Unraveled Homecoming

by J. L. Shelton

  Now he had yet another reason to hate the man. Considering the king had most likely commandeered the Pheasant as his headquarters by now, all their careful plans for Mattie’s birthday celebration were ruined. Power was whispering to lash out in frustration and anger, but he wanted his head to stay attached to his neck for a while longer. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to breathe some calm into his mind.

  Garin only opened his lids when he heard the voices draw close, breathing a silent word of gratitude that Tobias and Leto had already been hidden within the caretaker’s cottage when the two unexpected guests had arrived. Then the front door was thrown open when his half-brother, Stephan Braun, sauntered into the house. A presence hard to ignore considering the auburn-haired man was dressed as if he were appearing before the royal court. His blue garments were embroidered with silver, as was the gray cloak about his shoulders. Garin’s jaw nearly ached at the sight of the large golden ring on the man’s right hand, remembering past altercations between the two of them. The size of the sapphire alone would classify it as a deadly weapon.

  The prince might have been his equal in height, but Garin had been gifted with broader shoulders and a more muscular form. It had been an advantage more than once in the beginning when their arguments had often ended in blows. As to their current situation, it could only be classified as a shaky alliance.

  The defining change in their relationship had happened on Stephan’s twenty-first birthday. Garin had rolled his eyes at something his half-brother had said at just the right moment. He had barely caught the gleam of metal in the far shadows of the castle seconds before there was a distinctive twang of a bow’s string! He had immediately tackled Stephan to the ground, taking the arrow into his shoulder and saving his brother from a bold assassination attempt. So while they would never be close friends, most of their animosity had dwindled since that night.

  Because of this, Garin’s eyebrows shot up when Stephan quickly crossed the room and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder while merrily saying, “How is the luckiest bastard in the kingdom doing?”

  Those twinkling blue eyes held no malice, but his brother’s choice of phrases still rankled. “Depends on the day.”

  Stephan chuckled. “I can understand that, more so now that father keeps piling responsibilities on me. So, where’s that woman whose heart you managed to steal so quickly?”

  That last and abrupt question had a little too much eagerness behind it, especially from a man wanting to see someone else’s wife. Garin took a breath, telling himself that he was misconstruing things. He knew full well that Mattie and the prince had been good friends when they were children. Stephan had a fiancée of his own, after all—though the date of the wedding had not yet been decided because Lady Kaytlin Bonnaire had almost called the whole thing off. Plus what happened with the baby yesterday had probably just raised his own protective tendencies beyond normal levels.

  Somehow Garin managed a pleasant smile when he answered, “Mattie’s out, riding her horse across the duchy. A treat she had requested for her birthday.”

  “She never did like being in a cage,” Stephan said with an impish grin.

  “Still doesn’t,” Garin replied as he crossed his arms, studying the prince. “And I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

  The grin didn’t reach Stephan’s eyes when he made a noise of agreement. Something was off; something Garin couldn’t quite put his finger on. Even though he had never known in what kind of mood his half-brother would be at any given moment, this wasn’t one he had seen before. Was he misconstruing things again, or was Stephan trying to act like he wasn’t jealous?

  “Interesting haircut by the way,” chortled the prince as he approached the fireplace. “You are going to freeze your ears off this year.”

  Garin shrugged. He still sometimes missed the feel of his hair cascading down his back, but he was becoming accustomed to the discrepancy. “Didn’t have much of a choice at the time, but I’ll find a way to keep warm.”

  Stephan snorted as if he doubted his brother’s words. Soon the bodies of two men hid him from Garin’s view when Lord Gregory and King Easton entered the home. Dressed in unadorned black leathers that matched the color of his long hair, the king was shaking his head as if in answer to a question. The only two things that indicated the man’s high station was the royal seal made from gold worn as a small medallion and the gold-encrusted hilt of the sword sheathed by his side.

  “Greg, even when he’s been gone this long, wandering about on some kind of wild escapade,” said the black-haired man with concern as he stroked his carefully trimmed goatee. “Renard has always found a way to contact us and at least let us know he was still alive by now.”

  “Perhaps our brother has only been caught up in the excitement of a new debauchery,” snarled Stephan as he fiddled with his cloak while he walked around the men. “I wager we’ll get a message from him in another day or so.”

  Despite Renard being the kind of person who would throw a rock to a drowning man in order to make the poor soul’s misery end faster, Garin still frowned at Stephan’s attitude. The prince used to be the first one to excuse their brother’s indecencies. And while Garin held very little regard for the man beyond being a member of his strange family, he still voiced his concern, “How long has Renard been missing?”

  “Nearly a month,” sighed the king, his brown eyes closing while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “I’ll ask around and discover if anyone in Crosshawk has seen him,” offered Lord Gregory as he gently pushed his guest further into the house. After closing the door now that the entrance was no longer blocked, he added, “Maybe even send some I trust to inquire down in Waterford. It has been known to be one of his favorite haunts.”

  “Thank you,” said the king as he softly patted Lord Gregory’s arm in an expression of gratitude.

