Birdie and Fawn insisted on sitting with the other staff, but Amelia wouldn’t have it. Echo had no compunction about joining the royal table and immediately began shoving food into their mouth.
Tully, Ora’s father, was notably absent due to the letter his daughter had left the night before. It stated she couldn’t bear to see Rennick with another and that she wouldn’t be returning to the Mountain Kingdom anytime soon.
Finn’s idea.
Their table erupted with laughter when Echo said something utterly inappropriate, drawing the attention of those around them. Amelia noticed Dean’s head snap up, his fist rubbing over his chest as he scanned the other tables on the podium before stopping on theirs.
Odd.
A server who looked to be in his early twenties tapped Fawn on the shoulder. She turned with a wide smile that turned into a scream when the boy was ripped backwards and thrown to the ground by a possessed-looking Dean.
Fawn scrambled out of her chair to get away from the Garden King, but he snagged her around the waist and tugged her against him. His chest heaved as he stared into her scared eyes. No one in the room moved. They recognized a royal claiming what was theirs.
“I thought you were dead,” Dean rasped, lifting her into his arms.
Fawn kicked her legs and thrashed around. “Put me down!”
He lowered her to the ground and stared at her with wonder. “You’re stunning, Fawn.”
She backpedaled until she bumped into her chair. “How do you know my name?”
The room watched the two with unwavering attention, hanging onto every word of the drama unfolding before them. Damned palace gossips.
“I’ve known your name since I was thirteen years old. My father had men searching the four fae kingdoms for you.” He stopped with a pained expression. “But when we were fourteen, I felt agonizing pain, followed by a deep sorrow.” Fawn trembled under Dean’s intense gaze. “And then I felt nothing at all.”
Callum, ever the father of reason, stood and approached the two. “Let me take you two somewhere private, where you can discuss things without prying eyes.”
Fawn composed herself and schooled her features into the picture of calm, but Amelia saw the quick flash of panic in her eyes. “You’re his mate,” Amelia said softly. “He won’t hurt you.”
“I’m only half fae.” She turned to Dean. “There’s been a mistake.”
“There is no mistake, darling.” He caressed her cheek, looking at her with enough adoration to make the entire room swoon. “You are mine, and I’m not leaving here without you.”
“Come.” Callum wrapped his arm around Fawn’s shoulders. Dean didn’t look happy with another man touching her, but he was wise enough to let it go.
The poor server still lay on the floor in a state of shock, and Echo rolled their eyes and hauled the boy to his feet. “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”
The boy fainted.
EPILOGUE
SEVEN YEARS LATER
“Corrigan, if you don’t put him down, you’ll be mucking the stables for a week!” Amelia shouted across the palace play yard they had built a few years ago.
Well,Rennickhad it built. It stood inside of the palace walls and was reminiscent of a mini training arena but with lush grass and green ivy climbing its high stone walls. A glass dome covered the top to keep the snow out and the heat in, but tiny openings placed strategically in the stone allowed for enough airflow to keep it from getting stuffy.
Structures made for climbing, swinging, jumping, and other various activities littered the inside. It was what children’s dreams were made of.
Guards stood at the gates day and night to ensure no one snuck in, and before the children entered, someone had to do a perimeter check, but Amelia hadn’t expected anything less from her husband.
Corrigan, their six-year-old daughter, dropped Wren, Finn’s four-year-old son, unceremoniously, and when he hit the ground, he stood on chubby legs and glared at her. He was a miniatureversion of his father, with dark hair, golden brown skin, and strong features. The only thing he’d inherited from his mother were his aquamarine eyes. He often stayed at the palace while his parents trained with the other warriors.
Corrigan looked like Amelia but with brilliant red hair like Rennick’s mother. Her personality, however, was a direct copy of Rennick’s. Gods help them all.
Rennick burst out of a nearby playhouse with a growl, holding his arms up like a beast. Both kids ran with a mixture of screams and giggles, tugging at Amelia’s heartstrings. He swooped Corrigan into one arm and Wren into the other, spinning them around as they wiggled and kicked their feet, their laughter bouncing off the walls.
Greta perched atop one of the play structures, watching Rennick and the children. From the time Corrigan was born, the owl could be found perched near wherever she was when outside, keeping watch like her personal guard.
