“I prefer boring,” I replied honestly. “But the results were great.”
Sorcha was trying to maintain some semblance of order at the table, but it was a losing battle. Killian portaled his water glass three times. A roll mysteriously appeared on Aurion’s plate. Tyreen was gesturing animatedly while explaining something to Casimya, nearly knocking over the wine.
Then I noticed Killian’s eyes starting to droop. He was fighting it, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head like he could physically shake off the tiredness. But it was a losing battle.
Mid-sentence about the Earth books, he yawned hugely.
“Someone’s tired,” I observed.
“‘Mm, not tired,” Killian protested, even as his head started to droop.
Within five minutes, he’d given up the fight entirely. His head settled on my lap, his little body going limp as sleep claimed him. I stroked his hair absently.
“He has incredible power for his age,” Tyreen observed, her voice pitched low so as not to wake him. “Probably his ancestry of witches combined with being the son of one of Lytopia’s most powerful families.”
“That’s what worries me,” I admitted. “He’s so young. So powerful. If he can’t control it...”
“I will teach him control,” Tyreen promised. “I swear it. Don’t worry about it.”
I really, really didn’t want to.
***
After dinner, Mal gently lifted Killian into his arms. Our son barely stirred, just made a small sound and nestled against his father’s chest.
We carried him to his bedroom and laid him on his bed. He woke up just enough to mumble sleepily, “Don’t leave again.”
My throat tightened. “We won’t, baby,” I promised, tucking the blanket around him. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Mal did the same, his lips brushing Killian’s hair. “We are here. We are staying.”
Killian’s eyes were already closing again. “Promise?” he managed.
“Promise,” we said together.
We stood there for a moment, then left quietly, leaving the door open and guards positioned right outside.
Back in our chambers, we changed into sleeping clothes and climbed into bed.
“How do we contact an enemy prince without starting a war?” I asked, staring at the ceiling.
“Carefully,” Mal said. “Very carefully.”
“Well, that was helpful,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“I am working on a plan,” he assured me. “We need Tyreen’s knowledge. She knows Igryside better than anyone.”
“Okay. We can do it tomorrow,” I agreed. “Let’s rest now.”
I rolled toward him. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”
He pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me. “We will be.”
I pressed my face against his chest and let myself relax. We were home. Killian was safe. Tyreen was with us.
Whatever came next, we’d face it as a family.
***
