Page 151 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“I guess you’ll just have to spank me for it later,” I retort, then tack on, “Master.”
His lips crash down on mine, making me melt against him. “The second you’re healed,” he promises as he pulls back, fingers digging into my ass. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you burned yourself on my fire, abandoned the plan, and flew over a room full of Fomorians.”
Whoops. And he hasn’t even found out about the little stunt Danu pulled as we entered Fellgotha yet.
Fifty
Rhoswyn
The steps outside the palace are scattered with so many petals that it’s hard to make out the stone. It’s a warm, bright day, the sun glowing as it hits the pale pink, flower-covered gown that Mistress Poesy unveiled to me that morning.
Unfortunately, even the pretty blossoms and the swishing satin around my legs can’t mask the fact that my stomach is in knots and has been since I woke up alone for the first time in weeks. I knew it was coming, of course. I knew they’d be gone from the moment I woke up, getting ready themselves.
But now the day is finally here, I could really have used some reassurance.
“You look far too nervous,” Florian tells me, stepping up behind me. “It’s your mating ceremony, not a fifth war with the Fomorians.”
“Oh, like you were any better.” I shush him with a wave of my hand, pausing as I realise all of my brothers are here. EvenBram’s fox peers out from behind Uther’s legs. “Wait… what’s going on?”
“Our mother saw this day coming a long time ago,” Roark explains as I take in the horses saddled and waiting behind Wraith. “And she made us all promise that we’d be here.”
Florian clears his throat. “It’s traditional for a female’s mother and sisters to walk her to the Temple. Our mother knew that wouldn’t be an option for you. So, if you summon Bram back for a little while, you have six brothers ready to keep you company instead.”
My throat catches, hand rising to cover my mouth even as Danu surges forward, like she’s been waiting all this time to do so.
But it’s not just Bram who the Goddess brings back to solid form.
A curvy female with his bronze skin and Roark’s straight black hair appears in the middle of my brothers, facing them with a bright and slightly cheeky smile as the folds of her white dress flutter in the breeze.
Dare doesn’t wait, rushing forward and embracing her so tightly that she lets out a small huff of surprise.
“Ma,” Florian chokes out, stopping midway through offering Bram a pile of clothes I hadn’t noticed he was holding.
Roark is silent, throat working, and Uther just smiles knowingly. Dare releases her, and she walks towards them, embracing each of them in turn. She whispers words I can’t hear to each of her sons, exchanging tiny laughs and wet-eyed looks.
She doesn’t acknowledge me, and I’m grateful, because right now I can’t breathe.That’sDiana? That’s my… mother? I know my grandmothers said that Danu was the reason the Nicnevins didn’t look related, but she’s almost my complete opposite.
“My sons,” she greets, pressing kisses to their cheeks. “Your fathers and I are so proud of you.” She hesitates before Bram,who’s managed to shove himself into his uniform, then offers him a sad wink. “Brave warriors of Elfhame, all of you.”
Their hug is a half-second longer, packed with some emotion I can’t name, and finished with a whispered, “I’ll see you soon, my love.”
Then finally, she turns, and two pairs of violet eyes lock together as her lips curl into a wobbly smile.
“You’ve achieved so much,” she murmurs, stepping closer. Slowly, cautiously, she raises a hand to cup my cheek, as if unsure how the maternal gesture will be received.
Some part of me, the part that’s been without her since before I can remember, soaks her love up like it’s sunlight after a year in the Deep Caves.
“Mother?” I whisper.
Her smile grows a notch, and she leans in to kiss my forehead—easily done since she’s almost as tall as Jaro. “You are, and always will be, my beautiful, brave little Rose.”
Her arms barely wrap around me before she’s gone, the imprint of her hug tingling.
The air is thick with memory and loss and love, all of us silent in the wake of what was undoubtedly a gift from Danu. My heart sings with a bittersweet ache, and my mates’ concern joins the symphony shortly after. Sending reassurance back to them, I dab the corner of my eye with the heel of my hand, wary of smudging the glittering violet ‘war paint’ Prae gifted me.
“I don’t think she’s allowed to stay long,” I whisper when the introspective quiet becomes too much to bear. “From what our grandmothers told me, there are rules.”
“It was—” Florian clears his throat. “It was enough.”
