Chapter 12
In hindsight, they should have waited until morning to visit the ranch. The carriage door opened, and cold, snow-flecked air burst inside. Fawn burrowed deeper into her cloak and accepted Dean’s proffered hand to descend the steps.
Her mate’s royal carriage outshone any she had ever seen. Its grandeur embarrassed her, and her only reprieve was that Dean seemed to dislike the gaudiness as much as she did.
“You can redesign anything you’d like,” he had said, catching the distaste she tried to hide. “I, for one, will welcome the change.”
“Why haven’t you changed it?” she’d mused. “You took over as king last year, didn’t you?”
“I did.” He had assessed the gold interior, then shrugged. “I decided to let the next queen change it as she wished. If not, I would have gutted the entire thing myself.”
The next queen. Who would he have married if they had never met? She didn’t want to consider it for reasons she couldn’t name. She barely knew him. Why did she care if he had another woman lined up?
Fawn knocked on her grandparents’ door before entering, not wanting to startle her family. It wasn’t terribly late, and she knew they would still be awake. Sure enough, Grandma and Naomi sat by the fire in the front room, mending clothes, while Grandpa appeared from the hallway.
“Hey, squirt. What brings you by?” Grandpa asked. Dean stepped through the door behind her, and the room fell quiet.
“This is Dean. The Garden King.”
No one spoke. Dean stepped forward and offered his hand to Grandpa. “Dean Hawthorne.”
Grandpa shook Dean’s hand and darted a glance at Fawn. “Peter Whitman.” He gestured to his wife, who approached with Naomi. “This is my wife, Judith, and Fawn’s best friend, Naomi.”
Grandma extended her hand, and Dean kissed her fingers. He did the same to Naomi, and the woman mouthed, “Oh my gods,” when he looked away.
“I think we’d better sit down and talk,” Grandpa said.
“I’ll make tea while everyone gets settled.” Fawn hurried into the kitchen, her hands shaking with nerves.
The teapot whistled, and she placed it on a tray with their cups, sugar, and milk. “How do you take your tea?” she asked Dean.
“I’ll make my own.” He reached for the pot, but she popped his hand.
“It’s rude for a guest to serve themselves,” she chided. “How do you take your tea?” Dean chuckled, flashing that infuriatingly handsome smile, and heat crept up Fawn’s neck.
Naomi stared open-mouthed, while Fawn’s grandparents exchanged a long look.
“Two sugars, no milk.” His eyes never left Fawn as she poured. When she sat down, he caught her hand and squeezed. “I met Fawn at the Mountain King’s coronation,” he started. “She’s my mate.”
The other three started talking at once.
“What?”
“How is this possible?”
“You’re marrying a sexy king?” The last came from Naomi.
Dean’s deep laugh moved through Fawn like a light breeze. He waited for the others to calm down and said, “I’m sure you all have questions.”
“Why did you not claim her earlier?” her grandfather demanded. “Royals retrieve their mates as soon as they’re found.”
Dean leaned back in his seat, still holding Fawn’s hand.
“We tried, but no record of her existed in the fae kingdoms. A year later, my father traveled to the Human Kingdom where they told him Fawn died alongside her parents, and on my end, the bond had gone quiet.” He’d not asked Fawn specifics of that time in her life, but she could tell he wanted to.
Her grandmother huffed in indignation. “That’s not true.”
Fawn snorted, and Grandpa mumbled, “Obviously, Judy.” Grandma swatted him with a glare.
Naomi looked lost. “Why would someone tell your father that?”
Dean’s hand tightened around Fawn’s. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
Deep lines carved Grandpa’s forehead as he turned toward her. “Have you felt his emotions this entire time?”
She rubbed her palm against her skirt and instantly regretted it. The scratch of the material against her skin almost made her gag. “I’ve always felt faint emotions that didn’t match my own. They weren’t strong, but they were there. I asked Mom about them. She said it was puberty.”
“Fawn’s magic is almost non-existent, making the bond weak on her end,” Dean explained. “I don’t know why. Mate bonds are supposed to be the most powerful magic in our world, but the same thing happened with the Mountain King’s human mate.”
“You’re going to be a queen,” Naomi breathed. “Holy shit.” Holy shit is righ t. Fawn deliberately avoided thinking about being queen, otherwise she’d faint or throw up.
