Free Beauty [A Faery Story 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Sophie Oak Page A

turned down. “I’ve heard rumors.”
    Bron leaned forward. “And you didn’t tell me?”
    “I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and it could all be peasant rabble-rousing. We have no way of knowing. They say the kings have bonded and formed a true triad.”
    Bron sat back, her head spinning with the thought. A true triad. It was a legend. The story went that when a pair of symbiotic twins found their perfect mate, they came into godlike powers. In the past, some could call water to their aid, walking on it and forming huge waves to crush their enemies, while others had the power to talk to all manner of beast, building an army of predators. But it was merely a legend. If it had happened before, it was so long ago no one on either of the planes could remember it. Surely it was merely a rumor. Symbiotic twins were rare and powerful, but they couldn’t control the elements.
    Some could call forth the dead, bringing them back to life when his power merged with fire.
    Bron chilled a little. Where had that thought come from?
    She shook it off. It didn’t matter. “I pray the rumors are true and that Beck and Cian have found their mate. I don’t believe the true triad stuff. I just want my brothers alive and happy and safe.”
    She hoped they were out there, perhaps on the Vampire plane with their cousin Dante, enjoying life. They didn’t know she was alive. It was better that way. They could have their family without risking themselves. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew Torin wouldn’t allow it. As long as Beck and Ci drew breath, he would plot to kill them. He had to.
    And Bron had to stay alive. Because in the end, her brothers would be forced to come back to Tir na nÓg one way or another. She took a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs. That was a battle for another day.
    “I’ll deal with Micha. He’ll want a grand wedding. He’s intent on inviting the queen herself.” Maris. Bron’s fist clenched. Maris, the betrayer. Over the years, Bron had come to understand that Maris had been the one to open the palace gates and allow Torin’s marauders in. Maris, who had pledged to love her brothers. Maris, whose corpse Bron intended to see tossed over her husband’s.
    Gillian stood, seemingly satisfied with that bit of news. “Excellent. A wedding like that will take months to plan. We can sell our crops and disappear. Perhaps a seaside province this time. I’ve long wanted to try my hand with a fishing net.”
    Gillian enjoyed a challenge. “We’ll have the most profitable boat in no time.”
    Gillian nodded and left. Bron’s heart raced a bit as she got under the covers and snuffed out her candle. She settled into the firm straw mattress, wiggling around until she was as comfortable as she was likely to be.
    Moonlight streamed in, casting everything with a silvery glow. Bron closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.
     
    * * * *
     
    She walked into the room, white marble under her feet. This was the White Palace, her home. She knew it, even years later. It played in the back of her mind that it was probably different now. Thirteen years of Torin’s rule had undoubtedly changed the place, but in her dreams, the palace was still her sunny home, unchanged, undimmed by faulty memory.
    She turned her face up. This was the sunshine room. Oh, her mother called it the waiting room, where she and her ladies sat and sewed and chatted, but Bronwyn called it the sunshine room because it was always filled with light.
    A familiar shape moved just out of the light’s reach. This shape hid in shadows.
    Her Dark Ones.
    “Are you coming out?” Bron called, teasing them a bit. She caught sight of one and then the other, their forms clinging to the edge of the light.
    “Why don’t you come back in?” They spoke in one voice, a slight echo in the words.
    It was always this way. Come morning, she knew she would wonder why she never sat down and talked to them, but caught in the dream, she simply did