  Then the man’s eyes rose and finally landed on Garin. The younger man recognized the silent command and made his way towards his father and king. Was that a momentary gleam of pride in the old wolf’s expression as he approached? Though there was plenty of doubt that he had seen such a thing, Garin still stopped a foot away from the man and bowed his head respectfully.

  “Father.”

  “You look well, son,” said King Easton after Garin raised his head. There was a spark of amusement in his voice when he added, “Considering all the obvious trouble you’ve been getting into.”

  Stephan snickered as he threw his cloak onto the nearby couch and shortly joined it by splaying his body casually across the cushions. “Destabilizing the North in one day wasn’t really a part of your assignment.”

  Trying to keep things light so he wouldn’t literally explode, Garin shrugged and said with an overdramatic sigh, “It was my wife’s idea. Like every good husband, I just went along with it.”

  Lord Gregory heartily laughed at that, and the king joined him. Garin’s eyes, however, immediately wandered towards his brother. There was a new expression of resentment aimed directly at him, though it quickly disappeared when their father turned towards his eldest.

  “Always get the story from as many sides as possible,” King Easton instructed with a wag of his finger at the prince. “Never be too quick to condemn anyone.”

  Though Stephan nodded his understanding, it was accompanied by a grumble. Then Garin almost jumped when his father placed a hand on his shoulder. The king frowned at his reaction but didn’t comment on it. Instead, the man brandished his arm at the table as if in invitation.

  “Getting your side of the tale is part of why I’m here,” he explained “And to discover what devil possessed you to think Crosshawk would be a good refuge for a group of elves.”

  “Something you really shouldn’t have done without consulting us, by the way!” snarked Stephan who opted to remain seated on the couch.

  Garin sighed as he followed the king to the table. A quick look at Lord Gregory’s furrowed brow confirmed that not everything should
be known. So it was with a deep breath and the careful application of omissions that the two tales were told. Though there was some doubt in his father’s eyes about how full the accounts were, the man still nodded once the stories were done.

  “The elves can stay, if you are willing to be responsible for them,” King Easton said to Lord Gregory with a sigh. “But if Iantha comes, Crosshawk will be standing alone. I refuse to plunge my whole kingdom into a never-ending war.”

  Garin looked to his father-in-law to see if he was also enraged about the declaration, but Lord Gregory was only nodding his head, “I knew what I had gotten into with granting them asylum and had expected as much.”

  “As to the second complicated issue,” said King Easton while tapping the table with an index finger. “I’m inclined to agree the upset of the Council was necessary. Still, my thoughts on what happened at the Stronghold will wait until after I go and meet with Asger.”

  Garin blinked in surprise. “You’re traveling to the Stronghold this close to Yule? That’s insanely dangerous!”

  “Only if I were going that far,” said the king, seeming pleased at the concern for his welfare. “We’ve agreed to meet somewhere between here and halfway. He said there were things we needed to discuss privately, though we are allowed to bring four trusted guards each.”

  Garin didn’t have to wonder about his father-in-law’s sudden need to study the fireplace so intently, setting a weary head on his fist as he stood there in thought. Asger might share a few secrets during the course of the meeting, many they wanted to keep to themselves for now. It was a tossup as to whether the king would be enraged or understanding once he learned they had kept the truth from him.

  And all bets were on the former.

  Luckily, the king assumed something else was troubling his host. “You agree with my son about the dangers, Greg?”

  The Lord Protector didn’t hesitate and nodded. “I do, but if Asger is leaving his fortress when the Council must still be in disarray—then the news he has for your ears alone must be volatile in nature.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” King Easton said wearily. “Which is why, Garin, I must ask you not to leave Crosshawk until I return. Aside from my final judgment on this matter, there are some rumors I heard recently that make me feel uneasy about you traveling anywhere at the moment. Do I have your word to stay put for now?”

  While Mattie would be relieved that her husband wasn’t going anywhere soon, Leto was not going to like this turn of events. Though aggravated at being trapped here for more reasons than disrupting the Draconian’s plans for them to both journey back north after Yule, Garin still bowed his head and managed to keep his voice calm, “As you command; yes.”

  Lifting his head after the king acknowledged his obedience. Garin’s eyes fell on Stephan first. A victorious smugness was on his half-brother’s face, bringing with it a renewed distrust for the man. Especially when his hard stare was met with only a mischievous wink. Another game was running in the background, one in which the prince was obviously a player.

  And it felt like they had somehow just lost an advantage.

  Chapter 24

  Finding two guards at the gate in full royal regalia had been unnerving enough, but the sight of Bran sitting on the front stoop of his small house and whittling a tree branch into oblivion increased Mattie’s unease. The extra men out front told her just who it was visiting the estate, even without Garin’s warning. The expression of rage she could see on her cousin’s face, even from this distance, would have erased any doubt about King Easton’s presence in their midst.

  “Take the horses to the stable,” Mattie instructed Dougal, quickly handing him Firestorm’s reins. He had stuck as close as possible to her after they had dismounted, obviously nervous. Her brother was a smart kid to feel uneasy about this situation. “Then go find Emory and Selina. They should be somewhere near the northern break area in the obstacle course by now.”

