Gods. That sounded serious.
I exhaled slowly. “Fine. But if you so much as tilt her toward a roof tile, I will personally shoot you out of the sky.”
His mouth twitched again, but he nodded. “Understood.”
Mireth squealed in delight. “Yes!”
And then?—
Wings.
With a sound like unfurling silk and a sudden snap of motion, they exploded from Fenric’s back.
I jumped. Not outwardly—I had some pride—but my heart did try to flee through my ribcage.
The fabric of his shirt didn’t even ripple.
How? Why didn’t it tear? Did he have—was it enchanted? Flexible seams?
But I shoved the thought aside. Because his wings were breathtaking. Massive, blood-red feathers that caught the sunlight and shimmered with veins of molten gold. They were weapons disguised as beauty. And as they spread to their full, impossible span, Mireth clapped her hands in delight.
Fenric crouched, arms extended. “Ready, little warrior?”
Mireth nodded so hard her hair fell from its ribbon. He lifted her easily, one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back.
And then he launched upward?—
Not far. Just enough.
They hovered. Wings beating slow and steady. Gold catching in the air like sparks. Mireth laughed. A bright, shrieking sound of pure wonder.
Eryx screamed from the ground. “Me next!”
Darian barked a laugh behind me. “He’s not getting out of this anytime soon.”
But I wasn’t watching him.
I was watching my daughter, held in the arms of a warrior I barely knew.
“You know,” Darian said, coming to stand beside me. “You could smile a little. Just once. You’ll sprain something otherwise.”
I didn’t miss a beat. “Careful. Telling women to smile is how wars start.”
Darian blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then he laughed.
“Fair. But I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “Just that your daughter is flying. Your son is pretending to be a dragon. You’re allowed to enjoy this.”
I looked away.
Because he wasn’t wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain that joy didn’t come easily anymore. That letting myself feel it was like walking a tightrope over a pit full of memory and blood.
Fenric had crept just a little higher, wings flaring wide as he floated in slow, lazy circles with Mireth cradled in his arms. Her shrieks of joy floated through the morning air, so full of life it almost hurt to hear.
Darian was all sun and swagger and easy banter, but that was the problem. Nothing was that easy in this world. Not kindness. Not laughter. Certainly not trust.
A rustle came from the hedge behind the flowerbed.
Darian went still, the tension bleeding into his shoulders even as he kept his voice light. “You hear that?”
