5. Just Rocks #3
“That sounds familiar.” Valerie smiles. “Though I must admit my life is considerably less academic most days. One of the children who visits regularly is a harpy. I spend a surprising amount of time reminding her not to yank the tabs on the pop-up books.”
“That sounds better than my dissertation research.”
“It depends on the dragon.”
Their conversation continues as we head toward the private patio. Valerie tells her about the library, the harbor, and her human friend, Hattie. Iris answers with stories from the coffee shop and her university years.
The patio sits beneath the canopy, with a wrought-metal table and four high-backed chairs overlooking the lower terraces. It would be almost homey if not for all the carved emerald. I pull out one of the heavy metal chairs for Valerie, and she gives me a quick smile before sitting.
Four winged peris drift onto the patio carrying solid silver platters. Their gossamer wings beat with a soft thrum as they hover above the paving stones and arrange roasted meats, fruit, and dark wine across the table.
Peris are uncommon even at Mt. Qaf. They keep largely to their own kind and rarely mingle with humans, although wealthy djinn families have employed them in their households for centuries. Valerie has most likely never seen one before, and her attention follows them as they move around the table.
When a peri sets a crystal goblet beside her plate, Valerie offers a polite nod. “Thank you. It all looks wonderful.”
The peri gives a brief dip of her chin before floating away. Valerie picks up her fork and leans slightly toward Iris.
“Do they ever land? The waitstaff, I mean.”
Iris laughs softly as she cuts into her portion of roasted meat. “Only when Rakan isn’t looking. It’s a whole pride thing. You get used to the floating eventually.”
“We merely maintain standards.” Rakan leans back in his chair. “They float because the raw emerald scratches their sandals. It’s practical.”
Valerie accepts the answer without missing a beat and returns to her food.
As the peris clear the main courses, Rakan’s gaze lingers on Iris for a long moment. He presses a kiss to her wrist.
“My love, I need to talk to Sigurd about something urgent. I’ll be right back.”
“Of course, Rakan. Valerie and I will be right here.”
He stands and straightens his jacket, then catches my eye. A slight tilt of his head toward the edge of the patio is enough.
Valerie and Iris return to their conversation about Iris’s university studies while I follow him away from the table.
We stop beside a carved stone railing overlooking the lower mountain slopes.
The air is thinner here, with the faint scent of pine and ozone cutting through the lingering spice of Rakan’s magic.
The moment we are out of earshot, his relaxed expression disappears. He grips my arm, and the amber fire threading his obsidian skin flares red. Heat sinks through the fabric of my shirt beneath his hand.
“You need to be careful, my friend,” he says. “I know you and Valerie aren’t truly mated. I understand why you brought her, but your mother is here, and she’s on the warpath.”
I don’t pull away. “Solveig is always on the warpath. I can handle her.”
“She brought Maren.”
Of course she did. My mother wastes no time. She knows the treaty has left me with few options, and bringing Maren here gives her another way to apply pressure before the wedding ceremonies even begin.
Rakan’s grip tightens. “They’re currently sipping nectar in the sky lounge and looking like a tribunal. Solveig may not challenge you openly at my wedding, but that doesn’t mean she won’t find a way to make Valerie uncomfortable.”
“I know my mother better than anyone, Rakan. That’s precisely why I took the chance of bringing Valerie here.” I glance toward the patio. “Solveig values appearances too much to create a public scene at your wedding, especially when you’re marrying a human yourself.”
Rakan follows my gaze before releasing my arm. The red in his veins settles gradually back to amber.
“I suppose it would be gauche,” he says. “Definitely beneath the kraken matriarch. Still, I wouldn’t underestimate her.”
“I don’t.” I turn back to him. “I won’t let Valerie pay for whatever point my mother is trying to make.”
Rakan nods and purses his lips. “Iris and I will do what we can to help. Camille will too, although she may pretend she’s only protecting the seating plan.”
“Thank you, Rakan. I appreciate it. Truly.”
When I look back toward the table, Valerie is listening to something Iris is telling her. She has found someone here she likes, and I’m glad of it.
It also reminds me that she agreed to play my date, not to be punished for my refusal to obey my mother. Maren was always part of the arrangement. Becoming collateral in whatever battle Solveig intends to fight with me was not.
I start back toward the table with Rakan beside me. Valerie looks up as we approach, still smiling.
She is not my mate. And no matter how much I dislike the idea, I’ll soon have to drag her onto my mother’s political battlefield. Even so, I’ll do my best to protect that beautiful smile—from Solveig, Maren, and everyone else who might threaten it.