26
Thorne
“We missed you today, Daddy,” Marigold said, holding her stuffed doll by the hand as she trod to the bed in the guest suite of Silenus Manor. She and I were given a room next door to Galen’s, with my mother right across the hall.
“I know, sweetheart. I missed you too.” I lifted the edge of the comforter to let her crawl under the sheets, pulling her doll in safely at her side. “Did you have fun with your grandmother?”
She nodded. “We walked in the gardens and had tiny little sandwiches for lunch, and Grandma even let me drink out of the fancy glasses, and then we found Mo and some of the other babies in the palace and played with them.” She took a deep breath, and I smiled. She often got like this when we hadn’t seen each other all day—her words fell from her like a river, and I loved listening to her replay her memories for me.
“The nanny and Grandma took us all to the flower market, and I got to pick a bunch of flowers! I saved some for you.” She reached over to her nightstand where a small handful of purple violets rested on top. She crooked her little finger at me, and I chuckled at the mischievous smile on her tan, freckled face. She looked more and more like her mother every day. A little dimple had evenstarted appearing on the left side when she smiled in the last few months, just like Iris had.
With a giggle, she put one of the stems behind my ear, tucking it in so it stayed in place. “You look so pretty, Daddy.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Did you play nice with the other children?” I never had to worry about Marigold getting along with others—if anything, she wastoooutgoing. I’d nearly lost my mind several times when I took her into the busy villages and would lose sight of her, only to find her behind some stranger’s booth, already fast friends with everyone in earshot.
“Yes, and I even got to help take care of them. I was the oldest one, but it was still fun. I like watching the babies. Daddy, will you ever have another baby?”
The question took me so off guard, my knee bumped into the side of her bed as I straightened. Wincing, I rubbed the tender spot and said, “I don’t know. I suppose anything is possible.”
Marigold mused over my words as she spun her doll around on top of her chest. “Where do babies come from, anyway?”
Oh, Fates. “Babies…well, they come from love.” I took one of the flowers still in her hand and placed it behind her ear, mirroring mine. “Your mother and I loved each other very much, and when the time was right, we were given you. And we immediately loved you more than anything else in the world.”
That was a sentiment I always made sure our daughter knew. She may never fully remember her mother, but I made every effort to ensure she didn’t forget how deeply Iris and I adored her.
The last thing on our minds when we first met eight and a half years ago was children. We were still so young—I was twenty-four, and Iris was only a year younger. I was focused on outrunning my legacy with Galen at my side, spending our nights knee-deep in whatever trouble found us.
Untilshefoundme.
I still remembered the first moment I saw her. She was a recent hire at a pub Galen and I often frequented, but that night, I’d beenalone. I’d had an enormous fight with my father over how I’d never amount to the man I was expected to be. I’d tucked myself away in a dark booth, too ashamed to drown in a bottle and too hurt to face the light.
Iris had found me in my hiding space nursing a bruised jaw and ego. Bronze curls were pulled into a braid down her back, and big brown eyes took in my purple mark, my dirty cloak, my slumped shoulders. She shifted a tray with empty glasses onto her hip.
“My name is Iris. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call for me, alright?” A small crease appeared at her tan brow as she assessed my sorry state once more before walking off to another customer. I must have looked pitiful. A pampered son of a lord in my pretentious silver-lined cloak, brooding and pouting in a corner.
I didn’t call for her. But she came anyway.
An hour later, a cold rag slapped against the table, making me jump. “For your jaw,” she said, pointing to my now swollen cheek. “You should get that looked at, you know.”
“Trust me, nobody wants to look at this,” I muttered and grabbed the rag. “Thank you.” I placed it gingerly against the bruise. After sucking in a breath, I relaxed into the cushioned booth, the pulse in my cheek pumping with the shock of cold.
“Who’d you piss off?” she asked, wiping down the table with another rag.
“My future, evidently,” was all I said.
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask questions. “Well, your future has a mean right hook. I don’t think I want to meet it.”
We’d spent the rest of the night in a steady flow of banter. Iris was the sharpest woman I’d ever met—constantly surprising me with little quips and comments, keeping me on my toes and distracting me from what awaited me when I went back home. She told me how her father had recently fallen ill to a heart condition and was no longer able to work, so she’d taken on a second job at the pub to help provide for her parents and three younger siblings.
We talked about our families, our pet peeves and guilty pleasures and crazy dreams. I learned her youngest sister was eleven and was more like a daughter to her than a sibling. I learned she dreamed of going to an academy to become a nurse but felt bound to taking care of her sick father. When she finally forced a meal in front of my face, I begged her to eat it with me. I learned she hated for her food to be touching. I learned she rolled her eyes when she was embarrassed, she had a birthmark in the shape of a heart on the side of her neck, and she was deathly afraid of open water.
I’d known from the instant we spoke that she wasn’t like any of the other girls I’d usually take home after these nights out. The thought of her as another one of my flings hadn’t even crossed my mind. One hour turned into six, until the bartender threatened to kick us out if we didn’t leave.
I saw her every night after that.
She had joked that she didn’t want to meet my future, yet she became the most important part of it.
I bought a ring two weeks later but didn’t ask her to marry me for five months. I couldn’t work up the nerve. She’d found the ring tucked into one of my shoes when she used it to kill a particularly large spider in my room. The diamond had fallen onto her toe, and she’d shrieked, thinking it was another bug and immediately began beating at it.
