Page 51 of Tricky Princess
“What kind of disturbances?” She kept her voice steady and forced her powers to stop turning Azzy’s pocket square from green to purple to neon green. He didn’t even acknowledge that it was happening.
Ros’ hazel eyes bounced across her face, mirroring her own uneasiness. She thought he would try to keep it from her, but he answered. “Minor vampire attacks, people saying they were being controlled while committing acts of violence. You know, weird things. Outside of the vampire attacks, no one has been harmed.”
“Good,” Ellea said even though guilt washed over her. Toying with the little food she’d put on her plate, she let her mind wander, trying to think of what her parents were trying to accomplish. Nothing came but destruction and their goal to get her back.
“You need to eat more,” Azzy scolded, plating some more meat and bread for her. “After yesterday’s training—”
“Don’t tell her what to do, Father!”
“Oh my Gods, calm down!” Ellea yelled.
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” Ros growled at her so viciously his sharp teeth poked out from his soft lips. “I will lay you across this table and turn your ass raw.”
Ellea’s eyes widened and her face heated; other things heated, and she began to question her hate for underwear. She forced herself not to glance sideways at his father.
He wouldn’t dare.
“Yes, in front of my father.”
“Enough,” Azzy said, slapping the table hard enough to rattle their plates. “If I wanted to have a horrible dinner, I would have eaten with the rest of the kings and their brats. I will not have you two ruin the happiest day of my life—outside of you two finally joining in marriage and giving me grandchildren, of course.”
Ellea wanted to melt under the table.
“Jokes on you, Father,” Ros said, sipping his wine with a smirk, “Ellea can’t have children.”
Ellea gaped at him. This was not the place or time, but…was he actually happy about that? They had never talked about it, but why would they? They hadn’t been together long enough.
Azzy waved his hand. “Please. We can fix that, or you can adopt.”
Ellea and Ros both gawked at Azzy, lost for words as he happily cut into his steak. What did he mean “fix that?” Ellea had thought about adoption, but it came randomly and she considered it an intrusive thought. She looked across to Ros, wondering what it would be like to raise a child with him. Grabbing her glass, she forced the cold liquid past the lump in her throat as the two men began bickering about something else.
Surprisingly, she ate. No matter how awkward the meal was or the ideas she continued to force into that dark closet in the back of her mind, she was famished. Florence and Azzy had combined their training after that first day. They took turns fighting, Florence with fists and weapons, Azzy with magic. The pride of taking on the King of the Gods was not enough to wash away all the anxiety that this meal was bringing. Azzy had helped her tremendously, having her push deeper into that dark place in the pit of her stomach, pulling out more and more.
Unlike her mother, who had her throwing out as much as she could, Azzy had her connecting with it and directing it precisely. Not only that, but he’d continued teaching her other languages and about Hel’s politics. What would Ros think about it? She knew his father’s goal, even though he didn’t openly speak about it. He wanted her here as much as she did, maybe more. The souls she’d saved recently cemented that. She smiled at the memory of their elation, how they’d whooped with happiness when they were reunited with their families, their loved ones. She cleared her throat, realizing that the conversation had stopped around her. Looking up, she caught Ros’ gaze from across the table.
“Are you done?” he asked in a sweet tone that didn’t hide the heaviness between them. There was so much they needed to discuss.
She chugged the rest of her drink; the ice clinked sadly against her lips. “Done.”
“Don’t think that our training stops because my son has finally returned,” Azzy added before she could stand.
“Yes, I know.”
They all stood, and Azzy grasped Ellea’s hand, kissing the back of it before turning to his son and patting him on the arm once.
“I know you’re angry, but I’m glad you’re home,” he said, searching his son’s face. “We can talk more after you’ve rested.”
20
Rosier
The bedroom door slowly closed behind him, and Ellea paused in the middle of the sitting room. They were finally alone, and he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to worship her or turn her ass raw, edging her until tears ran down her perfect face. That perfect face was still turned away from him, and she shook her head. Was she nervous?
“I’m not eager to leave,” Ellea said.
Okay, not nervous—she was delirious. As soon as Sam was healed, they would head right back to Glenover. The curse that took his mother would not take her. “Excuse me?”
“I know you have your reasons—”
