Ella and Sinclair wake up the next morning before their children do, curled in each other’s arms as they always are.
“Stop,” Sinclair commands, tightening his arms when Ella starts to move, to roll away towards the edge of the bed. “Don’t. Stay.”
“We have to get them up, Dominic!” Ella protests, laughing, but her body betrays her, going soft and pliable again in her mate’s arms. “They have to go to school. And then off to war. And we have meetings.”
“They’re adults, they can get themselves ready to go off to war,” Sinclair murmurs, his eyes determinedly shut as he pulls Ella closer and rests his head against her chest, sighing deeply at the comfort he feels when she’s in his arms, when he can smell her scent.
“You hold your tongue,” Ella sighs, running her fingers through his thick dark hair, only starting to grey at the temples in a way she quite likes. “I get to baby them until they’re ny. That was the deal.”
Sinclair grumbles something noncommittal and presses a kiss to her chest, just above the V of her nightgown, and then sighs and lifts his head, opening one eye to peer at her. “We have a meeting?” he asks, groggy after so much Midwinter whiskey.
“Yes!” Ella says, beaming at him. “With Hank! You know this! You remember!”
“False,” Sinclair sighs, returning his head to her chest. “I remember nothing. Who is Hank.”
Ella swats him on the head, laughing, because she knows he’s lying and being lazy.
“Why did you even make that meeting?” Sinclair mutters. “Poor Hank. He deserves a holiday too.”
“Because,” Ella sighs, looking off towards the door as if she can see through it. “I have questions about the North, and he’s the only one I trust to ask questions about it right now.”
“You mean you have questions about Jackson,” Sinclair says, sighing and starting to sit up, taking Ella with him.
“Yes,” Ella confesses, nodding and looking her mate deep in his green eyes. “There are things we need to know, Dominic. That boy’s background…” she bites her lip and shakes her head, worried. “And I want my questions answered while Jackson’s still under our roof, so I can talk to him about it. If I need to.”
“Fine,” Sinclair says, sighing and closing his eyes even as he straightens his shoulders. He lifts a hand, waving it at himself. “Go ahead, little magical mate. Heal me up from this hangover so we can go to this ridiculously early morning Zoom meeting with my brother’s mate’s human ex and ask secret question about our daughter’s mate’s mysterious cult.”
Ella laughs but obliges, reaching out and placing her hands on Sinclair’s temples, closing her eyes and falling into the lavender light of her magical meditative space.
“You know, this feels like a gross misuse of privilege,” she murmurs as the healing begins. “Just because you’re a King and my mate doesn’t mean you should get off scott-free from drinking too much.”
“Yes it does,” Sinclair murmurs, his voice rumbling a little with a growl that makes Ella laugh. “Now hurry up, demigoddess, we’ve got meetings to attend.”
“Meeting, mortal. Singular. And then I’m saying goodbye to my first and second born, which will take my full attention.”
“And many tears,” he murmurs, but the King reaches for his Queen, even though his eyes are closed. He finds her exactly where he knew she’d be, and places his hands warm upon her thighs, letting her know he feels precisely the same.
About forty minutes later, the meeting is all set up and the screen flashes once before Hank’s image appears.
“Hank!” Ella cries, pressing her hands together with pleasure as she leans forward towards the computer. “It’s so good to see you – we miss you here in the capital!”
Hank smiles, warm and genuine, his eyes crinkling into little half-circles of joy. “Your highnesses,” he says, dipping into a mocking little half bow that’s even more ridiculous because he’s seated. “How are you? How was your midwinter?”
“Gorgeous, amazing!” Ella replies as Sinclair and Hank give each other warm, stoic nods, fully understanding that their deep friendship doesn’t need the kind of exuberance that Ella gives to every aspect of her life. “How are the kids?”noveldrama
“The kids are fine, at each other’s throats as usual,” Hank murmurs, glancing over his shoulder towards the rest of the house. “We’re snowed in, though it’s been…a trial, all being boxed up together for more than a week.”
Sinclair frowns at the idea, leaning closer to the computer, while Ella gasps like it’s the most fabulous thing that could ever happen to a family, to be forced into uninterrupted company for so long.
“A week?” Sinclair asks, worried. “That’s quite some time – are you low on supplies?”
