But it was his eyes that caught me most of all. A piercing, steel-blue beneath the shadows of his lashes. Intelligent, calculating. Assessing me as much as I was assessing him.
Gods.
He did look like the male from the books. The warrior hero I had read to my children late into the night, the one who slew monsters and defied impossible odds with only his wits and steel.
Pink tinged the male’s cheeks. An almost imperceptible flush that might be embarrassment, or amusement. Before I could decide which, a choked noise came from the table.
I turned just in time to see Varyth angle his body away, coughing violently into his hand. His shoulders hitched suspiciously.
I didn’t speak. But I stared. Hard.
The coughing continued, his entire frame trembling in a way that could have been distress, if not for the way his fist had curled against his lips.
My gaze flicked between him and the very real, very much standing in the dining hall Fenric the Fierce.
Varyth finally straightened, though his hand concealed the lower half of his face.
“I see you’ve met Fenric, then,” he said to Mireth, his voice slightly muffled.
I gaped. Actually gaped. “You’re—” I started, my brain tripping over itself. “You’re actually named Fenric?”
He gave a dry nod. “Last time I checked.”
“Fenric is my third in command,” Varyth added casually.
Fenric gave Mireth a small bow. “At your service, little one,” he said, which only made Mireth’s eyes shine brighter.
I stared at Mireth, who was positively glowing with excitement. Then back at Fenric the Actual, Real, Not-Imaginary Fierce. Mireth had just casually plucked a figure of myth from the corridors and dragged him into breakfast.
And then, finally, I glanced back to Varyth. He’d managed to arrange his face into a mask of too perfect calm.
“Oh, you’re enjoying this,” I said.
His lips ticked up, the barest hint of humour before he composed himself once more. “It’s not every day one of my most formidable warriors is immortalised in children’s stories.”
“He’s a hero,” Mireth declared proudly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Because he’s brave and strong and noble?—”
“Flattered,” Fenric said, his tone silk-smooth. “But I do wonder what exactly my fictional counterpart has been up to.”
“Oh! You fight terrible monsters and evil knights and once you saved a whole kingdom from ruin.”
“Only once?”
“Well, Mama only had time for one story before bed. But I’m sure you’ve saved lots of kingdoms.”
“Naturally.” Fenric chuckled, deep and rich.
Varyth let out a breath, though it was just shy of steady. “It’s good to know my third in command has such an esteemed reputation among the younglings.”
Mireth nodded eagerly. “Mama always says stories have truth in them!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Fenric pressed a palm to his chest. “A wise sentiment.”
Beside me, Lira appeared to be actively fighting for her life trying not to laugh.
Eryx threw both arms in the air, his mouth stuffed full of pastry. “Glory!” he shouted, crumbs spraying in every direction as he launched himself off my lap and took off galloping around the room at full tilt.
