No, it’s the opposite—unbridled joy follows.
There’s cheering and jumping. Some of the children start running around again and watching them waddle might be the best part of my visit to Valora so far. Aside from sleeping next to Kirian, of course. That was unbelievably awesome, and I’m looking forward to a repeat.
As if reading my mind, Kirian says, “We need to find lodging for the night. Carry on with your evening.”
“Hail, Queen Quinn!” It’s a united shout from everyone around us, and for the first time since coming here, I feel welcomed. Valued. Appreciated and respected.
I want to thank each and every one of them for being so accepting, but they start disappearing back into their homes. The enthusiastic murmuring fades away as the crowd disperses.
A family of four stays on their front stoop, waving. They have two daughters, and I smile as I wave back. The kids giggle and hop, gaping at their parents in shock, like they can’t believe I acknowledged them. A third girl scurries out from behind the mom, and she’s got something in her hand as she runs to the other side of Kirian’s horse.
“Wait! For the queen. I already took the thorns off.” She holds up a dark-blue rose. She’s so short I can’t see her face, but she waves the flower until Kirian takes it.
He gives it a sniff before handing it to me. “It’s a Midnight Rose from their garden. It takes decades to cultivate these flowers, and receiving one is the highest honor.”
“It’ll stay alive for at least a year!” the child shouts, darting under Kirian’s horse to approach me. She’s got blond shoulder-length hair, rosy cheeks, and the cutest button nose.
“Thank you,” I breathe out, truly touched. “I wish I had something to give you, too.”
“A hug will do.” Reaching up for me, she spreads her tiny arms wide.
“Fiona,” her mother reprimands, coming over to drag her daughter back to their house. “Don’t be ridiculous. The royals don’t hug us.”
Fiona’s lip wobbles as she’s taken farther away, and my heart breaks for her a little. She gifted me with more than just a rose. She offered acceptance, which is worth more to me than any object.
And let’s face it—after the day I’ve had, I could use a hug or a hundred.
“Technically, I’m not a royal yet,” I say, impulsively deciding to grant her request.
Swinging my leg over the saddle, I wait for Kirian’s protest when my foot touches the ground, but it doesn’t come. He doesn’t make a peep as I follow the family to their stoop.
Kneeling, I put myself at eye level with Fiona. Her big blue eyes dart from me to her mom, as if she’s asking permission.
Slack-jawed, her mother seems too shocked to respond, so I scoop the little girl into my arms. She’s heavier than she looks. I end up setting her on my thigh, and she hugs me back with fervor, giggling in my ear.
“No fair,” the other kids complain. “We want a hug, too.”
Pulling back, I wave the flower. “You’re in luck because this seems to have given me an unlimited hug supply.”
They don’t need to be told twice. Barreling toward me so fast they almost knock me over, they latch onto my neck.
“Girls!” their parents scold, standing off to the side, fretting as they wring their hands.
I can’t talk because I’m being squeezed too hard—these kids have a surprising amount of strength—so I send them a thumbs up.
With a confused tilt of their heads, the man and woman look at the lone digit pointing up in the air, and it occurs to me that they’ve probably never seen that hand gesture before.
“It’s a good thing,” I manage to say, though my air supply is limited.
Before I know it, the other families are piling out of their houses again, and I’m surrounded by two dozen gnome children. They take turns climbing onto my lap and wrapping their chubby little arms around me; the smallest boy of the neighborhood has had three turns already. They smell like flowers and grass, and they all exude innocence and happiness.
I’m not sure I’ve ever smiled this hard.
“That’s enough,” an older gnome says gently, patting each kid on the head before sending them away. “Let the queen breathe.”
“Please, call me Quinn,” I tell him.
He smiles behind his long white beard while leaning heavily on a cane made from a knotted tree branch. When the last of the kids toddles away, he turns his blue eyes on me. “You’re going to make a wonderful mother someday, Quinn.”
“Thank you.” My grin fades.
As nice as the compliment is, it reminds me if Kirian and I go through with this mating business, I’m the hope of a kingdom. That my ability to have children—with Kirian—is what will ensure the royal bloodline continues.
But there are two problems. I’m not his fated mate and I’m human. I’m not even sure if it’s possible for us to reproduce. I’ve always wanted to be a mom. When I’ve thought about my future, the career path was always unclear, but a family was definitely in my vision.
As I say goodbye to the gnomes, I try to hold onto their contagious cheerfulness.
Once we’re on our way again, I can’t help glancing behind us. A laugh bursts from me when I see all of them standing in the road giving me the thumbs up sign.
Like it’s my own personal salute.
I smile over at Kirian. “That was really fun.”
Pleased, he grins. “The gnomes are a friendly, peaceful bunch. We’ll pass through here again on the way back. I’ll be sure to bring them something special for making you happy.”
I nod, already looking forward to it. “That’s a good idea.”
“You made them happy, too.” Approval is strong in Kirian’s tone. “You have no idea what your affection means to them. They have a long history of being subjected to mistreatment and discrimination, so to be treated as equals by you… well,
