Chapter 203

Guitars and drums exploded through the bailey as Ashlara set another log onto the chopping block.

“I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation!” I sang, sliding dramatically across the yard and stealing the armload of split wood from Mak's grasp.

Her brow furrowed in immediate confusion.

“Living in the past, it's a new generation!”

I tossed the wood into the air.

Instead of falling, it hung there for a heartbeat before shooting across the yard and neatly stacking itself inside the woodshed.

“A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do!”

I grabbed Mak's hands and pulled her into a chaotic dance.

It only took her a moment to find the beat. Then she was stomping along beside me.

I bumped her with my shoulder.

She staggered a step. Her eyes widened. Then narrowed. A grin spread across her face as she launched herself back at me, slamming into my side hard enough to shove me off balance.

Back and forth we went, a mosh pit of two. Dancing. Shoving. Spinning. Occasionally wrestling.

Ashlara set the axe aside and leaned against the woodshed to watch. A soft smile tugged at her lips.

The lyrics weren't exactly complicated, and Mak picked them up quickly.

“An' I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation!” we shouted at each other.

The song finally crashed to an end.

I pulled her into a hug, which quickly turned into me blowing raspberries on her neck.

“Stop! Let me go!” she protested, laughing.

“You survived the mosh pit. You've earned it.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved me away. “You are so weird sometimes.” The grin on her face suggested she didn't actually mind.

I cleared my throat and turned toward Ashlara. “My apologies for interrupting all your hard work,” I said.

She folded her arms. “You aren't sorry.”

“Not even a little.”

A soft piano drifted into the air.

“Lady... I'm your knight in shining armor and I love you...”

“Nope,” she replied immediately. “Count me out.” She pushed away from the wall.

I caught her hand before she could escape.

“You have made me what I am, aaand... I am yooours...”

Despite her protest, a faint blush crept into her cheeks. She shook her head as I pulled her into a slow dance.

“You have goooone and made me such a fool...”

I spun her.

She followed effortlessly, moving with far more grace than she'd ever admit to possessing.

I wasn't a ballroom dancer.

Ashlara didn't even know what a ballroom was.

Yet somehow we made it work. Hands clasped. My hand resting at her waist. Her hand on my shoulder.

The two of us circling a chopping block while a fourteen-year-old openly judged us.

Mak hauled another armload toward the woodshed. “You're both ridiculous,” she informed us.

“Thank you,” I said.

“That wasn't a compliment.”

“Still counts.”

Ashlara laughed.

The song came to an end.

I dipped her low.

Her eyes widened. A blush spread across her face as I pulled her upright again.

“I missed you,” I whispered.

Her expression softened. “I know.”

I kissed her.

She returned it for a brief moment before suddenly remembering that Mak was still nearby. Her face immediately reddened. She stepped back and tried very hard to look composed. The effort failed spectacularly.

I smiled. “We'll continue this later.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Behave.”

“I have never behaved a day in my life.”

“That is unfortunately true.”

Mak snorted.

Ashlara covered her face with one hand.

I considered that a complete victory.

* * *

I followed the sound of music into the kitchen.

There I found Mirri, Tib, and Torvek working on dinner.

One of the burner phones I'd brought from Earth sat on the counter, quietly playing America.

The room smelled of flour, fresh vegetables, herbs, and baking bread. Home.

I crossed the room, wrapped my arms around Mirri from behind, and kissed the top of her head while she kneaded dough.

“Welcome home, hero,” she said, smiling.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Did you catch anybody today?” Tib asked.

“Nope.”

“Did you beat anybody up?”

I grinned. “Also nope.”

He looked genuinely disappointed. “Then what did you do all day?”

“I...” I straightened dramatically. “Investigated!” The announcement was delivered with considerably more fanfare than it deserved.

“If you're staying for dinner,” Mirri said, “you can investigate those potatoes.”

“Ready, willing, and able, my lady.” I crossed to the pantry, grabbed a sack of potatoes, and promptly began tossing them over my shoulder.

My mana caught them before they hit the floor and carried them gently to the counter.

