Then my hair spiked to red, before I roared out my fury and launched myself on top of Lysander. I knocked him into the snowbank, tumbling him over. I vibrated with hate, but I didn’t know if it was for Lysander or myself. Weirdly, Lysander wasn’t fighting back, but I was way past the point of caring. When I raised my fist to punch him in the nose as he had Bask, however, a whip curled around my wrist, yanking me off him.
I yelped at the whip’s burning snap, tumbling onto my ass. Then both Lysander and me jumped as the whip snapped with a sharp crack like a furious snake three times between us.
Ambrose towered above us, thrumming with rage. I tensed, waiting for the next strike to be laid across my shoulders.
All of a sudden, however, a young Scottish voice called from the top window of the stables above us, “Da, I drew the p-picture of you and me, but then, I heard bad s-sounds and I got s-scared… Are they fighting m-monsters?”
In shock, I stared up at the tiny fae boy who was hanging precariously out of the window, waving his drawing at Ambrose. He wore a plain green tunic and leggings. His golden hair curled behind his ears, and his eyes were startlingly jade. There was no doubt that he was Ambrose’s son: he was like a kid Prince Charming if he’d been dipped in sparkling fairy dust. Except, unlike a full fae, the boy didn’t have wings.
I paled.
They were admitting kids to the academy? And Ambrose had a son who was only part fae? In his culture, that meant his kid was seen as a ‘mongrel’ and as much a monster as me.
I shuddered. I bet Ambrose was a hardass as a dad.
Ambrose’s eyes widened. “Ty, get inside now. You know that you’re not allowed out.”
“But the m-monsters…” Ty’s lip trembled.
Lysander smiled maliciously as he looked between Ambrose and Ty. “Do tell your son, father, about those wicked monsters.”
Ty leaned further out of the window to stare with terrified eyes at Lysander. “You’re a bad Dark Fae. Da says…”
All of a sudden, Ty overbalanced with a shriek, tipping out of the window. My heart raced, as I threw myself under him.
By the Valkyries, no…
I couldn’t reach him, and nor could Bask, even though we both leaped to catch him. The Immortals were on the opposite side of the yard.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ambrose’s wings attempt to beat and take flight, but the chains only clanked. He moaned in agony.
In shock, I watched as Magenta materialized in the air out of a cloud of mist, catching the falling boy, before he could hit the ground. Calmly, she hovered down to the snow bank, cradling Ty to her chest. She stroked his hair, murmuring to him in comfort as he trembled, before passing him with a final stroke to his dad, who was trembling more than his son.
“Never do that again, you hear me?” Ambrose tried for stern, but as soon as Ty wrapped his arms and legs around him like a limpet and wept into his shoulder, his expression softened. “What would your da do without his daft wee man, right? You gave me a scare. You must…” He took a deep breath; his hands shook. “Be careful.”
“S-sorry,” Ty forced out between sobs.
“No need for that. You’ve had a scare too.” Ambrose raised his gaze to Magenta. “Thank you. A Seelie fae always honors their debts, and I’ll never be able to repay you for saving something so precious to me.”
Was this the same Ambrose who whipped dragons, threw me into snowbanks, and was a typical fae prince?
Loki had told me that it was having kids that’d brought out the best in him. I’d thought he’d said that to make my brothers and me feel better about the fact that he’d been burdened with us. But seeing the softer side to Ambrose with his son made me wonder if dad had been telling the truth.
Could guys get broody because seeing Magenta carrying Ty and now Ambrose getting in the cuddles was kind of making me regret that Magenta couldn’t have kids with me. And that wasn’t something that I’d ever wanted before.
“Allow me.” Willoughby gracefully stood, stepping towards Ty.
Ambrose took a step backward, twisting to shield his still crying son from Willoughby.
Did Ambrose know something about Willoughby and how dangerous he was that I didn’t?
Willoughby froze, unable to hide the hurt. Then his expression became shuttered. He swallowed, before offering, “It’s only an elven lullaby to help him sleep.”
Grudgingly, Ambrose turned back, allowing Willoughby to step closer and place his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Is that your father and you?” Willoughby asked with the same hint of mild curiosity that he usually showed, pointing at the drawing that Ty had managed to keep holding, despite the tumble from the window.
“A-ye,” Ty whispered. “I’m the o-one in g-green. You can t-tell it’s da because he has m-metal on his wings.” I winced at the same time as Ambrose. It was screwed-up that a kid had to witness his dad’s punishments. I bet that Ambrose had tried to hide them, as much as my dad had tried to hide when he was in trouble. The problem was that we’d still known when Loki had cried. “C-can you take it off? It h-hurts him.”
Willoughby’s gaze slipped to Ambrose’s. “I’m a mighty elf prince; I can help your father stop hurting. You rest now and forget the fear. Would you like that?”
Ty nodded.
In wonder, I watched as Willoughby placed his hand on Ambrose’s wing, as well as pressed harder on Ty’s back. When Willoughby started to sing, it was so hauntingly beautiful that the hairs on the back of my neck rose, my toes curled, and my eyes fluttered shut. I was caught in a flow of winter waters, drawn into their depths. Honestly, I hadn’t truly understood the Other World that the elves had been ripped from, until Willoughby had offered up his song out of kindness.
Why had he?
When it ended, it felt like being kicked out of Valhalla.
My eyes snapped open, and as I glanced around, everyone wore the same dazed expressions as me. Ty was cradled, sleeping in Ambrose’s arms.
When Ambrose smiled with genuine happiness, it shocked me how truly hot he could be. “How long will…whatever you did…stop my wings hurting?”
Willoughby’s face clouded. “Only an hour or so, I’m afraid.”
“That’s more respite than I’ve had.” Ambrose wrapped his wings around Ty. “Right, this lesson is ended. I have a certain wee lad to get to bed.”
Lysander watched Ambrose with his son like he couldn’t understand the tender way that he was holding him. “You intend to reward the child for his misbehavior? How can you teach us, when you’ve no conception of how to discipline your own son?” Ambrose’s smile faded. “If you fail to teach us our lesson, there shall be consequences.”
Ambrose straightened his shoulders. “Aye, right. Your concern is touching. Your daft arses will learn that there are always consequences, no matter what you decide. But right now, my son is what matters.” He glanced at Magenta. “You saved Ty, which means that you win the Punish and Reward Game.” Then he glowered at Lysander. “Punish his arse for me. As he’s so interested in discipline, a beating sounds good.”
As Lysander gaped in outrage, Ambrose marched into the stable block, carrying his sleeping kid.
In the silence, the Princes glanced at us Immortals, waiting for the ax to fall. Bask bounced to my side, smiling.
“If it pleases you,” Bask wrapped his arms around himself in anticipation as he whispered, “I’ve been thinking all day of the perfect punishment. It’s a punishment to Prince Lysander, but it’ll reward Midnight. Tonight, in the Rebel Café, Lysander has to serve him.”