Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Just inside Castle Nathria, Theotar tapped his foot. Renathal was meant to take him to the Ceremony Ward, or had been. At the last, "Stop bothering me, we'll get there," Theotar gave up and left him to his work.

How long had it been since he last left the castle grounds without a chaperone? He had long since stopped drinking his root teas, and knew his mind as well as any other. Yet still, he had to beg escorts wherever he went, no thanks to the wretched Consortium of Nobles. He sat on a low pillar, and jerked to his feet at the crunch of taffeta.

The moment Renathal offered Yelseveta the castle for all eight nights of the Feast of Souls, she leapt to design a party beyond any she had ever thrown. Her dredgers had finished their work in the castle for the day, despite the party being a month away. Great swathes of green draped the bannisters, the foyer's grand arched ceiling, the walls; it peeked from beneath dust cloths. They looked like the Azerothian snow and evergreens Gwennit mourned. Yelseveta had squealed like a child when she finished sketching her visions for the decor.

At least one person Theotar loved was happy.

Finally, the afternoon twilight gathered its evening purple. Gwennit would be home any moment, and the little ones abed. So much for an afternoon of reading stories and playing games. Theotar dragged his feet to the servants' wing. Regardless of manners, he opened the door to Renathal's study without knocking.

Renathal lay with his head on his arms, papers strewn about his undersized desk and the floor. Theotar capped an inkwell, and drew the long-dried dip pen from Renathal's stained fingers. Renathal stirred.

"Lunch already?"

Theotar sat across from the small desk. Renathal rubbed his eyes and stretched. His spine crackled, and he grunted.

"How much longer must I be a prisoner in my home?" Theotar tapped his fingers on his elbow. "I understand you have much to do, but is it really so hard to overturn a minor Consortium edict?"

"I'm sorry! I'm busy! Give me until I've eaten lunch---"

A knock at the door. It opened.

"Where were you?" Gwennit slumped against the door-jamb. "The little ones were in tears when you didn't come! This is the third time. You swore you'd be there!"

"Speak with the one who chose to sleep rather than see to me as he promised!"

Renathal sneered and groped for the watch on his desk. "Don't look at me! It's not even time for--ah." He glanced between them. "I'm sorry. I only meant to nap---"

"It is already done." Theotar slouched. "I will see the children tomorrow---"

"We have plans with the Accuser tomorrow. After that, we're starting rehearsals." Gwennit sat in the chair next to him, veil drawn past her eyes. "We'll try again after the festival---"

"I said I was sorry!" Renathal shoved his chair against the wall behind him and set to pacing, hands behind his back. "Have you any idea how much I've got to do right now? I've had to summon the other Harvesters for tomorrow because all of them act like it's already the Feast of fucking Souls!"

Theotar slapped the desk. "Then perhaps you should sleep at night rather than keep us awake to sate your cock!"

"Stop it!" Gwennit shot to her feet. "How many more days am I going to come home to the two of you arguing? Have I got to ask for rooms in the cathedral?"

Theotar winced even as Renathal fell still. Hair in his face, Renathal turned to the stark plaster wall and straightened two small portraits: of Diania, her modest clothes shimmering in paint, and Nathreina, the Princess, her blind eyes gazing forever at things few could see.

"I can't lose you." Renathal looked over his shoulder to Theotar and Gwennit. "I can't lose anyone else I love."

Gwennit rubbed her temples. A crease formed at the corner of her frown. "The two of you work this out." Her loose robes made her even smaller than she already was as she made for the door. "I'm going to have a bath. Please don't disturb me."

"We'll fetch you for dinner," Renathal said.

"I'm not hungry. I'll see you in bed."

"Duchess." Theotar reached for her hand. His fingers tingled where she should have taken them. "Please, dowsabel, you have been so edgy of late! What is wrong? Is this about us, or your son?"

Gwennit closed the door behind her.

In the study's crushing silence, Theotar hugged himself. Renathal gazed at the portraits, at the last known venthyr with the skill to see beyond time and souls.

"I still don't know how to tell her," Renathal said, and his voice crushed part of Theotar's heart.

Theotar stood. Went to Renathal. Put both arms around him. Closed his eyes as Renathal returned the embrace. Their heartbeats pounded in his ears.

"Have the trials ended?" Theotar said.

"They will do before the festival. I told her so."

"Does she suspect?"

"I don't think so."

So, no. Damn Renathal for keeping quiet so long, and for pulling Theotar into his silence. He tugged Renathal's beard and kissed him.

"I'll let the two of you sleep tonight." Renathal traced Diania's portrait, the edge of her short hair, the curve of her shoulder in the dark taffeta she loved. "Forgive me. Only, I don't know how much longer I'll have the both of you."

"You will have us." Theotar cupped Renathal's cheek and turned him from the paintings. "She is Gwennit! You know she loves us above all others."

"No. She doesn't."

Theotar pursed his mouth. "You know that is not true, my prince."

But Renathal was right. Above all, Gwennit loved her children, even the ones lost and forgotten for aeons. They made up the bulk of her heart and soul to the point Theotar wondered how he and Renathal could fit.

Once more, he kissed Renathal. "I will speak with her."

"She said not to---"

"I will speak with her. You, go to the library. Rest where the mousers will keep you warm. I will wake you to eat."

Renathal sighed, but returned a final kiss. Before Theotar could shut the door behind him, the desk chair scraped across the floor, and Renathal drowned a little more in his endless duties as king.

In the master suite's second bedroom, which had long since turned into storage, three unfinished costumes awaited the first night of the Feast of Souls. Renathal's, the simplest, hung from its stitching dummy: trousers and belt, a long formal vest, and the beginnings of a red wig he insisted made him itch. Theotar's black gown glittered with pins, but Gwennit's green armour--cloth and quilting, paint and stitches--more or less matched the real set Renathal wore more often than he liked. From the small bath few ever used came a thunder of water pouring into the polished copper tub.

Theotar knocked as he opened the door. Gwennit sat beside the tub, veil over her face, her seat so tall her toes balanced on the floor. Theotar knelt before her.

"I said I didn't want to be disturbed." Gwennit watched the level of steaming water as the bath filled.

"Forgive me, dowsabel. I worry for you."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know." Theotar took her hand between both of his own. It hung limp between his palms. "I am sorry I did not come today as I said I would."

"You could have woken him."

"You know how angry he gets when we interrupt him of late. I could not face more shouting!"

Gwennit's gaze darted from the filling bath. She watched him.

"His temper is worth more than the little ones?"

Theotar flinched. Gwennit pulled her hand from his and shut off the tap. She shed her clothes, so much like the shapeless robes she wore when alive, and stepped into the water. Her loose hair, the length of her back, floated on the surface as she sat. A single lamp reflected from the mirror above the sink, and lit the room in shadows.

"You worry for your son." Theotar leaned against the bath. The water sloshed as Gwennit shifted behind him. "I wish I could ease your mind, my duchess."

"Every day, when I leave the castle, I have to stop myself from running all the way to Maldraxxus. I would if it wouldn't show Tenathon in a bad light. Why are the trials taking so long?"

"I don't know." Theotar folded his arms. Damn Renathal! Damn his cowardice, his weakness, his inability to simply speak to their wife. Never mind the same cowardice and weakness that turned Theotar's stomach every time Gwennit spoke of her son.

No more.

"Gwennit," he said.

"Leave me alone."

"There is something we must---"

"Leave. Me. Al---"

"Your son. My love, he is dead."

Silence. The shift of water---

Theotar yelped as his scalp split. He gripped his head. Gwennit slashed the back of his hand, caught his neck, dragged him beneath the water. He gasped, and his lungs revolted at the water within them. She wrenched him out.

"You bastard! How dare you say that!"

Theotar doubled over, coughed. His scalp shrieked in pain, and blood and water ran from his hair to stain the bathwater. "I would never bamboozle about such a thing!" He scrubbed blood from his eyes. Gwennit slid from the bath, hit the floor, kicked him and kicked him, heels striking his ribs. Theotar put up his hands. Gwennit wrapped his braid around her hand.

Naked, dripping, she hauled him from the room, the suite, past the stunned chambermaids running to the shrieks, all the way to Renathal's pathetic study, where she kicked the door until Renathal wrenched it open.

"I am trying to--what in fuck is going---"

Gwennit shoved her fingers in his mouth. "Where is my son?"

Renathal yanked her hand from his mouth and pulled Theotar to his chest. "Did you do this to him?"

Gwennit lifted from the floor. Her eyes glowed blue, and her voice echoed. "Where. Is. My son."

"I could lie no longer." Theotar pressed his bloodied fingers to Renathal's lips. "Forgive me, my prince. She deserves to know!"

Over seconds, Renathal's presence withered. For the second time in all their aeons, he hunched, grew small and old, yet lost as a little boy. Theotar took his hand, though he dappled Renathal's ink-stained shirt with blood. Renathal reached for Gwennit, who jerked away.

"Where is my son, Renathal."

Renathal closed his eyes. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Closed his study door so they stood in the dim hall.

"Come to our rooms. I'll explain all I know."

