“Not now.”
“You have quite a voluminous cloak on,” Rorie argued in a whisper. “No one can see what I am up to.”
“No, but I’m a shifter with remarkable hearing, and I’ve figured out from this tiny conversation that you’re probably touching him in a place that shouldn’t be fondled in a public venue,” Brogan drawled from behind them.
Rorie chuckled as Renny’s face went bright red. “I did not mean to embarrass you.”
“It’s okay,” Renny responded. Rorie was kind enough to let go of Renny and leaned his head against his shoulder, unsure how much longer he could sit there without going crazy. As if the woman conducting the lengthy ceremony could read his mind, she finished her spiel, and the couple ran down the wide aisle that separated the rows of seats. There was joy on their faces as they waved to the people clapping, Rorie included.
“I am grateful it has concluded,” Rorie told Renny.
“Me too, my ass is numb,” Brogan retorted, making Rorie laugh again. The humor of Dra’Kaedan’s large dragon was something he enjoyed.
People milled around and headed for the castle, where Drekkoril was planning on feeding refreshments to anyone from Sindrell. Rorie stood and gazed fondly at Renny. “It was lovely, yes?”
“Absolutely, much more extensive than the ones at home.”
“Would you wish to have such a ceremony?” Rorie asked, not brave enough to ask if he could imagine tying his soul with him.
“Are they all that long?”
Rorie shook his head. “They need not be.”
Ever the dutiful duke, Brogan gathered the D’Vaires and kept them in a group as extravagantly dressed Fae passed them. “Do we have everybody? I don’t see Drekkoril.”
“He would have teleported to the castle as soon as it ended to ensure everything was prepared for the feast,” Rorie responded.
“Without a guard?”
“The rioell setieons are tasked with his protection.”
“There aren’t enough of those guys to go around,” Brogan muttered. Rorie took no offense; he had learned enough of the protective nature of Brogan to know there would never be a number high enough to suit his innate need for keeping his people safe.
“I would know if he were in danger. Bétea left us each with the ability to feel if the other is in mortal danger.”
“Rorie, if I can keep him with sentinels, fallen knights, or dragons, then I don’t have to worry that he’s in mortal danger,” Brogan groused.
“He is the most powerful being on our realm.”
“Like I’ve never heard that argument before,” the Grand Duke muttered.
“Protector Roriethiel,” Worth called out.
“Is there a problem, Your Grace?” Rorie asked.
“I found a kitten,” Worth responded.
“Kitten? We do not have kittens on the realm of the Fae.”
Worth peeled back his coat, and Rorie’s gaze widened when two pink eyes nearly the color of the Duke Argent’s dragon with white spots that sparkled like stars and fringed with thick black lashes peeked out at him. “Worthington, you must set thellerka’irrodown before you are hurt.”
“What are you talking about? She’s tiny. I mean, I guess it’s a girl,” Worth responded, petting her raven fur between her two slightly curled ears.
“While that one appears to be a baby, they are vicious creatures, and you can be seriously hurt. Please, let her go.”
Holding out a hand, the tiny creature walked onto it and her dark tail with its bright plume of pink fur at the end danced in the air. The little ruff around her neck was also Worth’s favorite hue, as were her whiskers, and she rubbed her head into his vest. To Rorie’s shock, she appeared to like the big dragon. “She’s not being violent. The little thing came up to me as people were arriving and climbed up my leg. She spent the entire ceremony in my jacket.”
“I understand her beauty, but she is a llerka’irro, and more than one Fae has died at the hands of her relatives or ancestors.”
