Chapter 21

21

Allarion entered the large front solar of Dundúran Castle with a frown on his face. He’d tried his best to smooth it on the walk over from the chamber he shared with Molly—it wouldn’t do to meet the princess looking so sour.

Yet, he couldn’t help it. He shouldn’t be attending the meeting alone.

“She’s only really requested you,” Molly had reminded him that morning.

That didn’t dissuade Allarion from wanting Molly to be there, but she insisted she needed to return to her uncle’s tavern.

“They need me.”

What her uncle needed was a swift kick to the posterior, but even Allarion understood that sentiment, while perhaps shared, wasn’t helpful. Still, it’d been with sharp teeth that he held his tongue as they padded around an argument.

Allarion meant to make things right by bringing her back to her family—he’d taken her from them under questionable pretenses, and while Molly had chosen to stay with him, he suspected that, for his own peace of mind as well as the strength of their bond, she needed to make that choice again, outside of his sphere of influence. And what was more, he had to provide the situation for her to choose fairly.

None of that was particularly easy to swallow.

Walking into the tavern the previous night to find her serving drunk patrons, a scene all too familiar, had enraged him. Not because she didn’t have to or even because he resented her family for taking her time. No, what Allarion hated was the vision of Molly without him.

Molly waiting tables in the tavern was one who hadn’t had him in her life. It was before . And…as a small part of him feared, could be the future if she chose to remain in Dundúran.

He didn’t truly believe she would, at least, not the rational part of him, nor even the sentimental part. Both had pressed his suit and claim in the late hours, feasting on her cunt until she couldn’t bear it any longer. Crass as it was, he enjoyed a feral sort of pride knowing no other could make her feel so good. He was the owner of her pleasure.

In the light of day, though, doubts crept in. Again, his rational side knew that she would have to choose, and the odds were good she’d choose him. Her cousins were something that could be accommodated—even brought to Scarborough when he was sure it was safe, if she so wished.

It was the side of him that remembered how it felt to watch a friend die, to feel the stab of betrayal by the Queen he’d sworn loyalty to, that sparked his resentment most. It was an ugly feeling, especially to have at the expense of children, but it couldn’t be helped. It was there. All Allarion could do was not let it rule him.

So he walked into the solar to meet Princess Isolde, alone and frowning a little.

If she noticed his tumultuous thoughts, the princess was too well mannered to show it. She rose from her seat on the sedan, a perfect smile adorning her lips. Her light brown hair, nearly auburn, had been brushed back behind a crescent cloth headdress that was fashionable with human women currently. For a princess, her gown appeared somewhat plain, a simple affair of dove gray and dusky pink, although up close, the subtle but exquisite embroidery and beading was evident. Much like its wearer, the simplicity of the gown belied its richness.

She’d grown a little from when Allarion saw her at the wedding of Lady Aislinn and Hakon. On the threshold between girlhood and womanhood, she was all long limbs and rounded cheeks. She reminded him very much of Ravenna at that age, a little too desperate to grow up.

“Your Grace,” he greeted, taking the hand she offered and bowing to kiss the back.

“Good morning to you, master fae. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“It’s a fool who squanders an audience with the crown princess, and I am no fool.”

The princess’s smile widened. “No, but you are trained in flattery.”

Allarion bobbed his head in assent. “Indeed, Your Grace. My house is an illustrious one, ancient as the highland cliffs. Manners are a requirement to my mother, the scion of our house.”

“She sounds formidable,” Princess Isolde quipped. “We have that in common, you see.”

“Formidable mothers are a force unto themselves.”

The princess hummed in agreement before gesturing at a chair positioned opposite the sedan. Once she’d resumed her place, Allarion sat gently on the edge of the cushion.

“I enjoy talking with you, master fae. I hope we may visit more while you’re here in the city.”

Allarion nodded, unsure quite where the princess led. “I enjoy speaking with you, too, Your Grace.”