In the end, he hoisted Gwennit over his shoulder. Her screams echoed off walls and down staircases. She beat, kicked, raked Renathal's back until blood dripped soaked into his trousers. Theotar finally caught her hands and squeezed her wrists together. She snapped her fangs short of his flesh, and spat in his face.

The whole time, Renathal might have made his way to the Maw.

In their bedroom, he pressed Gwennit to the bed. She clawed his face, Tenathon's name echoing from every wall. Renathal leaned on her shoulders, sat on her thighs, let Theotar grip her hands in his lap as she struggled against their weight, their strength, greater even than her rage.

"Please stop," Renathal said beneath Gwennit's feral shrieks. "I didn't tell you because I knew this would happen."

The doorknob jiggled. Pounding echoed through the room. "Sirs!" a Stoneborn said.

"It's all right!" Renathal looked back. "One of my consorts received bad news."

"Fuck you! Liar!"

Renathal sighed. "Forgive us, Lieutenant. I'll call if we need your assistance."

"There's blood---"

"We'll deal with it. Please. This is a family matter."

A pause. "I'll be at the door."

Gwennit spat in Renathal's eye. He wiped it on his shoulder.

"Gwennit. Please. I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry I am. I tried to have him extracted. Brought here. He was my uncle's spy. Loyal to the end. You know what happens when spies are captured."

"You should have got him sooner!"

"I sent Mograine a message the day I learned of your children. It was too late. You asked why Theotar and I have argued so much. This has hung over our heads for months. We didn't want to cause, well, this."

Gwennit stared. She quivered so Renathal adjusted his weight on her shoulders. Her eyes flared blue, and she fell still.

"She is gone." Apărător watched Renathal. "For now."

Renathal slammed his fist against the bed. "Get her back!"

"Renathal." Theotar put his hand atop Renathal's. "Let her. I cannot watch her like this, nor can we hold her for long."

"Fuck that! We need to see that she's well!"

"Let Apărător do it. You are in no state to care for her right now." Theotar touched his bloodied head and flinched. "Nor am I, for that matter."

Renathal sat back. He stared through Gwennit's still body, her chest rising and falling, eyes unblinking. Theotar took his hand.

"Is that Lieutenant Gorač outside the door, my dear?" he called.

"Yes, sir."

"Could you fetch us a healer, please? The Curator should be in the archives."

A grunt. The thud of great, stone feet. Renathal curled on his belly, his arm slung across Gwennit's naked form.

"I know you can hear me," he said close to her ear. "I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry I am. I couldn't bring myself to break your heart, and made it all the worse with my cowardice. Please come back. We need you. Who else is going to tell us when we're being daft?"

"Shh." Theotar stroked Renathal's hair, stained with blood and ink. "Look at her ear, my love. Her cuff is still in place. She is only hiding until the pain ebbs enough to let her surface."

Renathal traced Gwennit's marriage cuff, again, again, as though it would vanish if he stopped. Theotar held him, stayed his bleeding back with his chest, remained as anima evaporated, and the blood grew sluggish, sticky, and cool.

Soon, the Curator crept into the bedroom. She gasped, and hurried to Gwennit, who lay beneath a sheet.

"She's all right." Renathal sounded as dull as he had when Theotar left him eternities ago. "We could use some patching up. My back stings a bit, I'm afraid."

"Sire's horns, you're absolutely coated in blood! She didn't hurt you, did you?"

"Rather the other way around, I fear." Theotar held forth his clotting hand, and tipped his head to show the gashes on his scalp. "My hair will take weeks to recover!"

The Curator looked between the three of them, mouth open. She folded her arms. "If you haven't got a good explanation, I'm getting the Accuser."

"She received bad news." Renathal kissed Gwennit's temple and turned his back to the Curator, who gasped. "Her son in Maldraxxus is dead."

The Curator put her hand to her mouth. "The poor thing! Not that it's any reason to tear my favourite brother to shreds. Was it a reason?"

"I am afraid so." Theotar squeezed Gwennit's hand. "We kept secrets we did not know how to tell."

"Ah. Hmm." The Curator peered between them, frowning. "Theotar first. I know what my brother is like when he decides to be stubborn."

For a few minutes after his scalp and hand closed and the bruises forming on his ribs faded, Theotar scratched to chase the prickles that came with so much Void healing. The Curator pored a while over Renathal's back, and the wound on his throat that led him to pick Gwennit up in the first place. She pulled linen threads from the bloodied scrapes that covered him from nape to belt, shoulder to shoulder, and closed gashes a piece at a time.

"You ought to rest tomorrow. This is nearly as bad as--I mean---"

"Nearly as bad as when Father got hold of me." Renathal hugged his knees to his chest. "This set I deserved."

"I wouldn't want to tell her, either. She can be a bit frightening. I'm surprised you're not laid up like you were after Sălbatic!"

Renathal sighed. "Thank you for reminding me of that. This day clearly hasn't been difficult enough."

The Curator shook her head. "Can I do anything?"

"Tell the others the meeting is delayed a day. Say the princess consort is poorly. Say I'm a damn fool."

"I'll say word arrived from Maldraxxus." The Curator pulled Renathal to her, put her chin atop his head, took his hands. "I'll send someone with fresh bedding."

"You know you're my favourite sister, right?"

"In that case, I could use some more assistants in the archives."

Renathal smiled, a thin, miserable curve of his lips. "Go on. I'm sorry we disturbed you."

"It's all right. Give her my love, would you?"

Renathal nodded. The Curator kissed his head, patted Theotar's shoulder, and left them be.

"So what now?" Renathal said in the quiet.

Theotar scooted across the bed and eased him onto his side. He held Renathal, who clutched Gwennit as though she anchored him to life. Theotar kissed the back of his neck.

"We tell the truth."

#

The twilight beyond the balcony gleamed an afternoon blue when Theotar opened his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at Renathal, who twitched in his sleep and whimpered.

"Shh." Theotar took his hand. "It is all right, my love." He blinked at Gwennit's small hand coming to rest on Renathal's elbow. She lay in Renathal's arms, watching with no expression at all.

"Is he all right?" Gwennit touched Renathal's stained cheek. "He was crying."

"Dowsabel." Theotar sat up and hugged her. Gwennit returned it, more or less. "You are here! Renathal, wake up---"

"Let him rest. He needs it."

"But---"

"Let him sleep."

Her voice was wrong. Flat. Empty. As though she had been drained of hope. Theotar rested his hand on her cheek. "I am so sorry, dowsabel. We did not want to hurt you. I fear we failed as badly as we ever could."

"Mm." Gwennit wrapped her fingers in the sheet that covered her. "How long have you known?"

"Since you got word of Anduin and Taelia's little one. The one coming soon."

Gwennit nodded, once. She slid from Theotar's grasp. "I'll be back."

When she shut herself in the bath, Theotar turned to face Renathal. "Wake up, my love." He stroked Renathal's cheek, which had gone hollow in the space of a day. "She is back! Er. That is, she will be in a moment."

Renathal lay still, his eyes closed. "Does she hate me?"

"No! She loves you. She is worried about you!"

Renathal opened his eyes, though looked far beyond Theotar. "I don't deserve it."

"Shh. Do not say such things! It was an accident. She will forgive us."

"You know damned well it was no accident." Renathal focused on Theotar. "Why did you tell her?"

"As I said, I could no longer lie to our wife."

"You could have waited for me."

"Not when you spend all your time pushing us aside for the sake of papers, my love."

"I don't---"

Renathal closed his eyes. He fell still, though he tightened his grip on Theotar.

Gwennit returned a few minutes later and took a set of clothes from her wardrobe. "I'm late. The little ones are expecting me."

"Please stay." Renathal sat up. His sleep trousers bit into the skin at his hip. "They know not to expect you."

"I want to see them." Gwennit stepped into her trousers and tied them at her waist. "Are you going to deny me the children I've still got?"

Renathal flinched. Theotar took his hand. "May we go with you, dowsabel?"

"If you want."

"Do you want us to go with you?"

Gwennit shrugged. She pulled her oldest robe over her head and buttoned the neck. A gap in the cloth bared a section of her spine until she wrapped a veil around her shoulders and head, just as she did when she was alive.

"Please." Renathal's voice broke. "I should never have kept secrets---"

"I need to go. Come if you're coming." Gwennit took her staff and stepped into her slippers. She left them be.

Renathal shuddered. Theotar eased him onto his side, offered his thigh as a pillow, stroked Renathal's hair. It gave him time to swallow the lump of stone forming in his throat. Renathal stared at the door. Something soaked through Theotar's sleep trousers. Tears.

"She is only angry." Theotar rubbed the pink, swollen marks that had yet to fade from Renathal's back. "Give her time. The little ones will help."

"I can't feel her."

"As I said, she is angry. Give her time to mourn. She will open her soul when she is ready."

Renathal scrubbed his face with a handful of sheets and rolled off the bed. At the small desk by the balcony, he wrote something, sealed it, and stepped outside. Theotar sat up. Surely, he would not---

A whistle. Summoning one of the messenger bats that flew about the castle. Theotar hugged his knees until Renathal crawled onto the bed and touched his hand.

"This wasn't your doing. I'm the one she's---"

"I feared you would jump."

