Page 40 of Heart Cradle
Aeilanna quirked a brow.
“Over a century.” Nolenne chuckled, leaning into her with a soft kiss on the cheek. “But we’re not counting.”
“Oh, speak for yourself,” Aeilanna teased. “I count every year she hasn’t abandoned me.”
Nolenne rolled her eyes with clear affection, and they both returned to their bowls. On the opposite side of the room, the boys had descended into a full-blown argument. “I still think I should hold the Chain,” Calen declared, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ve got fucking excellent instincts, and incredibly strong pockets.”
“You’d bloody lose it in a bet before sunrise,” Fenric said, nudging him with his elbow.
Soren raised his hand lazily. “I just want to look at it again. It hums, like it’s singing to itself. It’s kind of sexy.”
Maeve raised a brow. “Sorry to ruin your dreams, boys, but I have it.”
They all turned to her as she gave a half-smile, reaching down and pulling the small pouch from where it had been tucked into her belt. She placed it gently in Eiran’s open palm, “and now he does.”
Eiran closed his fingers around the dark green velvet pouch, the light catching on the delicate gold embroidery as if it were responding to his touch. The room went quiet for a beat, something special passing through the air.
“Well,” Calen said, sitting back with a huff, “that’s not as fun as an arm-wrestle for it.”
“You’d lose,” Branfil muttered.
“Not the point, dickhead!” Calen countered.
Eiran leaned towards her ear, murmuring low enough that only she heard. “I’d say they’re all very nearly due for a swim in the sheep trough.”
Maeve smiled sweetly. “Can I help push?”
Their laughter had barely died down when Branfil cleared his throat, once again guiding the room back towards purpose. “We’ll need to leave, tomorrow or the morning after at a push.”
Eiran nodded beside her, suddenly all prince again. “Elanthir Keep?” he asked, his voice steady.
Branfil inclined his head. “Moraveth will be expecting you. The capital isn’t exactly subtle about its expectations, and our grandfather… he’ll want to see the Chain.”
Maeve straightened slightly. “You mean King Orilan.”
Branfil nodded again. “He needs to know it’s been found. The artifact has been missing for years, its return will change everything. Not just for Melrathen, but for the entire balance of the Fae Lands.”
“And what do I do?” Maeve asked, trying to sound casual. “Smile and nod?”
“You walk beside Eiran, show them you,” Aeilanna said gently. “That’s all that’s needed.”
“Maybe don’t punch or stab anyone either,” Fenric added.
“I make no promises,” Maeve answered playfully.
Eiran’s fingers brushed over hers beneath the table, just a graze, but enough. Branfil reached for his mug. “Right, now that that’s settled, let’s try not to burn anything down before we leave.”
“Who, me?” Calen asked innocently.
“Yes, you!” Bran barked with an eye roll, not looking up from his wine.
Chapter Seventeen – Three Minutes Flat
The next morning, the sun had barely climbed above the treetops, but already the air was warm and heavy with the scent of wildflowers and pine. Dew clung to the grass like silver-threaded lace, and birdsong trilled from the branches, a total contrast to the landscape of Avelan.
Out in the training ring behind the Cottage, four of the brothers moved like a storm contained in muscle and laughter. Eiran, Calen, Soren, and Fenric circled and clashed, wooden blades meeting with sharp cracks, sweat glistening on their bare chests and forearms. Their sparring was fierce but threaded through with banter and barks of laughter, brothers in every sense. Branfil stood at the side, smoking a pipe that sent blue smoke spiralling into the still air, shouting encouragement and instruction.
“Try that again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out,” Calen snapped at Fenric after a low kick swept his legs.
