“Or what he once wanted to love him?” Donovan countered. “The son of a witch whose bloodline also carried the magic of the Fae?”

“Whatever he is, he’s not just a human,” Varden said, turning back to look at them.

“No,” Donovan agreed, “he’s not just a human.”

Do no harm.

Liam suddenly stood up, unable to stay in that room anymore. He wanted, needed, to see Breanna, to feel grounded again in that blend of practicality and power, that promise that being something more than just a human wouldn’t turn him into something monstrous.

“I’d better see to my guest,” he said as he restrained himself from bolting for the door.

As he opened the door, he heard Donovan ask, “What happened to the Black Coat?”

And Varden’s heavy reply, “Baron, your people and mine are just getting to know each other and neither side feels easy yet. It’s better not to ask about some things.”

Out of the study and down the hall to stand at the parlor’s closed door. Liam took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself.

“You won’t find out anything until you open the door,” Donovan said, coming up beside him.

Bracing himself for another encounter, Liam opened the door, took two steps inside the room, and stopped. The table was strewn with tea things and a large bowl of water.

“Look,” Breanna said, giving him a sloppy smile. “It’s Liam. And he’s wearing his baron’s face.”

Selena looked blearily at the men. “How can you tell?”

“I’m his sister. I can tell. And if you don’t believe me, I will phoof you.” Breanna struggled into an upright position. “Phoof.”

A gust of wind lifted Selena’s hair.

“Well,” Selena said. “I’ll phoof you back. Phoof.”

A gust of wind blew Breanna’s hair around her face.

They both collapsed in their seats, giggling.

Gwenn stared sadly at the bowl of water. “I can’t phoof. I just burble.”

The water in the bowl rose in the center, creating a small fountain that…burbled.

Donovan just shook his head as he walked around the couch to get a good look at his wife. “What have you been drinking?”

“Tea,” Gwenn said, spoiling the prim tone with a hiccup.

Donovan picked up the cup and sniffed. “This isn’t tea.”

“It’s in a teacup. Therefore, it is tea.”

Donovan put the cup down, kissed his wife’s forehead, and picked her up. “Come on, Gwenny, you need to take a little nap now.”

“Don’t want any chicken soup,” Gwenn said, pouting.

“Just a little nap.” Donovan carried her out of the room.