“I’m too fucking old to be a student again,” Maggie grumbled as she shoved open the door to the suite of rooms she shared with Sondre and Craig. The rooms were nice, especially now that the eggy scent—from whatever toxic leak there had been—was notasextreme. The water was still vaguely sulfurous, but it didn’t permeate everything. If they stayed inside, they could even keep Craig safe-ish.
“Nice mouth, Mom.” Craig glanced up fromThe History of Houses in Crenshaw,the textbook that Maggie had been unable to find that morning. He was nestled on a cowhide-patterned sofa that was comfortable if a bit odd.
Maggie snatched her book out of his hands. “Do you know that Sir Alarick, witch of petty nonsense, made me write actual lines today for forgetting this?Lines.I’m a gods-blessed lawyer, and I wrote lines.”
Her son looked as unsympathetic as only a teenager could be. “Poor thing. I’m a hostage in a castle with no social media, no sports, no… available girls.”
His pause was just long enough that Maggie narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”
He shrugged and popped a cube of yellow cheese in his mouth. The hobs delivered him snack plates like he was a young god.
“Craig.” Maggie’s hands went to her hips. She closed her eyes, counting, and then started, “It’s dangerous out there and—”
The door slammed, and as Maggie opened her eyes, she realized that her son was gone. She grabbed the door to jerk it open and follow, but arms wrapped around her from behind.
“Let the boy go. I have hobs minding him. He won’t get out of the castle again today.” Sondre’s voice was a soothing rumble.
“Do I want to ask?” Maggie leaned back into Sondre’s embrace.
“Probably not.”
She turned around, still in the circle of his arms. “And yet… I am.”
“Don’t overreact,” Sondre said, hands dropping to her butt.
“Not a great start.”
“I like your curves, Maggie. It’s an excellent start. No kid at home. No interruptions and—”
“Sondre.” She didn’t disagree with him, but she wasn’t going to be distracted just then. Her son was her top priority and had been since she decided to carry and birth him.
Her new husband sighed. “Craig climbed out a window and found his way to the village.” His voice had that skipping-a-few-details tone.
Despite logic, she prompted, “And?”
“And the madam refused him service,” Sondre finished with an air of finality. “He’s a boy, Maggie. He’s lonely. It’s normal.”
“Horny is different than lonely,” she corrected, although she could see an argument that sometimes they felt like the same thing.
“Is it, though?” Sondre said gently. “He was a young athlete, surrounded by adoring young women…”
Maggie paused at the things implied but not said. Sondre’s tonehinted that he might know things about her son’s life that she didn’t. On one hand, she was grateful that they were talking instead of yelling. On the other, she cringed at the thought of her baby boy being quitethatgrown-up.
When had that happened?
Being here where there was literally not a soul near his age was a complication she hadn’t thought about. All she’d wanted was to get him away from her ex, Craig’s father, and Sondre told her that she’d had quite the plan to do so—a plan she didn’t recall at all and he wasn’t explaining.
After a few moments of struggling with mom-guilt and mom-denials, she asked, “Was I wrong to bring him to Crenshaw?”
“It’s safer than with the man who tried to murder you both.” Sondre lifted her up, and her legs automatically wrapped around him. He carried her like that over to the sofa and sat. She was on his lap, knees on either side of him. It was far more distracting than mere words and an embrace.
And he knows it.
Maggie rested her head against his, her cheek against his temple. “I was between two bad options. I’m afraid he thinks I chose you over him.”
“He thinks you chose your safety and a new life over the danger of being with Leon. We talked.” Sondre ran a hand soothingly up her back. “Heislonely, though.”
“So what do I do? If I send him back… if I let him choose that… what if he chooses that? Then he’s in danger and—”
