We moved at the same time. The jester stepped fully into the room, every finely carved feature on display, his graceful stride reminiscent of a panther. Down to the smooth gait, everything about this paragon radiated sexuality, intrigue, and danger.
Spreading his arms, Poet waltzed across the rug. “Couldn’t stay away from us, could you?”
“Well, it has been a while.” I improvised a stern frown while meeting him halfway. “I felt it wise to make sure you were behaving yourself.”
At once, the feigned formality disintegrated. With a fiendish grin, Poet snared me into a hug. Chuckling, we clasped one another, our humor amplifying as Nicu slammed into us, joining the embrace.
“Papa!” As we pulled back, Nicu linked his arms with Poet’s and my own. “Aire followed the ribbons!”
My young liege had been uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange, but now he glowed brighter than the dawn. The effect proved a blunt contrast to the provocative aura of his father, who could seduce or skewer his enemies with a quicksilver lance of his tongue. Yet a similar red band encircling Nicu’s wrist marked them as two sides of the same coin, along with their striking green eyes.
I ruffled Nicu’s hair, then second-guessed the action. He was no longer a child. Yet the Royal son merely flashed histeeth in gaiety, the canines more tapered than I recalled, which enhanced his faeish appearance.
“Alas, you exaggerate,” Poet dismissed, tucking his son close. “In this notorious family, we always behave ourselves.”
“I was referring only to you,” I grunted, then jutted my head toward Nicu. “I hardly need to fret about this one.”
“Give me another ticking clock,” Nicu contradicted.
Meaning, give him another few hours. So it seemed I had concerned myself for nothing, thankfully still grasping Nicu’s vocabulary.
That said, his manner of speech had taken on an artful edge.
I regarded him. “You’ve acquired your father’s rebellious nature.”
“Fuck nay.” Poet smirked. “Not just from me.”
“Indeed,” a feminine inflection announced. “I’ll thank you to give his mother some credit for that.”
We rounded on the entrance. There stood the princess, refined and statuesque in a bronze gown accented with small, glittering chains at the shoulders. Leaf-shaped combs held two ropes of intricately braided red hair from the upper half of her freckled countenance, with the remainder cascading freely down her back. Likely those combs also concealed a set of thorn quills.
Upon seeing his mother, Nicu radiated with felicity. Whereas Poet’s pupils flared with a passionate light. Given Briar’s arrival from the same threshold, the creases in her dress hem, and the unmistakable flush in her complexion, the jester and princess had taken their wanton pleasures somewhere in the corridor not thirty minutes ago. At this juncture, I knew the signs.
The years had been kind to this pair. Now in their mid-thirties, only faint lines skimmed beneath their lower eyelids. Otherwise, these two shone more fiercely than ever. At last,few in this kingdom doubted their mutual devotion, nor their strength as a couple.
Poised in the doorway, Briar glanced between us. Her expression transformed from ardent toward Poet, adoring toward Nicu, and affectionate toward me.
I broke into a stride, then prostrated myself on bended knee. “Your Highness.”
“None of that,” she admonished, enveloping me and then pulling back to squeeze my hands. “You’re part of this mutinous family.”
“Briar,” I amended. “It heartens me to see you all well.”
“What did you expect?” Poet maneuvered behind the princess and slipped a possessive arm around her waist. “My wife and son are immortal forces unto themselves.”
I crossed my arms. “And what does that make you?”
“A fine wine that gets better with age and costs a fortune,” Nicu replied.
Briar chuckled while Poet flashed their son a nefarious look of pride. “My love, have I told you lately how delighted I am that we share the same blood?”
“Sharing blood is a perk. But I was quoting you from yesterday.”
“Mmm. ’Tis why you’re my favorite progeny.”
“I’m afraid my husband’s vanity has not faded,” Briar endeared as she nestled into the jester.
Presumably for everyone’s benefit, Poet leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You love my vanity. It means I’m never subtle. A fact you take advantage of every night.”
