Chapter 5
Mireth tore into the room like a storm in boots, dragging a bewildered, impeccably dressed fae warrior behind her, a victory clutched in her tiny hands.
My pulse snapped to readiness. My hand reached for a weapon that wasn’t there.
Why was she—
But then, Lira followed close behind, Eryx walking at her side, his tiny fingers entwined firmly in hers. A few strands of her pastel pink hair had come loose from their twist, falling to frame her flushed face. But her expression was calm.
Relief crashed over me, but there was no time to dwell on it because Mireth was tugging the unfamiliar man forward, Eryx dashing ahead to join her. They both spoke at once, words tumbling too fast for me to catch.
I scooped up Eryx, pressing a pastry from the table into his hands, the sweet treat an easy distraction.
“Breathe, my love,” I said calmly to Mireth, pressing a steadying palm to her back.
Mireth sucked in a big, dramatic breath, her chest rising and falling as she prepared for a great declaration.
And then she beamed. “Mama, I found him. The real Fenric the Fierce!”
I looked up at him, and blinked. My brain stalled. My mouth parted on instinct.
He was unfairly beautiful, the kind of beauty that should arrive by prophecy, not over breakfast. Tall, with a lean, elegant strength, his dark clothing perfectly tailored, embroidered with intricate silver thread work.
His midnight-dark hair was a study in precision-disguised-as-casual, every strand meticulously out of place. His aristocratic features were framed by high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a mouth designed for wicked wit and whispered ruin.
But it was his eyes that caught me most of all. A piercing, steel-blue beneath the shadows of his lashes. Intelligent, calculating. Assessing me as much as I was assessing him.
Gods.
He did look like the male from the books. The warrior hero I had read to my children late into the night, the one who slew monsters and defied impossible odds with only his wits and steel.
Pink tinged the male’s cheeks. An almost imperceptible flush that might be embarrassment, or amusement. Before I could decide which, a choked noise came from the table.
I turned just in time to see Varyth angle his body away, coughing violently into his hand. His shoulders hitched suspiciously.
I didn’t speak. But I stared. Hard.
The coughing continued, his entire frame trembling in a way that could have been distress, if not for the way his fist had curled against his lips.
My gaze flicked between him and the very real, very much standing in the dining hall Fenric the Fierce.
Varyth finally straightened, though his hand concealed the lower half of his face.
“I see you’ve met Fenric, then,” he said to Mireth, his voice slightly muffled.
I gaped. Actually gaped. “You’re—” I started, my brain tripping over itself. “You’re actually named Fenric?”
He gave a dry nod. “Last time I checked.”
“Fenric is my third in command,” Varyth added casually.
Fenric gave Mireth a small bow. “At your service, little one,” he said, which only made Mireth’s eyes shine brighter.
I stared at Mireth, who was positively glowing with excitement. Then back at Fenric the Actual, Real, Not-Imaginary Fierce. Mireth had just casually plucked a figure of myth from the corridors and dragged him into breakfast.
And then, finally, I glanced back to Varyth. He’d managed to arrange his face into a mask of too perfect calm.
“Oh, you’re enjoying this,” I said.
His lips ticked up, the barest hint of humour before he composed himself once more. “It’s not every day one of my most formidable warriors is immortalised in children’s stories.”
“He’s a hero,” Mireth declared proudly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Because he’s brave and strong and noble—”
“Flattered,” Fenric said, his tone silk-smooth. “But I do wonder what exactly my fictional counterpart has been up to.”
“Oh! You fight terrible monsters and evil knights and once you saved a whole kingdom from ruin.”
“Only once?”
“Well, Mama only had time for one story before bed. But I’m sure you’ve saved lots of kingdoms.”
“Naturally.” Fenric chuckled, deep and rich.
Varyth let out a breath, though it was just shy of steady. “It’s good to know my third in command has such an esteemed reputation among the younglings.”
Mireth nodded eagerly. “Mama always says stories have truth in them!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Fenric pressed a palm to his chest. “A wise sentiment.”
Beside me, Lira appeared to be actively fighting for her life trying not to laugh.
Eryx threw both arms in the air, his mouth stuffed full of pastry. “Glory!” he shouted, crumbs spraying in every direction as he launched himself off my lap and took off galloping around the room at full tilt.
I barely had time to react before he was a blur of sticky fingers and shrieking laughter, his tiny feet thundering across the stone floor.
“Oh gods,” I muttered.
“A warrior spirit,” Fenric declared, tilting his chin at Eryx as he nearly barrelled into a chair. “Fearless and swift.” He looked far too pleased to be at the centre of this tiny disaster.
Mireth returned her full attention back to Fenric with furrowed brows and an expression of utmost importance. “Yeah, but where’s your horse?”
“My… horse?” Fenric blinked.
