Page 128 of Chosen By the Fae King

“Yes,” Nox answered without elaborating.

Beside the door, Saxon, sat in a chair reading a small book. Nox had been vague when I asked more about the male before we left our rooms, but had shared Saxon was part light fae and could be trusted implicitly with Raina's safety.

Saxon had the same golden skin tone as Astrid, but his long mane was a silvery ash instead of the yellows or other sunset colors many light fae had inherited. Today it was pulled back into a thick braid.

The sides were shorn and markings could be seen through the cropped hairs. It made him look like the kind of warrior you don't want to come across on the battlefield.

He rose elegantly, setting the book on the seat and bowing respectfully. “Lady Raina is awake, Your Majesty.”

“Knock off the formal shit, Sax. There's no one else down here.”

The male lifted a shoulder. “I take joy where I can find it, my friend. Nettling you gives me joy.”

Nox ignored Saxon's words. “Anything else to report?”

“Liam stayed down here all night.” Saxon pointed to the corner, across from his chair, where the hall made a sharp turn into another passage.

“Right there. Stayed sitting up, didn't close his eyes. I'm not sure he even blinked. I told the fool to go to his quarters but he insisted he was where he was needed. He did nothing other than sit so I let him be.”

Nox's tongue ran along his upper teeth. “I've yet to decide what to do with him. Maybe a visit to the Duersians will help him pull his head out of his ass.”

“I believe they're more likely to sever his head and then shove it up his ass. Permanently.” Saxon wasn't laughing when he spoke.

“Probably.”

Saxon glanced at me. “Are you both going inside?”

“Yes,” I answered before Nox.

The male nodded and went over to the door. His palms emitted a low-level of power and several of the runes disappeared. A growl came through the thick wood, from inside the room.

A creature's growl.

“Open it!” I ordered, reaching for my baast. She huffed sarcastically and ignored me, which only compounded my alarm.

“Saxon,” Nox sighed. “Tell me I'm not going to see what I think I'm going to see when you open that door.”

“Why are you both acting so calm?” I snapped.

“It's not what you think, kitten. Raina's not in danger.”

Saxon pretended he hadn't heard either of us, focusing on slowly opening the door. I rushed in then came to a quick halt.

What in the gods' names was I seeing?

“Could someone tell the son of Lugh to get control of his mutt?”

The question came from somewhere on the other side of an enormous, muscular hound, standing sideways over Raina's supine body.

Her feet poked out from under its belly, one boot on, the other on its side, like she'd been putting them on and was knocked backwards—or knocked out of them considering the size of the many-hued behemoth.

The hound's red eyes tracked Nox coming up behind me. It barked, almost like a friendly greeting for my mate, then narrowed its eyes back on me.

“Fermac, be nice,” Saxon told the canine. “This is Nox's mate, not an intruder.”

It tilted its head as though it understood. Something like a sigh came out of its muzzle and I could have sworn it rolled its eyes.

“Move, mongrel.” The order came from the ground.

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