Talon follows me to the bedroom and slides in next to the wall. He holds his arms open for me and I cuddle close with my head on his chest. We just fit and I hope he doesn’t toss and turn. He’s warm and comfy. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep and I wish that were the case for me as well.
Despite Talon being right next to me, I fight sleep for as long as possible. There are shadows of the Winter Court in the back of my mind every time I close my eyes. I have a feeling my theory that sleeping close to someone blocks the visions is about to be put down.
“It’s time, if you’re ready,” mother says.
We’re alone in her chambers. The full moon shines brightly through the stained glass windows overhead. Six years, she’s kept me protected from the fate of a courtesan. Six years she’s known what the next stage is. I understand now what she’d done for me.
“I’m sorry I was a brat before.”
She cups my cheeks with her soft fingers. “My sweetling.” Her wings flutter and she lifts in the air to press her forehead to mine. “I can continue to protect you still, if you wish. We have time.”
I shake my head. “His Majesty is impatient. He’s threatened me again.”
Mother’s face burns red. “I wish I’d chosen the Summer Court, or Spring even.”
“He wants to use me in negotiations.” I lick my lips and swallow. “This time he said if I don’t glow soon he’ll send me to the Hole.”
Mother blinks a few times, and her wings flitter as she drops to her feet. “He wouldn’t dare.” She speaks through gritted teeth. Her words are barely above a whisper.
“Lorin told me what to expect. He said it’s not bad, just a lot of…” I swallow and look to the ceiling, not wanting to speak of such matters with my mother.
Mother squeezes my arm. “We can run. You, me, and Lark.”
“No. I can handle the training. I can handle anything.” I can’t tell her that I’d never dream of taking her away from the life she’s built. While she doesn’t agree with Their Majesties on everything, I know she loves them both dearly. To ask her to leave them would be selfish. She’s their lover, their beloved.
“My brave Wren. If you’re sure?” She rummages through the drawer in her table and pulls out a pair of golden scissors.
“I’m sure.” I settle into a chair I’ve spun around backward.
“This shouldn’t hurt as much as when we did it, but take slow breaths.”
I nod and lean forward a bit while clutching the back of the chair. “Ready when you are.”
The first snip through the moon thread gives me instant relief. I cry out before slapping my hands to my mouth. Magic floods through my wings again like they’d done that fateful day six years ago.
Mother sucks in a breath behind me. “They’re more beautiful than before.” She runs a finger softly against one of my wings. “They’ll set your initiation for three days from now. Get as much rest as you can. But first, go show His Majesty.”
When I turn, there are tears in mother’s eyes. They shine against her cheek when they fall. Have I done the right thing? Or should I have waited? I can’t tell mother His Majesty threatened to send Lark away if I didn’t comply. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?
Three days later, my entire life turns upside down.
20
TALON
Mother comes and gathers the cherry tarts on time and I can’t decide if I’m happy or annoyed about it. Now we have to deal with our mess from last night.
It’s somehow worse than I remembered. There’s cherry juice dried onto one cutting board, sticky enough that I have to scrub it twice. Flour clings to the corners of the prep table and to the seams of the floor mats. We used nearly every bowl in the bakery, which shouldn’t have happened for one batch of tarts, but Wren kept asking questions and I kept handing him ingredients and somewhere along the way we lost all sense.
It’s the best mess I’ve ever made.
Wren is quieter than usual as we work. Not silent, exactly. He still teases me when I splash him. Still makes a scandalized noise when I tell him he’s loading the dishwasher wrong. Still steals a spoonful of leftover cherry filling from the bowl I set aside. But there’s something off in the edges of him, something I don’t think I would have noticed a week ago.
He yawns for the third time while drying the muffin tins.
I look up sharply.
He immediately tries to hide it by ducking his head and reaching for another towel. “Don’t judge me.”
