Aaron
Six Months Later—The Witching Glen
Tiana stands at the tall window of my study, looking out at the green where there used to be nothing but ash.
Six months of this realm healing, and my family still hasn’t gotten used to walking through a door that once opened onto rot.
The study’s full of them today—my mother and all three of my sisters, the fire going, the shelves loaded back up with every book Eric ever pretended to read.
My mother isn’t looking at the green. Her eyes are on the painting.
I cross the room to her with a book in my hand, and halfway there I release it. It doesn’t fall—it drifts along beside me at shoulder height, pages riffling. Samara gasps, delighted.
“Send it to Tiana,” she says.
The book floats over to Tiana, and she shoots me a flat look even as she plucks it out of the air and opens it. I stop at my mother’s shoulder, both of us facing the gold frame and the flawless young man inside it.
“It does look alive, doesn’t it?” I say.
My mother turns to me instead, fixing me with a look. “Hmmm. Aaron.” She folds her arms, and I already know what’s coming. “What exactly happened to Eric, anyway?”
I shrug. “I dealt with it.”
She holds my eyes, hunting for the rest of it, but she’s not going to find it in my face. Behind me in the canvas, the man who made me goes right on smiling at nothing.
Ellie comes through the door with an armful of scrolls and dips her head to the room. My mother’s gaze cuts to her, but she’s got the grace not to say whatever she’s thinking. Ellie sets the scrolls down and slips back out without a sound.
“My brother’s a king.” Samara beams at me, bouncing on her heels. “I tell everybody that at the Academy. Everybody.”
My mother drags her attention off the painting one more time, unconvinced, but she drops it. Tiana’s crossing the room with the book open, and the look on her face has changed.
“I got more on Henry.” Tiana stops in front of me. “And it’s not good. He’s been planning something big, Aaron. Bigger than we thought.”
My mother goes to her and pulls the book straight out of Tiana’s hands. She scans the page, her mouth flattening. “It’s damn near the same playbook Aya Bailey ran.” She groans.
Kiara steps in. “The worst part is what he’s holding. He’s got Blackwood magic and the first Blackwood spell book.” She looks up at me. “Can’t you just summon it back? With everything you can do now?”
“I tried.” I shake my head. The magic answered me on everything else, every wall and window I rebuilt out of the ash, but it went dead the moment I reached for that book.
“I’m still bound by the law, same as the Baileys were.
A thing given freely only comes back freely.
It has to be handed to a Blackwood, willingly, or it doesn’t move at all. ”
Nobody has an answer for that, but there’s nothing any of us can do about Henry today. Today’s not his.
“I appreciate the visit, all of you. But you know what today is.”
Samara claps her hands. “You finally get to be with Mara again.” The bounce goes out of her. “I’ve barely seen her. She stayed close to her pride the entire time. Never came out for any of us.”
My mother frowns at that, then swallows whatever she meant to say and goes another direction. “You know I’m still angry with you about Seth.”
“Ma.” Tiana doesn’t even look up. “Don’t start.”
My mother huffs. I breathe through the old grief before I answer her—she deserves an honest answer, not a defensive one.
“I’m not keeping his magic. Mother Fate won’t let me, and I wouldn’t if she would.
” I meet her eyes. “Whatever road Seth has to walk now, it’s his alone.
None of us get a say in it. Not even me, Ma. ”
She turns back to the book without answering, but her shoulders ease, and that’s as close to peace as she’ll give me today. I’ll take it.
“I’ve gotta go get my mate.”
Tiana looks up, the hard set finally gone out of her face, and smiles at me. “Then go get her. We’re not going anywhere.”
My mother lifts her head and grins at me. “Go, baby.”
I smile at her and cross to Ellie at the door. “Make sure the room’s ready. I want to show Mara the nursery first thing.”
Ellie bows her head. “Yes, my lord.”
“Damn, Ellie.” I scrub a hand down my face. “Six months in and we’re still on this.”
“They’re getting what they wanted.” My mother keeps her eyes on the book. “A king. Stop trying to take that from them, Aaron.”
I look back at her and grin. There’s no winning that one.
I cross to the long mirror by the door and look myself over.
The tunic, the pants, the sandals—the whole getup’s giving Amir, and I fight down a shudder.
But kings dress different. I roll my shoulders and move on, then catch my own eyes in the glass and almost laugh.
What the fuck am I doing? I’m not Eric. Since when do I care how a tunic hangs?
A small hand slides into mine. Samara’s looking up at me with those big eyes. “Can I come?”
I nod and squeeze her fingers. “Course you can.”
