Warrior Fae Princess (Warrior Fae 2)

This time, though, she felt a little clearer. The haze had lifted a little.

“Ah. I see you’re awake.” A man sat beside the bed—the man from the photograph, Romulus. His elbow leaned on the bedside table, his ankle rested on his other knee, and a book was lowered into his lap. He’d been close at hand the other times she’d woken up, either sitting in the room working or reading quietly, or not far away and quickly on scene. Every time he’d seen her, he’d showered her with smiles, sparkling eyes, and words of support.

He pulled his chair closer. “How do you feel?”

She frowned, needing a moment to think about it while surveying the rest of the room. In the corner, standing tall, was a lovely woman with a thick braid draped over her shoulder. Kairi, if Charity’s hazy memory served. She or the attractive man—Hallen—were usually within the room, often in that corner, and always looking at her when Charity emerged from the rip tide of sleep.

Kairi nodded in greeting.

An earthy, delicious feeling flowed into Charity from her magical link with Devon before rolling back toward him. He might not be in the room, but he was in her body. It was more comforting than anything could be.

She turned her attention back to Romulus. It didn’t look like he’d aged a day.

“My mother had a picture of you,” she said, pushing through the fog clinging to her thoughts.

His smile was sad and excited at the same time. “Yes. How much do you remember of our previous chats?”

She frowned and wandered through her mental haze, looking for any memories of the last few days. She thought it was only a few days, anyway.

“How long have I been here?” she asked, her voice scratchy and her throat dry.

Kairi moved to the dresser across the room and poured sparkling water into what looked like beautiful blown glass. She seemed to know what Charity wanted before Charity had to actually ask for it.

“Five days now,” Romulus said, entwining his fingers in his lap. “You’re recovering very quickly, a testament to your high power level. You’re reacting expertly to our magical guidance, as though you’d lived with us all your life.”

Charity let Kairi help her to sit, her body much less sore and achy in comparison to the days before. She drank large gulps of water with shaking hands, draining the glass. She lowered back down, sighing.

“Where’s Devon?” she asked.

“He is in the battle yard, testing his mettle against our people.”

His words continued to flow, but she was still lingering on the last two.

Our people.

Warmth wrapped around her heart as snippets of hazy memory jogged forward. Of Romulus sitting beside her bed, uttering the words daughter and darling. His assertion that he was the man in the photograph.

That he was her father.

“You said I looked like your grandmother,” she said, interrupting something he was saying. “Sorry, I—”

“You do, yes.” He smiled, not at all bothered by her interruption. “Like your great-grandmother. She was a brilliant, formidable lady. Heralded as a fantastic leader. You seem to have inherited more than her appearance. You share her magic, too, but with an interesting adaptation. She couldn’t rain down lightning, from what I’ve heard. I was but a teen when…” He paused for a moment, then apparently thought better of whatever he was about to say. “Our whole community is fascinated by you. Thrilled, and fascinated.” Pride shone brightly in his eyes. “There can be no argument that you are one of us. You belong here.”

The warmth around her heart squeezed before filling her limbs. She’d never really belonged anywhere, not even with Devon’s pack. Yes, they’d welcomed her in, but she was an outsider. Different. She’d never fit into the nice schools, in her neighborhood—to hear that this man was accepting her, and that she had found similar people for the first time in her life…

Tears came to her eyes.

Romulus reached forward and put his warm hand over hers. “I am not sure if you remember our conversations the last few days, but given all I have learned, it seems I am your father. I did not know of your existence, or I would have been there every day of your life, watching you grow. Helping you along the way.”

She swallowed down a lump in her throat. “Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t know about you, and so didn’t work as hard to resist the pull of the Flush. Of my people, and family. It flooded my very being. I hated to leave your mother, I truly did, but I could not withstand the beckoning of my home. Can you forgive me?”

Charity let her head fall to the side and her eyes take in the beauty outside her opened window, with the orange haze and gold filaments slowly drifting by. A bright pink flower bloomed within the frame.