Epilogue In Which the East Wind Hosts a Family Re #2
They regarded one another with, well, not outright hostility, but at the very least, a healthy dose of mistrust.
Wren glanced between them in exasperation. Their toddler picked at her nose. “Are we going to be invited inside, or…?”
Eurus retreated to allow his relatives entry. And that was another word he found particularly vexing: relatives. He knew nothing of Wren, or her children. Granted, he didn’t know much of Boreas either. It had been an age since they had spent any significant time together. They were boys no longer.
Boreas’ son glanced around the foyer before shifting his attention to Eurus. His nose wrinkled. “Why does your face look funny?” he asked.
“Grayson!” Wren crouched at his side, expression stern. “That was rude. Do you think my face looks funny just because it is different from yours?” She gestured to a sizeable scar on her right cheek. “Apologize to your Uncle Eurus.”
Uncle? By the gods, he needed a drink, or several.
The boy, Grayson, ducked his head. His small mouth pursed into a pout. “Sorry, Uncle Eurus.” Which sounded more like Sowwy Uncle Yuwus.
Wren peered up at him. He stared at her blankly. “What?”
“Do you accept his apology?”
“Er…” Out of the corner of his eye, Eurus caught Boreas lifting a hand to his mouth, as though masking a smile. “Yes?”
Gripping his sister’s chubby hand, the coal-haired boy guided her responsibly around the room.
Boreas smiled at his children before catching Wren’s eye.
She drifted toward him, mouth lifted for a kiss, which he bestowed.
Eurus glanced away uncomfortably, seeking his own wife. Where had Min gone off to?
“Wow,” Wren murmured. “This place is amazing. Boreas, come look at this.” And she drew her husband into the sitting room. “See these windows? I’d like to do something similar. If we set the curtain rods higher, it would give the appearance of a taller space…”
Zephyrus had disappeared, as had Brielle. Sarai occupied herself picking out a tune on the piano.
Unsurprisingly, Notus was the only one of his siblings able to act rationally. He came toward Eurus, offering him a glass of amber liquid.
“You look like you need it,” his brother murmured.
“Bless you,” Eurus said, and swallowed down the liquor.
Min materialized at his side a moment later.
“Where did you go?” he muttered. “Why did you leave me with these people?”
“I was double checking the table settings,” she said. “And these people are your family.”
He ignored the second comment. “But you already checked earlier.”
“Yes, that is the definition of double checking, dear.” She tapped his cheek in affection and, he suspected, more than a little exasperation. “Dinner is ready.”
Thank the gods. The sooner they ate, the sooner everyone would leave.
Slowly, everyone filed into the dining room. Gold cloth draped the table. Ivory plates and forest green napkins presented an impression that was tastefully whimsical, wildflower-studded vases arranged alongside brass candlesticks.
Leaning down, Eurus placed his mouth at his wife’s ear. “It looks beautiful, bird.”
“Thank you,” she replied, a blush painting her cheeks.
Once everyone was seated, dinner was served. Soon, conversation filled the room.
Every so often, Eurus refilled drinks: water for Wren, wine for everyone else.
Or rather, water for Wren and Brielle, seeing as the redhead appeared to be ignoring the wine completely.
Additionally, he and Notus discussed Ammara’s state of affairs, now that the rains had returned.
With agriculture thriving, the realm was well on its way to recovery.
Meanwhile, Min was deep in discussion with Wren, Sarai, and Brielle, the latter of whom picked at her meal queasily. Boreas helped cut his children’s food, but otherwise appeared to skirt the majority of the discussion. Lucky bastard.
“So, brother.” Keen-eyed Zephyrus waved to him from a few seats down. “What do you think of hosting Midwinter this year?”
There were plenty of things Eurus would rather be doing, such as dousing his hands in hot oil. “You speak as though this plan is already in motion.”
“But of course! Can you imagine Midwinter at the estate? Garlands on the mantels, wreaths hung from every window and door.” He leaned back in his chair with a happy sigh, fingers clamped around the stem of his wineglass.
“Does it snow here? We don’t get much snow in Carterhaugh, and I’ve always wanted to experience a white Midwinter.
I imagine St. Laurent is quite festive.”
“If you want snow, then perhaps you should travel north, toward the Deadlands,” Eurus growled. “I’m sure Boreas would love to host you.”
His curly-haired sibling grimaced, all too aware of how deep Boreas’ loathing of him ran.
“Zephyrus.” Brielle caught her husband’s arm. “You can’t just invite yourself to people’s homes. It’s rude.”
“What’s rude?” Min asked, her attention momentarily pulled from her conversation with the other wives. She then began slicing into the cake she had set out earlier, passing pieces down the table.
“I was simply suggesting that it might be nice to host Midwinter at the estate,” Zephyrus said with a pout.
Min straightened in surprise. “I think that’s a splendid idea!”
It took Eurus a heroic effort to restrain himself from lunging across the table and tackling Zephyrus. He had no interest in making these gatherings a common occurrence. As far as he was concerned, once was enough.
“Then it’s settled,” Zephyrus announced to the table. “We’ll gather next Midwinter at the estate!”
He glowered down at his dessert. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
“Eurus.”
His wife’s voice drew his attention, and he found himself facing the loveliest vision of the most stunning woman seated beside him, her dark eyes shimmering with a love he believed to have been forever out of reach.
“All right?” she whispered, because of course his darling bird would notice his souring mood.
Maybe—certainly—he despised such gatherings, but never had he seen his wife so happy, so enveloped in belonging, his family now hers. It was a stark reminder that his own isolation had been a choice.
Maybe he could cope with his brothers’ presence a few times a year. It was a small price to pay for Min’s happiness.
Capturing her hand, he brought it to his mouth, skimmed a kiss across her knuckles. Later, when their family vacated the premises, he would draw her upstairs to their bedroom and show her with hands and lips and tongue all the ways he found her beautiful.
As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Min’s eyes darkened. “I love you,” she whispered.
Eurus would never tire of it. Not the words, nor the woman who voiced them: his wife, who held his heart.
He would have this—have them—for days and weeks and years to come.
“I love you, too, bird, in all the ways one can love another.” They would build their home.
They would stitch their lives with shared thread. And his life would know peace.
“Boreas,” Wren called from across the table. “Could you pass the cake?”