“He would adopt all those children if he could, but with the Council involved, his hands are tied.”
Emmery studied the wolf but he offered no more information. What did Brennen mean by that? Destonne gave the Council no more pompous attitude than he did anyone else, and he’d easily agreed to their requests.
When they arrived at the castle, the night guards hauled open the front doors. Emmery’s steps dragged, her thighs sore and fatigued from today’s swim.
“Can I trust you’ll make it to your room on your own tonight? Or do I need to escort you?”Brennen bared his teeth in a grin.
“I’m going to grab something quick from the kitchen. All that walking made me famished.” Hesitantly, she bent and wrapped her arms around Brennen’s wide neck. His plush fur tickled her cheek. “Thank you for tonight.”
Brennen stiffened before he rested his head on her shoulder. When they parted, he extended his paw and dipped his head. “Goodnight, princess.”
“Goodnight, dog.” As she smiled, her heart lifted with her lips.
Brennen sauntered off, not in the direction of his room, but toward Fionn’s. At least neither of them would be alone tonight.
Emmery tiptoed to the kitchen to snag a few rolls before she snuck back out. As she navigated the sitting room furniture, the ticking clock even shriller in the dark, she thumped her knee on the coffee table and clamped her lips between her teeth to swallow her curse.
That’s when she spotted a shadowed heap on the sofa against the far wall, too large to be a pile of blankets. All the staff had retired for the night and everyone else should have been in bed. She summoned her flame to a single finger to provide a shred of light. Her chest tightened when the mound moved, shifted, rolled. The sofa creaked—
A rush of relief hit Emmery, followed by confusion as moonlight lit the side of Destonne’s profile. What was he doing? He rarely ventured out of his room, especially this late. His long legs were stretched out on the settee, crossed at the ankle, a blanket over him. Cradled against his chest lay a sleeping Soren, his thumb shoved into his mouth, his other fisted in Destonne’s shirt.
Not the father? Then why in the world would he be asleep on the couch with a boy that wasn’t his when he had a perfectly good bed?
“You really shouldn’t walk around with an open flame like that. One sneeze and you'll burn this place down.” Destonne’shushed voice rumbled in the shadows, his eyes still closed as if he didn’t need them open to truly see her. Several colourful children’s books lay on the floor. The King’s arm twisted awkwardly from where it hung, his wrist limp.
Emmery rounded the table and walked toward them, keeping her voice muffled, “Why are you in here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” he whispered back.
They stared each other down, both unrelenting. Emmery settled for a version of the truth: a small white lie with the omission of her plans. “I was headed to the kitchen. But after seeing you, I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Very funny,” he hissed.
Destonne smoothed back the mop of curls falling into Soren’s eyes and rubbed his thumb over the crease in the boy’s brow. That’s when Emmery saw the tear stains on Soren’s cheeks, his puffy eyes, and pink nose. Her heart strained as she looked between Soren and Destonne, utterly speechless.
“He’s missing Cyrilla.” The downturn of Destonne’s lips matched Soren’s. It was the most emotion she’d ever seen on the King. “It seems I’m only adequate when fun is involved. When he needs the warm, loving touch of a mother, I’m not exactly equipped.”
Emmery crouched, whether to get a better look at the distressed child or to offer the same unspoken support Destonne had offered her these days at the pond, she wasn’t sure. “It looks like you did fine,” she said.
Destonne lifted a brow. “Was that a compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it.” An unexpected smile claimed her mouth, and she swore, in that flicker of a moment between them, that he, too, stifled one.
“Is my arm still attached? It’s been numb for hours,” he whispered. His chest stilled as Soren buried his face inDestonne’s neck and grabbed hold of two of his fingers on his free hand.
She poked his arm. “Anything?”
He shook his head and pressed his lips together.
“We’ll likely need to amputate,” she added and prodded him further, his forearms surprisingly muscular. “Lop it clean off.”
“You’re the medical expert. I’ll take your word for it.” The King chuckled. “Mind scratching my nose since my hands are occupied?”
She huffed a quiet laugh and smiled again. What was wrong with her? She really shouldn’t encourage his nonsensical teasing. “Why don’t I take him?”
“If you insist.” The glimmer of something in his eyes made Emmery turn away. “Butpleasedon’t wake him. It took me two hours and ten stories to get him to sleep.” He stretched his legs like they hurt. “And when that didn’t work, a half bottle of spirits.”
Emmery snorted softly and ignored his obscenity. “Come here, little guy.”