“While you were gawking with great trepidation at the Cauldron.”
“I was not—fine. Yes. I admit I’m a tad frightened by it.” I drink in the shimmer of my mate’s racy gown. “You are wearing a dress, right? The diamonds aren’t pressed to your skin?”
She tosses her raven locks off her shoulder, then hooks a finger into what I imagine must be fabric, even though it resembles a second layer of skin. “Phoeppa designed it. And no, it’s not some human hide pricked through with sky-blue rhinestones; it’s extremely stretchy fabric.”
“Great Mórrígan, look at you,” the designer in question claps as he walks over, wearing head-to-toe citrine. “Stunning. A jewel of the north.” He leans over to kiss her cheeks and murmurs, through a large smile, “Your father positively hates it.”
Isla laughs, then knocks her head toward me and says, “I’m not entirely certain that my mate likes it either.”
I like it,I growl, my blood warming, and not because of the sun sloshing over us.
Isla arcs a brow.
I merely hope your parents cannot tellhowmuchI like it.
She grins.
“It’s stunning, Phoebus,” I tell him. “A work of art, just like the woman wearing it.”
The tall blond Faerie fans himself. “Swoon.”
Meriam and Fallon swish toward us in gowns as pink as their eyes. Fallon embraces her daughter, her stare glittering like Isla’s strategically-placed rhinestones. As they hug, I check that all strategic places are well and truly covered.
“Are you ogling my granddaughter’s behind?” Cathal’s deep grumble rolls across my shoulders and pinches my neck.
“She’s my mate.”
He languidly strokes the head of a black feline tucked in the crook of his arm. How surprising to witness such a big man withsuch a delicate pet. Then again, I suspect even atenducub would appear delicate nestled in Cathal Báeinach’s arms.
“Still my granddaughter.”
I hold his challenging stare, then sigh. “If you must know, I was checking that her dress wasn’t missing any crystals.”
“Ah. Her father’s doing the same.” Cathal smirks while his little feline friend purrs in contentment.
I snort as I glance in Lorcan’s direction, finding him listing toward Behati, deep in conversation with both the seer and the Shabbin Queen. The Crow must feel my stare because his golden irises fix on me before venturing toward the Cauldron and finally toward his daughter. The frown that pleats his brow feels like a fork wedged between my ribs, scraping at the drumming muscle within.
“Welcome, Konstantin,” Meriam says, clasping my head and stare.
The first time she’d touched me, I’d jolted. But then Isla had explained that her great-grandmother’s plan was to deliver a blessing. So I’d relaxed and was blessed.
I probe the Shabbin’s expression for agitation as she murmurs, “You will scale to great heights today.”
I’m so concentrated on her face that her words only register once she’s released me and is walking away.
What did you get?Isla asks.
That I will scale to great heights today, though considering the way your father is looking at me, I’m a tad worried about what will happen once I reach this lofty altitude.
You. Are. Safe.
Am I, though?
“Approach the Mahananda, children,” Behati says.
“Children,” I scoff as Isla threads her arm through mine.
“Compared to her, evenyouare a babe,” she says, her tone not quite as smooth as usual.
