Page 66 of Crowned By the Fae King

"Ours," Cass murmured, then sighed out a heavy breath, his whole body relaxing as he did. He tilted his head back, black hair pooling across his shoulders, and gave me a weary smile. "If we do this, we ought to tell them, and we ought to be careful about how. A child might be an unpleasant surprise if they're relying on what was forced upon them, and I doubt any of them would take kindly to feeling as if we're using false benevolence to ensnare them in debt."

"Ace mentioned that. Vaylir, I mean," I said, smiling back down at him. I set my hand on his wing and left it there. "I told him it wasn't being merciful. We were paying back the debt we inherited."

He snorted, but the corner of his mouth kicked higher, and he leaned a little bit of his weight into my hand. "I wondered what that shift in debt meant. I suppose it's lucky to have a mortal soulmate who can say such things, and in doing so make them true."

The warmth of his regard settled into me, like having a cat purring on my chest. "You'll do it?"

"Why not? I'll try after I get some sleep," he said, with that easy smile on his face. "And I'll see to Vaylir's pain as best I can. I may need to spend some time convincing Mercy when he reaches the Sagebrush Duchy again, but I believe I should be able to do so."

He was so open. Even without the ability to step past the gates of his heart, it would be impossible not to see the man behind those gold-flecked eyes. It scared me—a little bit, at least. I didn't do that sort of vulnerability, but if I wanted Cass, I suspected that cracking myself open the way he did would be the only way to keep him.

"Thank you," I said softly, feeling the balance of the world shift under my feet.

His ear tilted towards me in soft focus. "It's my pleasure, your majesty."

"Giving me a little respect, splendor?" I asked, raising my brows.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

I wrinkled my nose, somewhat embarrassed at how much I did. "I do."

"Good." Cass flashed me a brighter smile. "It was never my intention to deny you pet names, for what it's worth. Until today, I hadn't heard you call anyone anything aside from their formal names, titles, or chosen name. I assumed you disliked diminutives, and acted accordingly."

"When you assume, it makes an ass out of you and me," I said pertly. "I don't like when people shorten my name, but I do like pet names."

His lips twitched. "So it seems."

I patted him on the wing and stepped back so he could get up without risking slashing me with the sharp edge. "Go to bed, Cass. I'd like some sleep."

"Think up some names for me with a little less formality, of your kindness," Cass said, getting to his feet with a groan. "I'll see if I can't resign myself to hearing you call me 'splendor,' but I'm fonder of affection than respect."

"Maybe I think you're resplendent," I said, smirking up at him.

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's the wings," he said drily, cocking them so they caught the light, flashing a reflection up onto the vaulted ceiling. "They can be quite bright under the right conditions. Stymphalian birds often use sunlight to blind their opponents."

I gave him a doe-eyed blink, schooling my face into innocence. "Would you prefer if I directed my respect there?"

"Yes, actually," Cass said with a laugh. He folded them back down and sauntered across the room to his door. "I have a great deal of respect for stymphalian wings. There's a reason I'm the only Fury who has them."

"Oh?"

He paused in the doorway, wearing a very self-satisfied expression, and stretched one wing out to its fullest extent. Underneath it, the thin leather over the bottom half of his shirt was gouged half to death, witness to the deadly power of even his inner feathers. "I'm the only one who can't accidentally kill myself with them, dove."

Gods & Monsters

Islept like a rock. Part of me had been concerned that I was going to start sharing dreams with Cass now that I was overhearing his thoughts sometimes, but either he had quiet nights or we didn't have to worry about that yet. I woke up briefly when Cass moseyed across my bedroom in the afternoon to get to the ensuite, but sleepy-Quyen merely noted his presence and passed the fuck back out.

I woke up for real sometime around five p.m., because someone had opened the curtains on the windows to let the late-afternoon sunlight pour across the room. There were clothes and food left out for me, too; a flirty blue-and-white patterned sundress and a silver-domed plate. Sundresses weren't usually my thing, but it fit like it had been made for me, and the matching diamond tennis bracelet, diamond-and-blue-topaz necklace, and topaz earrings were too tempting to pass up.

Dressed like a socialite ready for a breezy garden party, I sat down and unlidded my dinner. It didn't look like the sort of meals Kat had been pulling together for me. She always served me things in perfect proportions, cleanly plated, with little sprigs of green or tiny flowers for decoration.

This plate looked like the sort of thing you got at your best friend's house, not at a restaurant. The roasted quail sat primly on its bed of risotto, true, but the salad had been heaped up and was wilting into the sauce, and the spears of asparagus were cut in half to fit. Instead of being garnished by some sort of fancy microgreens, an iris stem with a pair of buds was leaning against the quail.

Had… had Cass made me dinner?

I picked up the flower, a bit stunned. It bloomed in my hand, the petals slowly unfurling. In a daze, I set it into the slender crystal bud vase next to the plate. The little ferns that had been in the vase fit underneath the pair of irises like they'd been intended for it.

It wasn't even the season for irises. I didn't think the Clement Palace had any greenhouses for forcing flowers, either. The only way I could imagine Cass had gotten an iris was finding one in the garden and convincing it to bloom for him with Court magic.

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