“It turns out the governorness may be innocent,” I said. “Not only that, she may actually be a decent person.”

“That's disappointing,” Tib muttered.

Torvek stopped cutting vegetables and stared at him. “What is wrong with you?”

Tib blinked. “What?”

“Why is that disappointing?”

“Because it's easier when the bad guys are obvious.” He shrugged. “Duh.”

Torvek opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought about it. Then nodded. “That's fair.”

I laughed. “She spends an absurd amount of money helping people. Finding work. Relocating families. Buying out debts. Taking care of orphans.”

Mirri's lips twitched. “Sounds like someone has a little crush.”

I snorted. “You would too if you met her. She actually seems to care about people.”

I grabbed a pot and filled it with water. “It's a refreshing change from the people I usually deal with.”

“That's a very low bar,” Torvek observed.

“Painfully low.” I started washing potatoes.

“So if she's innocent,” Torvek said, “who's helping the Covenant?”

“Excellent question.” I sighed. “Too early to know for sure.”

I dropped another potato into the water. “My current suspect is a man named Hawke. He manages transportation and logistics. We found a message in a dead drop that may have come from him.”

“Wait.” Tib nearly dropped his knife. “You found a secret message?”

“Yup.”

His eyes lit up. “Where?”

“In a hidden compartment inside a shrine.”

His jaw dropped. “Can I have a hidden compartment?”

Mirri didn't even look up from the dough. “No.”

“What if I need one?”

“You don't.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you're fourteen.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

“What if something secret happens?”

“Then you can tell an adult.”

“That defeats the purpose of secrets.”

“Good.”

Torvek snorted.

Tib looked betrayed.

I focused very carefully on my potatoes.

“What happens if she really is innocent?” Mirri asked quietly.

The kitchen grew still.

That was the question I'd been trying not to think about.

If Hawke - or anyone else working for her - was involved with the Covenant, Lady Fenwick was going to be devastated. People would stop trusting her. She'd stop trusting other people.

And hundreds of vulnerable people could end up suffering because the systems she'd built stopped working.

“I don't know,” I admitted softly.

For a few moments, only the sounds of cooking filled the room.

Mirri divided the dough into neat balls and lined them up on a baking sheet.

Torvek seasoned meat.

Tib chopped vegetables.

I cut potatoes.

“Tib.” Mirri's voice carried the kind of warning that only mothers can achieve.

“I was testing it,” he said around a mouthful of carrot.

“You've tested it three times.”

“QA, vaer.” He grinned at me. “That means quality assurance.”

“I know what it means.” Mirri pointed her knife at him. “You ate an entire carrot.”

“It was a suspicious carrot.” His cheek bulged as he chewed.

Torvek shook his head.

I laughed.

“Do you think this Hawke guy is bad?” Tib asked.

I considered the question, then shook my head. “I don’t know. I haven't met him yet. Fenwick's arranged for me to tour the operation tomorrow. If Hawke's involved, hopefully I'll run into him.”

“And then?”

“Then I'll see what kind of person he is.” I stared down into the pot. “Honestly?”

The others looked up.

“It's the ones who aren't bad that scare me the most.”

Torvek frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means villains are easy.” I scraped a pile of potatoes into the pot. “Most people don't wake up wanting to hurt someone.”

“Then why do they do it?” Tib asked.

I looked at him. “Because they convince themselves they're helping.”

* * *

After dinner, I made my way into the demesne and headed for the library.

Two beacons burned within. One shone with the gold of innocence flecked with the blue of empathy. The other was an even blend of gold and the silver of memory and legacy.

Lilae and Elise.

The doors swung open as drums kicked in.

Two sets of eyes flicked toward me.

“Ow!” I sang as trumpets burst through the air. “Mmm, yeah!”

Lilae sat at one of the reading tables with the e-reader I'd brought from Earth resting in her hands. The moment she recognized the song, she set it aside and reached for me without hesitation.

I caught her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“I used to think maybe you loved me, now baby, I'm suuuure!”

I spun her around and lifted her into the air.

