Page 46 of Mated to the Mad Marquess

Malcolm shifted in his seat, bumping the clumpy ball of fog on his lap. It opened its mouth and squawked in irritation, and the other little shadows joined in, drowning him in a chorus of irritated bleats.

“Hush now,” he soothed the shadows. Solis joined him, rising off the floor to pat the little nuggets on their ghostly heads until their cries died down again. The ball in his lap nuzzled against his leg, settling in to go back to sleep.

Hrafn fought to repress a laugh and Malcolm caught her.

“They’re not actual babies,” he insisted. “They just—”

“Look, act, and sound like babies. That’s all.”

“That’s all,” he said.

Margot and Susan entered the sitting room, and Hrafn fought against the urge to frown. She wanted to like the women because they clearly mattered to her mate, and they were very amusing. Ezra found them fascinating. He’d follow them about, enjoying the interesting things he learned about people from their conversations. He swooped into the room behind them and came to perch on Hrafn’s shoulder.

But the courtesans had this habit of always smiling at Malcolm . . . Their smiles were friendly, but her instincts made her irritable about it, and the blooming bond had stolen strength from her more rational thoughts. She trod carefully in their presence, making her face placid, her tone neutral, not wanting to intimidate them. It was easiest just to avoid them.

Clapa rode in on Susan’s shoulder. The three of them together had a talent with the little shadows and took immediately to caring for them as needed. They took turns feeding them, entertaining them, and giving into their need for touch and affection.

Margot stopped short near the bookcase. Using her finger, she began to count the clumps of smog on Malcolm. “We leave you alone for a few blasted minutes, and you’ve already lost one, damn you.” She threw her hands up, exasperated.

“What are you going on about?” Panic pitched Malcolm’s voice up. “Aren’t there six of them now?”

“There’s seven,” Margot stressed. “Where’s Lumpy?”

“Lumpy? Gods, I told you not to name them . . .” Malcolm stood up, knocking the sleepy balls of shadow onto the floor. They bleated at his boots angrily.

“It’s all right,” Susan said. “I think Clapa knows where Lumpy is.” She and the chattering fairy retreated into the hall, appearing moments later with a clumpy bit of shadow between her hands. “He was licking the lamp again. He likes that lamp. How he climbs the wall, I’ll never guess, though. I never see him do it. I just turn about and there he is, crafty little thing.”

Tension melted out of Malcolm’s shoulders. “Well, good. You found him.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, and his tail flickered uncertainly.

Ezra squawked, drawing attention to himself.

Susan shared a meaningful glance with her partner before turning to Hrafn. “We’ve been wondering about you and your familiar,” she confessed. “How did the two of you become, well, thetwoof you?”

“We love a good war story, and Malcolm says you were in the war,” Margot added eagerly.

Hrafn felt the corner of her mouth twitch. “Are you hoping I’ll embellish the tale like a mortal would?”

Margot nodded. “Well, of course. Stories are always better with the right kind of trussing up.”

Malcolm guffawed at that.

Why not tell them?Ezra said. What could it hurt?

You must really be fond of these humans, she said, surprised. Ezra didn’t usually like talking about himself. “Hm.” Hrafn ran her fingers thoughtfully over Ezra’s chest feathers, debating where to begin. “My clan fought with the Seelie near Mount Rasika during the war. The Unseelie met us with a force of dragons from the mountains and phantoms from Hell, the lake of fire south of there. Demons were there too, but they’re neutral creatures.”

“Just in it for the blood,” Susan guessed.

“They would consume the dying from both sides of the battlefield, yes,” Hrafn said. “Ezra watched me take down a dragon. I broke my spear against its heavy scales in the fight, and another was coming to avenge its kin. So I fashioned a weapon out of the dead beast’s claws. I used it to fell the next, but that second fight had consequences. Dire ones.”

“Amazing,” Margot said, hazel eyes wide.

“This is why we love war stories,” Susan said eagerly. “How big were they, the dragons?”

Hrafn peered out the glass doors of the balcony, reexamining the courtyard. “The second was nearly the size of this keep, so not too large for a dragon. The first was smaller, a younger beast.”

“Sacred stars,” Susan gasped, and Malcolm chuckled.

“The second lay dead at my feet, but I was bleeding out and not long for the world. Ezra was impressed. He thought I deserved not to die just yet, and he made a deal with me. My life for a small piece of my soul.” Hrafn watched the old memories play out in her mind’s eye, removing a tiny piece of her soul using a drop of her own blood, transforming herself into a witch. The drop had hardened into a ruby-like tear that she gifted to him. She remembered the stink of sulfur burning her nose as the demon neared her—to finish her off, she’d thought, but she’d been wrong.

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