“It likes everyone who isn’t the person it’s supposed to deliver messages to.” Lucian rubbed the bridge of his nose. “My mother sends them every few days. They get bolder each time.”
“What does she want?”
He exhaled through his nose. “The same thing she always wants. Updates, reminders about succession. Questions about when I plan to produce an heir.”
“An heir?”
“She’s been asking for centuries. I’ve been ignoring her.”
I sat down on the porch steps. The raven watched me with its head cocked, eyes pulsing. “Sounds rough. Being nagged by your mom for hundreds of years.”
“You have no idea.”
“I don’t. Because I never had one,” I said it without bitterness. “So forgive me if my sympathy for the immortal king whose biggest problem is a persistent mother and a sassy bird is somewhat limited.”
His jaw shifted. The irritation softened into an expression I’d seen more frequently over the past few weeks.
“I didn’t see it that way,” he said.
“No, I’m not holding it against you. It’s just funny.” I smiled at him. “You’re a spoiled only child, Lucian. Maybe that’s why the universe gave you Solomon and Percy.”
His mouth twitched. “Right. I’m definitely humbled. “
The raven launched itself off the railing with a cry that sounded offended. We watched it go. The morning settled around us, quiet except for the wind through the pines.
I picked at a splinter on the step. The silence between us was comfortable, but there were words sitting underneath it. Words I’d been carrying since that night in the forest, since our argument.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “About the fight. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Lucian turned. The morning light caught the planes of his face, his storm gray eyes finding mine.
“No.” His voice was careful. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have raised my voice or lost my temper.”
“It’s okay. I know I pushed your buttons.”
“Still. I could’ve been more understanding.”
“Let’s just agree that we could’ve both been more mature about it.”
His eyes held mine and I could see the gears turning behind them, deciding how much to reveal and how much to bury beneath composure.
“The council wants me to return.” Lucian’s voice was quieter now.
Not the king’s voice or the captain’s voice.
Just Lucian’s.
“My parents have been pressuring me through the ravens for months. An unmated king is a political liability. An absent, unmated king is a crisis.”
“And you’ve been ignoring them?”
“With great dedication.” His mouth slightly lifted. “I’ve threatened four separate ravens. The fifth one pecked me.”
“Good for the fifth one.”
He sat down on the step beside me, our shoulders almost touched. My body responded before my brain could intervene, a low pull in my chest that tugged toward him.
“They don’t know about you,” he said. “About the bond or any of this.”
