Page 33 of Dark Master's Redemption

He never told anyone, least of all Lucca’s father, whom Adicus always carried a veiled hatred for, despite how closely he had to work with Archivolio Bellari as Head Commander of the Darkwatch back then. Adicus retired from service after Lucca’s father took the throne, followed by Illyria, who hated Archivolio with a passion.

But that was long after I went to the Vampires and Lucca became Prince of the Summer Fae, by a few hundred years. Lucca and I will always be young, hotheaded ruffians to the cool, ancient calm of Adicus. Illyria is nearly eight hundred years old, but I have no clue how old Adicus is.

Far older than even my father, at the time of his death in the War of Rome.

“Signore Briarwick. Signora Amati. Thank you for letting us come to your most beautiful home.” I don’t use their former Summer Fae titles as I address them, but the weight of everything they’ve been hangs between Adicus, Illyria, Lucca, and me now, as Ariana shifts uncomfortably between her parents.

Trapped by their protective embrace.

“You have some balls coming here, Prince Valerio Incendari,” Illyria says with a slight shine in her dark eyes now, though her stance is still protective as she evaluates me. “Bringing not only the Summer Fae King’s ire here, but also the full might of the Vampire Council of Rome.”

“I bring Dark Fae here for protection, nothing more.” I am firm as I keep my calm, though part of me is tempted to fall back into patterns I had when I was still a young renegade. I’m an older, more wizened renegade now; I see that knowledge hit both of Ariana’s parents as they watch me, their intense gazes missing nothing of what I once was, what I had to become, and what I’m changing into now.

The deep watchfulness of Adicus eases first, as the smallest lift comes to his lips. He gives me a slow nod, though Illyria still purses her lips at me.

Then at last heaves a hard sigh.

“Fine.” She waves a hand in a very Italianate gesture as she at last capitulates. “This farm is not equipped to ward against Vampires chasing us down, however. We have much to do in the coming days. You must come inside. You are all famished, and those Novakitsk clothes will never do, even this late in the Florentine season. Come.”

As they turn, ushering Ariana into the house between them, Lucca and I follow. Though this entire situation is beyond strange, re-encountering Adicus and Illyria after all these years, plus knowing they’re Ariana’s parents and extremely protective of her, we don’t hesitate to enter the house we’ve been invited into.

But Lucca and I have never known Adicus Briarwick and Illyria Amati outside of their relationship to the Summer Fae palace and the Darkwatch; everything about their home is illuminating now, as we step up the large stone porch.

Done in Italian Renaissance style, with stone walls, white stucco, red roof tiles, and ornate vaulted archways for every entrance and window, the large main house connects to smaller adjacent buildings via indoor and outdoor corridors. As we enter through the vaulted archway over the front door, then step inside, I see how every white stone has gilded script shimmering through it, the same as the broad veranda out front.

Those Fae sigils are luminous, but they’re all wards. Though beautiful, shining in the summer day as the tall cypress trees flanking the house and driveway whisper in the morning breeze, I know they’re utterly deadly.

A nasty surprise for any enemy that might come calling.

It helps ease the sting of all I’ve lost today, to know we’ll be safe here. Though Illyria says those wards aren’t for Vampires, I feel a brisk, seeking sensation pour through my aura now as I enter the house, pummeling through my inner darkness and searing it with light.

I shiver as I arrive inside the foyer; had I been a Vampire, I have no doubt those wards would have blasted me with pure sunlight. As Illyria glances at me, I know whom it was that put those particular wards around the door.

Though she put away her magic later, to keep Ariana safe.

“Here we are,” Illyria says as she releases Ariana to wipe her hands on her filthy apron again, giving both Lucca and me the eyeball. “I must attend to a few batches of salves that are already in progress. You three can go with Adicus; darling, be a dear and entertain them in your study until I can have Dorabella make up the guest suites.”

“They’re Aria’s guests, darling, they can do as they please in our home.” Adicus has a teasing gleam in his green eyes now as he glances at his lifemate, but his gaze is intense as it pins me again, then Lucca. “They’re our Princes, after all. Or have been.”

“Fine.” Illyria throws up her hands again, then puts them on her hips as she lifts an eyebrow at me. “Don’t get too comfortable, either of you. Neither of you is sleeping in her room with her, and that’s final.”

“Mamma!” Ariana’s eyes go wide as she glares daggers at her mother. Something about it is so lovely and normal, in everything we’ve been through, that I laugh.

A good sound as it pours out of me, despite everything.

“Faeadonna Amati. I would never dream of besmirching the honor of your most beautiful home. Or your daughter.” I put my hand upon my heart, feeling it beat for the woman I love.

“Summers,” she says as she stares me down hard, then Lucca. “We are Summers in this household, and dispense with the Faeadonna. Not all who help here at the farm are aware of who and what we are, nor the operations we keep for the Dark Fae. Our wards prevent any magic from being felt or seen by our human help while they are on the premises. While you are here, however, you are human. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” I say with my hand still on my heart, reining in my magic to the best of my ability now, like I do when I visit the human world for art auctions and galas.

“Of course,” Lucca echoes, his hand on his heart also as he pulls his magic in, as well. A renegade like me, Lucca has been to the human world countless times against his father’s edicts; like me, he knows how to power down his magic to look and feel human, though nothing can ever quite disguise our beauty and obvious otherness.

Illyria glances between us a moment, then gives a hard nod. I know it as her old, commanding ways in battle, as she turns and heads into the kitchen.

Which leaves us with Adicus out in the entrance hall.

“My lords. Come.” Adicus is more cordial now as he extends a hand, inviting us into the house. “I have a morning repast with coffee in my study that we may enjoy until Illyria marshals the house help into getting you three a proper meal.”

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