Chapter 25

Cricket

Once Julian's been tended to—no stitches, though I swear the cut would heal twice as fast if he'd have let Hatty put a couple in, the big baby—and we've had a meal and a wash, Roslyn sends us to her room to get some rest.

They've taken all our clothes to be laundered, so we're both wearing women's robes. Mine at least fits well enough, as Roslyn is about my size, but Julian's fits so snuggly against his shoulders it's like a second skin.

A second, pink cotton skin with white lace ribbons and dainty opal buttons.

I giggle. "You're adorable."

"And you're a menace." He scowls, but it's his teasing scowl, not the real one.

We climb into bed together, even though it's the middle of the afternoon. The lack of sleep has caught up to me. The coin has gone dormant, silent on the bedside table where Julian put it when we changed clothes, no longer ordering me around or boosting me with its power.

"I feel as though I could sleep for a week." I lie on my right side.

Julian lies on his left so we're facing each other. "A week doesn't seem like enough. A month? A year? Maybe then we'll be caught up."

I lean forward and kiss him like I've wanted to do about a hundred times today. But he'd seemed so lost I'd held back.

He returns the kiss, a bit too gently, a bit too hesitantly for my taste, and breaks it off before it has a chance to deepen. Not that I want things to get all hot and steamy, not in Roslyn's bed anyway, but the need to reconnect burns deep.

Where do I start? We have much to talk about, though this may not be the right time with both of us half dead from exhaustion. "Are you all right?"

"Thanks to you, yes. I'm all right. And you?"

"I'm fine." Why do things between us feel stiff and formal suddenly? I toy with the laces at his collar. "Bit worried, I guess."

"About seeing your friends?"

"That and also you."

"Me?"

"Of course. You've been through more trauma than any one person could be expected to bear, twice over now, so yes, I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not important."

"Shut your mouth." I kiss him again to be sure he obeys. "Don't ever repeat that. It isn't true, and I won't have you thinking it is."

"Cricket, I?—"

"Careful, if one bad thing about yourself comes out of that mouth, I'll flick you right in the nose." I hold up my fingers to show him I mean business.

Finally, that makes him smile a bit.

A half smile only, but it still counts.

"Cricket, I owe you an apology. I owe you far more than that, but there aren't words enough to cover my debt. You're being kind because I'm injured, but you must be mad?—"

"I'm not mad." This line of thought needs squashing. "And I'm not coddling you with kindness either. I'm kind to you because I like you and because you deserve kindness."

He squeezes his eyes shut as if my words cause him pain. "You should be angry with me. I think of a thousand reasons why."

"Well, I'm not." I touch my fingertips to his eyelids and run them gently over his brows. "Open."

He looks at me. Emerald eyes watery.

"You've never had anyone on your side, have you? You don't know what it feels like. You don't trust it. But now you have me, and we will learn about partnership together, all right?"

He murmurs an unconvincing affirmative.

"I don't have to hold the past against you if I don't want to, and I don't want to. You had your reasons. Now you don't. Let's be good to each other moving forward."

"That simple?"

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve you."

Nonsense. But he isn't ready to let it go, and that's fine. "Then earn me."

"I will, Cricket. I will. With everything I have."

This time, when we kiss, it feels right again. Like we fit. Like we will always fit.

I curl into him as though the crescent of his body is made for me, and he wraps his arms around me as though he'll never let go. We breathe together for a long while. He drops kisses on my forehead. I nuzzle the bit of his neck that isn't covered in bandages.

Before sleep can drag me under, curiosity strikes. "Hey, Jules?"

"Hmm?"

I love the way his throat rumbles against my skin. "Whose bloody dagger is in my boot?"

"Oh." He pulls back, his expression clouding. He takes a deep breath. "It belonged to the Gatekeeper."

"What?" My eyes threaten to bug out of my head. "The Gatekeeper is your father?"

"Ssh, not so loud, please. And no. Not my father. He's my uncle."

One shock after another. "The same uncle who kicked you out at nine years old?"

"The very same, yes."

"And your parents?"

"My mother is the Gatekeeper's mad sister. She's been dormant since my birth and unfit to rule since long before that, which is why the task fell to my uncle. No one knows who my father is, and there's none left of the bloodline."

"Except you."

"Right."

"Because the Gatekeeper has produced no heirs."

"Ah, I see you've grasped my predicament."

"Is that why the guild was after you? To force you north?"

"Maybe. That's part of it. I don't know. The previous queen?—"

"Aurielle," I say needlessly.

"Yes, Aurielle. She'd been on the hunt for a sorcerer for decades. When the rumors made it to Lemossin that the Gatekeeper might have an heir, the search for me was begun. Not public, clandestine, through dark channels. She wanted me for herself. But when Tauren found me, so did he."

My mind is reeling, learning this. I have so many questions, but I stay quiet and listen. It can't be easy for him to share this story.

"I didn't know, mind you. I thought meeting Tauren was random. Luck. Fate. No one had ever paid me attention like he did. No one wanted me the way he did. No one had cared one way or another before Tauren. I was alone. No friends, no family. His attention was intoxicating. Like a drug. And before I knew it, I was addicted."

"My poor Jules. Ripe for the plucking, weren't you? I'm glad I killed him."

"Technically, Slinger killed him."

"Yes, but I would have."

"Thank you. It's good he's dead. Now he can never hurt anyone else."

"He never told Aurielle about you?"

"I don't know. I doubt it. She'd have wanted an heir to the Gatekeeper's bloodline that she could control. And a female at that. I'd have been no more than a breeding stud in her eyes."

"And the new queen?"

"Is content to have the Gatekeeper in the north as he's always been. I don't think she knows of me, and if she did, I don't think she'd seek me out. She has freed the gargoyles and the incubi, empowered humans, and distributed fae wealth across the lands. A woman like that cares not to make a slave of one man."

"Let's hope you're right." A thought occurs. "But the Gatekeeper, what if he wants you back?"

"Trust me. He doesn't."

"His loss. I shall keep you for myself." I kiss him again. His lips are irresistible. Midkiss, I gasp. "You're a prince. I'm sleeping with a prince."

"Ssh. Let's not tell everyone in the house, please."

"Fae royalty. You're one of them. This whole time. Does that make me a consort? Am I royal consort?"

"You're Cricket, as you've always been. And I'm your Jules. Go to sleep."

A royal consort…the old me would probably have tried to steal something from the new me.

Good thing I'm not a thief anymore.