GIFTS
Troth (noun): loyal or pledged faithfulness.
Weeks passed in a semidream state.
The six of us spent our days riding horses, talking, feasting on cheese boards, and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.
The strange euphoria of surviving the war was broken up only by moments of panic.
Every night, at least one of us woke up screaming in bed. On one night, early on in our stay at the estate, all six of us woke up shouting and kicking at one another, like we were in the middle of battle.
Little things would also set people off.
A door would shut too loudly, and Scorpius would snatch a knife from his pants and prepare to throw it.
Corvus would randomly burst into flames.
I tripped over a flower one day, and Orion screamed out in fright as I fell to the ground. All the men had unknowingly frozen in place.
Some days John would tell a few too many jokes like he was overcompensating, and Luka would refuse to let us out of his sight.
I left trails of ice across the estate and balls of scarlet fire followed me around wherever I went.
I’d reassured Corvus a hundred times that I wasn’t cold anymore, but he refused to put out his flames. One time, he’d just grunted and said, “It’s my job as Ignis to keep my Revered warm. Let me do my job.”
My jaw had dropped. “Am I just a job to you?”
Steel eyes smoldered with rage. “Don’t you dare twist my words,” he growled like a feral creature.
I threw my head back and laughed mockingly. “Excuse me for being a person with thoughts and feelings. I forgot you don’t listen to me because unlike the rest of your mates, I’m a filthy woman.”
He exploded in flames and threw me over his shoulder. I kicked and screamed and punched his back as he carried me to the bedroom.
He sat down on the bed and pulled down my pants.
A flaming hand slapped my ass. “Take it back,” he snarled. “Take it back, Aran, or so help me sun god.” His fingers splayed possessively across me.
He said darkly, “You’re not filthy.”
A rough sound rumbled in his chest.
“You’re.”
Slap.
“My.”
Slap.
“Woman.”
I squirmed, hyperaware of the hardness pressing against me.
“Um, what?” I panted intelligently.
He caressed my ass, flames sizzling deliciously as they touched my frost-covered skin.
I squirmed.
He let out a low moan and ground himself against me. “You’re mine,” he repeated like a man possessed.
I rubbed against him and nodded, unsure how we’d gotten here.
Snowflakes fell around us.
The temperature of the room plummeted; scarlet flames burned brighter.
“Are we going to fuck?” I whispered.
Corvus pulled himself away from me like he’d been stung. “I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“What?” I asked with confusion, but he was backing away.
“I need to leave before I do something we both regret,” he said harshly.
Before I could tell him that I would not regret anything, he left the room.
It was obvious what the problem was.
He was afraid of how turned on he got around me. I was too sexy.
A mature woman would have respected Corvus’s boundaries and let him leave.
I wasn’t that woman.
I chased after him, yelling sexual innuendos, as he ran down the stairs. He’d looked back over his shoulder, and I burst into laughter at the pure fear in the big guy’s eyes.
Objectifying him was my new hobby.
Time meandered forward.
Life wasn’t perfect.
We weren’t perfect.
But gradually as the warm days passed, we panicked less and laughed more.
Against all odds, our lives became more.
Every day, I practiced flying while the men watched with proud expressions. We weren’t training for war or trying to hone our skills; we were just marveling at what we could do.
Life was simple.
I also woke up each morning to a new gift from the kings.
One day, it was a room full of sweet-smelling flowers in vases that I eagerly placed around the estate. The next day, it was a pair of priceless diamond-encrusted heels.
The days continued in a pattern.
One day, the kings would give me sweet, thoughtful gifts—like handwritten notes from Corvus that said all the different ways he was grateful I was his Revered.
Then the next day, they’d give me a ridiculously extravagant gift, like an ancient mirror that showed the viewer cityscapes of faraway realms.
The most surprising gift genuinely left me speechless.
All of us decided to try our hand at drawing.
Most of us were stick-figure level, but Orion drew a masterful landscape with fancy markers that looked like paint. After I failed yet again to draw a duck, I doodled ice and fire symbols onto Corvus’s arm with a marker while we lazed together under our favorite tree. I also wrote, “Aran is the best,” in cursive script for fun.
