Nila half-laughed, half-scowled. “I’m torn in which I want more.” Turning, she faced the table and Emma.
Kes rolled his eyes, never looking away from his sister, waiting impatiently for dessert. “Come on already.”
“Pushy.” Emma grinned, puffing out her little cheeks. Her lungs expanded and she blew raspberries rather than air but managed to get the flames to turn into curling spirals of smoke.
The room erupted into claps and cheers.
Emma didn’t acknowledge the bikers or billionaires, secure in her place within their adoration. However, she did squeal and dance uncoordinatedly on her chair.
Nila grabbed Emma’s tutu, just in case she toppled over. “Good girl. I have no doubt all your wishes will come true.”
Kes stood by, his mouth watering. He didn’t care his sister’s spit just ended up all over the cake with her blowing attempt. All he wanted was sugar. Kid turned high as a damn kite whenever he had sweets. In that respect, he didn’t remind me of his namesake. My brother had never truly let himself go—never been crazy or adolescently stupid.
At the time, I thought it was just him, but now, I think he did it for me. If he’d let himself get carried away, I wouldn’t have had any choice but to be carried away, too.
Letting Nila go, I slipped my hand into my back pocket and squeezed the hidden box. Nila had seen this gift, but Emma hadn’t. It would be the last present but the most valuable.
All day Emma had gratefully accepted gifts. I loved that she genuinely appreciated everything—from socks and sherbet to a new swing-set and pony. Her young emotions filled my heart to bursting, and in an odd way, I was able to relive my childhood through her, replacing unhappy times with excellent ones.
“Down. Down. I want to get down.” Emma pointed at the floor.
Nila calmly plucked Emma from the chair, placing her on the travertine. “Don’t go anywhere. I believe Daddy has a present for you while I cut the cake.”
Nila’s black eyes met mine. We’d been together for such a short amount of years, yet it felt like she’d been mine for eternity. I would never grow sick of waking with her in my bed, or sharing my breakfast with her by my side, or helping her sew late at night even though her needles drew more of my blood than I liked.
I love you.
She beamed.I know.
Tearing my gaze from hers, I dropped to my haunches and motioned Emma to come closer. It was surreal to protect and raise children named after two people who had meant the world to us; two people who’d died in the war between our houses. Kestrel had adopted some of my brother’s quirks, but not all, and Emma doted on Textile in a way that made me wonder if she suffered a little of my condition.
There was no avoiding the avalanche of love and underlying despair from Tex that his wife wasn’t there to see her grandchildren grow. Emma would hold his hand and sit quietly on his lap, plastering up his hurt with quiet affection.
Taking my daughter’s hand, I looked toward the outskirts of the room. My sister-in-law, Jacqueline, lingered in the background. She’d come for a few days to celebrate Emma’s birthday but couldn’t shake the wariness the Hall invoked in her. Hawksridge had not been kind to the Weavers, and she hadn’t accepted her lineage that easily.
Nila and Vaughn had gone out of their way to welcome Jacqueline into their midst, but she’d been raised differently. She’d been a single child in a stuck-up family. She didn’t know how to handle large gatherings—and in that respect, I could relate.
We had happier times when we visited her in Cornwall—where Jacquie lived with her husband. There, on her own turf, her emotions were relaxed and confident while she lavished her little niece and nephew with love and antidotes.
She was a good aunt. However, her spiky black hair couldn’t be any different to Nila’s river of ebony. She shared the same eyes, same figure, same liquid grace, though.
Nila and Vaughn grew up believing they were twins; to find out they were triplets had taken some getting used to. However, the underlying history and mystery kept a moat from forming an intricate bond just yet.
In time, it would form. Nila would eventually warm her sister and help her dispel the remorse that she wasn’t there to help. Shame was a powerful thing and Jacqueline couldn’t shake the regret that she’d been firstborn by a few minutes, yet she hadn’t paid the debt.
She didn’t even fully understand the ramifications of the debt. Didn’t care to dive too deep into history.
My heart thundered. If Jacqueline hadn’t been secreted away and hidden, she would’ve been mine, not Nila. And the end to the Debt Inheritance might’ve been completely different, because even though I tolerated Jacqueline, I didn’t connect with her. Her emotions were scatty and undeveloped comparedto her sister. She would never have had the power to reach into my ice and shatter me from its hold.
My arms itched to hug Nila again. To thank her. To love her for being her.
So I did.
Straightening from my crouch, I quickly embraced my wife before dropping back to my haunches in front of Emma.
Nila accepted my hug with a soft smile, almost as if she’d followed my thoughts.
Emma smelled of cheese puffs and sausage rolls from the special treat for her birthday dinner. “Did you enjoy riding Hocus Pocus today?”