“I hope you continue to.” Her smile faltered and, gaze dropping to her lap, the princess pulled a sealed letter from her pocket. “I asked for this meeting to convey a request from my father, King Marius.”

Without meeting his eye, Princess Isolde held out the letter. Allarion considered it as he reached to take it from her. He quirked a brow in question, but the princess could only nod at the letter.

“Please read it.”

Suspicion slithered through his veins as Allarion broke the wax seal. The symbol pressed into the red wax was of spread eagle wings set before a round oak shield, the symbols of Pyrros and Eirea, respectively. The paper was of the highest quality, soft between his fingers, and the writing itself was of a precise, meticulous hand. Even before reading, curiosity pricked Allarion to wonder if this was the king’s own hand or the neater writing of a scribe.

It mattered less as Allarion read the king’s request .

To Allarion Meringor,

My daughter, Isolde Monaghan, has been granted authority to treat with you on the matter of your continued presence within Eirea and lordship of the Scarborough estate.

I am desirous to know of your immediate plans for the estate. I understand that pledges have been made to the Darrows; however, further pledges of fealty to the crown will be most conducive to a friendly course between us.

It is also imperative to determine your commitment to the safety of this kingdom. While I commend the Darrows’ willingness to welcome all to their demesne, inclusion within Eirea must also come with the sacrifice to crown and country that any Eirean would be called upon to make. Should the safety of Eirea be threatened, the crown requires assurances that you will defend her.

This, of course, would come with a hand of friendship to you. An esteemed fae such as yourself will be welcomed at court and shall receive the estate of Haldenbrück within the crown demesne of Loígas.

Consider this carefully and convey your answer to the Crown Princess. I know you to be a wise man and look forward to your friendship and presence in Gleanná.

And congratulations on your impending nuptials. I hope to soon meet you and your Eirean bride.

With all respect,

His Excellence

King Marius Caellus of Eirea,

Prince Prospect of Pyrros,

Lord Protector of Gleanná,

Liege Loígas

Allarion read it twice just to be sure he hadn’t misunderstood anything. His grasp of written Eirean wasn’t as strong as that of written Pyrrossi, but coming to the flourish of signatures and titles at the end again, he felt certain he understood.

“Your father is threatening me,” he remarked.

The princess, the Twins bless her, choked.

Allarion waited patiently as the princess coughed as delicately as possible. Her color was still high when she finally regarded him with a pinched expression.

“My father wishes to ascertain if you will fight for Eirea, should the need arise,” she said, the perfect little diplomat.

His answering smile was all teeth, and the princess’s pulse visibly jumped in her throat. He didn’t relish scaring the girl, but it seemed she and her family needed a reminder that he wasn’t someone to threaten.

“My loyalty has been and shall remain to the Darrows, the ones who welcomed me and others here.”

Princess Isolde nodded carefully. “And that’s commendable, as is the work Lady Aislinn and her father are doing. It’s only just—to be citizens here, to enjoy all the benefits of our beautiful kingdom, is it not reasonable to ask for the loyalty expected of all subjects?” Her nostrils flared, taking in a deep breath, and Allarion wondered how many times she’d practiced that line.

“My loyalty has been pledged and assured. Bellarand and I fought to secure Lady Aislinn’s place as heiress. It would be foolish to think that I or any other folk who came to the Darrowlands seeking peace, would wish to make promises that should lead us into battle.”

The princess raised her hands in supplication. “There is no battle to speak of. It is merely a formality. The Darrows pledge fealty to the crown, as do their nobles. As a landholder yourself, it isn’t unexpected.”

“And are other Eireans expected to journey to the capital and pledge their loyalty?”

He didn’t need to see her flush to know they weren’t.

“So it is me and my fellow otherly folk who would be asked to do so.”

Princess Isolde tried to assure him again. “You are new to the kingdom. Any liege or ruler would want assurance from new actors. We have faith that you bring your best intentions to our kingdom, but again, it isn’t unreasonable to want assurances.”