Renathal stared. Stilled. Rose to his knees. Theotar huddled. Surely, after such a terrible shock, he would shout. His hot-blooded prince would rise, would push him to the bed, would call him a fool to ever think such a---

Renathal shook his head. "I would never do that to you."

Theotar relaxed. "What did you write?"

"I asked my uncle if Gwennit could visit her son's grave, if he has one." Renathal took Theotar's hand and kissed it. "You thought I was angry at you."

Theotar shrugged. "It is foolish of me to fear you, yes?"

"I don't know. After the job Gwennit did on us, I couldn't blame you." Renathal parted Theotar's hair, his touch light, tender, as soothing as the Curator's had been. "If she were anyone else, I'd have her head for what she did to yours."

"Were she anyone else, I would stab her in the back for what she did to you." Theotar leaned against Renathal. "Do you want to visit the children?"

"Will she appreciate it?"

Theotar closed his eyes. He stroked his soulbind with Gwennit. A moment. A whisper of tension, of curiosity, of loneliness heavier than the Maw itself---

Her soulbind slammed. Theotar yelped and hid against Renathal's chest.

He could not tell whose tears fell first, his or Renathal's, only that they did, and took a very long time to stop.

#

Long after dinner, when Renathal muttered in his sleep, Theotar searched the castle to see if Gwennit had come home. Just as he gathered the courage to slip away without a chaperone, he found her huddled in a chair in the library, staring at the hearth, a book of magecraft open on her lap.

"Dowsabel." Theotar crouched beside her chair. "Are you coming to bed?"

She wore the same flat affect as earlier. "The little ones asked if you were coming."

"Forgive me. I thought you needed your freedom."

"I told them even grown-ups make mistakes." She held out her book. He took it and closed it over his finger as Gwennit stood. "They wanted to meet Tenathon. Wouldn't stop talking about him. I couldn't really explain where he went, so I said he got tired of war and went back to Azeroth to find a new family."

"My duchess, I would trade my life for his if---"

Gwennit put her hand to his mouth. "The children would miss you." She took her book, straightened her robe and veil, and turned to the hearth and its embers. "Go back to bed. I'll be there soon."

"Would you like me to stay with you?"

Gwennit shook her head. She hugged her book before the hearth until Theotar left.

He still lay awake when she finally came to bed. As usual, she slipped naked beneath the covers. Theotar huddled against Renathal. The hairs on his neck pickled when Gwennit snuggled close, back to back, as distant as she could be while touching him.

"You didn't mean to hurt me." She pulled the sheet over her head. "It's not your fault he died."

"It is none of our faults."

"You say that." Gwennit drew her pillow beneath the sheets and hugged it. "How's your head?"

"Well enough, as is Renathal's back. The Curator is excellent at helping others." Theotar turned to face her, thought Renathal grunted and squirmed closer. "Go to sleep, my love. May I hold you?"

"Maybe tomorrow. My head's too full right now."

Theotar took her hand. "It was not Renathal's fault either. It nearly broke him to---"

"I should have gone looking as soon as I learned where he was. My son is dead because I hesitated."

Theotar pressed his face to her shoulder. "My duchess, you had nothing to do with his fate---"

"He'd be alive if I had acted." Gwennit wrapped her hand in the sheet that covered her. "I had seasons to---"

"The only ones to blame are the warlords who killed him for his loyalty."

Gwennit looked back. She curled into a ball around her pillow. "Good night."

Theotar kissed her head. "We love you. We will give you anything. Do anything."

Gwennit took a breath to speak. A moment, and she wadded the covers at her neck. "Good night."

Come morning, she left the castle before Theotar and Renathal woke. Two letters rested on the bedside table. Theotar opened the one without a seal.

I've gone to see the little ones. I'll be home late.

Theotar rubbed the scrap of parchment against his bottom lip. Perhaps Renathal would take him to see the children.

Before he could get lost in possibilities, Theotar set the letter aside. The other bore a Maldraxxus seal, as well as the drying dribble of some winged war-beast. Theotar shook Renathal.

"You have a missive, my dear."

"Nngh."

"It is from Maldraxxus."

Renathal opened his eyes. He snatched the letter from Theotar's fingers and broke the seals. He read, read again, and dropped the page to rub his eyes.

"Uncle's gone one better and is having the lad exhumed. We ought to bury him beside his mother."

Theotar shuddered. "It feels wrong, now, to speak of her in such a way. But you are right." He wriggled into Renathal's grasp, and kissed him despite neither of them having yet cleaned their teeth.

"She left a while ago." Renathal pulled Theotar closer and stroked his loose hair. "I woke while she was dressing. She said something about your charges. I thought perhaps you'd like to see them today."

"Very much, my love."

Renathal watched him, flipping a bit of Theotar's hair between his fingers. "I need to get back to countering the Consortium edict. For all our sakes."

"Why did you stop?"

Renathal pursed his mouth. He rolled onto his back, Theotar clutched to his chest, and stared at the bed's canopy. "Did I ever tell you the Consortium attempted a petition to limit all marriages to two individuals at a time?"

Theotar stared. Renathal's glassy eyes flicked towards him, and back.

"They would harm themselves to injure us?" Theotar sat up. "What about Countess Lucia? Her Villamina and Arturu? Did they have nothing to say of the matter?"

Renathal stroked Theotar's elbow. "Villamina threatened a duel to the death. Omor wasn't thick enough to face Rowyn's protégé."

"It is a shame his ego only rules him some of the time." Theotar went cold. "Are Omor and Galina to be at Yelseveta's party?"

"They'd break the door down if they weren't invited. I wish they'd divorced like they said!"

"The telling of falsehoods is a failing of much of the Sire's nobility."

"The Consortium, you mean." Renathal sighed and hid his face against Theotar's thigh. "Say something good. Something that won't make me put aside my breakfast."

"Hmm. Ah!" Theotar kissed Renathal. "I find myself craving sausages. Would you happen to have one I can savour? If you are feeling up to it."

Renathal looked at him. He huffed as he shimmied from his sleep trousers. "And here I thought you were growing tired of my cock."

For all their alacrity, Renathal touched Theotar with all the care he did the first time they lay together. As they frotted, he cupped Theotar's face, took his hands, stroked the edge of his ear and kissed his marriage cuff. The whole time, his soul lit with all the nervous elation of a lad walking with his secret beloved. Theotar's heart thrummed at the flood pouring through their soulbind. He peaked in minutes, and lay there, woozy and slack, his arms around Renathal's shoulders. Renathal used his thighs, gentle and reverent until sweat dotted his face and he cast himself to his efforts. Too soon, and yet too late, he peaked and left Theotar in his mess.

"Thank you," Renathal said as they lay together, sweat cooling on their skins and slipping between them as they found their comfort. "I know I've been demanding of late---"

"I did not mean what I said about keeping us awake."

"You absolutely did, and you were right. You usually are." Renathal kissed Theotar's head. "Could you wear your hair down today? I'll wash it for you. I miss the way it flutters with the wind."

"You are a lovesick old fool." Theotar kissed him, and deeper. By the time it broke, his toes had curled into the sheet, and his cock threatened to demand more attention. "Fortunately, so am I."

"I'm certainly an old fool. Do you think Gwennit will ever---"

"She blames herself. She said that she would act sooner if she could repeat the whole process."

Renathal sighed. He stared at the canopy, scowling in thought, as he rubbed Theotar's back up and down, up and down, until the touch grew dull and Theotar settled against him.

He woke to Renathal holding him, still lost in thought. "My dearest?"

"Hmm?"

"We should bathe if we wish to visit Gwennit. I know you cannot stay long."

"Hmm." Renathal eased from beneath Theotar and stretched. The edges of his muscle had softened from hours at a desk, and his belly threatened to turn hollow rather than hard.

Theotar touched his chest. "When was the last time you had a good duel, my love?"

"Probably too long. Why?" Renathal looked at himself. "I know I'm not in my finest form, but---"

"But kingship is crushing you." Theotar squeezed Renathal's arm, where the muscle gave a fraction more than it should. "Please, my prince, simply abolish the Consortium! Do not let them pretend to be a lion teasing a mouse!"

"It's not that bad." Renathal slid to the edge of the bed. He rubbed his face, hunched. Theotar hugged him.

"You said you would wash my hair, my prince. If you insist, I shall do yours in return."

"Oh, if I insist?"

"As I said." Theotar kissed Renathal's back, and yelped as Renathal stood. Renathal whickered and tossed his head. Theotar clung, laughing, as Renathal trotted the both of them to the bath.

"Hoo, my steed!" Theotar said when they reached the sink. Renathal whickered, and sent flecks of spittle all over the mirror. Theotar tutted, kissed his neck, and slid to the floor. "A protector and mount in one! You are indeed the finest paladin!"

Renathal chuckled and kissed him. "You know, I'm sure we could have other sorts of fun like that. A few weeks ago, Gwennit said something about a riding crop---"

He went still. Hurried to the bath. Dropped the plug and ran water over his fingers to judge the warmth. Theotar rubbed his back, moving over the marks fading from Gwennit's rage.

"Give her time to mourn. She will return to us."

"How can you be so certain? She's hardly spoken a word to me in days. She didn't say a thing when she came to bed last night."

