Page 57 of Mated to the Mad Marquess

Malcolm nodded. “I spend so much time with them, it’s difficult not to get attached.” And that was true enough, but of course his mind had drifted to a different goodbye, a bittersweet one in the rain.

He wondered how far Hrafn had gotten in one night. She was a fast flyer, especially in her nighthawk form. Perhaps the Lunar Province was already behind her.

“I did what you asked,” Susan said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I had a conversation with the willow tree in the courtyard there. I always feel so weird when I do that, but it’s the best way to get in touch with the Queen of Night.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm said. Now that his mate, a fugitive from justice, was nowhere to be found, summoning Queen Rain here didn’t worry him. She would help their friends get home where they belonged.

“It sounds so strange to hear myself saying that,” Susan said, “that I summon the blimming queen by talking to trees.”

But it didn’t sound strange to Malcolm at all. The Bloody Queen of Night was Seelie, just like his mother had been. The Seelie had an unmatched affinity with nature. In the way that the shadows were his friends, the trees were beloved of the queen.

“What’d you tell Rain?” Margot wondered.

“I told her about the mad beasts that are barring our road home,” Susan said. “And I asked her if she wouldn’t mind escorting us back into the city after tending to them.”

“Lovely,” Margot said. “If she’s still in River Row, it’ll just be a few hours now. Not that I’m ungrateful for you having us here,” she added quickly, “but I miss my own bed.”

“Understandable,” Malcolm said with a sigh. And it was relatable because he missed a great many things already.

Malcolm kept to the sitting room to watch for signs of Rain, the Queen of Night. He took his meals there and tried to read something, tried to craft a letter to Reedholm to check in with his estate manager. He was too distracted to manage much.

Clapa, as though she sensed that he was distraught, came to keep him company. She presented him with one of the brass buttons he’d given her, tied to a piece of string. She’d used her claws to carve intricate designs into the brass, and she laid it in his palm, glowing with pride.

“Thank you, little one,” he said. His smile didn’t quite chase the gloomy feeling out of the pit of his stomach.

Clapa seemed unsatisfied with it. She pulled at his lips, tugging the corners upright to make him smile wider, chittering in her happy way. Then she hugged his face and left a wet kiss on his nose, and he found himself chuckling. Satisfied, she returned to his antlers, to hang upside down from them like a bat, chattering at him merrily.

“You don’t say,” he told her, having no idea what she was going on about without Hrafn and Ezra near to help interpret. Squeezing her gift between his fingers, he felt a little less hollow anyway. He tucked her gifted button into his pocket.

He hadn’t needed to be so vigilant in waiting on the queen. As dusk neared, Rain made her presence well known.

The crash of swaying limbs, the crackle of branches, and the boom of falling brambles was loud in his ears, and then the sound of screaming started, only it wasn’t the screams of a person. High pitched and hollow, it carried from the woods across the lawn, over the walls, and into the keep.

Margot and Susan returned to the sitting room and joined him on the balcony.

Susan covered her ears. “It always gives me the willies when the trees scream like that.”

Margot’s smile was wide and a little unhinged. “I love it,” she said.

“Anta Rat,” Clapa cheered, and she danced in Malcolm’s hair.

Wolves howled and then yelped. Trees broke and smashed and banged. Limbs elongated, and leaves and bramble tumbled. Even with his keen eyes, it was hard to see everything from this distance. Birds flew into the sky and were snatched back by grasping vines.

Then all at once the forest went still.

Malcolm squinted into the fading light. Overhead the sky was purple and overcast. A cloaked figure stepped out from the trees.

“Rain,” Susan said. “Come on, Margot, let’s load up the carriage.”

They took turns hugging Malcolm around his middle.

Because his friends were gifted at seeing too much, Margot added, “This isn’t goodbye, you know.” She pinched his arm affectionately. “Just see you soon.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, and his voice had gone hoarse.

They left the room, chatting about the plans they had for after their return to their brothel in River Row. Slowly their voices and laughter faded. And then they were gone.

In the distance, white hair hung from the hood of the cloaked figure. The queen raised a gloved hand to him. He waved in return and bowed his head with gratitude. Circling her feet was a small black cat, Rain’s demon familiar.

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