the baby’s fingers for the hundredth time, entranced by the blue sparks already brewing at their tips. “I never expected his magic to have a color,” I conjectured aloud. “Mine doesn’t. And he’s a half-blood, like me.”
Morpheus rested his cheek on his pillow, eyelids growing heavy. “Not like you, blossom. Both of his parents have magic.”
I quietly studied the baby’s hands, curious if he’d ever be able to take another form like his father, and wondering over the chaos he’d soon wreak upon this castle and its occupants. Raising a fairy child blessed with imagination was going to keep us all busy, to say the least.
As soon as our son fell asleep, so did Morpheus and I—exhausted from the night’s events.
Now I’m awake, and in the soft amber glow of the candlelight, I study them: my prince, and my king, lying side by side next to me. My throat catches at their beauty, and my heart brims with love. They have the same pout when they sleep . . . that mischievous turn to their lips softened to an angelic expression and shaped by fragile tremors of breath.
As if sensing me watching him, Morpheus’s fathomless eyes open. I brush back a strand of hair from his face. He catches my palm and kisses it.
“It took a while to get here,” he murmurs against my scars, his voice rough with sleep.
By here, I’m not sure if he means the birth, or the two of us.
“Thank you for your unfathomable patience,” I respond, because either way, it’s the answer he deserves. I caress our prince’s plump elbow with my free hand, memorizing his cherubic face. Though his eyes are shaped like his father’s, they’re colored like mine. And I can see myself in other places . . . in the dimple on his chin, his button nose, and the platinum blond tips frosting the ends of his long, dark lashes. “Good things come to those who wait.”
Morpheus releases me and stretches, his powerful wings fluttering on the other side of him. “The best things. Impossible things. Most impossible of all is a lone creature, who never once needed another living soul, having a family he would die and kill for.”
Still studying the baby, my face flushes. The possessive resolve in Morpheus’s confession comes from a place so deep inside, it must’ve gored his heart to say it. It’s obvious he’s awed by being capable of such a love.
“We haven’t decided on a name yet,” I whisper to hide how touched I am by this rare glimpse of his frailties. I refuse to embarrass him. Tomorrow we’ll be presenting our son to the kingdom, which makes for the perfect segue. “I don’t think Trouble is a name befitting the prince who’s going to make our world a better place.”
Morpheus nods sagely, but there’s a wicked glint in his eyes. “Yes, we wouldn’t wish to risk a self-fulfilling prophecy. Can’t have him too much like his old man.”
I smirk, although I’m going do everything I can to assure our son will be like Morpheus—as fierce and unpredictable and chaotic as all the varied landscapes of Wonderland that we’ll one day share with him. “Should we look through your list again?”
We spent the afternoon yesterday sorting through the options as we had so often before: Argon, Durian, Iseld, Rhyanon . . . and so many more I can’t even recall. Each one was lyrical and powerful, and ideal for a fairy prince, yet nothing seemed to capture all that he would someday be.
“Only one will do, now that I’ve seen him.” Morpheus strokes the blue, downy tufts on our son’s head. In time, he’ll have a full head of luminous hair like his daddy’s. “Muse.”
I consider the name. It wasn’t on the list, but as I study the baby’s flawless features, I can’t deny it fits. My muse led me into this world in the first place, then gave me the power to rule it; Jeb’s muse repainted Wonderland so many years ago, then stayed here to bring peace between two realms. Even though Morpheus would never admit it aloud, this is his way of honoring Jeb’s contribution, my other side, and human flights of fancy. The sentiment affects me deeply, warms me all the way from my wing tips to my toes, and I’m grateful beyond words.
But there’s one more thing that makes this name fitting above all else: This baby is our dream-child, destined to inspire the imagination of the creatures in the