A quaint house and an aging barn stood side by side. Smoke wafted from the squat stone chimney, and I saw movement behind the windows—outlined with fluttering curtains.
I urged Bear toward the barn, dismounting when we approached the latched doors. I opened them with a hearty push and led the horse inside.
Equinox stood in one of the stalls, munching contentedly on hay from a net which hung suspended from a beam above her. She tossed her head, pawing the ground playfully as she noticed me. I situated Bear into the next stall, removing his tack and giving him a hearty pat of thanks. I moved to Quin next. The mare whinnied as I approached, stretching my hands out to stroke her soft muzzle.
“Hello there,” I cooed, running my fingers down the soft length of the horse’s neck. I dropped my voice to a comical imitation of a whisper. “You know, Bear is a rather sweet old boy, but I certainly missed my girl.”
“Your girl?” Harkin asked.
I jumped, spinning to find him only a few steps from me. My cheeks flushed red. His brown hair was damp, dripping into his eyes and wetting the collar of shirt as if he had just finished bathing.
“She likes me better anyway.” I grinned around the feeling of butterflies dancing in my belly.
Harkin still hadn’t moved. “What are you doing here, Ren?”
“I needed you.” I shrugged, biting my lip nervously.
His eyes tracked the movement, and he let out a heavy breath.
I blinked, and he was upon me, hands sliding across my back as he drew me into an embrace. He inhaled against my neck, and I shivered, fingers finding the wet waves of his hair. Every muscle in my body relaxed—softened with safety.
“Maybe Equinox did miss you, traitor that she is, but I missed you more.”
I could hear the truth in his words, and my heart swelled.
“I missed you too,” I whispered in return. My hands moved forward to cup his jaw, fingers stroking over his freshly shaven skin.
Harkin pulled away, squeezing my hand once before letting go. “Come with me. We’ll have supper, and then we can talk.”
I nodded in agreement, not quite trusting my voice.
Harkin led me out of the barn and toward the small house. He pushed the door open with familiar ease, guiding me along with a hand at my lower back. His fingers were hot even through the fabric of my clothes.
“You didn’t tell me we were expecting company,” a woman, who I assumed to be Harkin’s mother, tutted as she caught sight of us in the doorway.
“Ah, well. Seren was not expected, but I am glad she is here nonetheless.” He turned to me. “This is my mother, Yvett.”
We walked deeper into the house, and Harkin pulled the cloak from my shoulders, hanging it by the hearth.
“Seren?” His mother lit up, a mischievous smile overtaking her face. She turned to Harkin but not before shooting a wink to me. “The woman you have yet to stop yammering on about? Well, you were right, she certainly is very pretty.”
Harkin’s face blazed with embarrassment. “Yes, thank you for that.”
“Anytime, my love.” Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Seren, are you hungry?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense, darling. Take a seat.” She waved off my hesitations.
At the sound of shuffling chairs and clinking plates, Harkin’s sister skittered into the room on bare feet. Her brown hair was long and braided; I wondered if Harkin had plaited them for her.
They all looked so alike.
I felt a bittersweetness about it. I had never looked like my parents or Luca. I wondered if I looked like my birth parents. What I had seen of King Tarquin had been so brief, I had not had the time to search his features for my own.
“Adina, this is Seren. Seren, this is my sister Adina.” Harkin made the introductions, helping Adina settle into her chair at the table.
Adina’s features settled into an impish expression so like her mothers I could not help but let out a soft laugh.