Grandma reached over and tugged Naomi’s ear. “Language.”
Dean brushed his thumb over Fawn’s. “I know it’s sudden, but everyone in the Mountain Palace knows Fawn is my mate, and the safest place for her is the Garden Kingdom where my personal guard will protect her with his life.”
“And you?” Grandpa pressed. “Will you protect her with your life?”
“Yes,” Dean answered before Grandpa finished his sentence. “I don’t plan on letting her out of my sight, but in the event that she is, Braddock will be there.”
She filed Braddock’s name away for later.
Grandpa gave a curt nod. “Good. We still don’t know who sent Warren to kill her.”
Dean went still. “What did you say?”
“I haven’t told him,” Fawn hissed at her grandfather.
“It’s important he knows,” her grandfather countered. “How can he protect you if he doesn’t know?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the tension behind her eyes. “Nothing has happened since Warren. I’ve been diligent. Whoever sent him probably thinks he’s still trying to drag me to the Human Kingdom.”
The king hadn’t moved, and worry pricked at her. Would she feel it if he had a heart attack? “Dean?”
“Someone explain.” Two words were cold as ice. Fawn focused on his emotions, and a dangerous rage flickered down their bond.
She and Naomi quickly recounted what they knew about Warren. They both hesitated to tell him about Naomi killing the bastard and the entire family burying the body.
Dean listened patiently, asking questions here and there. When he discovered Warren fought in his battalion, Fawn thought he might explode. “Where is he now?”
“At the bottom of my manure catch. Naomi stuck a knife through his neck.” Apparently, her grandfather had no qualms outing them. Fawn shuddered at the memory. They’d dug through the manure until they hit the bottom, then they dug a grave, tossed Warren in, and covered everything back up.
Naomi looked ready to faint at Grandpa’s confession.
Everyone held their breath, unsure how the king would take the news.
Dean’s body eased a fraction. He released her hand and slid his arm around her waist to pull her close.
The action made butterflies erupt in her stomach.
It’s been one day, Fawn. Calm the hell down.
Dean’s fingers gripped her side, anchoring her against him. “I owe you all a tremendous debt. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
He released Fawn and stood. “It’s important we return to our kingdom at once.
Getting Warren into my battalion without going through years of training takes political power not many possess.
I need to find out who they are and mount them on the front gates as a warning to anyone who thinks they can touch their queen and live. ”
Fawn couldn’t stop her nipples from hardening or the fire heating her blood. His commanding tone did something to her. Dean’s knowing eyes slid to her and his lips twitched. Oh, hell.
“If Warren managed to join your battalion, what makes you think you can trust any of them to protect our girl?” her grandmother demanded.
The muscle in Dean’s jaw feathered with tension. “I trust Braddock with my life. He’ll not leave her side if I’m not around, but I don’t anticipate that happening until this person is caught.”
Grandpa stood and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “I hope you’re a good man.” He stepped back, crossing his arms. “Because if you’re not, I’ll have no problem burying you beneath a pile of shit where you belong.”
After long conversations, decisions were made. Naomi would return to the Garden Kingdom with Dean and Fawn, but her grandparents would stay on the ranch. They’d lived in the Mountain Kingdom their entire lives, and Fawn didn’t want them to leave everything they’d ever known.
Dean assured them anytime they wanted to visit, he’d take care of everything.
While Naomi packed, Fawn bid her grandparents goodbye. She hadn’t cried in years, but she wept against her grandfather’s chest. “Thank you for everything.”
Grandpa held her tight. “You’re everything to us, Fawn. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you.”
Fawn hugged her grandmother next, and after another tearful farewell, she moved to Dean’s side.
“When will you wed?” her grandmother asked.
Fawn stiffened. “We just met.” She knew everyone expected her to jump at the opportunity to be queen, but what if she and Dean hated each other? What if he chewed loudly?
Fawn started to sweat under the weight of everyone’s gaze. “I know this is scary, dear, but you don’t have a choice.” The calm in her grandmother’s voice did nothing to soothe her.
“Yes, she does,” Grandpa barked at the same time Dean said, “She’ll always have a choice.” He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “My job is to convince her to choose me.”
“I think that’s everything,” Fawn declared and closed the lid to the last trunk. She paused, then flipped it open again. “Let me double check.”
