Page 62 of Mated to the Mad Marquess

“It’s not a goodbye,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “Just ‘see you soon.’”

* * *

Malcolm arrived at Reedholm first thing the next morning. He filled his days writing letter after letter, most of which he sent to his friend, the King of Night, detailing the demise of the monster in the woods. After that, he held meetings with his land stewards, meetings with his clerks and his secretary and his estate manager. Harrow had to be replaced. Order needed to be restored.

More barrels of red wine had to be purchased.

Between his work and tending to the little shadows, he was able to remain distracted enough that he didn’t pester his true mate. With a thought he could call to her, but he knew if he did, she might cut her trip short, and that wasn’t fair to her.

For more than three centuries she’d been trapped here with people who had forgotten about her, people who knew nothing of her sacrifices. She deserved to have an adventure. But then another day passed, and another day came and went.

Mail arrived on day three, a letter in a fat envelope of thick vellum from the King of Night. He opened it and read:

To the Mad Marquess of Reedholm,

I have received ALL of your many, many letters detailing the innocence of your mate. Attached is no less than five copies of the decree attesting that Hrafn of the Vanir is cleared of all charges brought against her. Your mate is a free woman. Even though only my name is needed, I decided to indulge you out of gratitude for your recent service. As you requested, on each copy below my sovereign signature is that of a high-ranking mage and no less than two magistrates.

My bloody bride and I were cheered to hear the news of your recent true mating. We’d love for you to visit with us at the manor in River Row soon. Rain has heard a great deal about Hrafn. She would like to meet her in the flesh. In the meantime, do take care.

Your Friend,

The Less Bloody King of Night

On day four, Malcolm sat in a sunny drawing room at Reedholm, tending to the shadows. He wondered why they weren’t reforming as quickly as he’d anticipated. He reflected on it. These shadows were interested in him, but they didn’t obey his every summons. They resisted him at times.

His days at Skugborg had taught Malcolm that being a neglectful master put him as much at risk of betrayal as being reckless had for his father. He pulled his soul inside him and embraced his darkness. The nuggets of shadow came to him easily then. He sat in his chair, covered in dots of smog, rocking them to sleep.

“You are like babies,” he confessed, “and I’ve been a terrible father.” He knew how to change that, though.

Do you still hate me?he asked his soul.

I never did, not really,Solis said.But I especially like where our thoughts are headed now.

I do too,Malcolm said, because their thoughts were on Hrafn again, their true mate who was willing to sacrifice her freedom for them. They thought about their mother, too, the only other woman who could claim to have loved them just as much, if in a very different way.

Be happy, my son,his mother had said in her final farewell. Notsee to the estateorhonor your duty.She’d wanted himhappy. How had he gone and gotten that so wrong? He was anything but happy now. The idea of abandoning Reedholm had felt selfish. But how could it be selfish when he was doing it for someone else entirely so they could both be free?

Because Malcolm deserved to be happy too.

* * *

Malcolm tried so hard to give his true mate her much-deserved space. She needed this travel, needed to explore, to flex her wings, and learn new things. But he missed her in the deepest parts of himself. The walls of Reedholm had never felt so much like the bars of a cell. He felt chained to his desk, writing letters all day long, taking meetings, discussing herds, fielding complaints that made him bored, made him want to drink his favorite wine and forget.

On the fifth day of her absence, he gave in, sending her a message with his thoughts.

Hrafn.Just in that one word it was impossible to hide his longing, his loneliness, his worry. He wanted to ask her if it was hard to come home, if she wanted to return at all. He didn’t, because he loved and trusted his mate, but he felt haunted by those worries.

I’m coming home, Hrafn said, and there was a happiness in her voice that made him feel great pleasure and then crushing remorse.I saw living trees. I picked mangoes for a villager who taught me how to ride a tiger like it was a horse. The jungles are magical here. It was incredible! I wish you were with me.

Her excitement was infectious. She’d finally gotten out of her cage; how could he ever shove her back into a new one?

How close are you?

I’m flying your way right now. I’ll be home tonight.

Malcolm unlocked his bedroom windows and pushed them open wide. She’d never been to Reedholm, never had a tour, but he was confident she’d be able to follow their bond straight to him. As he sunk into his bed, he felt his body relax. It was a comfort knowing she’d be there soon, and he drifted off to sleep.

His dreams were vivid and full of lust. He dreamed of his mate. In one of them, the very second she flew into the room through the window, he caught her up in his shadows and stripped her bare. Then he sat her on his face, reliving the first time he’d pleasured her.

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