“Congratulations on the anniversary of your sons' births, my Queen!” Fionnaghal exclaimed.
“Thank you, Fionnaghal,” I said as I hugged her back warmly.
The ruff of horns around Fionnaghal's face got tangled in my hair when we tried to pull away from each other, and Lia had to help us get unbound. We all laughed over the extrication, and then glasses full of strong, faerie wine were passed down to me and Liatris. The fey wine had a greater potential for getting me drunk, but it would still take quite a bit of the stuff to keep me there.
“I'm just relieved that we don't have to go through that flying debacle again,” I said. “Watching my children get tossed out of a window is not for me.”
“You don't want anymore children with the King?” Neala asked in surprise; her fiery eyes widening.
“Oh, I do, but...” I trailed off as I realized that I would have to go through the flight ceremony again with Samara. “Farfegnugen! I forgot that I wasn't done having dragon babies.”
The women laughed while I grumbled to myself about stupid dragon traditions. As I muttered, Anna walked up. Anna was Hunter's mother and one of the first fire cat-sidhe transmutated by Faerie.
“May I join you?” She asked.
“Of course.” I waved to an open spot. “Can someone pour Anna a glass of wine?”
“Oh, no; none for me,” she said and blushed.
We all went still.
“Are you...?” Lorna let the question hang as we waited with baited breath.
“I'm pregnant,” Anna confirmed with a smile.
“A second child,” Lorna whispered. “You're so blessed.”
“I am,” Anna agreed and looked away.
“Roarke hasn't asked yet, has he?” I whispered.
Anna swallowed roughly and looked up at me. “Well, in his defense, I have given him mixed signals.”
“King Roarke hasn't proposed yet?” Neala asked in shock. “You're carrying his second child, and the cat hasn't manned up?”
“Have you tried hinting that you'd be open to it?” I asked.
“No.” Anna cleared her throat. “That's not my style.”
“Anna, I know Roarke,” I said evenly. “He loves you more than anything. When your eyes went fiery with the change, and all the cat-sidhe started saying it was a sign of royalty, he couldn't have been happier. He wants to marry you, you just have to let him know that you won't stomp all over his heart and pride when he asks.”
“If Roarke can't find the courage to face the possibility of rejection, then I don't want to marry him,” Anna said firmly.
“Fair enough,” I said with a sigh.
Neala snorted. “Silly cats; allowing pride to stand in the way of love. You want Roarke to risk his while you don't risk yours. Marriage is about compromise; if you can't bend a little now, then you'll never budge and you shouldn't get married.”
The rest of us went still as we looked back and forth between the cat-sidhe and the phooka. I wondered if I was about to witness an epic cat and dog fight.
“Silly phooka,” Anna shot back. “Marriage is not about compromise. It's about worth; how much you value each other. For a relationship to work, both parties must feel as if they have won some kind of cosmic lottery. You must treasure each other, and that kind of esteem starts long before any compromising does. It must be fostered; especially in men. You must remind him—often, and in no uncertain terms—that he is lucky to have you. If you give into the temptation to help him woo you, you run the risk of him seeing you as something too easily won. And treasure is not found, or kept, easily. If Roarke wants to be my husband, he must show me how much he treasures me; I must be valued or I will not be his wife.”
I started to clap, and the other women followed suit. Anna smiled and blushed again.
“I concede the win to you,” Neala said graciously. “But with one caveat; there will come a time for compromise, Anna. Being treasured is a wonderful thing, but it doesn't always come with respect. True love must be fed, and compromise is one of Love's favorite dishes.”
“Well said,” Anna agreed. “I'll consider compromising... after I'm married.”
We all laughed and clicked our glasses together. But secretly, I wondered whether Roarke would ever realize that Anna wanted him to risk humiliation for her. Men could be dense, and one of the biggest mistakes I've seen women make is to assume that their men knew what they wanted. In my opinion, men—like all of us—do well with a little guidance. You can play hard to get and still give a little encouragement along the way.
It seemed like the compromise that needed to be made was between the two perspectives.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It turned out that Anna didn't have long to wait, and Roarke wasn't as dense as I'd thought.
After the presents had been opened and the cake consumed, the children finally wound down. They swayed sleepily in their seats; trying their best to stay awake long enough to watch the adults dance. Most of them passed out before the second song.
We were in the ballroom—socializing while the musicians took a break—when the sound of a guitar cut through the soft chatter. Everyone turned to the stage, where Roarke was standing, holding a guitar. He smiled at Anna—who stood only a few feet away—and started to sing.
The song he had chosen was “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran, and it was indeed perfect for them. The lyrics spoke of a love fostered through youth and brought into full bloom with age and patience; just like Roarke and Anna's romance. Roarke fastened his eyes on Anna and sang all the truths that he had tried to tell her for so long. He wasn't
