Allissa
Three days before the party, my daughter woke the entire east wing at dawn by announcing, at full volume, that today was a Thorin day.
“A what day?” Darren muttered into his pillow.
“You heard her.” I was already up, peeling Lyra off the foot of our bed where she had materialized like a small determined ghost. “The dragon royals arrive this morning. She’s been counting down on her fingers for over a week.”
“She only has ten fingers.”
“She borrowed two of mine.”
My mate dragged himself upright with the expression of a man preparing for an audit. I knew exactly what was happening behind those green eyes, because it happened every visit. Gunnar he respected. Ciera he adored, though he would phrase it as diplomatic regard. It was one of the smallest members of the delegation who
