Page 11 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

“Do not lose hope.”

On the heels of Effie’s story, the encouragement took on new meaning. Once upon a time, Lucian had found himself in a position similar to Ronan, armed with nothingbuthope to guide his way. He’d had no way of knowing whether it would pay off in the end, but he’d believed anyway. Faced with nothing but adversity, Lucian believed he would succeed.

And he did.

Ronan appreciated their warnings, but he couldn’t help but wonder why they were so insistent he’d need hope in the coming days. Effie already assured him that Reyna was alive. He had cold hard fact to keep him motivated. No blind faith required.

Frowning, he started to ask when the doors to the throne room opened once more. This time, Helena swept in, a red-faced angel in her arms and her Mate hot on her heels.

“Sorry we’re late. Stella absolutely refused to go down for her nap. Every time we tried to set her in her crib, her screams would either send something up in flames or shatter the windows.” Helena rolled her eyes. “Who knew a child with such a sunny disposition could turn into an absolute banshee over a couple of new teeth?”

“Do you need me to make you a concoction?” Joquil offered. “Something to help with the pain?”

Helena sighed, somehow still managing to look regal despite the toddler drooling down the front of her dress. “I think so. The only thing that seems to soothe her these days is being held.” She paused and rubbed her nose against Stella’s, making the little girl giggle as she cooed, “And Mommy cannot run a realm with a sweet nymph who feels like a two-ton monkey constantly in her arms. No, she cannot.”

Von laughed. “Let me take her.”

“No,” the little girl whined, surprising them all when she held her arms out and made grabby hands in Ronan’s direction. “Wo-Wo.”

What was left of the blackened stump Ronan called a heart cracked wide open. The day Stella had been born had been one of the few bright spots in an otherwise miserable couple of years. Watching his best friend finally find peace and how the little mite had wrapped everyone around her tiny fingers in a matter of seconds had been a thing of absolute beauty. She was so little he’d been afraid to touch her. All he’d been willing to risk was the lightest brush of his finger over the downy softness of her cheek, and when she’d grabbed his finger and held him there, staring up at him with such absolute love and trust shining in her eyes, he’d been a goner.

It frightened him, that trust. He didn’t deserve it.

Afraid he was too broken to be around someone so pure, he’d kept his distance ever since, finding more and more excuses to be away from the happy family. And despite all of it, little Stella still seemed to have a preference for her Uncle Wo-Wo above all others.

He may be a sorry bastard, but not even he was immune to the request or the glint of tears still shimmering in those big blue eyes.

He could feel the gaze of every person in the room trained on him, waiting to see what he would do. Ignoring all of them, Ronan crossed the mosaic floor and plucked his niece from her mother’s arms.

“Come here then, mite.”

Stella let out a happy gurgle and snuggled into him immediately, making his own eyes burn and his throat tighten. “Ella wuv Wo-Wo.”

It was hard to swallow past the ball that seemed to be lodged in his throat, but he curled his hand over the back of her head and brushed his lips to her forehead. “I love you too, wildheart.”

Stella cooed and wrapped surprisingly strong arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Happy and content, her breaths evened out, and she seemed to drift off in his hold almost between one breath and the next. Clearing his throat a few times, Ronan forced himself to meet Helena’s gaze, trying not to flinch at the emotion reflected at him.

He knew she was worried about him. Everyone in this room had expressed their concern in some fashion or another. Timmins admonished and Kragen goaded, while Joquil offered a non-judgmental ear. Helena had tried to get him to open up about his feelings. When that hadn’t worked, Von offered to be his punching bag so he could purge the heartache in his native tongue. Lucian and Effie’s two-pronged approach today was hardly the first time the Guardians had broached the subject either. Everyone was doing their best to help him stay afloat, but none of them seemed to realize it was too late. He’d already drowned.

“You’re leaving,” Helena said without preamble.

Timmins’s shocked inhale told Ronan Effie hadn’t looped the others in on her vision.

“I have to.”

Helena nodded. “Of course. We’ll go with you.”

The offer felt like the twist of a dagger. Her immediate willingness to drop everything to assist him was a reminder of how little he deserved her loyalty. He’d been a shite friend these last few years, physically present but more absent than not. Too consumed by his own grief to have space left for anyone else.

He could make up for that now.

“No.”

She flinched, a furrow working its way between her brows. “But Ronan—”

There was no denying Helena’s considerable power would make short work of whatever waited for him, but Ronan wouldn’t allow her to uproot her life and put herself at risk for him. Not when so many, including the softly snoring babe in his arms, needed her safe and whole right here. She’d fought too damn hard for her happily ever after. She should enjoy it.

“You can’t, Hellion,” he whispered. She flinched at her old nickname, her expression crumpling as he gently continued, “And you know it. Stella needs her mother. Elysia needs their queen.”

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