It turned out Corvus and I were the laziest out of everyone. We preferred to spend long hours lying on the blanket and doing nothing. Either I was flying or I was lying still; there was no in-between.
The rest of the men tended to keep busy all day.
Corvus didn’t.
He liked to lie beside me in silence after I’d flown, and we’d watch the pond. The best days were those when one of the miniature ponies or sheep would join us.
The leader of the kings was full of surprises.
Case in point: the day after our drawing activities, Corvus rode off on his horse and yelled something about getting dessert from the local village.
At dusk, he shook me awake.
Groggily, it took me a second to process that my doodles on his forearm were now tattoos in enchanted ink, which meant they would never disappear for all of immortality.
My jaw dropped as I stared at the new permanent design declaring that I was the best. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and put a cookie in my gaping mouth.
It was lemon flavored.
My favorite.
The next day, I drew an obscene picture on his other arm, but he was a coward and refused to get it tattooed.
The days continued to pass, and the gifts kept coming.
Every day, I had no idea what I was going to get, but somehow the kings made it special each time.
The twins apparently felt left out, because they also started giving me gifts. As a greedy woman, I loved this turn of events. Thanks to the twins, my jewelry box was now overflowing with rare family jewels from the Olympus realm.
My favorite was a diamond tiara.
I placed it each morning in my ribbon-covered curls and wiped sparkly pink gloss on my mouth. I pretended I was an ordinary woman from an ordinary family, playing queen. The lore was not complicated or deep; it was simple, and the aesthetic was coquette.
It healed something inside me and also proved I was clinically delusional.
Time continued its peaceful stroll.
I stayed up late stargazing with the men, then woke up at first light to watch the sunrise from the sky. It was clear why birds were always in the air—it was pure magic to fly.
When my shoulder muscles ached and lungs were raw from exertion, I’d collapse under my favorite tree and nap. Then I’d stumble sleepily into the kitchen and gorge myself on sweet fruits and cheeses.
Once the twins convinced me to do a workout with them, but I got PTSD three push-ups in (I was lazy) and never did that again.
Instead, I went over to my tree and napped beside Corvus, who was snoring lightly and sprawled half on the grass; he’d made sure I had enough space on the blanket.
Warmth filled my heart.
One thing everyone saw coming was Luka and Orion.
They went on long walks together. For hours, they’d say nothing; sometimes they’d gesture or whisper, but for the most part, they were silent as they traversed the countryside.
Orion had found someone to share the quiet with, and Luka had found someone besides me and John.
At night under the stars, Luka played with both my ribbon-filled hair and Orion’s golden locks. Their new relationship was unexpected and heartwarming.
Other connections weren’t as touching.
By far the most amusing development was Scorpius and John.
It was a classic enemies-to-lovers situation; however, John hadn’t moved past the enemies stage, and Scorpius wanted to be lovers.
From dawn to dusk, the blind king taunted John and made him squirm with sexual innuendos.
John acted like he wasn’t interested, but I’d caught him blushing and checking out Scorpius’s ass a couple times.
While we were eating around a bonfire one night, Scorpius’s hand “slipped,” and he stabbed John’s thigh with his fork suspiciously close to his crotch.
John hobbled away from the bonfire and a few minutes later he’d come back on crutches that he’d found in the estate.
We’d ribbed him for his dramatics, while he moaned that he needed to see a doctor.
“Poor guy, it was an accident,” Scorpius said. “I’m truly sorry. Please forgive me.”
It would have been believable if he wasn’t lapping at his bloody fork with an erection straining his silk pants.
“Do you want me to lick him better, my Revered?” he whispered seductively into the warm night.
“Um,” I said eloquently as I struggled to remember what my name was.
Where was I?
Who was I?
Scorpius leaned over John’s lap. Ever so slowly, he stuck out his tongue and dragged it across the bloody stab wound. Then he bit down, and John screamed.
Scorpius wiped the back of his hand across his red stained lips and smirked in my direction.
Unsurprisingly, John did not forgive him.
What was surprising was none of the men initiated sex.
There were lots of little moments.
I’d nap on the blanket beside Corvus and wake up to hardness pressing against my ass.
