Chapter 12 Orion
Orion
Sweat coated almost every inch of my body, as did cobwebs, dust, and grime.
My venture beneath the house wasn’t meant to keep me for so long, but I also hadn’t expected to find the remnants of a crypt beneath the manor, either.
I tried to dredge up the very little I knew about the island and those who came before.
During my renovations, I’d found what might have been old floor plans of the manor, but they’d been dated and hadn’t accounted for the additions or changes that’d been made before I’d taken over.
It mattered little, anyway. Much to Ivy’s horror, we had dead to deal with, too. There were three urns I easily whisked away with help from Rhadamanthus, who’d asked no questions about why I wanted the remains of those who once lived here gone. Perhaps he understood why.
We were trying to make everything as easy as possible for our mate.
Partially because of the pregnancy, though really because our instincts told us to.
Our mate bonds urged us to take control and remove anything that might cause her stress, and after the whole basement fiasco, I knew this was another thing she wouldn’t want to deal with—and it would be another worry upon her regarding the children.
Making the house childproof was one thing, but we were also setting up systems to make the island child safe, too. Wards, charms, anything that could alert us to children wandering alone.
Of course, there were ten adults to three older children, and soon two newborns. We outnumbered them for now. And once Ivy had her birth control charms completed, there would be no chance for them to overwhelm us.
At least, that’s what we told ourselves.
“There you are,” Ivy said as she waddled towards me, Xerxes close behind.
Around her neck was something new, and certainly unexpected.
She’d forgone putting anything neck-related on since the collar.
We knew it was her trauma, but there was almost a sense of relief seeing her take a step towards healing from it.
“You might not want to come near me,” I warned, holding my hands up. “I’ve been under the house.”
Ivy stopped, brows furrowed. One of her hands went to the large swell of her stomach, while the other took the other male’s hand. “Why have you been down there?”
I almost felt bad for my next words, but there were rules, and that included not hiding anything from one another.
“I found what I believe to be a crypt used by the previous owners of the island,” I explained.
“There were…urns, however Rhadamanthus helped me move them to a place where they would be safe.”
My mate stared at me for a long moment, her bond oddly quiet, her expression wary. “You found…a crypt?”
“It is nowhere the children will find easily, though just in case, Adrian and I have already cleared it and added wards to ensure if they do, they cannot enter or get trapped within.” Even though I might have been terrified of the idea of having my own children, I was learning quickly it didn’t matter.
Blood or not, I would protect all under my care.
Whether that be Ivy’s siblings or the infants she carried.
I loved them all.
I never thought myself capable of loving anyone but Ivy.
She had always been my heart, my resilience, my need to fight.
She was my reason for living, for surviving, and all I’d ever cared about was returning to her.
But even I could admit there was a part of me that adored the children we already had.
And I knew I would do anything in my power to protect them.
Ivy nodded slowly. Her end of the bond still gave me no impression of what she wanted, though I wasn’t sure I needed it to know her thoughts were potentially spiralling.
“I was thinking perhaps we could transform it into a family crypt, if you would like. Something that will house our dead and protect them. Keep them close,” I murmured. “Like my mother. And your own.”
Ivy found my stare, tears brimming her dark eyes. “I think that’s a good idea,” she said finally, smile timid.
I bowed my head and stepped towards her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “I will handle it with Rhadamanthus,” I murmured. “When you are ready, we will bring them home. All of them.”
The evening went by with Ivy quiet and lost in her own thoughts, while Arthur, Rowan, Elias, and I worked to finish the nursery.
Although I’d put time into it during my personal renovations of the manor, there was still work that needed to be done.
Ivy wanted the door leading to the balcony gone; her fear over someone using it to enter the room was enough to have us putting a thick, impenetrable window in its place.
We also needed to add a door between the main bedroom and the nursery. A hidden one, we’d negotiated. Even though the twins would be staying in the main room for however long Ivy needed them to be there, the nursery would eventually be used. Either by them, or by the ones that come after.
Ivy was terrified of them not being close, so we were taking the necessary steps to ease some of that fear.
It wouldn’t all just go away; even though the immediate threat against them was gone, there had still been a threat, and even Ivy’s magic continued to react to the potential harm that could come to them.
“You know, I’ve heard some things about that brother of yours that would put you to shame,” Rowan said as he hung the last of the prints Thea helped us create for the space. Although Ivy had a hand in everything, there were still small things we were doing to surprise her. “Apparently, he’s awful.”
I shook my head as I carefully put the folded baby clothes away. “I highly doubt that.”
“Man, he’s at the academy right now, and he’s taken up your mantle—but worse.” Rowan stepped back from the wall with a sigh. “I think those are straight. But anyway, I think you need to have a word with him.”