I take us there with a thought, and Wintermoon comes up around us, warm and gold and so familiar it aches. I haven’t stood on this ground in too long. Crushed grass, pride-musk, the smell of home. I tip my head back at that wide Wintermoon sky and just smile.
I let go of my sister’s hand. “I miss it here.”
“Wintermoon misses you too,” Samara says. “It hasn’t been the same since you left. Just quiet now, like something’s missing.” She leans into my arm. “You, brother.”
She gasps. I bring my eyes back down, and Mara’s standing right there in front of us.
She’s huge. Round and glowing with it, one hand on the swell of our son, the other wrapped around a loaf of bread she’s halfway through. She swallows her mouthful and gives me a sheepish shrug.
“Sorry.” She rubs her belly. “I got hungry.”
I forget how to breathe. I just stand there and take her in—all of her. It’s more than I can hold.
Samara looks up at me like I’ve lost my whole mind. Then she waves. “Hi.”
Mara smiles around her mouthful. “Hi.”
I start toward her, one foot and then the other, careful.
“You look so handsome,” she says.
I reach her and go straight down. My knees hit the grass, and I lift my hands to her belly—they’re shaking, both of them, as I lay them gentle against the curve of our son. She looks down at me, still chewing, and her tail comes around to brush warm against my cheek. I laugh.
“I miss you too,” I tell her tail.
I look at her tail, still loving on me even with her mouth full of bread. “I built you a hunting ground. In the Glen. For you and our cub. I can’t wait to watch you teach our son how to hunt.”
Her tail goes soft against my face and falls, submitting, and that undoes me. Then I feel it—a thump against my hand, small and strong and mine. My son, kicking out at the world from the inside.
I lose it.
I press my forehead to her belly and weep, both hands spread wide to hold as much of him as I can. “I’m here. Son, I’m finally here. I missed you so much. So damn much, both of you.”
I stay down there until I can breathe again, and when I push to my feet, her amber eyes are wet as mine.
“I hated every day of waiting.” Her tail winds tight around her legs, holding something back, and she won’t quite lift her eyes to mine.
I catch the tear off her cheek before it falls. “I know, baby. But look what the waiting bought us.” I tip my head toward the Glen on the other side of the air. “You gave me a reason to put it all back together. Every inch of it is yours now.” I hold her gaze. “Did you get to say your goodbyes?”
Her eyes drop from mine. “Yeah. My dad...” She can’t get the rest out. “He took it the hardest.”
“Then I’ll carry you back to him, as many times as it takes. He’s going to hold his grandson, Mara. I promise you that.”
She believes me. Her whole body softens, and she leans her cheek into my hand.
I search her face. I have to ask it, even with my son’s kick still buzzing in my hand. “Are you sure about this? You’re letting go of all of it. Your whole world. Just for me.”
“Yes.” No hesitation, none. “I tried, Aaron. I really tried to love Wintermoon without you in it. I couldn’t do it.” The rest comes harder, like she has to drag it up. “So are you going to reject me, or not?”
A laugh punches out of me. I cup her face in both hands, lean in, and kiss her.
It’s been too long since I last had her mouth, and when my lips touch hers something lights up between us, the mate bond hauling itself back together strand by strand after half a year strung out thin across the distance.
I feel it knit—that torn, missing place in me, gone since the day I left her at her father’s line, going quiet and full at last. I pour every cold lonely night into her, every dawn I woke reaching for a side of the bed that wasn’t warm, and she breathes my name into my mouth. “Aaron...”
I pull back and sniffle like a child, and I don’t care. “Sorry, baby. I just...” I rest my forehead to hers. “You don’t know how bad I wanted this. How long. I was so afraid that when I finally came for you, you’d take one look and change your mind.”
“You silly warlock.” She laughs against my lips. “When are you going to get it through your head? I have always chosen you. And I’m always going to keep choosing you.” She pulls back to hold my eyes. “But I need you to choose me back, Aaron. Every time.”
I take her hand, bring it up, and press my mouth to the back of it. “Ready to see your new home?”
She smiles, and it’s the whole sun. “Yes.”
I start pulling her along, too eager, and she laughs and comes. When we reach Samara, she slips in and takes Mara’s other hand.
“I missed you too, you know,” Samara says.
“I’m sorry.” Mara’s face falls. “I just—“
“It’s okay.” Samara squeezes her hand. “I get it. You needed to be with your pride.” Then she grins. “But now I get to meet my nephew.”
“Yes.” Mara nods down at her. “You do.”
I look at my mate. “Ready?”