“If I didn’t get out of that cursed bed, I’d either have to strangle Gwenny or have an affair with the cook. The woman has taken a fiendish delight is serving me chicken soup for two out of three meals.”

“The cook?”

“No,” Donovan growled. “My wife.”

Aiden coughed to disguise his laughter.

Looking sulky, Donovan turned to Liam. “You’ve had news from the west?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re all gathered,” Liam replied, fingering the folded sheet of paper.

To distract Donovan—and satisfy his own curiosity—Aiden asked, “You’ve had news as well, haven’t you, Ashk?” She looked more exhausted now than she had during the days of the battle, so he was relieved to see a little color in her face again.

“From Padrick,” Ashk said, smiling. “He and the children are well. And Ari gave birth to a strong, healthy boy. Padrick says Neall is hiding his disappointment in not having a daughter by wearing a silly grin, walking into walls, and generally making so much of a nuisance of himself that the Clan’s Lady of the Hearth has taken to locking him out of the cottage for a couple of hours every day so that Ari and the babe can get some rest. Of course, since he sounds too sulky to be complaining just on Neall’s behalf, I suspect Uncle Padrick has also been locked out of the cottage on a regular basis.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Lyrra said, having paused in the doorway to listen. As she walked to her place at the table, she pointed at Aiden. “You should write a song.”

“You should write a poem,” he countered.

“We’ll collaborate,” she said primly, taking her seat.

Aiden leaned close to her and whispered, “We did that quite well last evening.”

Watching her color rise, he busied himself with examining his quills, fully aware of the interested, and speculative, glances the barons were giving Lyrra as they walked into the room.

Ashk took her seat at the table, followed by Selena.

The table had been pushed to one side of the room so that chairs for the surviving barons who had fought at Willowsbrook could be placed in rows facing the table. Fae Lords and Sons of the House of Gaian stood against the wall, and two chairs were set to one side for Breanna and Elinore. The barons had argued that their council should be private while they decided the fate of the eastern counties ruled by the barons who had followed the Inquisitors, but Liam had insisted that the Fae and the witches should be present if they so wished since they would be affected by any decisions made here.

When everyone was assembled, Liam opened the piece of paper. “I have a message from Padrick, Baron of Breton. You are all free to examine the contents.”