I snorted as I finished with the yellows.
Ivy had colour co-ordinated everything. There were pinks and greens and blues, yellows and oranges.
Christmas outfits, winter onesies. Everything she could ever need.
And she wanted them organised—for now—by colour.
At least, the garments they wouldn’t be wearing for the first few months.
This was my third time rearranging them for her. She could barely stand long enough to do it herself, and we were now one week from the expected delivery.
We did not have names, other than ideas tossed around in the middle of the night. We knew nothing about the sexes, but that didn’t matter to Ivy in the slightest. All we knew was one would be a shifter, the other a witch or mage. And that was the only knowledge we needed regarding the birth plan.
“Most Fae aren’t staying at Oberon,” I replied, finally looking at him. “I doubt he will last long.”
“You’d think. But the council said they could stay as long as they wanted until Titania opened and was ready to accept Fae students.”
During the battle, the academy that had once been for the Fae was destroyed.
The earth had split open and swallowed the entire structure whole.
Thankfully, there were no students or teachers within, but it meant there was no dedicated place of education for those after the age of eighteen in Faery, except for the schools in Avalon and the mortal realm—and they were hesitant to allow Fae in their halls.
I didn’t blame them. The Fae—both Seelie and Unseelie—were the largest backers of Dante’s claims, though they were the biggest fools falling for his manipulations.
The tenuous alliance we’d had with the other realms of Nyx was now holding on by frayed threads, and there was too much the Courts had to do to show they would no longer be an enemy.
Especially since Ivy gave them exactly what they wanted.
A Queen.
“And there’s no sign of their Queen yet?
” Elias asked from the floor where he assembled some sort of contraption from the human world.
Ivy said it was meant for bouncing and walking, and it would either remain in here or downstairs—just nowhere the twins couldn’t use them unsupervised or be put in danger.
The last of the clothes went into a drawer, and I closed it firmly, adding the latch.
A habit we were all getting used to. “None, according to my contacts in Faery,” I replied, shutting the closet door and latching it.
We were not at the stage of needing them, but Maeve preferred being prepared rather than learning as we went.
“However, there is something unusual happening.”
Elias pushed the first rolling contraption away with a grunt. “Oh, great. That sounds like a problem.”
I shrugged as I joined him for the next one while Arthur carried in the new changing table. For a male who was still learning to read—that wasn’t a quip at him, but rather admiration, because he’d spent over thirty years trapped in a cage—he sure as hell knew how to build things.
It was fascinating watching him take the instructions to these damned items and simply put them together when Elias and I struggled. One would think my agility and Elias’s strength would mean we could put together a bouncing chair with little effort, but the human instructions were impossible.
But not to him.
As he set the table down, he pressed a hand to Rowan’s shoulder. “Arthur says he’s heard the same thing from the shifters,” the mage said over his shoulder. “And now that you mention it, some students at Oberon are tense.”
“Why haven’t I heard anything?” Elias asked, glancing around the room with annoyance.
Rowan shrugged while I pulled the contents of the chair out of the box. “Something strange is happening on the island of the palace, and some Fae swear they are seeing another land mass appearing,” I murmured. “Now that the magic has shifted in Faery, it appears it’s preparing for something.”
“How can magic prepare for something?” Rowan asked as he joined us with Arthur. The pair took seats around the pile of plastic and fabric. “Is the Fae Queen’s magic like Ivy’s?”
I shrugged, having no answer to that question because I truly had no idea. “Whatever it is, I think it will keep the Courts busy enough so as to not give them a chance to cause problems for us.”
Arthur snorted as he pulled the instructions towards him, his hand brushing my knee. We will see.
“I suppose we will.” I smirked, grabbing the piece of fabric meant for the baby’s butt. “Let’s get this over with so we can show Ivy.”
It took us nearly half as long to build the second one, and once it was complete, we set it with the other in the corner where the walls of a playpen sat.
The last thing we did was roll out the heavy, thick rug going in the centre of the room, and pulled the breast-feeding chair to the window, ensuring it was already set with pillows, blankets, and the table next to it had a sun lamp for the late-night feedings.
The space wasn’t complete and would likely require changes, but for Ivy, it was done.
I just hoped she liked it.
“She’s going to love it,” Rowan said, as if reading my thoughts. “Right?”
The four of us shared concerned looks. “We have done the necessary tasks so far.” However, I looked around again warily. “Should we have perhaps put up the other paintings for her?”
Elias shook his head. “No, let’s get her input now so we can get everything done by next week. I don’t want to be thinking about this space while she’s in the middle of giving birth.”
I could agree with that. One less thing to worry about.
Then we could rest.