“If I’m the person who’s sworn to tell you the truth, I need to confess something: you may not be wise to choose me as a father. I played the role once before, and I was dreadful at it. If I’m to get this right with you, I’ll need to do things differently. So this is your chance, urchin. Tell me what’s expected of fathering.” I ready my quill. “You know how I loathe failing at tasks.”
Heidi’s eyes widen as she thinks over my proposal. When she speaks, she ticks off points on her fingers. “Put a roof over my head. Put food on the table. Mammy’s been doing tha since I was born, and she needs a break.”
“I’m already doing that. Any complaints thus far?”
“The cook doesn’t let me help in the kitchen. Says my hands are too dirty, even after I wash them. I want to bake with ye. Put tha on the list.”
I bristle and make a note to either fire the woman, or give her a talking to on prejudices and hate speech. “I’ll see to it you’re taught how to prepare your own food. You’re right; it’s a life skill. What else?”
“We don’t do anything together.” She has this way of complaining without whining, which is a difficult thing to manage, and is actually quite effective.
“What should you like to do with me? I’m not exactly the type to play dolls.”
She casts me a dubious look. “Hello, I don’t have any dolls. I know ye don’t like to play pretend. I mean playing in the garden, having fancy tea together. Anything.”
I make a note to buy her a doll. “No daughter of mine should be without a doll. I’ll see that’s remedied. I don’t care if you insist you don’t need one. I’m putting my foot down. Then you can bring your doll to tea with me. Would every Saturday at dusk work? We could have cranberries with our breakfast and drink tea with your doll.”
She eyes me with caution, but then nods. “Aye. Tha sounds grand. Do ye think ye should have a doll too? Mine might feel left out.”
I must have spent too much time with Adeline, because part of my heart warms at Heidi’s wishes. When a child plans her play, perhaps that’s the mark of a healthy childhood. Even more remarkable, she’s including me in her world.
“Very well. You’ll have to pick out my doll, then. I’m afraid I don’t have the talent for it, and I don’t want to select something subpar.”
She nods once, taking my commission to heart. “I can do tha.” Heidi taps on the point of her chin. “If you’re to be a da, ye should tell stories. Scary ones.”
“Scary? Are you quite certain you can stomach it? I’ve seen some gruesome things in my many years. Can you handle things like beheadings?”
She grimaces. “I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me stories like tha. Mammy would be cross with ye. I was thinking stories about animals. Maybe harrowing tales of them almost getting captured, but then escaping at the last second.”
“Ah, I see.” I write down her request, making sure she can see it. “I can probably manage one of those a week, so do try not to be greedy. I’m new at this.”
Heidi’s head tilts to the side. Her upturned nose and auburn curls make her look so very much like Adeline. “Is Destino your son? Would he be my brother?”
“He’s my great-grandson. But I call him my son. I think of him as my child. Though, he’s a grown man now.”
“Who’s your child?”
Guilt strikes me, hollowing my chest. “My child isn’t alive anymore. I fear I missed out on many a bedtime story with him, and he was never allowed at tea with the grownups.” I fix her with a serious stare. “I’m determined not to mess things up this time, but that means you must tell me how this works.”
Heidi flops back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling and tucking her hands behind her head. “Do ye know how to braid hair? Mammy braids my hair some nights, and brushes it out when it’s time to go to sleep. She sings to me when she tucks me in. Do ye sing?”
“Not well, but if you can tolerate my singing voice, I’m sure I can muster up a song or two. I’m utterly lost with braiding, though.”
“Tha’s okay. Benny can teach ye.”
I chortle at the mental image, but the movement aches my chest and starts a coughing fit. “Benny braids your hair?”
“He braids my hair, and when Sad Mammy—I mean Mammy Maisie—was still lost, he used to braid her hair, too.”
“I had no idea. I must learn to keep up with the important things.”
She rolls onto her side and points at me. “Tha’s the ticket. Whatever’s on your list doesn’t matter as much as making sure I’m one of your important things. I think tha’s what a good parent does. It’s what Mammy does.”
The wisdom of this child strikes me hard, bringing to light just how very bereft of knowledge I’ve been all these decades.
I set down my quill and parchment on the side table, and then motion for her to take Adeline’s pillow. “We can worry about all of this later. Perhaps sleep would serve us best for now.” My eyelids are heavy, and I know I’ve passed my limit for being upright.
“But it’s barely time for bed.” She fixes me with a scrutinizing stare. “Okay. Ye look like ye could do with some sleep.”
I lie down, expecting her to be bored and toddle off. Instead, she pulls the comforter up around me, tucking me in as if she’s the adult and I’m the child in her care.
With how well she’s schooled me on parenting, that’s not too far off.
Then the urchin rests her head on Adeline’s pillow. I expect her to fidget or ask me too many questions, but she’s quiet and still as she watches me struggle to breathe normally.
“Go to sleep, Da,” she whispers. “I’ll watch over ye.”
I must be exhausted, because tears pool and then fall down my cheeks, announcing only to this young shifter how very scared I won’t admit to being.
When my eyes close, I feel Adeline all around me, yet nowhere near.
* * * * *
“Sit up, Ronin,” comes a growl however many minutes or hours later.
I recognize Salem’s gravelly cadence, but my body is too weak to comply.
Salem’s arms on my shoulders hold me too tight as he leans my body up.
Heidi rights herself groggily. “Prince Salem? My da’s sick. Be careful with him.”
Salem narrows his eyes at Heidi. “He’s your da now? Grand.” Then to me he says, “You’re going to drink this.”
I
’m too tired to protest, too out of it to think things through. Salem probably wouldn’t try to end my life. Whatever he’s got for me most likely is a help, but even if it wasn’t, I don’t have it in me to turn my chin away. My neck is stiff, my lips cracked.
When he tips a chalice to my mouth, my body complies because that’s the easiest path.
Warm, thick blood trails down my throat, but it tastes all wrong. It’s rusty where it should be sweet, salty where a tang should touch my tongue. Still, I swallow it down, if for no other reason than Salem will probably let me go back to sleep once he’s finished his task.
“There. Lie back down.” He watches me carefully for a solid minute and wipes the sweat from my forehead with a rag. Then he turns his chin over his shoulder. “What do ye think?”
A wrinkled hand rests across my forehead. “Already his color’s improving. Let him rest. We’ll see how he fares in an hour.”
Fiora’s voice should be calming, but in the back of mind, I know I’m being experimented on.
I don’t protest. If it’s for the survival of my people, I’ll let them do whatever they like to my body.
I can only hope my willingness saves enough of them so the territory isn’t wiped off the map.
Chapter Thirteen
Hope in the Fae
Adeline
I don’t bother to hide my impatience. “Let’s move it along. No use in waiting.”
As I stomp toward the stables, I do nothing to slow my pace for the fae soldiers following behind me. They’re not used to following the orders of a shifter. Judging by the way they walk, they’re not used to marching in any kind of formation, either.
Jays, they’re delicate.
“The fae donated their ivorum and it’s been put in this stable. You all get to help the Drexdenberg territory by grinding it down to make it easier to transport.” I motion to the longest stable as I walk toward it, barking orders over my shoulder to the two dozen fae soldiers Alexavier put until my command.
Malicious King: A Paranormal Royal Romance (Territorial Mates Book 6) Page 9