She laughed as her feet left the floor.

Unlike most of my children, Lilae never needed convincing. If I wanted to dance, she'd dance. If I wanted to walk, she'd walk. If I wanted to sit beneath a tree and talk for hours, she'd happily do that too. She never seemed embarrassed by me. At least not often.

I jitterbugged terribly across the library floor while she somehow managed to make my chaos resemble actual dancing.

Above us, Elise stood on the second-floor balcony shelving books. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she watched us.

She loved organizing the library. Loved the order of it. The certainty. The comfort of knowing every book occupied exactly the place it belonged.

In truth, none of it was necessary. The library could manage itself. Books floated through the air when returned, filing themselves according to the system Elise had painstakingly trained into the demesne over the last four years.

Yet every day she still spent time walking the shelves. Checking. Adjusting. Ensuring everything was exactly as it should be.

The armful of books she carried drifted from her grasp and floated away on their own.

She descended the wide spiral staircase.

“I’m walkin’ on sunshine! Whoooa!”

Lilae laughed as I spun her beneath my arm.

Then I scooped her up and deposited her on top of one of the reading tables.

Elise gasped and covered her mouth in scandalized horror.

Lilae simply adapted. The smaller dance floor didn't slow her down in the slightest. She danced across the tabletop while I continued singing below.

By the time the song ended, both of us were breathing hard.

Lilae grinned from atop the table.

I leaned in conspiratorially. “Don't tell the others,” I stage-whispered. “But you're my favorite.”

She immediately winked. “Your secret's safe with me.” Her grin widened.

I turned toward Elise.

“Please no more dancing on the desks,” she said. One hand rested over her heart. The smile on her lips betrayed her entirely.

I gasped. “Lady Rosecroft! I would never do such a thing.” I crossed the room, swept her into my arms, and kissed her.

A blush immediately rose to her cheeks. She didn't pull away.

I rested my forehead against hers.

Her pale-gray eyes met mine.

For several moments we simply stood there, enjoying the quiet closeness. No words. No music. Just us.

Then a grin slowly spread across my face.

“What’s that, Lilae?” I asked.

Elise's eyes narrowed immediately.

We both knew Lilae hadn't said anything.

“You're right,” I continued. “It does seem unusually bright in here.”

Elise looked suspicious.

“Almost as if it's coming from this radiant beauty standing directly in front of me.”

She groaned. The blush deepened. “Not again.”

Synthesizers rose through the library.

“You might even say-”

“Please do not.”

“She blinded me with science!”

“Oh no.”

The floor vanished beneath our feet. Mana carried us gently into the air. I wrapped an arm around her waist while taking her hand.

“It's poetry in motion...”

We began drifting upward in slow spirals.

“She turned her tender eyes to meee...”

Hundreds of tiny lights appeared throughout the library. They drifted between shelves and danced across the walls.

Above us hung a slowly rotating sphere of shifting colors - the magical equivalent of a disco ball.

I glanced down.

Lilae stood below with both hands raised. Her fingers moved carefully as she maintained the illusion. The grin on her face threatened to split it in half.

“As deep as any ocean...”

I spun Elise outward.

“As sweet as any harmonyyy...”

Then drew her back into my arms.

She was laughing now despite herself. A soft, helpless laugh. The kind she only shared with family.

“Hey! I don't believe it!”

We drifted closer.

“There she goes again! She’s tidied up and I can't find anything!”

Elise buried her face against my shoulder.

“I cannot believe this song continues to exist.”

The final notes faded. Our feet touched the floor.

“I do not understand why you keep singing that ridiculous song to me.”

I smiled. “I think you do.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“It's because I like seeing your smile.”

I kissed her softly.

She returned it. Gentle. Brief. Appropriate for the fact that my daughter was still standing five feet away and very obviously watching.

When we pulled apart, her hand lingered against my chest. “There are other ways to make me smile.”

“Sure.” I grinned. “But they're not nearly as fun.”

Behind us, Lilae made a dramatic gagging noise.

Neither of us acknowledged it.

That only made her laugh harder.