Page 77 of Atop the Faerie Throne
It’s a close thing, but I manage to hold him back, resting my hands on her knees to keep her steady as we head out.
“Drystan did mention you should rest,” I remind her, not really meaning it.
She’s had a tough few days, and he wore her out this morning, but I don’t expect her to follow his orders. Sitting around in her palace, being pampered, just isn’t who Rose is.
Besides, we’ve seen and dealt enough death. I think both of us could do with some simple uplifting work to remind us that small actions have big impacts and that we’re good for something more than destruction and battle.
“I want to help,” Rose confirms, dropping a kiss to the top of my head before adding in an intimate whisper, “And I’m always happy to watch you get sweaty and shirtless.”
My wolf preens.
Clearingthe inner city is hard work, but necessary. As I predicted, it feels good to remove the debris and work alongside my fellow knights to make shattered buildings habitable. Better still to have Rose with me. The rest of her Guard trickles in to help throughout the day, rotating so there’s at least two of us with her at all times. Currently, it’s Bree’s turn.
It’s not just us, either. Her guides are lending their strength and expertise. The Third Nicnevin’s gift of strength is especially useful, given that some of the buildings are close to collapse.
My wolf appreciates the security of knowing Rose’s protected almost as much as he enjoys the relief that physical labour brings and the sense of community surrounding us.
It does the refugees good to see her helping, even if she’s only really able to set up cots and make beds. A hands-on Nicnevin is good for morale. Her mother would’ve stayed in her palace, organising everything, but out of sight.
Mercifully, Rose seems to have recovered well enough from her wobble last night. Drystan promised to ask the HighPriestess to check on her later, just in case she still needs to talk some more. We’re all aware that after the battle, when there’s no longer the threat of war to keep your mind occupied, is when the difficult path of healing begins.
As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, I heft up a door for Nicnevin Titania to hammer back into place. Her gift of unmissable aim means that she hasn’t hit my thumb once today, and thankfully that still holds true when a shout of joy from behind me makes me drop the heavy piece of wood.
Unfortunately, it lands on my toe. Cursing, I catch it before it can topple, leaning it against its frame as the scent of family, of pack, surrounds me like a heavy blanket.
We’ve been working in the city library—a building that was apparently not of interest to the Fomorians—doing repairs. I shouldn’t be surprised that Ma is here. She’s the head scholar, after all. But I’m glad that my sisters are with her. All five of them tower over Ma, but she doesn’t let that stop her from dragging me away from the broken door and down to her level.
Her hug is bone-crushing. Her tears are almost as soul-shredding as Rose’s.
“You didn’t send any news. We thought you were dead!”
She’s physically shaking, and I grimace guiltily.
“Don’t be dramatic, Ma. He can’t die now, remember?” Frieda, the eldest and shortest of my sisters, comments. “I’m more concerned with the fact that he got mated and didn’t invite us to the ceremony.”
Oh, damn. She noticed.
No shit, Jare. It’s not like the mark is exactly subtle.
“Oh, hush,” Ma scolds, pulling back just far enough to admire the mark across my throat. “Sometimes things happen in the heat of the moment. You know your father and I…” She trails off, going misty-eyed for a second, until Cameo touches her shoulder lightly. “Well, the Temple priestess didn’t judge us, at least.”
Finally, she releases me, cupping my cheek briefly before turning towards where Rose is midway through making up a cot in the room beyond, offering her a bow.
My mate’s cheeks flush an adorable pink, and she abandons her work to cross the space between them, Bree close on her heels.
“Please don’t. We’re family now.” She tugs my mother upwards and waves for my sisters to do the same.
“As you wish, Nicnev—Rhoswyn,” she corrects, at Rose’s raised brow.
“Are Fionn and Oren…?” I ask.
“We found those idiots guarding the south gate,” Ena supplies, eyes flashing wolf with amusement. “Ma gave them the same treatment. Don’t worry.”
She makes a subtle movement with her hand, a sort of twirl of her wrist while wiggling her forefingers. It’s a silent way of asking if I’m free to go on a run tonight, and I tilt my head towards my mate silently before nodding.
As long as Rose doesn’t need me, I’ll join.
My shifter siblings came up with the code while I was still a pup. Although Ma reassures us that she loves having wolves around the house and will fuss and love our other sides whenever she sees them, we still try not to bring up shifting around her.
