Page 87 of Heir to His Court

This time the embrace felt as if he was clinging to me rather than claiming. As if I washiscomfort.

He'd had to break Renaud’s hold with the memory of. . .

Damn.

“I'm sorry, Raniel,” I said, turning in his arms and leaning against his chest, running my hands in soothing circles on his back. “I’m so sorry, bébé.”

“Mother,” he whispered, shuddering. He said nothing else.

It wasn’t Nayya’s face in his mind.

Wetness he refused to acknowledge dampened my neck.

And when he whispered his son’s name. . .I wanted to slit my throat and bleed out at his feet.

We were the source of each other’s greatest pain, and the hope of each other’s greatest joy. Light and shadow, love and fury entwined, forging a bond we could not break even if we threw all our combined strength into the sundering.

No. We were inevitable.

So I sang to him, my Raniel, and tucked my grief and guilt away so my emotions tasted of nothing but love and comfort.

I sang to him, and wove another strand of forgiveness into our bond, allowing another length of its jagged edge to heal.

ChapterTwenty-Six

Iwalked into the living area and halted. Lord Baroun stood in the center, draped in scarlet mourning robes still, swirling a glass of wine in his hand.

“It’s a little early for visitors. . .wine.” Though I wasn’t one to judge morning drinking.

Baroun glanced at me and set it down, then approached. His expression immediately put me on my guard, not that I ever lowered it around him. He halted, and his gaze traversed the length of my body, lingered on my neck, then settled on my face.

“Do you require medical attention?”

I blinked. Males. So dramatic. “Not at all.”

No expression on his face. “My cousin came to see me this morning. He has not let you out of his bed in four days, Princess.“

“Has it beenfourdays? My. Are all Montague males so. . .vigorous?” I pursed my lips, sweeping him with my gaze. “Nevermind.”

He didn’t take the bait, which meant he was actually worried. “He believes you would conceal an injury from him.”

“How?” That four days had been spent entirely naked, and mostly spread eagle, except when my ass was in the air or I was on my knees—or he was on his. “Believe me, there is no possibility an injury could have escaped the notice of your cousin.”

It was a good thing Baroun couldn’t see what was under my robe. Raniel was stressing my body’s ability to heal minor injuries, and I was used to bruises and scrapes and strained muscles.

“He is. . .fussing,” I added, because he didn’t look convinced.

Baroun nodded as if that made sense. Which it did, unfortunately. I was beginning to worry a week wouldn’t be enough for the bonding hormones to settle down.

Part of the reason I’d allowed Raniel to tie me to his bed was to keep him away from everyone else. This was not the time to offend the Prince. Not when he was in a rutting spiral and perceived every puff of dandelion blown in my direction as a threat. His thinking was simultaneously fuzzy and hyper focused. I wasn’t about to let him loose to make messes I would have to clean up—since that was what Renaud had dubbed me. His official mopper upper of blood and gore. Or, wait, was I supposed to be the one doling out the blood and gore, so he didn’t have to? We were going to have to clarify.

I strolled to Baroun’s wine and snatched it up, draining it, then told him I was keeping Raniel distracted until he calmed the fuck down, and ended with, “I’m taking one for the city. You can owe me later.”

When this was over, I was going to sit down and seriously analyze where my life choices had led me so grossly astray.

He sighed, his rigid expression easing somewhat. “Do you want to leave? If you do, I'm the only one who can safely smuggle you out.”

That was questionable. Also insulting. “The Prince is infecting House Montague with this fragile halfling blossom narrative and I’ll be forced to kill some more of you if you succumb to his beguilement.” I let my harpy slip her sheath enough to flash talons and wings. “Lord Baroun, if I want out, I will walk onto that balcony and fly off.” I curled my lip up over my fangs. “I am no flower.”

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