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Araton steps closer, his hand coming to rest on her small back between her nascent wings. "Just a thassir that got too curious," he says, his voice deliberately light. "Nothing your fierce mama and I couldn't handle together."
Something warm and dangerous unfurls in my chest at his words. Together. It sounds too right.
"I was brave," Millie declares, tears already subsiding. "I only cried a little bit."
"The bravest," I agree, pressing my nose against her soft cheek. She smells like honey and the herbs Harmony always has hanging in her kitchen. "But it's late, and little warriors need their sleep."
Millie's lower lip juts out. "I'm not sleepy."
Araton reaches for her, neatly extracting her from my arms. "Tell you what, sweetheart," he says, using the nickname he's given her. "Let me tuck you in with a story while your mama says goodnight to everyone."
Her protests die as she latches onto his neck, one tiny hand patting his face. "Tell me about the time you flew through the lightning storm," she demands, already transitioning from terror to excitement.
I watch them disappear down the hallway, Araton's broad shoulders and powerful wings making him look like some kind of guardian spirit carrying our child to safety. It does somethingto me, seeing them together, hearing his voice drop to that soft tone he only uses with her.
"Well," Harmony says, her eyebrows raised. "Looks like we missed quite the adventure."
I shake my head, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Just bad luck. Nothing serious."
"We should head home," Adellum says, adjusting his spectacles. "Glad you're both safe."
I walk them to the door, grateful for their help with Millie but eager for them to leave so I can decompress. Too many emotions churn inside me—lingering arousal, fear from the thassir, confusion about Araton, and the constant, nagging anxiety that I'm letting myself get too comfortable with this arrangement.
Brooke follows Adellum out with a quick hug, already on to pestering her father with more questions. But Harmony lingers at the threshold, her hazel-green eyes searching my face. The small birthmark behind her ear peeks out from beneath her loosening headscarf.
"Araton was terrified," she says quietly. "When he came in to put Millie down. He was so panicked that you were going to get hurt."
I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. "He just helped me for Millie's sake."
Harmony shakes her head, a soft smile playing at her lips. "Ronnie, he practically flew out that door. I've never seen someone move so fast." She squeezes my forearm. "That man is in love with you."
The words hit like a physical blow. I step back, shaking my head. "No. He's here for Millie." I force the words out, needing to believe them. "That's all this is."
Harmony gives me that patient smile, the one she uses when I'm being particularly stubborn. "That might be what you think,"she says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "But you're wrong."
She slips out the door before I can argue, leaving me staring into the night, her words echoing in my head like a dangerous promise.
27
ARATON
Millie has mastered the art of resistance, a skill I suspect she inherited directly from her mother. Her small body thrashes against the sheets as I attempt to tuck her in for the third time.
"Just one more story," she pleads, those wide golden eyes—my eyes—staring up with calculated manipulation that shouldn't be possible in a three-year-old.
"That's what you said after the last one, sweetheart." I smooth her wild curls away from her forehead. Her skin is warm under my touch, her tiny silver-flecked wings peeking out from the special slits in her nightgown.
"But I'm not tired!" She punctuates this with a yawn so enormous it nearly swallows her little face. I know she's just worked up after worrying about her mother, but she needs to sleep.
"That yawn tells a different tale." I tap the tip of her nose with my finger. "Besides, your mama will have my head if I keep you up any longer."
My ears catch the soft tread of footsteps on the stairs. Ronnie appears in the doorway, something shuttered and unreadable inher expression. The sight of her makes my chest tighten. Her hair is still slightly damp from washing up, and she's changed into a simple linen nightdress with a thick cardigan pulled over it. The bruise forming on her arm is a stark reminder of how close I came to losing her tonight.
"Is a certain someone giving you trouble?" She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"Mama, Papa was telling me about the lightning storm and how he almost got his wings singed off!"
"Was he now?" Ronnie arches an eyebrow in my direction. "Sounds terrifying."