Page 182 of Court of the Fae Princes

“So, you think you can handle the four of us as husbands?” Zane asks.

I snuggle against Sulien’s chest happily. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Sulien says, “Now, rest. In a few minutes, we’ll go again.”

My eyes pop open. “In a few minutes? How many times do you plan to do it tonight?”

Sulien shrugs.

Cobar strokes my back. “Don’t worry, not more than you can handle. Maybe four or five?”

“Four or five? I’ll be pregnant by morning!”

Forrest slaps my ass. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

That night, true to their words, they fucked me like we were animals in heat. And much to my surprise, I liked every second of it. Even when Cobar and Zane decided they could both fit in my pussy at the same time.

Which now might be my new favorite thing.

TWENTY-TWO

Seven months later…

Cassia

The Summer Court at this time of year is pure perfection. I stand in the garden, letting the sun caress my skin as I stare out at the light gleaming on the surface of the nearby lake. I can’t resist the playful urge to channel my magic, summoning dazzling honey-colored fireflies that dance around me. But even as I see them, I change the fireflies’ colors until they’re a rainbow of twinkling lights.

Being a fae has its benefits…

Grinning, I spin around, loving the way the grass tickles my feet. Everything, even now, I appreciate. Because as much as a part of me doesn’t want to remember my time before my husbands, another part of me knows I can never forget it. If I do, I might stop fighting to have humans paid better for their work, and to make certain they aren’t starving in our streets. I might stop fighting to enact laws that punish fae for hurting humans. And if I did that, all my friends, Beatrix included, wouldn’t have happier lives.

How could I enjoy all this if I knew people I cared about were suffering?

Pausing, I sense the raven on the branch nearby and spot it in the shadows. He’s dead. His feathers are barely attached. His head is permanently cocked in the way it was when his neck was broken.

“Rest,” I whisper, and let my magic reach him. In his mind, I see a place. A nest. A tree. It was where he was happiest. I pull on the thin thread from me to him and send him back to that place, where I see thick leaves and soft earth. It’s a proper place for him to rest.

He takes off, disappearing into the woods.

Some of the dead who follow me need more. They need a purpose, they need me to give them a task. Others, like the raven, simply need to be told they can rest. So I let them, unlike my mother.

Death is a constant presence in my life now, but not in a bad way. It’s just a part of who I am. The part of me I got from my birth mother. It took time to accept that, but now that I have, I’ve made peace with it.

I continue spinning, closing my eyes, thinking of what it means to be Lady Wither of the House of Death. Unable to stop my thoughts, I remember the conversation with my father when he revealed everything about my mother and my past. The conversation had broken our hearts and healed it all at once.

“I need you to tell me about my mother, about the Keeper of Death, with no lies and no secrets,” I’d told him, trying to keep any accusation out of my voice, and failing.

His shoulders had hunched, the happiness and health that was restored to him fading in an instant. “Please, just let me explain,” he begged, his gaze pleading at me to forgive him, even though I didn’t yet know if he even needed to be forgiven. And then he’d told me the whole story. “After your grandfather died, I left my home with your grandmother to set out on the world. To make my mark. Only, it was harder than I’d imagined to travel the roads as an inexperienced youth. One stormy night, lost in the woods, I stumbled upon the lands of the House of Death and met your mother out in the rain. She was beautiful and kind, leading me to safety and allowing me to stay with her through the storm. Then longer.

“During that time, I found her to be as smart and interesting as she was beautiful and kind. And I fell for her. Hard. By the time any normal person should have been moving on, I didn’t, because I wanted nothing more than to be with her.

“We spent months courting each other. Reading to one another, swimming together, even exploring her lands. I felt like the luckiest man on the planet. We were lovers, but we were also friends. So when she told me that there was a way we could have a child together, I leapt at the chance. I thought I could have the family I had always dreamed of.”

His voice had started shaking then. “The night you were conceived, when the spell was used, I blacked out. I woke up weeks later having lost the use of my legs. Your mother, Lady Wither, seemed to feel terrible for what the spell cost me. I, on the other hand, simply felt broken. Like half a man. But then she announced her pregnancy, and I knew I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. I had to accept that I could be a father, whether I had the use of my legs or not.

“I learned to use a wheelchair. I helped build your nursery and whittle toys for you, and the happiest day of my life was when you were born. The instant I saw you, I knew love in a way I never imagined possible. It was like my life was incomplete until you were in it.” His eyes pleaded with me then. Pleaded with me to believe him. To understand him in that moment.

“You have to know that I never knew about their tradition of leaving babies in the woods. I would never, never have done such a thing, no matter how much I loved her. I just couldn’t have been with someone who could do that.

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