Kingston
“Um…Is she going to be alright?”
I hardly spared Morty Dread a glance over my shoulder before turning back to Quinn.
Her body shook with the force of her laughter, tan arms wrapped around her middle as if she sought to contain it. Or perhaps it hurt. Judging by the way she shut her eyes intermittently, I assumed the latter.
Upon opening them, the deep brown sparkled with mirth.
And a bit of hysteria.
She pressed her lips together, their natural rouge lightening before regaining its color, as a warm hue appeared along her cheeks and chest. I wanted to sweep her dark brown hair behind her ears, but it would have been no use.
Every few seconds, her fingers drifted to the locks the way they always did, her bracelet tangling with the strands as she ran her hands through and pulled.
Each tug echoed in my chest.
I weighed everything I shared with her carefully.
After carrying it alone for so long, handing even one small piece to her—I considered the heaviness of that.
And at each turn, she proved time and time again that she was strong enough to hold it with me.
It wasn’t easy, but it was what she wanted. What I wanted, too. Although I never really dreamed it possible.
I considered now how I might have gotten swept up in the feel of it. How good it felt to not be alone anymore.
But it was heavy, facing it for the first time.
Over and over, I had to remind myself of that and hold the line between too much and not enough.
Her sudden burst of laughter, the strain in the corners of her eyes—I feared they were signs it was already heavier than expected and catching up to her.
But I would watch for additional stress carefully, as diligently as I’d watched her progress through The Quest, and I’d be there when it happened. If it happened.
For now, I needed to address Morty Dread.
And all the problems he brought with him.
After taking a few deep breaths and releasing them slowly, the tremor in my hand settled. It faded completely as I brushed my palm down the front of my shirt.
“She’ll be fine,” I said, responding to his question. Then I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair to tidy it. “She’s had a lot thrown at her over the last few days. Sorry to say, you’re the least shocking of the secrets.”
“Bullocks,” Morty cursed, mocking my accent. “I should’ve timed my entrance better.”
He snapped his fingers and swung his arm across his body, grumbling as he stepped away from me. While feigning concern, he perused the room like he’d never been inside it.
“Man, I miss my time getting to live up here.”
Quinn squeaked through her fit of giggles. “Wait. He lived in your room?”
“Nope.” Morty popped the p for good measure. “But his casa was mi casa.”
She frowned at his attempt at Spanish. “That’s not how—”
He droned on regardless, “And while I was King of Camelot Court, I had free rein to explore.”
I suppressed the roll of my eyes. “You weren’t supposed to explore past your rooms, Morty, and you know that.”
“Well, obviously, Kingston.” He smirked at Quinn before shrugging at me. “Which you’re smart enough to assume meant I did the opposite. Extensively.”
He was not wrong.
When he knocked his elbow against the wall beside my bed, the brick I’d rigged to conceal smaller items popped out of place. Thankfully, I’d moved those items to a new location the other day, out of fear we’d need them there in the end.
I narrowed my gaze on him as he feigned surprise.
And Quinn, unable to ignore her love of secrets even in a state of half-shock, clambered to her knees for a better view.
I resisted the urge to smile, maintaining the mask I wore at Camelot Court in front of Morty as best I could, but relief flooded my veins at her piqued curiosity.
Morty reached a hand into the hole in the wall, and he searched inside for whatever contents he’d expected to find before coming away empty. Then he pouted like a child.
“Oh, Kingston, you’re no fun anymore.”
“This isn’t a game, Morty.”
Quinn giggled again. Our gazes snapped to her as she smothered the sound behind her hand.
Morty grunted with displeasure, but a spark of curiosity gleamed in his eyes, too. “What’s so funny, King’s Maiden?”
She gestured at him wildly like that explained everything, and upon realizing what she was about to say, a laugh escaped me. It thrilled me, knowing how much Morty would hate it.
“You just—You came in here all.” She made her voice as gruff as possible. “Ultra serious and intimidating, and he keeps calling you Morty.”
Laughter bubbled out, and the snort that followed endeared me as much as it irked him.
“I just—I can’t take you seriously at all.”
Morty’s lips twisted into a scowl, and he stalked over to where she knelt on the bed. I stood firmly beside her, but she didn’t cower, and I wouldn’t intervene unless she asked.
Lowering his face to hers, he glared. “The last person who called me Morty besides your darling King ended up dead, little princess.”
She scrutinized him as he towered over her, all six-foot-three of him crowding her five-foot-seven-inch frame. But she’d gone toe-to-toe with Max Dread, stared down his heat and rage without flinching, and came away stronger.
So, Morty didn’t scare her.
She cocked her head. “Is it short for Mortimer?”
Her voice squeaked before more laughter followed, and pride swelled in my chest.
I pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her head because, quite honestly, I couldn’t help myself.
“Oh, Quinn, if only it were. Then he could’ve adopted the nickname Tim. Or Timmy, even. But, much to his dismay, the name inscribed on his birth certificate is Morty Dread. A bit of a sore spot since they named—”
“The spare—” Morty growled.
“His half-brother Maxwell.” I teased relentlessly, adding for good measure. “You remember him? The one we affectionately refer to as Max?”
Quinn’s answering smile, her trust in me to perceive the danger had passed, and how she responded to Max’s name with such affection, warmed my heart.
I winked conspiratorially. “He’s far more intimidating, if you ask me.”
Her brown eyes lit up again, and she winked back. Then she shook her head to clear it. “Okay, as fun as all this is, what is he doing here, barging into your room in the middle of the night?”
I turned back to Morty, who was eyeing my bookshelves like he’d figured out their secret as well. “I’d like to know the same thing, actually.”
“Ah, yes.”
He swiveled back around with a grin stretched wide across his features, and something about its sinister edge slithered fear down my spine.
“Daddy Dearest is on his way. Did I not mention that?”