"I will see she is home for dinner. She should be hungry. I don't know the last time she ate!"

"That doesn't mean---"

Theotar caught Renathal's hands. "Let me arrange a pleasant evening. She would enjoy some gentle attention. Read to her? Show you are patient?"

Renathal sighed. He nodded, and turned to the sink to clean his teeth.

Once the bath sat full and warm, Theotar stepped into the water. He sighed as he sat, heat drawing the night from his flesh all the way to his neck. From the bath, Renathal dipped a jug of water. He knelt behind Theotar, on the stone floor, and tipped water over his hair, his scalp, caught with his fingers a few drops that rolled over Theotar's face. The excess splashed into a basin.

"You should do this for Gwennit tonight," Theotar said as Renathal worked soap over his scalp. "Your hands are so gentle for those you love, my prince."

"Would she let me?"

"I shall talk her into it."

Renathal snorted. He worked soap through the length of Theotar's hair. "You and your clever tongue."

"Between my tongue and your hands, we will get through to her."

"Hmm."

They fell quiet. Theotar closed his eyes as Renathal rinsed his hair, and tipped vinegar water over it to make it shine. It's chill pierced Theotar's bones.

"Shh, it's only a few moments." Renathal scratched his head, and set to working the vinegar through so the air sang with its scent: a high, sharp symphony, like wire snapping beneath a violin's bow. A shock of warmth left Theotar tense. It eased as Renathal rinsed the last of the vinegar water. He ran his fingers through Theotar's hair again and again.

"I love this colour." Renathal squeezed water into the basin. "I've never known anyone with quite the same hair. It's only you. There'll never be another with your hair."

"Unless Gwennit's hopes come to pass." Theotar pulled Renathal's hand over his shoulder and stroked it. "She wants a child who looks like me."

"You know that's not possible."

"I do know, and yet I hope." The bathwater roared around Theotar as he turned to face Renathal. "I know you want children, too. You want to be the good father you yearned for."

"It's not going to happen."

"And yet I hope." Theotar stroked Renathal's face. So silly, yet so serious. So surprising, and yet so very rooted in the realm of real and false. "I would like to raise a little one who looks like my prince. Gwennit would have a child in her belly or on her breast forever, if she could."

"Theotar--" Renathal slumped. "I haven't got it in me to discuss this right now."

"Join me. My hair is clean, and I can wash yours in the bath."

"You haven't got---"

"Indulge me." Theotar kissed Renathal's hand. "Besides, how can I go about fully clean while my prince is a mess of sweat and seed?"

"You can always say you convinced me to debauch myself for your sake." Renathal pushed himself from the floor. He stretched so his joints crackled. "I'd like a word with Denathrius on just how much age is catching up with me."

"I think it is all the sitting at a desk built for a dredger." Theotar relaxed as Renathal settled into the bath. "Since I must have an escort, I should start making you take me with you to see to your bats."

"By the Maw, the bats." Renathal dropped head to rest on the tub's edge. "I'll send a message to my dredgers---"

"As you have done every day for six weeks?"

Renathal stared. "How do you know about that?"

"You forget, my love, I am the Queen of the Dredger Court!" Theotar leaned forward and kissed him. "A great deal finds its way to my ears, especially when Tubbins and Gubbins come for tea. No wonder you behave like a miser. You have cut off everything you love!"

"Not everything."

"Hmph! All the shouting we have done says otherwise." Theotar slid to the far end of the great bathtub and leaned against Renathal's chest. "You are lucky I am too mad for sense!"

Renathal put his chin on Theotar's shoulder and held him. "Sometimes, I think you're the only one of us who sees the world as it is."

"Yes, well, I have always been exceptionally clever!"

Renathal huffed. Kissed Theotar's neck. Nudged him until they faced each other. He rubbed Theotar's shoulders "You know I can't simply abolish the Consortium. We'd have another civil war on our hands."

"You would rather be a puppet king?"

"If anyone else said that, I'd plunge Vorpalia through their heart."

"Yet you know I am right." Theotar laced his fingers with Renathal's. "As much as you wish you could, my love, you cannot sate bloodlust with diplomacy."

"I will not be my father."

"No, you will not. Nor will you be a coward and a fool. You know what sort of face you have to show."

Renathal sighed. "It was so much easier when I didn't know what my father was."

"When it was only you that you saw him hurt."

Quiet fell. Theotar looked up. Renathal tightened his arms around him, eyes squeezed shut as though in pain. With both hands, Theotar stroked his temples, behind his ears, the bold curves of his jaw. As he eased the muscle beneath, Renathal's scowl softened.

"If we we lose Gwennit, you'll still be mine, right?" Renathal said.

"Yes. She will stay, but a thousand times yes. You never lost my heart or my soul when my body turned away. You will not lose me now."

"Could you kiss me?"

Theotar did. Renathal returned it, a tiny, chaste press that tasted of tooth powder. Theotar kissed him again and again: his beast, his prince, the hurt little boy who was the eldest of them all.

Finally, Renathal put his forehead to Theotar's. "Tell me something that makes me want to go on with today."

"I know as fact that Stefan bought sour cherries at the market yesterday. Sasha said he is making that gateau you like today."

"The one with chocolate and cream? When did you have time to talk to her?"

"The very same, and I found her on the verandah while looking for Gwennit last night."

"Going on a night-time rendezvous without me?" Renathal nuzzled Theotar's hair. "Shameful behaviour. You're a married man!"

"And you are still the ridiculous beast who stole my heart ages before I dared kiss you!"

"That's Prince Beast to you." Renathal smiled, though it faded. "We ought to hurry. I've got a great deal to do today."

By the time they reached the Ceremony Ward, Theotar's damp hair shifted in the breeze all the way down his back. Every few moments, Renathal glanced at him and smiled. They walked hand in hand, asking for Gwennit, and finally found the right crypt. She read a fae story from one of the castle's books. One of her students, a little orc girl called Thubbins, ran to Theotar and hugged him, which led to an avalanche that paused the story. Gwennit stood behind the little ones. Only when they had all hugged Theotar (and greeted their Uncle Renathal) did she kiss her husbands to a chorus of gleeful disgust.

"What are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

"We wanted to see you." Renathal kissed Gwennit's hand, and got a second round of childish distaste. Theotar took Gwennit's book, found her place, and sat to finish reading.

"Theotar had hoped to stay with you today," Renathal said as the little ones clustered around for the rest of their story. "Is that all right?"

("What happened to your hair?" Shubbins said.

Theotar laughed as he patted his head. "It is so very unruly today, it refused to hold a single pin! Would you like to touch it?"

Which delayed the story even further.)

"That's fine. You haven't got time to walk him about---"

"Not because of that. I'd stay, too, if I could, only I've got something important to do---"

"That's fine." Gwennit hugged herself and turned to watch her students as they dragged their ghostly fingers through Theotar's hair. "I know you have a lot of work. We won't bother you if we're here."

"Gwennit---"

"I need to get back to the children. We'll speak tonight, all right?"

Renathal took her hand. "All right. Come home early, if you can?"

"Maybe."

Still, she returned a kiss, as did Theotar. Renathal left them be, though he glanced back as he walked away, hands in his pockets.

"Why do grown-upth kith?" Chubbins said.

"Because it means love!" Gwennit swept Chubbins into her arms and kissed her cheek, loud smacks and Chubbins's giggles echoing through the crypt. The littlest ones demanded their own kisses and hugs. As Gwennit gave what they asked, she brightened more and more until she laughed with the children. Finally, she pecked Theotar.

"See? It's not so bad!"

Lubbins folded his arms. "Gross."

Gwennit laughed and took back her book from Theotar. She pulled him to sit on the floor with her. "Now, where were we?"

Many, many hours later, when the sky turned purple, Theotar helped Gwennit tuck the little ones into bed, in the underground crypt Kassir had long ago arranged. Blubbins put her arms around Theotar's neck and refused to let go.

"Stay."

"But I must go to my home!"

"No!"

A wobbling lip carried in his little voice. Theotar picked him up and cradled him. For all the evil the little ones had done in life, they were only children, and deserved to be treated like---

"Here." Gwennit took Blubbins and propped him on her hip. "It's all right, sweetheart. No-one's going to hurt you. Do you want an extra friend?"

Blubbins nodded, fingers in his mouth, his head against Gwennit's side.

Without setting him down, Gwennit went to the pile of soft toys in the corner. From the side she took two: venthyr with silly, fanged smiles, and braided and tangled wool hair. One wore green armour, his white hair drawn into three messy sinrunner tails. The other had no shirt; his red hair had fallen from one of its elaborate rolls and been braided into a knot. Blubbins clutched them to his chest.

Gwennit caught Theotar watching. She smiled. Only when all the children had been tucked in, and kissed on their foreheads, did she douse most of the anima lamps. She pulled Theotar upstairs and outside, her tiptoe steps silent while his left soft echoes in their wake.

"They miss you," Gwennit said on the surface. "And they know Renathal will never let anything hurt them. Most of them were hurt badly in life. It's why they did cruel things. I asked Clara to make the dolls for me. She's good with a needle."

"I had no idea, dowsabel." Theotar hugged her so her feet left the ground. "Thank you! Renathal will be delighted to hear!"

