For a total of about five seconds, the throne room shared a collective stunned silence.
And then it erupted, once again, into a different kind of uproar.
Chapter Thirty-One
Fionn wrenched free of Iomhar and tackled Rory with an enormous, crushing hug.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Rory chuckled against his chest as his face was smooshed into it.
Fionn found he couldn’t quite close his arms all the way around Rory’s back. His spines were in the way. ‘You are even spikier than when I last saw you.’
Rory glanced up. A flash of vulnerability penetrated his fearless facade. ‘Yeah. I’ve changed a bit. Do you… Are you okay with this?’
BythisFionn surmised Rory meant his physical transformation, the fins, spines, and currently reddish hue of his skin. As if something so trivial would deter him now.
Fionn buried his face in Rory’s hair, stroking down his back either side of the long spines that were now beginning to relax. ‘The fact you are Redfolk was never the problem. I’m sorry I ever conceived that therewasa problem. I was scared, Rory…’ Fionn moved to whisper in Rory’s ear, cupped his stubbled cheek. ‘I was scared that perhaps the realest thing I had felt in my life might not be real at all. I couldn’t bear it if your feelings for me were just another hollow ornament fabricated by our frankly archaic royal traditions.’
‘Good thing I’ve got this bond to help me translate your absurd way of putting things,’ Rory replied brusquely, thoughFionn felt Rory was just trying to cover the way his throat was choking up.
Fionn nuzzled into his neck. ‘I love you, Rory Douglas. I am so grateful you came back for me.’
Self-consciousness poured through the bond as Rory squirmed. ‘There’s a lot of people watching us.’
Fionn was content to forget the entire throne room, but it was clear that Rory wasn’t used to receiving so much affection in public. He pulled away, just a little, and realised he would have to face his father next.
Indeed, the Blue King seemed to be patiently waiting for them to finish. ‘Prince Fionn, I bid you and your… mate… accompany me to the Aft Tower.’
The Shaman hovered nervously over the king’s shoulder. His DeepSong was squeaky with fear. ‘Will you break their bond, Your Majesty? The Redfolk can still be reasoned with. We can send double the tribute to make up for this disaster.’
‘There will be no need,’ the king rumbled mildly.
‘But sire, surely their king won’t allow such an offence to go unpunished—’
‘He must. Tradition demands it.’ The Blue King’s smile twisted strangely. Fionn had never seen him amused before. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Liath?’
The Redfolk who had been left behind went rigid under the king’s stare. ‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ he replied stiffly.
The Blue King addressed the whole room, snuffing out the congregation’s background babble of confusion.
‘We all witnessed the challenge to the Red King’s throne instigated by another member of their royal house. We all witnessed King Rhiath lose that challenge. By their own law, he should have been killed at once for losing his crown.’ The king’s smile widened as he looked at Rory. ‘Your mercy will have injured him more gravely than any insult.’
‘Royal house,’ Fionn repeated, feeling a matching wave of bewilderment from Rory. ‘You said a member of their royal house.’
Iomhar pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Spines, Fionn. It is a royal trait for them, just as silver hair is for us.’
Rory’s spines rustled, drawing the room’s attention to them. ‘Well, fuck me,’ he announced to himself.
‘That is not an invitation,’ Fionn cut in quickly. ‘It is a colourful human expression.’
The raised eyebrows he received told him this was obvious, but Fionn wasn’t about to let anyone start getting ideas about his mate.
The king added a little extra explanation, perhaps for Rory’s benefit. ‘It is known that some Redfolk crossed over from the fae realm alongside our Bluefolk when the rift first opened many millennia ago. It was thought that they did not enjoy the disposition of this world and so quickly left, where we stayed. It is not inconceivable that some of those Redfolk, including their royalty, had intimate relations with the local population at the time.’
‘Million to one though, right?’ Rory raked his claws though his hair in thought. His red skin was gradually returning to its usual pale hue. He seemed quite at ease despite the circumstances. Fionn supposed he had every right to be: the man had just crashed a royal wedding, thwarted a curse and scared off a king. And claimed Fionn as his own, at that. He’d gotten exactly what he came for.
Fionn found he had to divert his gaze away from Rory. The confidence rolling off him was too rousing, igniting a lustful fire in Fionn’s belly.
‘Hey, hang on—’ Rory’s attention was caught by something behind them. A small knot of guards holding a Minchman between them. ‘Tell them to let him go!’
