Page 24 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

It still had not settled with me. Olympia was standing. The kingdom of skies had lived hidden for years. With Snow as its ruler.

“Your Majesty,” the older male greeted. “My name is Alaric Drava—”

“Snow’s father,” I interrupted.

His mouth pulled in a crooked smile, and he nodded. “Snow’s father.” He turned to Mal. “And you must be Driada’s son. No longer the wee thing from twenty-two years ago, are you?”

“You know my mother?”

“Aye, Driada visited Myrdur often with her father. Her and Snow’s mother were inseparable.”

My brother turned to me. “Did you know this?”

I nodded and witnessed my brother wear hurt in his features for the first time since we were only children.

Cai huffed a sardonic laugh. “It’s a sickness then,” he said to Mal. “He doesn’t only lie to those he sends to have killed, he lies to his brother as well.”

The winged male next to him snorted and then ruffled his massive wings before flying over a tall building’s terrace.

“What’s his issue?” Mal asked, pointing to the glaring winged male.

“Him,” Cai said, pointing his chin to me. “Lazarus and Snow had a thing going on before we came to Isjord.”

Jealousy poured over me as I met Lazarus’s gaze from the distance. A thing. What thing?

Alaric cleared his throat. “My daughter has married you, and I know you are not only powerful but mighty smart, too, so you must be aware of our tradition and the respect we pay to the holy joining of marriage.”

Caiden groaned and looked around. “To gods she hears you and this will end up a blood bath.”

“With all due respect to your tradition, Alaric,” I offered. “I will not hold Snow to it. Despite what it means on my behalf, to Snow this was solely a trade.”

Slowly, his brows rose up. “And what does it mean to you?”

“Ric,” Caiden called sternly.

“Cai, my muffin,” my brother purred. “Tense, are we?”

The Zephyr angled a deadly look on Mal.

The sky turned strange, angry storm filled clouds hovered almost too close above. Lightning broke the deathly calm, landing close to us. Too close.

Not lightning.

Her.

She was breath-taking. Flimsy black material that covered her figure hung loosely and piled to the floor, her lean legs peeked out with each step she took, the heavy gold jewellery circled and hung around her and did nothing to keep the cloth in place. A crown like no other rested on her head, spiked obsidian almost resembling black glass. Queen. She always carried the might of one, it was because she truly was one. Queen of Olympia. My wife.

“My, my, my,” she said, swaying her way to us. “Already cosy and comfortable with the enemy. Hello, Larg.”

The massive man bowed his head in greeting. “My queen.”

“Ouch,” my brother grumbled.

Snow’s smirk rose. “Princeling.” When her attention turned to me, every bit of her tensed, her mannerisms almost ready to recoil. “Darling husband. What a pleasure to see you again.” Those yellow eyes swept my head to my feet and back up again before a disdainful sneer curled her lips.

“Missed me?”

She offered me a saccharine smile, the same she offered to all her enemies. “Rather fondly. Shall we?”