“Stop with the threats!” Bruce snapped to cover his elation. They’d done it. They’d gotten the bastard to declare their deal done the moment the fairy Aaron was handed over. And as proof, a ruby-red butterfly detached from Bitterroot’s sleeve and hovered in the air between them. “We’ll do it. We’ll hand him over.”
Except now that the time had come, Bruce found it really hard to give the child up. Even though he knew it was the pixies, knew it wasn’t his baby, handing anything over to the arrogant bastard went against everything he believed in. Laddin must have felt it too, because he crowded close as he stroked the baby’s forehead.
“Will he be able to come back to Earth? You know, to visit?”
“Yes,” Bitterroot said with clear impatience. “I will bring him back myself when he is ready.”
Laddin’s head snapped up. “And when will that be?”
“When it is time!” Bitterroot stomped forward, his frustration clearly outweighing his need to make them present the child like a gift to a king. “You do not need to know the details of a prince’s education.”
But Bruce really did want to know. And he wanted to ask a thousand more questions too, because when it came right down to it, he couldn’t seem to make himself pass the child over. He couldn’t give anything precious to that arrogant bastard, even knowing that it was the answer to all their problems and, more than that, the pixies wanted it.
“It’s okay,” Laddin said as he supported Bruce’s arms. “We’ll get through this.”
Bruce didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His throat was clogged shut and his feet wouldn’t move. Laddin had to do it for him. Laddin had to be the strong one—the sane one—and do what had to be done.
“I hope this works out how you want,” he whispered to the baby.
If there was an answer, Bruce didn’t see it. Laddin lifted the child out of his arms and gave him to Bitterroot.
The prince held the child gently, and there was such elation in his face that Bruce truly believed a human child could save Bitterroot’s kingdom. Except, of course, the baby wasn’t a human child and Bitterroot had just promised not to do anything like this again. That meant the arrogant bastard was well and truly screwed.
There was real satisfaction in that. Assuming, of course, that they pulled this off.
“So we’re done?” Bruce asked. “Well and truly done?”
“Yes,” Bitterroot responded, his eyes still on the baby.
“Yes,” whispered the director, who abruptly swept a net down over the red butterfly. While everyone watched, he muttered some words over the insect, making it freeze solid. Then, with steady fingers, he gently pulled out the butterfly and set it in a plastic container he’d brought with him.
“Tupperware?” Bitterroot gasped in horror. “You keep my bargains in Tupperware?” Apparently those little butterflies represented the prince’s promises.
The director shrugged. “Actually, I think it’s Glad. It was all we had on hand.”
Bitterroot huffed out an annoyed breath. “I do not understand humans!”
Wasn’t that the truth? Meanwhile, Laddin was offering up a small bag of supplies. “Um, did you want this? It’s got formula and a diaper—”
“I will not put plastic on my child!” Bitterroot huffed, and damn if Bruce didn’t stiffen at the my child part. “Only spun silk will touch his skin.”
“In a diaper?” Laddin asked, his voice incredulous.
“Even so,” Bitterroot announced, and then, in a flash, he was gone, along with the pixie baby.
Everyone stood still for a moment—a very long moment—as they looked around at one another. The same question was on everyone’s face. Was it over? Was there anything more to do?
It was the director who answered as he tucked the frozen butterfly into his jacket pocket.
“All done,” he said gravely. “You got him to swear that it was over. And thanks to this…” He held up another frozen insect. It was the brown moth. Bruce had no idea when he’d caught it. “…he’s promised to cherish that child and not bargain for another one.” He looked at Laddin. “Good call there getting him to say that.”
Laddin nodded. Then he looked back toward the house. Bruce took his cue, and they started the long slog back to the house—though it was not so much a walk as a jog. They both wanted to make sure the real Aaron was safe and sound.
Josh trotted beside them, easily keeping pace. “So what was that that you gave the fairy asshole? A clone? Simulacrum? Doppelganger?”
Bruce frowned at his brother. “What makes you think it wasn’t Aaron?” Hell, he’d choked up enough over the fake Aaron that he’d almost caught himself believing the lie.
“Please,” Josh said. “This from the man who stalked me after a family dinner, took fairy fruit, and then turned himself into a werewolf, all so we could talk? You’ve never bailed on anything in your life. I didn’t believe for a second that you’d let go of your own son.”
Bruce stared at him, shock rolling through his system. “You knew? The whole time?”
“Of course I knew. I thought you’d get that when I said it was your style. It’s never been your style.”
“I know!”
“They why would you think I wouldn’t know?”
It was a fair question, but honestly, he had no idea what his brother thought of him now. Certainly he knew what he thought when they were kids, and even a couple of days ago, when Josh said that Bruce ruined everything. But now?
He slowed to a stop to look at his brother. Josh mirrored his movement until they were standing face-to-face.
One by one, the others of their group stopped as well.
“Josh,” Bruce said as he fumbled for words.
Laddin stepped up beside him and translated. “What that means is that he’s so sorry for being a dick when you were kids, but your father made him do it and he was a kid. He even tried to protect you.”
“I know,” Josh said, his voice subdued.
“You know?”
“Yeah, of course I know.