“I and the others have lived here for months peacefully. We have made assurances to Liege Darrow. We have paid our taxes and fought on the battlefield.” Leaning forward, he handed the princess the letter back. “Your kind tried to use otherlies to fight their battles before. Mark me, princess, the wounds are fresh enough in their minds. Your human war games won’t be settled by otherly blood.”

Her throat bobbed, and her fingers clutched the letter in her lap. “You would defy the king?”

Allarion’s attention snagged on her last word. King .

“In what capacity does your father write this?”

The princess’s lips pursed. “My father is king consort. He speaks for my mother when she is indisposed. Unfortunately, her health has been poor since last spring.”

“But is this demand sent in her stead? Are these your mother’s words?”

Princess Isolde’s silence spoke far more than her careful answers. Allarion’s disgust curdled in his gut. It was as he suspected from the precise wording of the letter; the king consort had sent his daughter, a youngling, to do business that was both unsanctioned and self-serving.

Allarion’s lip curled. “It seems your father asks for that which isn’t his to have. He is not the crown.”

Her mouth fell open, to argue or reprimand, Allarion didn’t know. She snapped it shut just as quickly, and he watched as her eyes went glassy and her expression brittle.

Standing, Princess Isolde thrust the letter at him, obliging Allarion to retake it.

“I have executed my duty, you have read the king’s request. I anticipate your answer tomorrow.” She bobbed in a small curtsey, staring around Allarion’s shoulder. “I suggest you consider his offer.”

With that, the princess left him.

Allarion sighed, turning the letter about in his fingers.

As his Molly might say, what a fucking mess.

Allarion’s mood improved little throughout the day, but it had less to do with the king consort’s demands and much more with Molly being gone past dark.

When he passed Lady Aislinn on his way down to the stables, he made their excuses.

“Is Miss Molly all right?” she asked, her fair brows knitted with concern.

“She is well—just visiting family. I go to fetch her now.”

The heiress nodded, gaze straying to the door that led into the dining hall.

“Your absence wouldn’t have anything to do with our special guest, would it?”

Allarion shook his head. “The princess is merely the messenger. I wouldn’t punish anyone for that, especially not a girl.”

Lady Aislinn stepped closer. “I don’t mean to pry, but is this business between you something my father should know about?”

“The king asks for what you and your father already enjoy—fealty from me and the otherly folk. However, his methods are perhaps more heavy-handed.”

“Ah. I see.” A troubled look overcame her golden face. “The queen hasn’t mentioned requiring such a thing in her letters. I don’t presume to know all her thoughts, of course, but I’d assume she’d mention it if it was on her mind.”

“I don’t believe this comes from the queen, my lady.”

Her brows arched in understanding. Looking at the entrance to the dining hall again, the heiress sighed. “Poor Isolde. She’s caught in the middle between them.”

Allarion hadn’t poked his nose into the business of human politics terribly much in his time in the Darrowlands—yet, it was hard not to hear of how little love was lost between Queen Ygraine and her consort. Distant cousins from two feuding branches of the Eirean royal family, their union had ended years of bloody warfare between the sides that saw dozens of noble houses decimated. The kingdom emerged smaller, weaker, and divided.

It was why the orc clans had begun moving further into the western foothills and the Pyrrossi advancing from the south. Perhaps the fae too might have made a play for more territory, had Amaranthe’s attention not been solely focused on herself.

The princess stood to inherit a multitude of problems with few allies, even from within her own family. If Allarion was charitable, perhaps the king sought to shore up alliances for his young daughter and heir. However, Allarion had lived far longer than the king and his whole family line. Many human royals had come and gone, too many for him to keep count. What they did, they did for their own interests.

The thought of King Marius and his possible motives only brought Allarion’s thoughts back to Brom Dunne. It seemed, despite miles of distance and fathoms of difference, the men weren’t so unalike.

