After what could’ve been a moment or an hour, something occurred to me.
“Your scales?” I reached around him, but before I could touch them to see if they’d been restored, a knock at the door stole my focus.
“Sire—master—” Quieter, as though in an aside, Hadriel said, “I don’t even know what the fuck to call him…”
“Is he for real?” Nyfain muttered. The way he said it, like he was so routinely annoyed by Hadriel that he’d become resigned to it, made me laugh. “Does he want to die?”
“Call him sire now, right?” Leala whispered on the other side of the door, not nearly quiet enough for the conversation to stay between the two of them. “The curse has been lifted—we did it! Or we helped do it. Anyway, it’s lifted, so he’s back to being a prince.”
“He was always a prince.”
“I mean…now we don’t have to hide it because the demons are gone. We’re a real kingdom again!”
“Love, now is not the time to squeal and freak out. We are interrupting the master— Fuck! I’m going to fuck this up. We’re interrupting a sex session, which is probably very intense, and he probably wants to kill me. Lifting the curse isn’t going to suddenly make him more bearable.”
“Fine. Okay, go.”
Hadriel raised his voice again. “Sire.” He knocked. “Sire, I know you’re in there. I’m coming in. It’s urgent.”
“Oh my—” I scrabbled across the bed and quickly climbed under the covers so he didn’t see me in the throes of sex. I was getting used to being naked in front of people, but that would be a step too far.
Hadriel stuck his head in and caught sight of me in the bed and then Nyfain rising up onto his knees, his erection prominent.
“Get out, Hadriel,” Nyfain commanded with such malice that I felt a shiver go through me, followed by another wave of lust. I’d stopped thinking it odd that he could both scare and arouse me at the same time.
Hadriel didn’t share the sentiment. He jerked, clunking his head against the doorframe before visibly shaking in his boots.
“Yes, mas—sire,” he replied, his voice quavering. I could just see Leala backing away a little more. “In literally every other instance I would, sire. I think I just pissed myself a little because of your yelling, so that needs looking after, but this one time, you need to come. You’ll want to come. It’s urgent.”
“I intend to come, Hadriel. Get out so I can.”
“Funny, master—sire. Ha-ha.” He grimaced. “But it’s imperative that you come with me first. You’ve been requested, and this is really one of those things that you wouldn’t forgive us for not telling you about. And you’ll want to…” He stuck in a shaking hand and made circles with his pointer finger. “You’ll want clothes, sire. You won’t want to show that—rather impressive, excuse my saying so—erection for this. Not to her.”
“Not to whom?” Nyfain growled.
“Well…” Hadriel coughed into his fist. “Your mother, sire. The queen. She lives, it seems, and she’s here. Now that the curse has been broken, her fellow villagers know her for who she is. They just remembered, as though they’d always known. So then they told the former members of the court, who sought her out… It’s actually kind of a mess, at this point. Because now there’s some question of who rules, and…”
He trailed away, his gaze growing intense as he watched Nyfain’s face. Confusion and continued annoyance bled through the bond, probably from both of us.
“Hadriel, I have never appreciated your humor,” Nyfain said in a low, rough voice.
“No, sire. I am well aware. But…” Hadriel put up his hands in defeat.
“My father is the one who told me she died,” Nyfain went on. “He blamed me. His grief was clear. Grief like that couldn’t have been faked. I was at the funeral.”
“I…” Hadriel shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, sire. It was a closed casket. She died nearly a week before you returned to the castle. No one saw her body—king’s orders.”
“But his grief,” Nyfain yelled.
Hadriel jumped. “Yes, sire. I remember him being very distraught. And there was a lot of confusion around the whole thing. Then the curse took effect, and…” He opened the door a little wider. “She’s here now. I saw her with my own eyes. I saw her before…” His gaze darted to me, and guilt surfaced on his face. Sadness. Another silent message quickened my heart: farewell. “Tamara and the others bowed to her. It’s her.”
Anger washed over Nyfain. Frustration. Grief.
He got off the bed and, almost as an afterthought, put out his hand to me. I pushed the covers back and took it, getting up, still firmly in the land of disbelief. There was no way the queen was still alive and here, of all things! How could she have escaped all of those years ago? And how could she have come back? Other than the faeries, we’d all traveled on the same two boats from the villages. I wouldn’t have recognized her, but others in her court surely would have. And if not on the boat, then at least flying into battle.