Chapter 13 Toward a Tornado #2
“What’s she like? Is she tall like you? Does she have red hair, too?
How long has she been queen? Do you see her often?
Does she know about—” Seri gestured to the four of us.
“I mean, obviously she knows we’re married, but does she know how we all met?
And what should I call her? Your Majesty? Queen Doria? Ms. Starling?”
The questions machine-gunned out of her at a pace that would make an auctioneer jealous. I opened my mouth to answer, but my tongue seemed to have turned into a sock full of bees, all buzzing, no coherence.
“She’s… She’s, uh…”
“Queen Doria is five-foot-nine,” Cas filled in, coming to my rescue. “She has curly copper-red hair, usually worn loose. She’s been ruling the Sky Realm for four centuries, but she’s much older than that. And she generally initiates contact with Zane two or three times a year.”
“Call her Your Majesty at first. If she wants you to call her something else, she’ll tell you,” Ko added. “She’s not only a swan maiden, but also a storm witch.”
“Does she have lightning in her veins like you do?” Seri’s huge eyes went to Cas.
“No, but she can throw lightning bolts.”
“Wow.” She sat back in her chair, jaw hanging for a moment, then shook her head. “And she’s bringing her consort? What’s his name?”
“Caelyr Theros,” Cas answered. “He’s an Aetheral.”
“I’ve never heard of an Aetheral,” she admitted.
“Immortal star-borns,” Ko told her. “Warriors and scholars both. Some legends say they are born from constellations, others that they’re forged in nebulae.”
“Wow.” Seri’s eyes were going to pop out of her head any minute. “And he’s coming here? What does he look like?”
“Tall,” I answered, finally remembering how my tongue worked. “Like, skyscraper tall. Taller than me. Close to seven feet.”
“Bronze skin that shimmers slightly,” Ko chipped in. “Long black hair that’s literally woven with stars. Silver eyes like Lucian’s, but more magical.”
“And quiet,” I added. “The guy makes Ko look chatty.”
“He speaks more to Doria, but don’t be surprised when he doesn’t say much to any of us. It’s not personal,” Cas assured Seri.
“How long have they been together?”
“Twenty years as official mates,” I replied. “They met when he became the commander of her guard the year I was born.”
“Is he her beloved?”
“No. Her cob, Tavis, was killed twenty-four years ago battling a rogue tempest attacking Skyspire,” I explained.
“Cob?” Seri tilted her head to the side.
“A male swan. A female’s called a pen.”
“So Caelyr is her second beloved?” Her eyes softened. “That’s beautiful. That she found love again.”
“He’s her chosen, not beloved,” Cas corrected. “The relationship is built rather than destined.”
“Even more beautiful. And he knows you?” Seri looked between him and Ko.
“He’s met us many times,” Ko confirmed with a nod. “He’s always been respectful.”
“Does he like you?” Her voice grew smaller.
“He respects us as warriors,” Cas answered carefully, “and he appreciates our bond as brothers.”
“And he likes Koa’s inventions,” I added brightly. “Once spent a whole hour examining a prototype for a lightning battery.”
“That’s the most animated I’ve ever seen him.” Cas nodded as he met Seri’s eyes. “It was unsettling.”
She was quiet for a moment, then her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“Do you think they’ll like me?”
And there it was. The real question. The heart of her concern.
I opened my mouth to brush it off, to say something flippant like, “Who cares?” or “It doesn’t matter what they think.
” Because to me, it didn’t. I saw my mother a handful of times a year, exchanged brief messages even less frequently.
Her approval or disapproval of my beloved wouldn’t change a damn thing about how I felt.
But looking at Seri’s face—open, hopeful, so earnest it made my chest ache—I realized this mattered to her. Of course it did.
“Queen Doria and Caelyr aren’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type,” Koa jumped in as my tongue did that sock of bees thing again. “They’re reserved. Formal. But they respect strength, courage, and intelligence. All qualities you have in abundance, beloved.”
