Draven.
Xamira’s voice rang out at the table like a dropped spoon in a quiet room.
"Daddy, who is this woman?"
I didn’t flinch. I had grown used to her questions—curious, honest, occasionally too sharp for her age. It was just how she was.
She had always had a talent for asking exactly what most adults were too afraid to voice. Still, this one earned her a few shocked stares.
From the corner of my eye, I caught redith stiffen. She didn’t lift her gaze from her plate, but her jaw had paused mid-chew. Jeffery’s fork hovered awkwardly in the air. Wanda, of course, looked pleased—her lips twitching with amusent as she covered a stifled laugh behind her hand.
I turned my attention to Xamira and gave her the only answer that made sense in her world.
"She’s my wife," I said plainly.
From the corner of my eye, I saw redith frown.
I didn’t like saying it. I never had. But there was no point in giving Xamira half-truths she wouldn’t understand. At her age, ’wife’ was an easier label to grasp than ’political arrangent.’
And I wasn’t about to explain the intricacies of sacrificial unions and cursed bloodlines over sweet pork and rice.
Xamira’s brows knitted together. "Your wife? You married her? In a church?"
I nodded. "Sort of."
That would satisfy her—for now. She had seen enough weddings in Duskmoor to associate marriage with white dresses and pews. If I said no, I would be here all night explaining Stormveil traditions.
I didn’t have the patience for that.
For a minute, the table returned to its quiet rhythm, cutlery scraping plates again.
Then, because she was never done, Xamira asked the next question, lifting her gaze to mine, lips pursed in a thoughtful little pout.
"You won’t make call her ’Mummy,’ right?"
Ti paused. Even the flas in the chandelier seed to still.
I didn’t need to look to know how the room responded. redith went completely still again, but this ti her expression didn’t betray her. She just kept eating like she hadn’t heard a thing. Jeffery blinked and lowered his fork. Wanda’s shoulders shook slightly from suppressed laughter.
But Xamira’s eyes stayed on . Waiting.
"No, I won’t, pumpkin," I said gently.
I reached for the platter of stir-fried sweet pork and placed another serving on her plate. "Eat up."
She bead. "Thank you, Daddy." And just like that, the mont passed.
I looked across at redith. Her expression was unreadable, her posture calm. She chewed with deliberate focus, as if she had already filed away what just happened and moved on.
Xamira was slow to warm to new people. She always had been. But that wasn’t my concern. I wouldn’t force either of them into so picture-perfect fantasy. If redith wanted a place in Xamira’s world, she had to earn it on her own. I wasn’t going to interfere.
Rhovan stirred in the back of my mind, his voice a low rumble.
"Talk to our mate. Bring her closer. She is ours."
I shut him down imdiately.
"Stop with the delusions. I’m eating."
Rhovan growled lightly, but I silenced him.
I have to address this issue of redith being our mate later, but not tonight. Not at the table, with Xamira or anyone else nearby.
I turned my attention back to redith. She was still chewing slowly. Still focused.
Her plate looked barely touched. A third of the food gone—no more. She wasn’t really eating. She was stalling.
I leaned back slightly.
She had defied Wanda without blinking and sat where she pleased. It didn’t bother —yet. I didn’t care where she sat or how she ate as long as she remained civil and kept her temper in check.
But the truth remained: I married her for a purpose. And whether she liked it or not, that purpose ant surviving long enough to fulfill it.
I couldn’t let her ruin the plan I had crafted after thinking of a solution for years.
If I left her to her own devices, she would self-destruct.
Five minutes passed, then redith placed her napkin on the table, stood, and spoke quietly.
"Excuse ."
And she walked out.
No permission asked. No second glance. Just gone like the wind. But I didn’t stop her.
I could have. But I already knew what that would earn —sharp words and sharper eyes. She didn’t respond well to confrontation most tis, and frankly, I didn’t have the patience for her temper tonight.
Across the table, Wanda tensed, watching redith leave with her maidservants. Her lips parted. I didn’t need to hear what she was about to say—I knew her tone before it even left her mouth.
"Wanda," I said calmly.
She snapped her gaze to , blinked, and slowly leaned back in her seat. Her mouth closed. A breath left her nose. Then she picked up her cutlery again.
I didn’t want tension tonight and raised voices in front of Xamira.
After a beat of quiet, I asked, "Which room did you give her?"
Wanda looked up, surprised. "The one with the patio and the flower wall on the ground floor."
My brows furrowed. That room was for visiting relatives.
"Why?"
Wanda’s polished tone didn’t falter, but her smile dropped half a notch. "She is from Moonstone Pack, and they tend to prefer gardens and herbs. I thought she might enjoy growing sothing there if she gets bored."
I exhaled slowly. That was a good point, though I didn’t expect it from her.
I let it go with a nod and finished the last bite of rice.
When I stood, Xamira looked up with bright, expectant eyes. "Daddy, will you read a story tonight?"
I ruffled her hair. "I have so important calls to make."
Her little shoulders dropped, just slightly.
But Wanda stepped in—delicate, smiling, soothing. "How about I read your favourite story instead? Regina and the Bee?"
Xamira’s face lit up imdiately, then she turned to , arms stretched. "Good night, Daddy!"
I leaned down and gave her a gentle hug, careful not to hold her too tightly in my arms.
Jeffery trailed after as I left the room. My mind was already shifting—calls, etings, politics. And, I thought about phoning my brother.
He hadn’t shown up for dinner, which ant he hadn’t finished the task I had assigned to him, and I needed to speak with him before tomorrow’s eting with the Mayor.
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(APPRECIATION NOTE: Thank you, Radiant_lody for the Magic Castle. ~**_**~).
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