Hate him? The suggestion is so absurd that I actually take a step back. Sweet, guileless Laurie who worries about everyone’s wellbeing, who creates art that captures the soul of his subjects, who somehow manages to see good in everyone including his deeply messed up brother-in-law. How could anyone hate him?
The silence stretches between us, uncomfortable and painful. I can see the exact moment when Laurie accepts what he thinks is my rejection, the way his shoulders curve inward as if protecting himself from further hurt.
He truly does think I blame him for his mother’s actions. And the thought of that irks me.
I resist the urge to rub my scarred arm, and I ruthlessly shove down the memories that are threatening to bubble over.
“Of course I don’t hate you,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than intended. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
His head snaps up, hope flickering back to life in those impossibly blue eyes.
I sigh, feeling my resolve crumble under the weight of his earnest expression. I don’t have time for this. I didn’t really have time for tea, and this is going to take even longer. There are portal calculations to review, coordination meetings to attend, the endless logistics of driving the fey home and sealing Earth away from my people forever. But looking at Laurie’s face, I know I’m going to say yes anyway.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask.
The smile that lights up his face could power half of London. “To see my brother, Monty. He has this amazing place, this community... you’ll love it, I promise.”
I highly doubt that, but I gesture toward the empty space beside his easel. “Step back. And form a clear picture of it in your mind.”
With practiced ease, I tear a hole in reality. Using knowledge stolen from the tylwyth. The portal shimmers into existence, showing glimpses of a large, elegant house surrounded by sprawling gardens.
“After you,” I say dryly.
Laurie practically bounces through the portal, his enthusiasm infectious despite my best efforts to remain aloof. Loki bounds through after him, tail wagging wildly. I follow more sedately, stepping from the Buckingham Palace art studio into what feels like an entirely different world.
We emerge onto a sprawling vegetable garden. Rows of winter vegetables stretch before us, carefully tended despite the season. The smell hits me immediately. It’s rich, damp earth and the lingering scent of wood smoke from the house’s chimneys.
The dire wolf barks excitedly. She’s clearly keen to see someone.
A shadow flickers, and suddenly a figure appears right in front of us. My hand moves instinctively to where my blade is hidden, but Laurie’s delighted squeak stops me.
“Hi Gray!”
The figure resolves into a young man with eyes that glow a dangerous molten red. The air around him hums with otherworldly energy. Demon, my mind supplies automatically. But instead of attacking, he’s being enthusiastically greeted by Laurie as if he’s an old friend. And the dire wolf is wagging her tail so hard I’m worried it’s going to come off.
“Laurie,” Gray says, his fierce expression softening into something that might be fondness.
His gaze shifts to me, and I feel the weight of ancient power assessing me. For a moment we stare at each other, predator recognising predator.
“This is Dyfri,” Laurie says cheerfully. “Selwyn’s brother. May we come in?”
Gray tilts his head, studying me with those unsettling red eyes. Then, slowly, he nods. The air shimmers around us as the protective barrier parts.
At that moment, the front door of the house bangs open and a man comes hurrying out, another figure close behind him. The first man has Laurie’s pale colouring but a more solid build. He crosses the garden in long strides and crushes Laurie into a hug so fierce it drives the air from my lungs just watching it.
The affection is so genuine, so unguarded, that I feel something uncomfortable shift in my chest. When did I last see siblings who actually cared for each other?
The second man, small and slender and very pretty for a human, steps forward and gathers Laurie into his own embrace.
Before I can process this interaction fully, the young man has taken Laurie’s hand and is towing him eagerly toward the house, chattering about people I have never heard of. I follow more slowly, taking in my surroundings.
The building itself is elegant, clearly human old money, a manor house or stately home. But there’s something alive about it now that speaks of occupation by people who actually live here rather than simply existing in it. Windows glow with warm light, and I can hear the distant sound of voices. A melody of multiple conversations overlapping in the comfortable chaos of a large household.
We step inside, and warmth folds over me like a blanket. The house is alive in a way I’ve never experienced before. Voices hum in distant rooms, and somewhere I can hear children laughing. The walls that probably once echoed with formal silence now vibrate with the messy reality of family life.
The young man tugs Laurie through halls lined with mismatched artwork. Clearly the efforts of various residents rather than purchased pieces. We pass several parlours that have been transformed into cosy communal rooms, crowded with comfortable chairs and colourful blankets that speak of actual use rather than decoration.
We reach the kitchen, where several people are engaged in what appears to be meal preparation. A young male kelpie with golden hair looks up and breaks into a dazzling smile, abandoning his vegetables to skip toward us.