Gwennit's grip loosened. "Could you tell him?"

"But why?" Theotar set her on the stones and took her hands. "Are you embarrassed?"

Gwennit pulled him towards the cathedral. "Let's go home. I'm hungry."

Renathal stood at his study window, gazing at the world outside. He glanced back when the door opened, and strode to hug Gwennit, then Theotar.

"I was starting to get worried."

Theotar shrugged and kissed him. "They little ones needed extra bedtime stories from Papa. Did you have a productive day?"

Renathal nodded as he returned to his desk. "I don't want to think about tomorrow, but for now." He put on his reading specs and picked up a copy of an official-looking document. "'By order of Prince Regent Renathal, all declarations by unofficial governing bodies, and official ones parallel to or beneath the Court of Harvesters, are to be approved by the Court of Harvesters, effective immediately. This will continue ad infinitum until and unless overruled by a seven-vote majority of the Court of Harvesters. This declaration applies to all para-governmental edicts, regardless of date or period of action. Signed, Renathal.' It's got to be co-signed by the other Harvesters, but the Curator has already given her approval, and I've got tentative approval from the Countess and the Stonewright. She's still furious about the General's statue. I have no doubts the rest will follow. The Consortium's caused enough trouble for all of us."

Theotar's hands quivered. "I will be free?"

"Soon enough. I hope."

Theotar clapped his hands to his mouth. He bolted to Renathal and kissed him over and over until Renathal laughed.

"Careful! You're getting me wet!"

"My prince listens to me!" Theotar kissed him again, and giggled as Renathal lifted him and turned him in a circle. "We must celebrate!"

"We're getting cherry gateau after dinner. Have you got something else in--where's Gwennit?"

"She is just--oh." Theotar scowled at the empty doorway. "Perhaps we ought to see to her. Celebration can wait."

"Indeed." Renathal kissed him once more. "Thank you for reminding me where true power lies. Though we'll have difficult days ahead."

"I know." Theotar led Renathal by the hand into the hallway. "She was in the library last night. Check there first?"

Indeed, they found her looking at the magecraft books. Renathal hugged her from behind, and kissed her cheek. "I've news for you as well, though more bittersweet."

"Are the little ones coming home? They miss the castle."

"I'm afraid not. But I've arranged for Tenathon to be buried in Revendreth---"

"No."

"What? Why not?"

"He died defending Maldraxxus. It was his home."

"But his remains are already on the---"

"A corpse with no soul is not my son."

"Gwennit." Theotar hugged her. Renathal stared, slumped from his great height, as lost as he had ever been.

"Is there nothing I can do?" Anger burned at the back of Renathal's voice. "You tell me about him, and I ask him to be saved. We're too late, so I arrange for him to lie beside his mother's body. Can I do nothing to please you?"

"Shh. She is grieving." Theotar stroked Gwennit's back as she hid against his chest. "You could always help with the little ones."

"I've got too much to---"

"It's all right." Gwennit wiped her eyes and turned once more to the stacks. "I'll be here until dinner."

"Do you want me to at least stay with you?" Renathal said.

Gwennit shook her head, and selected a dry treatise on transformations and portals. Theotar kissed her head and pulled Renathal from the cavernous room.

"Give her time, my love---"

"Has she still got your soulbind blocked?"

Theotar cocked his head. "No? It is heavily restricted, but I feel her presence."

Renathal sighed. "Then you're better off than me."

"My love!" Theotar hugged him, and pulled him up the hall. "My poor dear. You know it is only for a little while, yes?"

"No, I don't."

In their bedroom, Renathal shed his vest and curled on his side atop the bedclothes. Theotar fetched a comb and hair oil, and sat behind him. He rubbed a few drops of fragrant oil between his hands and ran his fingers through Renathal's hair.

"Gwennit did this for me when I thought I had lost her." He worked oil into a tangle. "After I showed her my sinstone."

"So I really have lost her."

"If you had, she would tell you. At a guess, you remind her of her son. It is simply too much for her to face at the moment."

Renathal snorted. "How would I remind her of someone I've never even met?"

"You were the only one who made any sort of effort at reuniting them---"

The door opened. Gwennit scurried to the bath, head down and clutching a book. Renathal sat up, his hand thrust towards her. "Gwennit."

She stopped. Her gaze darted their way.

"Please, you haven't got to lock us out. Speak to us."

More like a frightened deer than their wife, Gwennit hurried to the bath. She locked the door behind her.

Renathal fell to the bed. "See?"

"Hmm." Theotar scowled at the door to the bath. "This is not like our Gwennit."

"Like I said. I've lost her."

"You have not." Theotar kissed Renathal and went to the bath. He listened at the door. The rush of water filling the bathtub drowned any other sound. When it stopped, he knocked. "Dowsabel?"

A thump. Gwennit laying her book board across the bathtub. Sloshing as she stepped in.

"Gwennit? Please answer me. You know you may speak at any time, on any subject. We will not be angry. Only, do not run as you once did."

The sloshing paused. A whisper, muffled by Gwennit's cupped hands. Speaking with Apărător.

"Gwennit? Please?"

Silence.

Theotar pressed his forehead to the door. "When you have bathed, please come to us. You do not need to speak. Only, trust that we love you. We are here."

The distant whisper rose once more. Theotar swallowed against a pain in his throat and returned to Renathal, who lay with his knees to his chest.

"She will return." Theotar's voice cracked. "She must."

"Have I still got you?"

Theotar cuddled into Renathal's arms. "Yes, my love. I will never leave you for anything."

#

Gwennit came to bed before Renathal let go of Theotar, while misery and silence still hung between them. She hesitated, naked, her book in her arms and her hair damp from washing. The corners of her mouth jerked downwards as though she might cry.

Instead, she climbed into bed so Renathal lay in the middle. She kissed his forehead, then Theotar's, and crawled beneath the covers to read by candlelight.

"Give me time," she whispered. "My loves."

Renathal stirred. He reached for her, but she huddled deeper into the blankets. Renathal looked away and let his hand fall to the bed.

When Theotar woke in the early morning, when the twilight outside hung hazy and cool, he cradled Renathal from behind, their hands joined.

Atop their joined hands lay Gwennit's. It jerked as she grunted in her sleep. She squirmed, squeezed, and relaxed her grip.

The book lay open on her belly, like a shield, and the candle had melted away.

#

Though Gwennit seldom spoke, and spent more and more of her evenings hiding in the library or bath, she always came to bed, and soon even cuddled after blowing out her lamp or candles. After a while, she began to talk about her work over dinner, and even flirted one night after her charges behaved themselves.

Only once did she visit Tenathon's grave.

She did not speak for days after.

The first morning of the Feast of Souls, she woke around lunchtime. The child spirits were to perform an Azerothian song for the first night of the Countess's eight-night party, and Inquisitor Clara had long since promised to herd them to and from the castle.

Theotar had pinned his hair to his scalp and put on his underpinnings by mid-afternoon, when Gwennit crept into the bedroom with yet another book on magecraft. Theotar swept to his feet, chuckling.

"My love! Soon, you will be a greater mage than I!" He kissed her hand. "Are you looking forward to the party?"

"I think so. The children mostly." Gwennit rubbed his cheek with her thumb, the first time she had done so in weeks. Theotar cupped her hand to his skin and kissed her palm. Gwennit licked her lips. "I'm sorry I've been so distant."

"There is no need to apologise, dowsabel." Theotar tucked her hair and loose veil behind her ear. "Can you forgive me for the way I broke such terrible news? I should have waited for Renathal. Given you comfort rather than simply terrible words. And I know it is not the same, but I, too, feel as though I have lost someone dear."

Gwennit's chin crumpled. She had never cried, not where anyone could see, only grown more and more hollow. Theotar drew her into a hug. She held him, ear over his heart. A sniffle. She drew back to dab her nose. Theotar took his handkerchief and wiped it for her.

"It is all right, my duchess. I have cried many, many tears during the last weeks."

"I need a bath before the party." Gwennit glanced at him as though it hurt to do so, and tiptoed to the bath, book tight against her chest.

Theotar frowned when the lock slid into place. Thrusting one arm down the back of his chemise to scratch, he went to look in on Renathal, who insisted he needed to finish some work before the party.

In his office, Renathal looked up from his paperwork and cocked his eyebrow. "Those pantaloons wouldn't be slit, would they?"

"Hush." Theotar sat on Renathal's knee and kissed his cheek. "Has Gwennit seemed odd to you today?"

"Compared to what? She's been a ghost for weeks. Really, you're going to be stunning in that gown. We may have to slip away from the party for a while."

Theotar swatted his hand. "Quiet! I mean it. A few minutes ago, she looked at me as though she might never see me again."

"She did the same to me at lunch. I think she's starting to come out of mourning. We should encourage her to speak to us."

"You are sure? The look in her eyes, I have only seen it twice before. It is the look you gave me after Sălbatic, when we feared you would die. It was the look your sister gave her Yelseveta before entering the castle for the final time. I fear for her safety, my love."

Renathal scowled. Eased Theotar off his lap. Kissed his hand and drew him across the castle and to their bedroom. He knocked on the door to the bath.

