But he was getting ahead of himself. She was sick. Very sick. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead.
“Where is the First?” he barked as a powerful, dark-haired man in a loose robe someone had clearly lent him walked in with a killer’s grace. His deep-set eyes scanned the room, the woman, and finally landed on Romulus.
The confidence he saw there told him this was the Alpha Shifter, as did the rush of pleasing magic that filled the room.
No. Not pleasing…thrilling.
As though a heavy blanket was pulled back, suddenly Romulus couldn’t wait to get to the battle yard. He couldn’t wait to brandish a sword and fall headlong into the magic that gave his kind its namesake of guardian.
He struggled out of the feeling. His child needed him.
He allowed the strong shifter magic to flow around him, suddenly understanding how this Alpha Shifter had been able to turn the tide in the young woman’s—his daughter’s—magic.
“Hello,” Romulus said, offering a light bow. “I thank you for escorting…”
“Charity,” the man said in a rich, deep voice.
Color danced in Romulus’s vision. His legs wobbled, barely holding him.
“There, you see?” Romulus found Halvor by the door, blocking a crowd of people that rudely lingered outside.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Second,” Halvor said.
Romulus tensed within the flood of emotion. “I told my beloved—her mother—that if she honored me with the gift of a child, it would be undeserved charity for an impure soul. That I must beg, being as flawed as I am, and hope. She called me foolish at the time, but in the end…” He blinked away the sudden moisture in his eyes. “In the end, she gave me a child, and honored me with the name I would have chosen.”
Romulus shooed Alvine from Charity’s right side and gestured for the Alpha Shifter to stand to her left, as was proper for her protector.
The Alpha Shifter filed in without hesitation, not needing a verbal directive. How pleasing.
“We must seek more facts before we—”
Romulus made a small gesture, quieting the healer.
“The First,” Halvor announced.
Antonia entered the room, regal and unhurried. Not for the first time, Romulus cursed the decorum that dictated their every action.
“Mother,” he said, motioning for her to join them at Charity’s head. The boiling desire to fight thankfully quieted in his mother’s tranquil presence.
“Yes, hello. Thank you for the note about the elves.” His mother’s gaze lingered on the Alpha Shifter for a moment—a silent request for an introduction.
“I apologize; we are not yet properly acquainted,” Romulus said to the Alpha Shifter.
The young man’s jaw clenched and his body leaned just so—the Alpha Shifter was clearly as impatient as Romulus himself, but doing a terrible job of masking it.
“Devon,” he said at last, and another gush of power drenched the room.
Romulus’s mother sucked in a startled breath and forgot herself for a moment, looking down on Charity with wide eyes. Her decorum was slow in returning.
“Why wasn’t I summoned sooner?” she demanded, turning to the healers. “This young woman is on her deathbed, with enough power to take you with her.”
A sort of green magic rose from Devon like a mist, curling through the air before disappearing. It was gone so fast that Romulus almost thought he’d imagined it. Charity’s magic was subdued quickly even as spikes of pain flayed Romulus where he stood.
His mother reacted blatantly again, turning her wide eyes on Devon this time. “My goodness. I had no idea your kind could handle this sort of onslaught.” She didn’t waste time looking for an answer. “Healers, quick, ready the draught to awaken her. Bring in more anchors. It will take the strongest in the village to turn her from this destructive path.”Chapter Twenty-FourDevon stood at Charity’s side, his placement indicating something of value he couldn’t quite pick up on, while subdued—though clearly excited—fae filled the room. These people communicated similarly to shifters, using their posturing and movements to relay most of their directives. It occurred to Devon that he’d probably fit in here better than Charity until she could get a handle on it.
That was, if they would let him. After the demon battle, and after they’d used the fae’s supplies for a funeral fire, saying goodbye to their pack mate and friend, his pack had been assigned a spot slightly removed from the fae’s fire. Not much removed—Penny hadn’t thought anything of the separation—but Emery had noticed. He’d just smirked and shaken his head, happy to be aloof with a people who didn’t value his company.
Devon didn’t have that luxury.
These were Charity’s people, without a doubt. The man in her mother’s picture was standing opposite him, and he didn’t look a day older than when the photo had been taken. This was Charity’s new world. These fae already accepted her as one of them—he could see it in their concerned expressions. In the joy in her father’s eyes. She’d have a new family, a new community. If Devon was ostracized from that community…