celebration was Uriah's lips cruising across her temple, his arms around her, and a satisfied nod from Rowena.
Ilex smiled; he even went so far as to wink at her while their father sat and fumed petulantly.
For a being older than literal dirt, he sure could pout like a child. “Well? Get on with it, then. Ask your bloody questions.”
Ivy cleared her throat and waved her hand in front of her face. “I'm a bit thirsty after all that, and I did offer you tea. Would you like some?”
She turned to kiss her mate before regretfully sliding off his lap to reach the pitcher of hibiscus tea, chilled to perfection, with gorgeous slices of limes floating in the deep red liquid. Her father curled his lip disdainfully as he watched her pour glasses for everyone.
“That can hardly be called tea. There's ice in it.”
“I'll have some,” Ilex said with a smile, looking far more relaxed and acting much less douchey. Ivy served Rowena and Uriah first, then pushed a glass across the invisible barrier, pouring herself a tall glass last.
Her brother sipped cautiously, making a sound of enjoyment. “Very nice. Refreshing on a hot day.”
Ivy toasted him with her glass, folding her hand around Uriah's while she enjoyed a few sips of the cool drink. Her father continued to glare at her impatiently, his arms folded across his chest, fingers tapping his bicep.
His beard even puffed out a bit because he was clenching his jaw so hard, as though conveying his intention not to speak a word unless necessary.
She sighed once her dry mouth was soothed, preparing herself mentally for the answers she was about to receive. “You brought an excessive amount of armed spectators with you, father. Why?”
Uriah’s bicep turned to stone beneath her hand, and Abel gave a low growl that made her guess neither of them had scented the hidden warriors.
Donnatar tipped his head with a curious narrowing of his eyes. Ivy couldn't help but wonder if his huge rack of antlers ever gave him neck pains. “I felt it necessary in case you and your puny group of witches reacted violently to my presence.”
Hadn't been expecting a warm welcome? She could buy that. “Twenty armed warriors for a coven of six? I'm flattered. Aren't you, Rowena?”
Rowena gave a casual nod, her fingers rubbing deeply into Abel's thick black mane. “Deeply flattered.”
“If we had reacted violently, what were those big strapping fairies ordered to do?” Ivy asked calmly.
Her father gave a snort and a careless wave of his hand. “Kill everyone but you, naturally.”
“Naturally,” she echoed wryly. Ivy moved onto Abel's portion of the big plan, remembering his advice on interrogations. Ask the easy questions, then slip in a nasty one. Ask a few more nasty questions, then go back to the easy ones. Keep what Abel called 'the perp' guessing, which came next, and leave him unable to truly prepare. She knew just what to ask.
“Does having such a big rack ever give you neck pains?”
Donnatar blinked incomprehensibly. Rowena squeaked and lifted her hand to her mouth to cover any further sounds. Ilex rolled his lips under his teeth and focused intently on the contents of his glass. Uriah wasn’t so circumspect. He threw his head back and roared with laughter.
Her father seemed perplexed as to why Uriah was laughing. Ivy was struggling herself and had to suck on a lime to stop herself.
“No,” Donnatar finally said. “What do my antlers have to do with anything?”
“Nothing at all,” Ivy told him. “I was just curious. When you first met, how did my mother get in contact with you?”
A flutter of her father's long eyelashes was the only sign he gave to say he was unsure by Ivy’s line of questioning, and from the corner of her eye she saw Abel give a toothy lion's grin of approval.
“She didn't. She stepped inside a decrepit stone circle and summoned a lesser Fae using an incantation so old, I’m honestly shocked any mortal still alive knew it.
“She wanted a wish granted, but that Fae she summoned was incapable of granting it. That Fae returned to the Summerlands and came to me with news of a female desperate for a child, and I sought her out the following evening.”
“A stone circle? Where?”
“Some backwater hovel in Scotland,” Donnatar grunted with a disdainful curl of his lip.
Ivy frowned thoughtfully, not remembering a single mention of Scotland in her mother's journal. She'd traveled almost everywhere else in the world and written about it, so