"Gwennit? Are you all right, my love?"

Silence. Theotar's heart went to his throat. And then:

"I'm fine. Apărător and I are talking."

Renathal let go a breath. "You know you can talk to the two of us, too, right?"

"I do."

Renathal pressed his palm to the door of the bath. "Then will you? Please? We can't lose you. Not more than we already have. If you're having. Having dark thoughts...."

A slosh. A splash, and the rush as Gwennit stood from the bath. She opened the door, dripping, naked. She looked between the two of them, and leaned up to place gentle kisses on their mouths.

"Tonight. After the party. I need to finish here."

Renathal held out his hand. Gwennit took it, laced it between both of her own. She said against his fingers, "After the children sing."

Renathal bowed his head. Gwennit touched his cheek and closed the door. Locked it. Stepped once more into the bath.

As soon as she did, Renathal scowled. "Her half of that conversation held a number of double entendres."

"I heard, my dearest prince." Theotar pulled Renathal's arm around him. "Stay here? With me? We will listen for trouble. It is not so long before we must dress for the party, no? And this dress is so terribly itchy!"

"Take off the chemise." Renathal curled his finger beneath Theotar's chin. "I'll put some balm on you."

"Please, my love." Theotar kissed Renathal's palm. "How did we ever decide on these ridiculous costumes?"

"Mona's special reserve."

Theotar sighed. "What a terrible anniversary gift! Though worth eleven years of calling you my husband."

"And two with our wife, with more to come." Renathal smiled, a rare sight of late, though it grew brittle. "There are any number of things I'd change in my life, but the two of you, I could never do without."

Theotar kissed him. Renathal returned it, pulled him close, put his chin atop Theotar's head. He smelled of powder, of ink, of soap. A hint of the day cut through the rest, onion-like and fleeting. Theotar kissed his shoulder.

"Come, my darling. See to my skin. I cannot wait to see you in your suit!"

"I hope I can get you out of your gown later." Renathal kissed Theotar's forehead. "You can leave the stockings."

Theotar sighed. He took off his chemise. "Insatiable prince!" Still, he looked back. "Gwennit is our first priority, yes?"

"Yes. Erm." Renathal looked back at the door. "Is your razor in the bath?"

"Oh, dear." Theotar went to the door, Renathal on his heels. Before they could knock, it opened. Gwennit, as naked as before, handed Theotar his shaving things.

"You're not as quiet as you think," she said to the floor. "I wouldn't hurt myself. Why would you think that? Do you really believe Apărător would let me? Do you believe I want to leave my husbands?"

"Forgive us, dowsabel. Only, we are so worried! You speak to almost no-one but the children and your varied selves! We cannot bear the thought---"

Gwennit put her fingers over his mouth. "You really think I'm so miserable I want to die for a third time?"

"Dowsabel." Theotar kissed her hand and held it to his chest. She stroked his cheek with her other hand.

"I'll be out soon." Gwennit turned, and glanced back. "Let me know if you want me you help put up your hair, Renathal. Try not to bother Theotar's pins."

Renathal bowed. "I would enjoy that, my lady."

Gwennit nodded and closed the door. Once more, the lock turned.

Theotar and Renathal looked at each other. Renathal pursed his lips.

"Do you believe her?" he mouthed, and Theotar shrugged.

They retired to the bed. Any other time, Theotar might have dozed off while Renathal rubbed balm into his skin, rich with Ardenweald waxes and the sweet lanolin washed from wool of bat. He kept his eyes on the bath door, even when Renathal fussed over freckles or scars, or dispatched a small, stubborn spot.

Soon, the door opened. Gwennit crept out, wrapped head to ankle in towels. She giggled behind her fingers when she saw them, and climbed onto the bed to push Renathal's hands away.

"Not like that. You'll leave scars." She rubbed the skin around a bump on Theotar's hip. "Get me some hot water and a cloth?"

Renathal did. Theotar cast a small spell, and the water steamed.

"How do you know how to do this, dowsabel? You have such fine, velvety skin! Mine has never been the same since the Ember Ward."

"Annabell used to do this for---"

She shut her mouth. Huddled into herself. Pressed the steaming cloth to the bump. "Tenathon," she finally said. "The one that was her husband, and later the one that was her son."

Renathal took her hands. "You know you aren't going to lose us."

Gwennit glanced at him, as mournful as she had been since learning of her son. She soaked the cloth once more, and continued her process until a patch of Theotar's skin had cooked enough for the itch to ease.

"Razor, please." She glanced up when Theotar stiffened. "I'm only going to prick it."

"Ah." Renathal opened the razor and held it over a flame. "Are you all right with this, Theotar?"

"My duchess will not hurt me." He took her hand. "I trust her."

A spike of pain, some pressure, and Gwennit removed a stone of calcified anima from beneath Theotar's skin. The tiny, persistent itch vanished. He sighed.

"Thank you, my love. That is such a relief! Are there many more?"

Gwennit nodded, but wiped and closed the razor. "I think they're why you itch so much when you wear shirts. I haven't got time to take them all out."

"Then we shall do it another day!" Theotar rubbed his hip, and licked a streak of blood from his fingers. "Renathal, did you want to bathe?"

"I take it that's a hint." Renathal smelled beneath his arm. "Ah. Yes, that requires attention. Gwennit, would you help him with his gown while I'm gone?"

She nodded, but said nothing.

Renathal left the door unlocked. Rather than ushering Theotar to dress, Gwennit took off her towels and cuddled against him. Her wet hair drew goose-flesh on his arm, and her skin warmed between them. Theotar ran his hands through her hair, down her back, and again while Gwennit clung to him. Theotar lifted her chin, and she kissed him before he could do it first.

"My duchess." Theotar spoke against her lips. "We have a little time, if there is anything you wish to do."

Gwennit shook her head, but snuggled closer.

"Are you certain? You need not reciprocate."

"Tonight."

Theotar kissed Gwennit's forehead. "Really?"

"Yes. After the children sing."

Theotar grinned against her skin. Gwennit looked up, solemn and dear. "Could Apărător join us? A little bit?"

"My love, anyone you wish may join us!"

Gwennit smiled, a tiny thing. "Too bad Moonberry won't be here."

"We will discuss it the next time she visits." His heart pounding, Theotar kissed her, and again, and hugged her. "My darling pastry! You are all the pastries, and all the cups of tea!"

"You and Renathal and the little ones are my whole world." Gwennit traced the skin beneath Theotar's eye. "I want a child of our own. It's all I have left to need."

"We will work something out. As soon as we can."

Gwennit nodded, but did not look him in the eye.

Soon, she squirmed free. "You should dress. It's not as easy as you think."

"Hmph! You act as though I have never dressed a lady before!"

"The Countess?"

"And her Princess, once or twice. If no-one else was available. Ah, the life of a carefree courtier!"

Gwennit traced his ear, his marriage cuffs. "Do you wish you had lain with them?"

"Yes. It is one of many regrets."

Gwennit hid against his chest. "Have you got any about me?"

Theotar kissed the top of her head. "Only that we did not know you were here for so long, trapped in your crypt. Had we, you would not have been there a day." He paused. "Have you any regrets about the two of us?"

Gwennit shrugged. "That I'd got to know Renathal sooner. That I'd lain with you after reading your sinstone. Lots of little things. I'm afraid...."

"Afraid of what, dowsabel?"

She peeked at him. "If anything ever happens to me, if for some reason I'm not here, don't let it tear the two of you apart. I know I said it before I died, but I still mean it."

"Gwennit, what is going on? There is something you are not telling me." The rumble of the bath filling stopped. Theotar turned his head. "Renathal, come here!"

"No, please, it's all right."

The door to the bath opened. "What's wrong?" Renathal said, holding a towel around his waist as he dripped on the floor.

"It's nothing!" Gwennit said.

"She is talking about not being here! Gwennit, what is happening?"

Just as Renathal knelt on the bed, Gwennit said, "I want to go to Maldraxxus for a while! I want to know what my son was like!"

"Is that all?" Renathal harrumphed. "I'll write to my uncle. Ask him to give you lodgings at his Seat."

"Is that truly all?" Theotar cupped Gwennit's face between his hands and peered into her eyes. She nodded.

"All right." Renathal leaned over Theotar and kissed Gwennit's head, then Theotar's cheek. "I'll send a message tomorrow. Perhaps you can even see the Maldraxxi festival."

"Thank you." It came out a whisper, even as Gwennit hid once more against Theotar. "I don't want to leave you---"

"I understand, my lady. We don't want to see you go, but far be it for us to deny your freedom. Was that all?"

Gwennit nodded. She tightened her grip on Theotar.

"That was simple enough, eh? The two of you ought to dress. I'll be out before long."

As Renathal shut the door, Theotar sighed. "Are you sure that is all, my duchess?"

Gwennit nodded.

"Let me hear you say it."

"I want my child. I at least need to try."

"That is not what I asked, my love."

"I want my son." She looked up, her fingers digging into his shoulder. "I have to know what he was like. I don't want to die again."

Theotar kissed her, and again. For the first time, he needed Diania's gift, the Princess's, the ability to see beyond body and soul and time. But all he could do was trust.

