“Oh, something most certainly happened.” But their mother was … smiling. Staring at her eldest son with pride. Saoirse’s eyes flicked between them quickly, confusion knitting her brow.
“You already know,” Alec whispered. Were his hands … shaking?
“Saoirse doesn’t. Neither does Rion.”
Alec’s gaze flicked up to Rion and hardened again. His fists clenched. “I—”
“He’s not a threat,” Eimear whispered, then leaned forward to rest one hand over Alec’s.
“You tell them.”
Eimear smiled again, so broad and pure. “We’ll be welcoming another youngling in a few months.”
“What?” Saoirse exclaimed, looking between her brothers. She focused on Alec’s rapid heart rate, the way his shoulders were tensed. “There’s no way. I’ve never even seen you with a female.”
“I keep that part of my life private.”
“But I’m your sister,” Saoirse exclaimed.
“Even more reason.” A slight smile crossed his face, even as the anxious lines returned. A youngling. Alec was going to have a youngling. Someone who would continue their bloodline.
“Who is it?” Saoirse pressed. “Who’s the female?”
“I’ll introduce you later.”
“Gods, Alec,” Saoirse sat back in her chair. “I’ve never even met her?”
Another smile. “Maybe once. You clocked it for what it was then.”
Saoirse furrowed her brow as if thinking through every conversation she’d ever had with her brother. “How far along?”
“About four months,” Eimear replied.
Saoirse threw up her hands. “So you knew even before—Gods, that was before we even went to Móirín. No wonder you’ve been so damn moody.”
“I resent that.”
“Congratulations,” Rion said. Alec looked up at him again, studying his brother, assessing whether he might be a threat to his unborn child. Never. Rion would let his body be torn apart before he’d ever hurt an infant, let alone his own family.
“Thank you.” It was strained, but Rion could see the resolve in Alec’s eyes. The need to protect and do whatever it took to ensure they won this war. Because if they didn’t, if they failed, if they fell, then everything would fall with them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Arianna
Arianna tried to rest, but nightmares and uncertainty only allowed a few hours at most. It was still dark out, the palace silent and sleeping. She lay there, staring up at the ceiling for a time before rising to pace the room. Arianna ran her fingertips over the books, but images of Rion doing the same had her backing away. Her magic flared within, coating the shelves with a light frost.
She needed to get out of here.
Arianna ventured inside the closet, pulling on a pair of loose pants and a short-sleeved shirt before returning to the main room. She stared at the floor, a sense of impending doom settling through her.
Vairik was coming for them. She knew it in her bones. If they didn’t do something soon—Arianna kicked the table between the two loves seats hard. The wooden leg splintered and the book that had been resting on top of it hit the floor with a soft thunk. Adrenaline pulsed through her body, urging her to do more. Maybe she should shred the entire room to pieces. But Arianna just stared down at the book, forcing her mind to calm. She walked over and picked it up, flipping to a middle section.
History. Of course, it was history. All lies etched into the pages of their entire world. Arianna slammed it shut and threw it straight into the fireplace, watching as embers rose up in a small cloud and settled around the leather.
Two candles flickered near her bedside, the only ones she’d left lit before attempting to sleep. Most of the room was bathed in shadow, but she’d stopped fearing the darkness a long time ago.
Arianna chewed her lip again, then pulled on her boots, and headed for the door. She didn’t know where she’d go; hell, she didn’t even know the layout of the palace. She just knew she couldn’t sit in this room another second without losing her mind.