“Exactly.” Cas sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “My guess is that they’re curious about the woman who bonded with all three of us. That alone makes you remarkable in their eyes.”
“I just want them to see me as part of your family.”
“They will,” Ko promised. “How could they not? You’re extraordinary, Seri. And if they can’t see that, then they’re the ones missing out.”
“Just be yourself. They may be royalty, but they’re still just people. Powerful, ancient, potentially dangerous people,” Cas amended at Koa’s raised eyebrow, “but people nonetheless.”
“And if all else fails,” I said with a grin, determined to lighten the mood, “just ask Mum about the time she defenestrated the Thunderbird king’s translator during a Court of Realms summit. She loves telling that story.”
“She de— She did what to him?”
“It means to throw someone out of a window,” Cas supplied.
“There’s actually a word for that?” Seri seemed more awed by that fact than the diplomatic nightmare Mum had created. “Like, it happens enough that people made a word for it?”
“Mum excels at it.” I shrugged. “Maybe she coined it.”
After a few more questions, Seri bounced out of the dining room, heading for her closet. Her enthusiasm was both endearing and terrifying, like watching a puppy bound happily toward a tornado.
“This is going to be a disaster.” I plunked my forehead on the table, and Koa clapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
“Even if it is, we’ve survived worse,” Cas said calmly.
“Have we, though? Have we really?”
#
One of the gate gargoyles knocked on the front door. Not something that happens every day, even at Evermere.
“Sky wyrms.” Its voice was like gravel sliding down a mountain. “Two. Requesting permission to enter Evermere airspace.”
My heart stalled, then tried to break through my ribs.
“Mum’s here.” I squeaked, then cleared my throat.
“Now?” Seri looked ready to pass out. “It’s barely five!”
“Royal prerogative,” Cas sighed. “Arrive when least expected to maintain the upper hand.”
“Should I adjust the wards to let them in?” Ko asked as the gargoyle stood impassively in the doorway, waiting for instructions.
“Unless you want irritated sky wyrms circling Evermere for the next two hours, yeah, probably,” I snorted.
As Ko bolted for the security room, Casimir instructed the gargoyle to wait until the wards were open, then have Mum and Caelyr land their sky wyrms on the eastern lawn, our usual stargazing slash moon-bathing spot.
The gargoyle nodded and lumbered off, spreading its heavy wings and launching into the air.
“All right, everyone!” I shouted. “It’s showtime!”
“But I’m not ready!” Seri protested, hands on her cheeks.
“You look perfect.” Cas kissed the top of her head, his hand sliding to the small of her back. “And you should never keep royalty waiting.”
“Especially not Mum,” I added. “She’s not big on patience.”
“Just like her son,” Cas muttered, and I flipped him off.
The four of us headed outside, crossing the patio toward the manicured lawn, and Seri skipped beside me, Cas and Ko flanking us like honor guards.
“All I can say is thank the night she didn’t come with full royal fanfare.” I squinted up at the sky. “No guards, no skywhale barque, no roc litter with storm shepherds orchestrating dramatic weather effects. Just two sky wyrms.”
“Is that good?” Seri shielded her eyes, searching the clouds.
“It’s less formal.” I shrugged. “More personal.”
“There,” Ko pointed to where two serpentine shapes had appeared, sinuous and gleaming against the sky.
“Wow,” Seri breathed, her gray eyes wide.
I couldn’t hold back a smile. This was another of the hundreds of reasons why I loved her. That ability to see beauty and wonder and delight in things that terrified most people. If anyone could win over my impossible mother, it would be Seri.
The wyrms descended in lazy spirals, their riders just behind their crested heads, one with a nimbus of copper-red hair I’d know anywhere.
The second her wyrm landed, she slid off its back and strode forward like she’d just guillotined someone and expected applause, dressed head to toe in ghost-white linen with pumpkin breeches and a coat so frilly, it looked like it lost a duel with a wedding cake.
“Zane!” she called. “Don’t just stand there gawking! Come greet your mother properly!”
Night’s teeth. Here we go.