Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

Her shoulders set and her spine stiffens. Beside me, Smith’s entire body tightens and the ley line slashes up through him with the violence of a snake strike.

“Leave us,” I order him calmly.

“No,” my mother demurs. “He can stay.”

Shit. Either she intends to goad him, or she considers him unworthy of her attention. Neither is a good sign.

I let Smith into the apartment, careful to keep my body between him and Mother. The ley line sparks and flares and the furious energy puts my teeth on edge.

“Why are you here, Mother?” I ask politely.

“I tried calling, but couldn’t get ahold of you.”

“We were out.”

Her gaze flicks over us, cataloguing our destroyed clothes. “I see. You had an eventful walk around campus?”

“Yes.”

The temperature in the room drops again and Smith’s teeth chatter faintly.

“You’re...safe?”

I blink, confused by her question. “Safe?”

When she’s uncomfortable, my mother becomes more proper. Her royal airs gain a precision that has been mistaken for centuries as tightly leashed control. Only my brothers and I know it’s the opposite.

“Your magick lit up,” she tells me. “You used so much power, I assumed there had been another attack.”

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been rendered speechless. Most of those have happened thanks to Smith. This shortage in my brain is twofold. She can sense when I channel Smith’s power, although she doesn’t associate that fluctuation with him. I had suspected that, but needed confirmation. But the second thought is what ruins me. I don’t think my mother has ever blatantly expressed her concern for my safety.

She waits while I stammer and fall silent, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Warmth at my back. Smith’s lips brush my ear when he whispers, “She was worried about you.”

Thank you, Smith. I figured that out. “I—”

From the corner of my vision, I see Smith straighten. Even if he puts on a show of bravado, the ley line cowers until it nearly vanishes back into the earth. “He wasn’t attacked. I was. He defended me. The magick you felt was—”

“When I finished the creature off,” I finish smoothly, terror lifting the lie to my lips too quickly.

Her brow quirks the tiniest amount and I mentally curse Smith for speaking in the first place. Mother’s presence in our apartment is wrong—a polite invasion, but an invasion nonetheless. And now she’s intrigued.

“I had no idea you were that powerful, Roark,” she says and the discomfort I felt at her unexpected arrival transforms into genuine fear.

Miraculously, Smith doesn’t say anything else. He has some survival instinct at least.

I glamour myself, imagining how I would appear if I were slightly embarrassed. “It took me by surprise. I assumed our enemies were coming for him, only to discover it was a creature from the Wylds. I may have overreacted.” Hopefully she reads that as an unspoken confession that I was too worried about Smith to control myself.

“You look much healthier than last time. I suppose all turned out for the best,” she says. “You and the human are safe, which is what matters most.”

Thank the Goddess she accepted it.

I deliberately pick at my dirtied shirt. There’s no need to fake the way my nose wrinkles at the odor rising from it. “Was there anything else you needed, Mother?”

“No, darling.”

She softens when I manage a real smile for her. “I’m sorry for my abruptness, but I want to change.”