The airy, brightly-lit room smelled of coffee, and the first person I noticed was his mother. She sat on a dove gray settee, wearing a simple short-sleeved gown of pale blue. Her onyx-hued hair was once again twisted in a simple knot at the base of her neck. She had just placed a small cup on a low-profile table and appeared frozen there as she stared at Casteel with bright amber eyes. A rush of emotion poured from her— relief, joy, love, and underneath all of that was something tangy. Sorrow. There was a throbbing, steady current of grief as she rose, reminding me very much of what I’d often felt from Casteel when we first met.

My gaze inched away to where the faired-haired man stood at the back of the room, a short glass of amber liquid in his hand. Neither he nor the Queen wore their crowns, and I wasn’t sure if that was common or not while in their private residences. I was almost convinced that Queen Ileana and King Jalara wore theirs to bed.

Goosebumps pimpled my flesh as Casteel’s father stared directly at me. I didn’t hold his stare in challenge but simply looked elsewhere. I felt barely anything from him. Casteel’s father was either very reserved or knew how to block his emotions. They weren’t the only people in the room.

Standing by a large window overlooking a garden was the Commander of the Crown Guard. Hisa stood quietly, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Hawke.” The nickname was a soft breath on the Queen’s lips as she refocused on her son.

“Mother,” he said, and I noticed a roughness to his voice that stung my eyes. It struck me then that they hadn’t had a chance to even speak since his return.

She rushed forward, tripping over the corner of a cream rug. Casteel was there, catching her before she even really stumbled. She laughed as she threw her arms around him. “I was so glad when I heard that you planned to see us today. Look at you.” Casteel’s mother drew back, clasping his cheeks. She brushed at his hair. “Look at you,” she repeated and then pulled him in for another hug, one tighter and longer than the first. Casteel didn’t just allow it, he welcomed it.

Watching him be held by his mother softened…well, it softened every part of me. He was Casteel, the Dark One. I’d seen him remove a man’s heart with barely a flicker of emotion and launch himself into trees and use his fangs to tear through throats. He was capable of great strength and terrible violence, and yet, right now, he was only a boy in his mother’s arms.

“Mother.” His voice was a bit rough around the edges. “You may be cracking a rib or two of mine.”

Her laugh was light and happy as she pulled back. “That’s doubtful.” She placed a hand on his cheek again. “Have you gotten taller?”

“No, Mother.”