Scorpius would whisper “good girl” when I ate sweet fruit. Once, Orion whispered to him that the juice was dribbling down my chin, and he ordered me to, “Swallow it all for me sweetheart. Get every drop.”
I obeyed and licked my lips.
All the men groaned like they were in pain, and Scorpius openly grabbed at his crotch, but nothing came of it.
As a woman with needs, it was torturous.
Another time was when I went horseback riding with Luka he sat behind me, my back pressed flush against his front, and his hand kept accidentally stroking across my chest.
Nipples hard as rocks, I moaned and leaned back against him.
He tugged my head back harshly and kissed me wantonly with his tongue. His other hand stroked my nipples as I white-knuckled the reins.
But then he stopped and abruptly dismounted the horse.
He said something about a cold shower and disappeared.
On and on it went.
But the little moments never turned into bigger moments. I would have started to worry about the men’s interest in me, but Scorpius woke us all up each morning with a detailed explanation of all the depraved things he was going to do to our bodies.
It was definitely more of a timing thing.
So I waited.
And each day somehow got better than the last.
I called John out for checking out Scorpius’s ass, and he threw me into the lake, which had the unintended effect of freezing it over.
Orion found ice skates, and all of us took turns skating.
My power kept the lake frozen even in the summer sun.
Then Scorpius brought out more enchanted wine, and the skating really began. John challenged me to a trick competition, and he tried—and failed—to throw a flip.
Scorpius and I spent the afternoon dressing the bleeding cut on his head with white bandages. John looked ridiculous, and we were all drunk enough that we laughed about it for hours.
He was definitely concussed because he finally let me paint his fingernails the shade of Fae Bunny Pink I’d been trying to get him to wear unsuccessfully for the past week.
When he woke up the next day with a clear head and saw his nails, he bellowed as he chased me around the estate, demanding that I take it off.
I took pity on him and painted a sparkly coat over the top while he was asleep.
He grumbled and pouted, but I caught him admiring his glittering nails in the sunshine and showing them off to Luka. I even overheard him bragging to Malum that we had matching nail colors which meant I liked him the most.
The next time, Malum’s nails were also pink and all the men made fun of him.
“Do you like them?” he asked me during our daily lie-under-the-tree-together. His cheeks flushed red, and he groaned as he stared at my face. “Or do I look ridiculous? Am I being stupid?”
I leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the nose.
“I’ve never been more attracted to you than in this moment,” I said honestly. “I like that you’re rejecting toxic masculinity—you’re cute.”
He grinned proudly, then scowled. “I’m not cute, Aran. I’m a fearsome warrior who breathes fire.”
I rolled my eyes and patted his shaved head. “Okay, big guy. Whatever you say.”
He crossed his arms like he was pouting but the corner of his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile.
“Whatever you say,” I repeated as I yawned and snuggled against his chest.
His fingers trailed through my curls as he massaged my scalp.
“I’ll always protect you,” he whispered when he thought I was asleep.
Warmth surged inside my chest and radiated through my limbs until I felt like I was burning alive in the best possible way.
Time moved forward at a lackadaisical pace.
Days felt like years, and I found myself forgetting about the war for greater stretches of time.
Other days, I’d panic and spiral as I remembered the screams.
When the memories became too much, I’d unfold my crystal wings and shoot into the sky.
I didn’t fly far.
I didn’t want to leave.
Instead, I’d float among the clouds, then pull my wings in and plummet. Adrenaline and pure bliss would fill me. Then I’d unfurl my wings and whoop with delight.
It was impossible to spiral while flying.
Sometimes, when I hovered in the still-freezing air above the clouds, I’d think about Mother.
How she’d never known such peace.
A part of me was afraid that if she’d been able to experience flying, then she’d have never gone mad.
Maybe the High Court had taken that from her? Maybe she’d taken it from herself?
When the thoughts became too much, I’d close my eyes, pull my wings in tight, and fall back toward my mates.
Life was a haze of sunshine drenched skies, enchanted wine, coy smiles, naps, trembling hugs, whimpers of pain in sleep, and laughter.
We created a fortress to heal within that was isolated from the outside world.
Then one night, everything changed.
