Page 127 of The Hidden Fae Prince
Seren stops at the front porch. No neighbors in sight, but that doesn’t mean nobody’s watching. News travels fast in Wymond. How did Edith and Alard explain Seren’s absence? How will they explain Tansy’s arrival?
“Edith should be home, too. Unless she’s out gathering herbs. She’s an apothecary…” Seren trails off. “I’ve said that before.”
Leaves crunch. A firm hand squeezes Seren’s shoulder, and he leans into the invisible touch. Right. He can’t make this easy. Not for Tansy, not for Edith and Alard, not for himself. But this confrontation is necessary, and Seren is capable, because afterward, he can safely fall apart.
Seren meets no resistance at the threshold. The iron rabbit above the door must still be fake.
“Are you ready?” Seren asks.
Tansy holds the sarcasm this time. “Yes.”
Seren centers himself, stabilizing his emotional shields, and knocks twice. There’s a clatter from inside. The kitchen, and upstairs too.
“I’ll get it!” comes Edith’s muffled voice.
Panic tingles down Seren’s spine. Focusing on Tansy’s feelings has been easier than facing his own. Seren’s unprepared for the cold nerves and colder hope as the door cracks open.
After all this time, he hasn’t learned. The woman who raised him will never be glad to see him.
Edith is slighter than Seren remembers. The creases feathering around her eyes haven’t deepened over the past few months, but they’re somehow more apparent. The sleeves of her work dress are shoved up to her elbows.
Her face slackens. Then she meets Seren’s golden eyes, and fear spurs her voice. “Alard!”
Seren doesn’t feel her fear. He’s shielding. This would break him otherwise. Stepping aside, he pulls Tansy up the last step. He means to let go, but Tansy seizes his hand with surprising fierceness.
Boots thunder down the stairs.
“I’m sorry for running without a word,” Seren says. “There’s someone you should meet.”
Edith clutches the door. She regards Tansy with a different, tender fear. “Who is this?”
Behind her, Alard halts. His knuckles are white around a hammer, which he must have grabbed in response to his wife’s distress. Staring at Tansy, Alard looks as though he’s been struck with that hammer.
Seren squeezes Tansy’s hand. “This is your son.”
Alard makes a rough, choked noise.
“How can I believe you?” Edith asks, her eyes reddening.
“He can’t lie,” Tansy says, releasing Seren. He offers his hand, brightened by a fragile version of his usual smile. “Hello, Mother and Father. I’m Tansy.”
Edith flies forward with a sob. Her embrace nearly knocks Tansy over. He holds his feet with an undignified squeak.
Hammer crashing to the floor, Alard rushes to join them.
Seren moves out of their way. He’d expected more pain. Jealousy. He feels that, but also relief. A chorus of joy.
Nevander’s nowhere to be seen, but Seren trusts him to be nearby.
“Nice to meet you both,” Tansy gasps, surfacing from the embrace. He wiggles free with a clever deflection. “You owe Seren thanks, by the way. He went through a lot of effort to bring me back.”
Conveniently leaving out that Tansy himself had been the main obstacle.
Edith keeps hold of Tansy’s hands. “Are you really back? They won’t take you again?”
Her suspicion cuts, and Seren’s joy and hurt bleed together.
“He’s staying,” Seren says, burying his turmoil. “I would grab some of my things first.”