“I will speak with you tomorrow, after I have met with the princess,” Allarion told Lady Aislinn. Bowing, he took his leave. “Please excuse me while I fetch my bride.”

“Of course. Good evening, Allarion.”

He left the heiress, descending through the castle and out the main steps. Bellarand awaited him at the bottom, and Allarion lost no time swinging himself up onto the unicorn’s back.

Off to get the human?

Yes. I don’t wish her to walk in the dark.

Bellarand’s great hooves clattered on the cobblestones through the city. Although not everywhere was as well lit as the castle and main thoroughfares, they needed no lights to guide them.

The city was lively at night, light and patrons spilling from various drinking establishments. However, it wasn’t so busy in the part of the city where Brom’s tavern sat. A few neighbors milled about in the pools of light burning from the tavern windows, and about a dozen patrons had packed inside, but nothing like the previous night.

When Allarion swung the door open, the space inside was far calmer. Molly was bringing two tankards from the bar to a pair of patrons, and she looked up with a smile when she saw the door opening.

That smile faltered, and Allarion hated it. Now that he knew what her true smile was, he never wanted to see the forced one again.

Rather than take a table as he had before, Allarion remained in the doorway, his message clear. They were leaving.

It may have been unfair, even callous of him, but he wanted his mate.

Molly noted his rigid stance, and he watched her sigh and turn back to the bar. Unknotting the apron from her waist, she placed it on the steps leading upstairs.

“I’m headed out,” she called to her uncle.

“It’s early yet,” Brom argued. “And there are still customers. Don’t make me get one of the girls.”

Molly turned a spitting glare on her uncle. “Don’t you dare wake the girls.”

“Someone’s got to—”

A thrust of magic boomed through the tavern, snuffing all the candles and lifting the blanket of dust off every surface. Several hats were knocked off heads, and Allarion’s own cloak fluttered in the artificial gust.

“Leave,” he growled.

The patrons stared through the dim before, as one, they slapped down coins and hurried past him out the door.

When the tavern was cleared out, Allarion held his hand out for Molly.

Her lips twitched. “An early night would do everyone good,” she told her uncle as she strode to take Allarion’s hand.

Together, they left the tavern. He helped Molly mount Bellarand before swinging up behind her. As the unicorn turned toward the castle, Molly leaned her body back into Allarion’s.

He buried his nose in her hair and took a long, deep breath. His arms came around to hold her tighter to him, for the tighter he held, the looser the knot in his chest.

“I missed you,” he breathed. “I don’t like being parted from you.”

“I know,” she said quietly, her hands coming to lay over his. “I missed you, too.”

The words pricked holes in his inflated anger, and Allarion sighed into her hair, most of the heat of his ire escaping him. Goddesses, the effort of staying irritated with her and the situation at the tavern had so little value next to having her.

Still, “I don’t want you staying there so late. I worry about you.”

“I don’t want to serve there again, but I worry about the girls. If there’s any money left, he’s keeping it for himself.”

Molly had told him, even through her exhaustion last night, of how Brom had squandered the money. Allarion burned with indignation to think of a father depriving his own children when it was in his power to change it. His own father had been aloof, but he always provided for all his children. Maxim’s sacrifice for Ravenna was true fatherhood, and men like Brom Dunne cheapened it.

“I can provide for the girls, sweetling. That isn’t a problem.”

Molly rubbed the backs of his hands. “You’re a good man, Allarion. But more money won’t solve this—he’ll just find a way to take it from them.”

“Then what is to be done?” Dropping his mouth to her neck, he kissed the curve where her shoulder met her spine. “I won’t give you back to him.”

“I…I think I’m going to see the mayor tomorrow. He’s intervened before, maybe he can help.”

That means more time here, doesn’t it? Bellarand grumped.

I’m afraid so.

The unicorn huffed. The hay in the stables makes me itch.

“We will see this issue of your cousins resolved, sweetling. This I promise you. But we cannot be away from Scarborough for much longer.” Between the days already spent in Dundúran and being parted from Molly for much of it, the magic gathering inside him had begun to burgeon. If it was left to swell too much, he couldn’t account for how volatile it could become when mixed with his temper.

