He swiped his thumb over the empty space beneath his name, a plume of magic etching letters into the metal.
Co-Founders: Isla Harper And Eleanor Jenkins.
Naia leaned over, grabbing Finnian’s arm. “Runa will be delighted! Perhaps we can add statues of them as well. What do you think?” She twisted her head to her husband.
Ronin stood on her other side, expression casual. “Whatever you want, babe.” The leader of the Blood Heretics looked the same: messy dark strands tied partially back, doing nothing to rid the curtain of bangs in his eyes, dressed in baggy black clothes that swallowed his physique.
Naia clicked her tongue with a smile.
Finnian rolled his eyes. “You add a statue of Ronin, and I will personally destroy it myself.”
Naia giggled as Ronin scoffed in the backdrop.
“Dad said you would say something like that,” Ash said.
Finnian looked down at his five-year-old nephew and met his deep-set gaze with a smirk. “Your father is a smart man, at times.”
Ash traced the engraving of Isla and Eleanor’s name on the plate, as if he could feel the magic particles webbed in its bronze.
“Your uncle is all talk.” Cassian tilted forward to wink at Ash. “He would only vandalize it a bit.”
Ash cocked his head up at him with raised eyebrows. “Dad also said to give you crap for trying to steal me as a baby.”
The amusement on Cassian’s face faltered, and he cleared his throat, straightening up. “Yes, well…”
Finnian barked out a laugh as Naia rolled her lips to downgrade her grin.
Ronin did no such thing. “That’s my boy.”
Ash peered up at Finnian intently, intrigued.
Finnian stared back at him, marveled by the little boy. He had traces of Naia with his wavy shoulder-length silver strands and kind aura; of Ronin with his eyes, as rich as the earth, and his witty remarks; of Father with his angular features and gentle disposition.
“Were they your friends?” Ash gestured to the names on the plate.
An ache in his chest throbbed, and he nodded. “They were my best friends.”
“Iris’s mom tells her stories of her great-great-great grandma Isla all the time. Says she wasbadass.”
“Ashy darling, that is a curse word.” Naia scrubbed her fingers through his hair.
“I don’t say it unless it’s what someone else said first,” Ash mumbled to his mother, fixing his ruffled strands.
She huffed through a growing smile.
How can she quarrel with that?
Finnian gave a breathy laugh. “I, once, watched her shoot an arrow made of magic straight through a man’s skull.”
“Finny!” Naia scolded, lightly smacking him on the arm. “That’s horrible!”
Ash’s eyes grew wide with fascination. “Magical weapons, like my dad’s briars?”
Finnian couldn’t help the flat look that dawned over his expression. “Yes, butmuchcooler.”
“They sure used to scare you shitless back in the day,” Ronin drawled under his breath.
Cassian chuckled at Finnian’s side.