"All right." He sat up. "Let us make me a lady, yes? Everyone will be so jealous tonight as I dance with my handsome little prince!"

Gwennit smiled: only a little, but enough.

Before long, Theotar sat at the dressing table, an old sheet draped over him as Gwennit rimmed his eyes with soot. She had already pressed his beard to his skin with wax, and made it disappear beneath oiled pigment. She lifted his chin to paint his lips, and dust his cheeks with depleted anima. Finally, she eased the white, braided wig atop his head and affixed one of her veils with ruby-tipped pins. She took off the sheet, stepped back, and stared, her mouth set in a flat line.

"Am I so terrible, dowsabel?" Theotar fussed with his velvet sleeves, and the narrow ruff on his neck. "I am unkissable as a duchess?"

"If I kiss you before your lips set, I'll have to do everything again." Gwennit bit her lip. "Let me get---"

Renathal stepped from the bath, once more wrapped in a towel. "Is everything--by the Maw!"

Theotar covered his face with his hands. "I am a terrible lady!"

"You're not, and that's the problem." The red of Renathal's eyes brightened as he adjusted his towel. "The things I'd like to do to you, but I can't!"

"Well, yes, the party is---"

"Not because of the party." Renathal kissed Theotar's head. "You are absolutely delicious. If you could change your parts with your gown, I'd already be on my knees!"

"My prince." Theotar hugged him, but let go at a squeak from Gwennit. She rushed to smooth part of his face.

"The paint has to set! Why do you think you never get to kiss me straight-away?"

"I thought it was because you were complaining about your corset! Apart from the itching, it is not so terrible."

"Say that again in two hours." Gwennit kissed his ear, then Renathal's hand. "You should get dressed, too. Don't look at me like that. Mine is simple."

Renathal chuckled. "As you insist, my lady, though you wouldn't say that about the real armour."

"Hush. Dress."

Theotar sat aside while they dressed, and Gwennit helped Renathal with his red wig, and the glues and waxes for his false beard. As she secured the last edge to his cheek, he grinned at Theotar like a demented mirror. Theotar stared, and Renathal laughed. As soon as Gwennit stepped back and nodded, he swept from his chair and scooped Theotar into his arms.

"Is your paint set?"

"It should be," Gwennit said as she pasted a tuft of white beard to her chin.

Renathal kissed Theotar and spun him in circles. Theotar laughed and caught him around the neck. In the mirror, Gwennit watched. She looked lost, pained. Alone.

"My tiny prince!" Theotar held out his hand. "Will you not escort your consorts to the ballroom?"

"In a moment." Gwennit sat at the dressing table, her false armour soft around her, and buckled the quilted greaves atop a pair of boots. She tugged the collar of her gambeson. "Has it got to be this tight?"

"I'm afraid so." Renathal set Theotar on the floor and helped Gwennit with her neck. "Try this." He adjusted something. "Better?"

"A little. Thank you."

"You haven't got to stay more than a few minutes, if you'd like." Renathal lifted Gwennit's chin and kissed her. "Only long enough to---"

"I want to stay with you. Both of you."

Renathal relaxed. Gwennit put her hand on his naked chest. He kissed her again, long and slow, careful and tender. Gwennit hugged him and rubbed her face against his skin.

"I like you without a shirt. You look strong. It makes me feel safe."

"You will always be safe with me, my dearest lady."

"Even if you're angry with me?"

"I will never lift my hand to you for any reason. You have my word."

"I'm sorry about your back. I don't even remember doing---"

"I know. Those were exceptional circumstances, and I deserved to lose some blood."

Gwennit kissed his chest and hurried to Theotar, who lifted her in a hug. Renathal took his shoulders.

"Need we stay here?"

"No." Theotar pushed the hair from Gwennit's face. He kissed her, and turned his head to do the same to Renathal. "This is a night to celebrate! Though it is a bit dizzying to look at the two of you. What is the word the children use? Ploopy?"

"Spoopy." Gwennit straightened his veil. "It is, a little bit."

"I think it's quite sweet." Renathal stepped back and bowed. He picked up a spare teacup from the dressing table. "We are ready to go, yes? How I love a party!"

Theotar wrinkled his nose. "Is that what I sound like?"

"Not really," Gwennit said, but Renathal swept close and held Theotar around his corseted waist.

"You sound wonderful. I've always known you by your voice. It says so many things you don't put into words. The depths of your love. Your excitement. How upset you truly are when you try to hide it." He kissed Theotar.

"He's right." Gwennit took Theotar's hand. "You're the best person I've ever known."

"Says the venthyr who should have been kyrian." Renathal kissed each of her fine, pale eyebrows. "I've never known anyone with such capacity for love and care and compassion as my dearest lady. I look forward to the day I can read you in a glance, as I can Theotar. And I hope you'll once more open your soul to us soon. Let us ease your pain where we can."

Gwennit went on her toes and kissed him. Renathal returned it, deep and careful. Gwennit whimpered and pressed against him.

"Soon," Renathal said against her lips. "Tonight will be a night of pure joy."

"It has to."

Renathal traced the beard stuck to Gwennit's chin. "Why do you say that?"

"It's been too long. I've been distracted for so long. I miss you. Both of you."

"Need we stay in?" Theotar squeezed Gwennit's shoulders beneath her foiled pauldrons. "Send our excuses?"

Gwennit shook her head, pinned between them. "I want to see the two of you dance."

The ballroom already stood thick with costumed venthyr and members of the Dredger Court. A number of couples floated near the ceiling, waltzing to an orchestra made up of spirits, while dredgers in venthyr costume thrashed and bounced in what they called dancing. Caretaker Tedo stood as orchestra conductor, giving life to the music with his glee.

"The Royal Family!" Wubbins shouted to mild applause, and hugged Theotar. "Did you get taller, Miss?"

Gwennit giggled and straightened Wubbins's livery. "No, but I got to keep my hair."

"Oi, there!" Wubbins hugged her before the Countess pulled them into the ballroom. She put her fists on her hips and peered at Theotar.

"Is this the great secret you kept giggling about?"

"It is!" Theotar spun so his skirts flared. "Is it not brilliant?"

"If you really wanted to make an entrance, you'd have let your wife turn up without a shirt." The Countess pushed her bat mask back into place as she turned to Gwennit. "I know it's late, but I'm terribly sorry to hear about your son. Are you recovering?"

Gwennit shrugged. "A little, thank you."

"Well, a party always cheers me up, though if you'd rather not, Alexandru is here somewhere." The Countess looked around. "I caught him doing card tricks for the dredgers earlier, so I know he's got the deck on him. He really is a silly thing!" She tidied Theotar's ruff. "Nathreina, then Theotar, now Alex. What is it I see in people who think they're funny?"

"You have got a delightful sense of humour, my dear. Gwennit?" Theotar took her hand. "Would you care to find Alexandru? I'm certain he would enjoy a hand of cards!"

However, a look at the ornamented ceiling dashed any hope of keeping Gwennit occupied. Alexandru danced with Bogdan far above the dredgers mashing or moshing or whatever they called it. He waved, his bat rider's costume extravagant beside Bogdan's dredger suit.

"Go on." Gwennit stepped back. "You three have fun. I'm going to find something to drink."

Renathal took her hand. "Are you sure, my lady? You don't want to greet people with us?"

"Maybe later." Gwennit smoothed his wig, and let her hand rest on his cheek. "Don't be long. I miss you when you're elsewhere."

Renathal kissed her hand and took her to a chair by the door. "Have you got anything to read?"

Gwennit shook her head, and from a pocket inside his long, formal vest, Renathal took a battered journal. "Theotar wrote this many, many, many years ago, on Court etiquette. It's from my private collection. I thought you might like something to read."

Gwennit clutched the book to her chest so her quilted armour bent. For an instant, she looked stricken. Before Theotar could step towards her, she went on her toes and kissed Renathal in a way better suited to privacy. People stared. A few Consortium nobles, gathered in their clique, sneered.

Still, Renathal returned the kiss, and lifted Gwennit into his arms. Gwennit took slow, deep breaths, as though battling tears.

Yelseveta took Theotar's elbow. "Are you certain she's ready to be here? I don't want her ruining my party."

"I shall sit with her, my dear."

But Renathal sat beside Gwennit and hunched with her over the journal. He nodded at Theotar, who bowed his head and turned to Yelseveta.

"My dear Countess, would you care to dance? Or would you rather chat with your lovely guests?"

"I think I'd like a good, stiff drink, but chatting will do. Oh, stop fussing with your skirts!" She tugged them from his fingers and straightened them. "Come on. You might as well have some fun before Renathal crawls under your dress. I can only imagine what he's got in mind for later!"

Theotar laughed. "He has been making comments all afternoon! He very much likes my stockings."

"I know far too much about what that man enjoys in bed."

They spoke with any number of nobles in outrageous costume, including a viscount and viscountess in Maldraxxi armour. When Theotar clapped, the viscountess drew a dagger and posed with the blade to her husband's throat. Theotar laughed, but glanced towards the door. Gwennit still sat with her reading, pressed against Renathal's side.

"How terrifying!" The Countess applauded. "I wish I'd given Maldraxxus as the theme now, rather than Switcheroo!"

