“So can Thia. She hasn’t set me on fire yet, has she?” I ask archly.
“She isn’t likely to hurt her own mother,” Lincoln interjects before Devon has an apoplexy.
“How about we put the gloves back on her?” CK murmurs gently next to me.
“No,” I say defiantly. “She will never learn control if we dampen her powers like this!”
“Aefre, she is still a baby. She has no idea what she is doing or how. We cannot expect control from her,” he says, trying to persuade me but I’m not having any of it.
“Delinda has powers and she is perfectly in control of them,” I point out.
“Delinda is older and has been trained correctly,” CK responds. “Albeit, by a power-hungry monster,” he adds quickly, before I let Thia loose on him.
“It’s not fair,” I whine.
“It’s only until she can understand the consequences. And only around others. If you feel that you can be around her without them, then that’s perfectly acceptable, Aefre. Alone.”
“You don’t trust her?” I ask nastily.
“That’s not fair,” he chides me gently as he roots in my robe pocket for the gloves.
Arathia squeals in protest now as he replaces them, squiggling in my arms frantically.
“She hates it,” I say sadly.
CK pats my back and tries to take her from me, but her screams go up in volume, letting him know exactly what she thinks of her traitorous father. He gives me a pained look, but I am smug and hold her even closer. She is bawling in my ear, but I say to Devon anyway, “We need to talk about you-know-who.”
“Why?” he complains, hating the topic of Jess with a passion. “She hasn’t come back.”
“Only because Rosalina has made sure of it,” CK says, having my back on this. “We need a plan in case. It is a very real threat against Aefre.”
“Fine,” he grumbles and sinks back into his chair with his Bourbon. “Tomorrow. Right now, I want to drink enough to forget she ever existed.”
“Done,” I say, struggling with Thia. She is frantic and the cries are getting louder. She has never shown such annoyance before, but I can fully understand why, having had my own Powers dampened on more than one occasion.
I give CK a weak smile and then Astral off to Thia’s nursery to try and calm her down.
I jiggle her, I rock her, I sing to her, but nothing works. I try to put her down, thinking she wants to be alone after being betrayed, but that only makes her scream louder, so I scoop her back up again. I take her into our room and settle her on the bed in there, but she squirms and cries and is not a happy child at all.
I Astral back downstairs and into the kitchen, hoping that perhaps another bottle will settle her. To my relief, I find one miraculously waiting for me. Marguerite is a fucking godsend.
It calms Thia down for all of a second before she spits it out and increases the volumes of her bawling.
“Please, Thia, I don’t know what to do,” I say to her frantically. I feel like I am seriously failing as a mother. I grab her hand and pause for a second. If I take the gloves off, she will stop. But what kind of message is that sending her? That she can throw a tantrum and get what she wants? No. That isn’t the right decision. I must stick this out the hard way, as difficult as that is, that’s good parenting. Right? I chew my lip and consider my options again.
“No, you aren’t getting your way,” I tell her determinedly. “Not this time, sweet girl. Mama is far more stubborn than you, just ask your Papa.”
With a nod of satisfaction that I am now mentally prepared to deal with her for as long as it takes, I Astral up to the very top floor. I want to take her outside, but I won’t risk the grounds in the dead of night in case the Hunters, or Pyleah, or Anders, or any other Light–or Dark, for that matter–Fae decides to turn up and attack. I am startled to find the door that leads out to the battlements is already open. I had no idea if it would even open due to misuse, but apparently, it is still a lookout. For someone.
Not CK.
I step out and see Vito sitting on the ledge, legs dangling down, smoking a cigarette. He is turned towards me, hardly being the stealthy creature that I usually am, now that I have a screaming baby attached to me.
He raises his eyebrow and swings his legs over the side and drops onto the narrow passage, crushing his cigarette under his boot in the process.
“Noisy little thing, isn’t she?” he asks with a little chuckle as he tickles her chin.
“SHE’S REALLY MAD!” I shout, but it seems even louder as she suddenly stops her wailing.