  He wisely lowered his head while he encouraged the horses to follow him. Mattie’s eyes lifted to heaven as she prayed that no one noticed him. The last thing anyone needed was for the king to recognize his long-lost nephew.

  Avoiding the inevitable, Mattie’s steps soon had her standing in front of Bran. Curling strips of wood in various sizes littered the ground around his feet, their presence courtesy of the knife he kept running against a stick. He never bothered to lift his head, but she knew his eyes were flashing with rage.

  “Besides being invaded by royalty,” Mattie asked after she crossed her arms. “Something must have happened for you to take your frustrations out on a defenseless piece of wood.”

  He snorted at that. “Better than what I really want to do.”

  After conceding his point, she added, “Still, is there something I need to know before I expose myself to that madness?”

  “They sent me to fetch some wine from the Pheasant, despite it being only just after midday,” he growled, throwing the mangled stick to the ground. The knife soon followed, landing perfectly upright as the tip of the blade sharply penetrated the earth. All the softness of his facial features had been noticeably eradicated by his anger when he lifted his head and snarled, “After all he went through once he decided to completely avoid alcohol, I’m worried about Uncle Greg being tempted and finding himself back at square one. But what the Crown Prince wants, he gets.”

  Mattie’s gaze went to the main house while she chewed her bottom lip. The king visiting was bad enough, but Stephan was with him as well? Usually the Crown Prince would remain behind to watch the castle and be at hand if something happened to his father. So why was he here?

  “Something’s wrong about this, Mattie,” Bran insisted as he hoisted himself off the step. He quickly retrieved his blade and began to clean the flat of it against his sleeve. “Even my Da is at his wit’s end because he had to return a bucket load of coin today when he had to unexpectedly kick all those travelers out of their rooms. We should’ve had word of the king’s arrival ahead of time in order to prepare for this upheaval!”

  Mattie could only agree that both the timing and the manner of this visit screamed, “danger!” But at least her cousin had now given her a head’s up. “Just keep an eye on things from here the best you can,” she said with a sigh.

  “Both eyes,” he growled after he found a hefty branch on the ground and deftly twirled it with one hand. “You do the same.”

  A sharp nod to him later, and Mattie was on her way to see what royal hell awaited her in that house.

  ***

  “…To make it seem like my departure was to simply visit family, which was made even more believable by my son’s sudden marriage to a Hawksthorne. All but four of the guards will return to the castle with Stephan, and the ones with him will be grouped in such a way that my absence won’t be readily obvious.”

  That was the king’s voice Mattie heard as she opened the door as quietly as possible. The hinges didn’t squeak, giving her hope that her tiptoed arrival would go unremarked. Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on someone sitting in the one spot that guaranteed a complete view of the whole room.

  “Mattie!” cried Stephan happily as he jumped off the couch.

  Chairs scratched the floor as the other men quickly rose at Mattie’s bumbling entrance. She only heard their sign of respect because her sight was blocked by a sea of blue due to the auburn-haired prince grabbing her into a gigantic hug. A possessive growl from Garin was felt through their bond, so she quickly pried herself out of the not-so-brotherly embrace.

  “What are you doing here, Stephan?” Mattie demanded, wondering if there had been a yearning gleam flashing in his blue eyes.

  Nervous at the possibility of such an unusual emotion’s appearance, she immediately checked for any abnormalities in her old friend. There was no hint that he had been possessed by a dark spell, but there had definitely been a change in him since they had last talked a few months back. And why in the hell was he wearing those ridiculous clothes?r />
  On gut instinct, Mattie brought her left hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. There would be no way in hell he could miss the sight of her wedding ring. A flash of anger crossed his face before it quickly melted away, confirming what the light in his eyes had meant.

  Damn it! She didn’t need this kind of unwanted drama in her life! She made enough of her own already!

  Stephan was soon merrily answering Mattie’s question, oblivious to her new discomfort in his presence. “Helping my father keep up the appearance that this was only a short journey for my education, as well as hoping to wish my favorite cousin a happy birthday.”

  “Those are indeed the reasons why I brought him along,” said her unexpected rescuer as he walked over to her side. Easton positioned himself between his son and Mattie, placing his hands on her shoulders and giving her cheek a quick kiss. “Happy birthday, my dear.”

  “Thank you.”

  He offered her his arm, which she readily accepted—anything to get some distance between herself and Stephan. Garin looked relieved as they headed to the seat next to him at the table. Her father, meanwhile, was staring at the prince with an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

  When Mattie took her seat while Garin pushed it in for her, relief flooded her when she noticed only one goblet on the table. The other cups were filled with tea, meaning her father hadn’t given in to temptation. Though the bottle of wine soon found a place on the table when Stephan unceremoniously plopped it down along with his own goblet. Then to make matters worse, he took the chair at the end of the table next to her.

  Garin’s chest-rumbling growl was barely audible when he too sat down beside Mattie, making sure to drape a possessive arm about her shoulders once he had done so. Stephan took the warning in stride by just shrugging and pouring himself another glass, nearly emptying the bottle. Then the idiot poked the bear by raising the cup as if in toast to Garin before taking a sip.