Dean was too occupied glaring at the flimsy lock on Fawn’s bedroom door in the palace to remind her that she’d “double checked” three times already.
Anyone could break in with that pathetic excuse for security.
The thought of someone trying to hurt—no, kill Fawn enraged him beyond anything he’d ever known.
She’d recounted the story as if reciting a faerietale. Had Naomi not sounded petrified, he’d have thought they were joking. He admired her strength. Not when she downplayed attempted murder, but any other time it was a very admirable quality.
In the morning, they had a meeting with Rennick and Amelia on their way out. Fawn wanted to say goodbye, and Dean needed to speak with the king about a few things.
As his mate dug through her trunks, his mind wandered to ways to woo her into loving him. He already knew he’d fall fast, and it’d be nice if she was close behind.
“What’s your favorite hobby?” he asked her.
Fawn poured herself a glass of water and set the pitcher on her side table. “I don’t really have any.”
He brushed a piece of loose hair from the back of her neck. She grimaced and an uncomfortable feeling slid down the bond. Did she not like him touching her neck? Filing the information away for later, he pushed on. “Everyone has something they like to do in their downtime.”
She set down her glass and plopped on the bed. “Not everyone has a hobby.”
Dean lowered himself beside her. “Reading?” She shook her head. “Puzzles?” No again. “Cooking? Sewing? Hunting? Horseback riding?”
She chuckled and laid back. “No to all. Especially the last one. You couldn’t pay me to mount a horse.”
Dean laid back and rolled to his side, propping himself up with his elbow. “You grew up on a ranch,” he pointed out.
She gazed up at him, amused. “I’ve never ridden a horse in my life. They’re too tall.”
“They have these wonderful things called mounting blocks,” he teased. A pillow whacked him in the face, and he plucked it out of his assailant’s hands. “That wasn’t very nice.”
He bopped her on the face with the pillow and warmed when she giggled. If you’d told him five minutes ago that Fawn Whitman would giggle, he’d have called you a liar. It transformed her face, and he would hit her with a pillow every day if it meant he could see her like this.
“I don’t like being up high,” she confessed. “Even the calmest of horses spook, and it’s a long way down.”
He tossed the pillow aside and turned to her fully. “I wouldn’t let you fall.”
She reached up but curled her fingers into a fist and dropped her hand. Touch me, he silently urged. Instead of granting his wish, she sat up. “We need to finish packing and go to sleep.”
Groaning, Dean hoisted himself to his feet and held a hand out to help Fawn stand. “One last look then we’re done,” Dean said. She grumbled under her breath as they both did a full sweep of the room for anything they might have missed.
Dean opened the last drawer in her dresser and found a thin piece of red silk nestled in the corner.
He lifted it into the air and maneuvered the strips of fabric until he realized what he held.
His mouth dried and his cock jumped to attention.
A pair of underwear made entirely of silk strings and a tiny triangle stared back at him.
Fawn snatched the undergarment from his fingers and shoved it into one of her trunks. “Thank you.” She busied herself fussing with the crown-provided bedding and dusting the furniture.
“Fawn.” Dean’s voice came out rough. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, but he knew what he wanted to see. He kept his mouth shut and willed the image of Fawn in barely-there silk out of his mind. Clearing his throat, he took the dusting rag from her. “Grab your nightclothes and toilette.”
She looked him up and down. “Why would I do that?”
His brows bent downward. “You are welcome to wear something of mine to bed and use my things. I only thought you’d want your own.”
She planted her hands on her hips and lifted a smart brow. “What do you think is about to happen, Your Grace?”
“In the Garden Kingdom, they call us Your Highness,” he corrected her.
Growing up he never thought much about why the Garden King royals had a different title.
He now knew that Cain demanded his bloodline be held in higher regard.
They were the first fae, and the strongest. The other kingdoms didn’t know that, and Dean thought it best to keep it that way.
“You’re sleeping in my chambers tonight,” he continued. She tried to argue, but he clamped his hand over her mouth. “I’m not going to ravish you, but nor will I let you out of my sight.”
He lowered his hand and Fawn trudged to her trunks to gather her things. “Fine.” Dean bit back a triumphant smile and opened the door. She blew past him with a bag slung over her shoulder and quipped, “but I’m not fucking you.”
Dean chuckled and shut the door. “Yet.”