The poor bastard was seated on a carved bench beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree, his black clothing dusted in petals, his dignity steadily eroding beneath the weight of my daughter’s absolute adoration.
She had braided flowers into his hair.
He sat patiently while she wove another daisy chain and launched into the latest tale of Fenric the Fierce.
I should’ve rescued him. I should’ve done something. But instead, I stood in the shade like a coward.
Because part of me needed this.
The sunlight. The laughter. My children running, not hiding. The sound of Mireth’s voice rising with excitement not fear. The way Eryx screamed at a rosebush before falling dramatically onto his back.
They were safe.
Gods, they were safe.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
I turned sharply, breath catching?—
And found Darian.
All sun-drunk and loose-limbed, leaning against the edge of the trellis like he belonged in that garden. Like the wild roses had grown around him, instead of retreating from his recklessness.
His golden curls were even messier than they’d been at breakfast, wind-tangled and haloed with pollen. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to imply sin without committing to it, and his smile, gods. That smile could start wars. Or end them. Depending on the mood.
I stiffened. “Are you following me?”
He gave a lazy laugh, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stepped into the sunlight. “I actually live here, you know. You’re the one lurking behind vines like a scandalous secret.”
I glared. “I wasn’t lurking.”
“Oh, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Scandalous secrets are my favourite kind.” He winked as though we were old friends.
I turned away, refusing to dignify him with a reply. But he followed anyway.
“You know,” he said casually, “most people who’ve just crossed into the fae realm are too busy vomiting, weeping, or committing accidental murder to enjoy the garden.”
“I’m not most people.”
“I gathered.” He glanced toward the children. “They’re incredible, by the way. Fierce. Brave. Mireth already threatened to have her mother stab me if I didn’t kneel to Fenric the Fierce.”
“Sounds like her.”
“She’s perfect,” he said. Not in a way that demanded sentiment, just stated it. Fact. Sunlight warmed his features, turned his eyes to honey. “So’s the little one. Eryx?”
I nodded.
“Do they know what it cost you?”
I flinched. “They know enough.”
Darian studied me then, the grin slipping just slightly. “I wasn’t trying to pry. Just…” He shrugged, as if unsure what to do with his own softness. “You don’t look like someone who’s had time to rest.”
“Because I haven’t.”
“You could, though.” He gestured to the bench near the tree. “Sit. Watch them play. Pretend, for one stars-damned second, that you’re not in the middle of a war you haven’t named yet.”
My jaw clenched. “You think I don’t know what I’m in?”
