“Overruled,” Cas replied, but I saw the smile he tried to hide.
“You know, Simmy, I think I can sum up all these rules in three simple ones.” I cupped his face in my hands and smiled at him.
“Oh, really? And what would they be, my love?”
“Rule One. Breathe. Rule Two. Protect‘ohanaforever. Rule Infinity. No quitting.”
“No quittingever,” he whispered against my lips.
“No quitting ever,” Zane and Koa echoed, the words an unbreakable vow.
13. Toward a Tornado
Zane
Just before lunch, Brumous and I were bombing through the orchard, mushrooms exploding underfoot like nature’s whoopee cushions. Brumster had just launched into his daily ritual of “ambushing” the apple trees, all two hundred plus pounds of him springing vertically like an over-caffeinated squirrel, snapping at low-hanging fruit with delighted snorts, when the air sprite found me.
The little bastard hovered in front of me, all slender limbs and glitter farts, before slapping an envelope on my face, blowing a raspberry, and vanishing into thin air.
“Real professional, asshole.”
I peeled the slip of paper off my cheek, where it had momentarily adhered with some sort of celestial static electricity, and inspected the damage. Pristine white paper with edges that shimmered like mother-of-pearl, sealed with pearlescent wax and that familiar crest: A crown cradled in stormfire, threads of starlight twisting through it.
“Oh, that’s just perfect,” I groaned.
Brumous circled back to me, his paws kicking up clods of mud as he skidded to a halt. He cocked his head, blue eyes curious as he sniffed at the letter. His mind-voice pushed into my head, one of the perks—or curses, depending on the day—of my telepathy.
SPARKLE PAPER! SMELL GOOD!he announced at the volume of a klaxon.
“Inside voice, buddy.” I winced and tapped my temple.
OUTSIDE. NOT INSIDE.
“Yeah, but too loud, so chill a little. And it’snotgood. It’s my mum.”
Mum? Alpha Fun mum?Brumous’s tail started wagging at hyperactive puppy speed.Good! Mum good!
“Oh, sweet summer child,” I muttered, breaking the seal with my thumb. “You haven’t met Hurricane Doria yet.”
I scanned the letter, written in her distinctive hand, all dramatic swoops and elegant flourishes, like her personality had bled directly onto the page.
Zane,
Caelyr and I will be joining you for
dinner tonight. I’m curious to meet your
beloved.
—D
No “hello.” No “how are you?” Not even a “sorry for the last-minute notice, son.” Just “make it happen, captain.” Classic Doria Starling, Queen of the Sky Realm, High Matriarch of the Swan Maidens, and Champion of Giving Me Stress Ulcers.
“Son of a bat-licking bitch.” I crumpled the letter in my fist.
Bad?Brumous whimpered.
“The worst,” I said gloomily. Dinner. Tonight. With zero warning. Mrs. Wentzel was going to skin me alive, cure my hide, and turn me into fashionable vampire-leather accessories. “C’mon. Better go warn the kitchen czarina.”