Although Brom Dunne deserved whatever retribution Molly would allow, Allarion couldn’t say the same of their neighbors.

Molly worried her lip between her teeth. “All right. I’ll see what the mayor says tomorrow.”

Another knot loosened inside him when she didn’t insist she stay behind in Dundúran. He was still resolved to give her her choice, but he couldn’t promise he’d abide by that resolve, when it came time to leave. The thought of returning to Scarborough without her stung like burrs against the skin, rubbing him raw.

Molly laid her head back on Allarion’s shoulder to peer up at him. He didn’t know how much she could see of him in the intermittent light of illuminated windows and lampposts, but he devoured the sight of her gentle face, lips curving into a small grin.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but how was your day? What did the princess say?”

Allarion sighed, wishing he had better news to share. Molly listened carefully as he relayed what the princess said and the king’s letter. As he spoke, a frown gathered at her brow, deepening with each revelation.

By the time they made the castle wall, she was outright scowling.

“I don’t like it at all,” she grumbled.

“Neither do I. But kings have a way of making demands and expecting them to be heeded.”

Molly chewed her lip again as they crossed the courtyard, so Allarion laid his fingers on her throat, tipping her head back so he could take those poor abused lips for his own.

“Let me,” he murmured into her mouth.

He tasted her laugh, and one of her hands reached back to grip his hair.

Ugh. Bellarand came to a stop and gave them a jostle. Take it inside, I’m tired.

Allarion dismounted before he could be thrown off, helping Molly down just as the unicorn turned for the stables.

“Thanks for the ride!” she called after him, getting only a flick of his tail in response.

“He doesn’t like the hay,” Allarion explained.

“He’s a big baby is what he is.”

I heard that.

“Then clop faster!”

An indignant huff echoed from the shadows.

Allarion took Molly’s hand to tuck into his elbow. He was ready to lay down with his mate—hopefully after spending an hour worshipping her pretty pink cunt. Two nights and already Allarion knew he couldn’t survive without them; he needed to have her on his tongue and he needed to hold her as she slept.

A growing desire to have her hold him as he slept had taken root in his mind, too.

Tiredness nipped at the edges of his mind, and it’d likely be wise to take a long sleep tomorrow, but there was simply too much that had to be done. And, he wouldn’t leave Molly unguarded for so long.

He turned toward the castle steps but stopped when Molly tugged on his arm.

He found her expression once again troubled, those lovely brown eyes dark under her frown.

“I don’t like being a vulnerability for you.”

“Oh, sweetling, no.” Gathering her close, he tucked her under his cloak to guard against the night chill and banded his arms around her. Pressing a kiss into the crown of her head, he said, “You are my greatest strength. Any who would think otherwise, or underestimate you, are fools—and you are no fool.”

One sad little laugh vibrated against his chest, where she’d pressed her cheek. “I don’t feel very strong most days.” She wrapped her own arms around him and squeezed gently. “But…you make me feel like I am.”

“One day soon, I hope you won’t need my assurances, though you will always have them. That you will see what I do.”

Molly tipped her head back, resting her chin on his chest. “What are you going to tell the princess?”

Allarion grumbled. “That’s not so easy. To draw the ire, and worse the eye, of a man like King Marius…he could make things difficult if he so wished.”

“Fuck him,” Molly said, bold as could be.

He couldn’t help a guffaw of surprise.

“You’ve already defied a queen far scarier than him,” she reminded him. “What’s a king to Amaranthe? A king consort at that.”

Allarion folded himself around his precious azai, body shaking with the laughter he worked to hold in.

She smoothed her hands in soothing strokes up and down his back, whispering, “Don’t let him force you to do something against your conscience.”

He hummed in agreement. “Not diplomatic, but infinitely wise is my azai .”

“And don’t you forget it.”