“Glory. The big white one.”
Varyth made another coughing sound, and I had the distinct suspicion he was seconds away from disintegrating.
To his credit, Fenric took it in stride. He looked down at Mireth and said with deadpan seriousness, “I had to leave Glory behind. She’s currently indisposed.”
“Is she okay?”
“Only the best stables for a warhorse of her calibre.”
“That’s good. She’ll need her rest if you’re gonna keep fighting the monsters.”
Fenric grinned down at her. “Exactly.”
“Well, Mireth.” I dragged a hand down my face. “You’ve certainly made some important friends.”
Mireth jabbed a finger toward Varyth like she was delivering a final verdict. “Varyth is very lucky to have you, Fenric.”
“Indeed, Mireth. Very lucky, indeed.” Varyth inclined his head in Fenric’s direction.
A smirk lit Fenric’s face as he dipped his head. “I do try to be useful.”
“Oh! Oh!” Still buzzing with excitement, Mireth turned back to Fenric. “Can you tell me about the time you helped your best friend stop wetting the bed?”
The entire room went silent.
And then, Varyth collapsed.
Not figuratively. Literally.
The High Lord folded in half, one hand bracing against the edge of the table as his body shook with a violent, ill contained fit of laughter. His other covered his face, his shoulders heaving as muffled, wheezing sounds escaped him.
Across from him, Darian threw his head back and roared. The sound bounced off the walls as he clutched his ribs, gasping for breath. Lira gave up entirely and let out a giggle into her sleeve.
Shaelith, now leaning against the far wall, arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Well,” she drawled. “This just became the most interesting meal I’ve had in months.”
I didn’t dare even glimpse at Varyth. He was gone. There was no saving him. No recovering. He was seconds away from sliding out of his chair and onto the floor.
Fenric, meanwhile, took the question with all the solemnity of a priest conducting a funeral.
He met Mireth’s earnest gaze head-on. “Ah,” he murmured. “That was a most delicate situation.”
“It sounded really hard.”
Fenric sighed, the sound steeped in the weight of imagined hardship, as if reminiscing about a war he had barely survived. “Indeed. There were many late nights. Much strategising. Trial and error.”
Varyth let out another choked, gasping wheeze.
Darian slammed his fist against the table, rattling the plates and glasses, howling.
“I am in hell,” I whispered.
Fenric did not so much as blink.
“It was a long road,” he intoned, completely committed to the tale. “But through sheer willpower and perseverance, my dear friend overcame his nightly struggles.” He placed a solemn hand over his heart. “It was, perhaps, one of my proudest moments.”
“Wow. That’s amazing.” Mireth beamed like he’d won a kingdom.
“It was a great victory.”
Varyth made a sound like he had actually stopped breathing.
I considered walking into the woods, lying down face-first in a stream, and letting the fae realm consume me.
“Mireth,” I said, desperately trying to restore order. “Perhaps we should let Fenric get back to his duties.”
Mireth, unbothered by the spectacle she had just created, plopped herself onto the nearest chair and latched onto Fenric’s sleeve with both hands, refusing to release him.
“You have to tell me another one,” she demanded, her face set with pure, unshakable determination.
Varyth finally sat up, rubbing a hand down his face. He didn’t even attempt to look at Fenric, only exhaled roughly and pushed himself to his feet.
“I fear I may not survive another tale,” he said without looking at any of us. “If you’ll all excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”
He didn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and making a swift exit, his usual elegance a touch more hurried than usual.
Fenric watched him go, smirking. “You see, Mireth? That is the power of a well-told story.”
Mireth grinned, thrilled by this explanation, and clutched his sleeve tighter. “Okay, but actually, you have to tell me another.”
I sighed, that exhausted kind of smile slipping through, the one that only happens when you stop fighting joy for a second and let it win.
“Mireth, let the man eat.”
Fenric lowered himself into the seat beside her with the casual grace of a man accepting his fate and finding it oddly pleasant.
“It would be an honour,” he said smoothly, reaching for a slice of bread.
Mireth beamed as Eryx continued to gallop around the room.
Cindrissian hadn’t looked up from his cup. But his hand hesitated when Eryx ran past him, a subtle pause—barely a flicker—as if some forgotten part of him wanted to reach out.
Finally recovering from his earlier fit of laughter, Darian shook his head. “You’re in for it now, Fenric. She won’t let you go until she knows everything.”
Fenric shrugged as he bit into his bread. “So be it.”
The tension in the room had eased, laughter curling through the morning air. The soft clink of dishes, the scrape of chairs, the quiet murmur of conversation filled the space once more, a rare, fleeting moment of lightness.
I let the warmth wrap around me, trying to believe in it. Trying to believe I wasn’t about to lose it. Again. So, I smiled. I listened. And I held onto it as tightly as I dared.