Page 25 of Forgiving a Fae Warrior

Galendriftedtosleep,content to linger in pleasant dreams with Sylvie still pressed against him and wrapped in his arms.

Until a shiver of magic rolled across his skin, jerking him awake. Sylvie roused at his side, likely having felt the same thing. Forest magic, by the feel of it, and familiar.

“Shit.” Reality rushed in like a painful punch to the ribs. He should have known someone would come looking for them. They’d missed whatever happened between the kings. War? Death? They weren’t terribly far from the site. He hadn’t felt any great outpourings of magic to signal a massive battle, but with all his focus on Sylvie, he could have missed something.

Sylvie had already hastened to her discarded clothes and began tugging them on in earnest. Galen did the same. Whether a random patrol or someone searching for them, it’d be best to face them clothed and prepared.

“Let me handle them,” Sylvie said.

Galen shot her a hard look. “They’re probably here for me. I won’t have you bear the burden of my crimes.”

“But—”

“No. Please,” he begged. “In this, let me care for you for once.”

She swallowed thickly but nodded, still working on the last of her armor.

A loud whistling teased Galen’s ears. Any doubt of who approached and why vanished from his thoughts.

He knew that tune well. It was one Ambrose, the king’s Captain of the Guard, favored, especially when he was in an uncertain mood.

Of course he would come looking for them. To take Sylvie from him and order her to return to the Forest, to dole out a fateful decision upon him, or both, he couldn’t say, but no outcome seemed favorable. For all that he cared for and respected the man, he followed the rules to the letter and was the king’s trusted friend and advisor for a reason.

The whistling slowly grew louder, as if Ambrose took his time making his way to them and wanted them to be fully aware of his approach. When Galen could hear his intentionally loud steps through the dry underbrush, he stepped from the shelter with Sylvie not far behind.

“Ambrose.” Galen crossed his arms.

“Galen.” Ambrose nodded before coming to a stop a few feet away and staring past him. “Sylvie.”

“What news of the battle?” Galen asked. If it still raged or had gone awry, Ambrose wouldn’t be standing in front of them, certainly not look so hale and clean. He hadn’t seen a fight, whatever had happened.

“Resolved without one. For now.”

“And Wren?” Galen prodded. He needed to know her fate.

“Returned to the Court of Air with Sigurd.”

A little of the tension sitting between Galen’s shoulder blades loosened. He sighed. Wren was safe. Whatever she’d suffered at the hands of the Unseelie was over, done with. She could go home if she wanted or stay with the king she loved. Whatever her choice, he was glad she was free to make it.

“The Unseelie were freed as well,” Ambrose added, his own arms crossing in front of his chest. “Riven was lenient, given the human was well, but I wonder if we won’t regret that.”

A bitter laugh caught low in his throat. Lenient with the Unseelie, but not with him? What a dark twist of fate.

But Wren was well, he reminded himself. Even if he suffered, her well-being was what mattered. She’d come into danger at his hand, and that she’d been delivered from it safely was a blessing he’d be forever grateful for.

“How did you find us?” Sylvie asked, moving to Galen’s side.

Ambrose took a seat on a slanted rock, clearly not seeing either of them as a threat. “I felt you both leave the battle.”

“You knew it was us?” Galen asked. It could have been any number of fae shifting from place to place.

“You think I wouldn’t know the feeling of your magic by now?” He arched a brow. “Anyhow, I followed the direction you’d gone once things calmed down. Then, I felt…” He coughed, and that was all the indication Galen needed to know exactly what he referred to. He’d felt their bond settle into place. The captain’s cheeks darkened beyond his thick beard.

Ambrose rubbed at the back of his neck. “Anyhow. Thought I’d give you both a little time to, err…” He waved his hand. “Then, I shifted to make sure you’d feel me and I wouldn’t come on you both unawares. Seemed the respectful thing to do.”

Much better than him stumbling in on them during the act. Not only had Ambrose been their commander as members of the elite guard, he’d become a father figure of sorts to Galen over the years. Being caught by Ambrose while mating with Sylvie would have been more embarrassing than if his own blood relatives stumbled upon them.

“To get to the point,” Ambrose continued. “The king sent me. He wants to see you.” His gaze slid from Galen to Sylvie. “Both of you.”

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