"It was my suggestion, I am afraid." Theotar put his hand to his chest and curtsied. "The Countess has always been kind enough to let me assist her in her greatest of parties and Courts!"

"Is that all you assist her with?" Omor strode to their little group, Galina on his arm. He made a poor Renathal, his wig cheap and the bats embroidered on his waistcoat no better. Galina made no effort to hide her shrouded parody of Gwennit, green skin and all. Omor set the tip of his false Vorpalia to the floor between them like a walking stick. "Don't you look bizarre, Prince Theotar?"

Theotar eased closer to Yelseveta. "What interesting costumes, Omor. Where did you come up with them?"

Omor smiled. "As the Sire once said, one must dress for the position one deserves."

"I think you are misremembering. He spoke of the position one wanted, in which case, I should ask where you left your horns!"

Omor smiled, his fangs like broken glass. "Would you agree that Revendreth needs leadership?"

"Yes, and I think it has the finest leader it has ever known!"

"And as soon as he sits the throne as he ought, we can get back to the business of souls."

"I think, Omor," and Yelseveta clutched Theotar's arm, "you'll find that he was offered the position, and quite wisely opted to divide leadership among the Harvesters. Speaking of leadership, dreadful what happened to your little consortium, losing all its power in one swoop of the king's quill."

Omor's smile fell. "What are you talking about?"

"I heard a rumour that any declarations from groups like yours need approval from the New Court. Apparently, both the Dredger Court and the Guild of Labourers think it's both sound and overdue."

Omor closed his fists, though he stopped Galina from reaching into her sleeve for her wand.

"That has yet to get seven signatures." Omor's voice hung low, hardly shy of a growl. "Without seven, it's only paper."

"Oh, yes, do forgive me. I've been so busy with the party. I'll go right upstairs and take care of that." The Countess smiled, radiant behind her jewelled mask. "Thank you for reminding me! Do enjoy the party."

Omor quivered. Galina dug her nails into his elbow and hauled him out the door. Theotar motioned for a Stoneborn guard.

"Forgive me, my dear, but would you see that Duke Omor and his wife, mm, reach their home safely? And that they do not return to the castle until tomorrow night, if at all."

The Stoneborn bowed and followed, stretching her wings. Yelseveta ushered Theotar to Renathal and Gwennit.

"I need to borrow your husband, Gwennit." Yelseveta sat next to Renathal and took his elbow. "I really must sign something while it's on my mind."

"Is that what got them so upset?" Renathal kissed Gwennit's cheek and stood. "We'll be back as soon as possible. Princeguards!"

Renathal and Yelseveta left, a princeguard on either side. Gwennit stood and took Theotar's elbow.

"What was that?"

"Clumsy politics wielded by those with no appreciation of diplomacy. Are you enjoying the book, my dear?"

Gwennit nodded and cuddled beneath Theotar's arm. "Will Renathal be all right?"

"Perfectly! No member of the Consortium could dare challenge the princeguards. And I am to regain my freedom! I will be able to visit you and the little ones any time I wish! Is that not wonderful?"

"Yes." Gwennit hid her face against Theotar's chest. "They'll be so happy to see you all the time."

"What is wrong, my duchess? You have been strange all day. Is the party so much of a bother?"

"You know I don't like crowds." Gwennit pressed against his side. "It's like being in the crypt again."

"My poor dowsabel." Theotar rubbed the back of her neck. "Would you like to go upstairs for a cup of tea?"

Gwennit's fingers tightened on Theotar's gown. "I think I'd rather dance with you. And Renathal, when he comes back."

Theotar drew his fingers through her hair, almost as soft and fine as Renathal's. He smiled. "I would like nothing more." He stepped back and curtsied. "My prince."

"My duchess. My princess. My world."

Theotar's face warmed all the way to his chest. Gwennit smiled. It was tiny, like a mouse in a nest of down and flowers, warm despite the damp. It kindled a flame within his ribs, and spread to his fingers and toes. He took Gwennit's hand to raise it to his lips, but held it, kept her close, stroked the whorls on her fingertips and the lines on her palm. He lifted her hand and stroked the places where her skin folded.

"Did you know there was once an art that read one's life in one's palm?"

"Really?" Gwennit stepped closer. "What can you read?"

Gazing at her, her strange blue eyes, and the curve of her upper lip, Theotar closed his hands around hers. "I see two princes who love you as dearly as they have ever loved each other. I see an eternity of duty and joy, and tiny, impish spirits becoming as good as you are, under your eye. I see children." He stroked her hair. "Impossible children, who look like my dowsabel. Tiny princes and princesses! A family, mother and fathers and babes, and love greater than any of us could imagine."

A pocket of silence stood around them. Despite those watching, venthyr and dredger, noble and commoner, Gwennit kissed Theotar, a gentle touch that promised more. Theotar drew her close for another.

"Bless," a woman said, and sighed. "This ought to be a novel."

Theotar chuckled, even as Gwennit hid against him. He stroked her back through her thick clothes. "Come, my love. May I have this dance?"

"Who said that? The thing about the novel?"

No-one answered, but Theotar said, "Someone who appreciates what it means to be loved, whether in good times or bad. I am correct, yes?"

He lifted Gwennit from the floor and held her, turning in the air. She put her arms around his neck, such a rude thing to do at a formal dance, but he held her by the waist and led until she peeked from where she hid in her hair and against his bodice. Theotar smiled.

"There is my beautiful dowsabel!"

"And my duke." Gwennit leaned against him once more. "My kind, sweet, gentle duke. You're more than I ever could have asked for."

"You did not need ask, my love. We are meant to be together."

Gwennit hugged him. Theotar returned it and kissed her head. She looked up, her eyes shining with tears.

"What is wrong, my little pastry?" Theotar lifted her chin with his fingertips. Gwennit shook her head.

"This is where I'm supposed to be. That's all."

"I find it a bit overwhelming, too. So much joy after so much certainty you were lost. It is a thing to be treasured."

"Don't talk. Dance."

Theotar swept her higher, until only the ceiling's swathes of velvet stopped their ascent.

When the song ended, he held Gwennit to him, turning slower and slower until they hung in the air. He rested his cheek atop her head. They sank to the floor beside Renathal and Kassir and Vasili. Nearby, the Countess nodded (or nodded off) while Tubbins talked about muck. Gubbins ran to Theotar and Gwennit, and looked rather confused.

"Happy lady?"

Gwennit giggled and knelt to hug him. "I know, I look different."

Gubbins nodded and backed away, looking between the two of them as though he had drunk the wrong tea again.

As soon as Gwennit stood, Renathal kissed her, then Theotar, as though they were alone rather than in the midst of half the realm. "Are the two of you having a good time?"

"Yes," Gwennit said before Theotar could speak. She squeezed his hand and went to Renathal's side. "Could we dance next?"

Renathal's air of amused dignity melted as he grinned until his fangs overhung his bottom lip. "It would be an honour, my lady."

Gwennit cleaved to his side, gripping his arm around her and resting her head against his bare chest. Theotar grinned.

"My prince, I never imagined I could be taller than you. It seems miracles may happen even in Revendreth!"

Kassir and Vasili chuckled. Mona did as well, and came to hug Theotar, her taffeta dress rustling.

"You three are even sillier than I thought, en't you?" she said as she fixed her short, dark wig.

"I blame that anniversary gift for giving us the idea." Renathal smiled as though it hurt and rubbed a piece of her sleeve between his fingers. "I remember this gown."

"Aye, I couldn't bear to give her favourites away. Don't look half as proper on me as it did Dia."

"I don't know about that." Renathal kissed her hand. "You really are beautiful."

"Stop. Make me blush." Mona kissed him, and again, and did the same to Gwennit. "How you doing, me dowsabel? Don't half look lost, all these people about."

"I'm all right."

"You say." Mona tucked Gwennit's hair behind her ears. "Fancy a dance? I understand if you're not up for it."

"Not tonight. Sorry."

Mona kissed her forehead. "It's hard to celebrate when your heart's been ripped out. Next year, what? It'll be easier by then."

Gwennit shrugged and pressed her face to Renathal's skin. Mona stroked her hair and took Mihaela's arm. "What about you, m'lady? You fancy a dance with this old whore?"

"Oh, hush." Mihaela, in a blonde wig and one of Mona's gowns that hung loose at her bosom, pecked her and pulled her into the air. Mona laughed and dipped her before they joined the rest of the dancers.

"Are you sure you want to dance?" Renathal lifted Gwennit's chin. The orchestra's violins sang the first strains of a sweet, mournful piece that suited Gwennit all too well.

"I want to do everything with you. I want to have children with you."

Renathal blinked. He lifted her in his arms and kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. Gwennit hugged him, arms around his neck. Renathal bowed his head to Theotar, and led Gwennit into the air, gazing as though she would vanish if he looked away.

"Are you sure she's well enough to be here?" Kassir watched Gwennit and Renathal turn in a careful dance.

Theotar sighed. "I do not entirely know."

Soon, the song ended, and Renathal set Gwennit to the floor. He kissed her forehead, and bowed to Theotar.

"My duchess!" he said, and Theotar hid his face, as well as his laughter, in his hands. "Would you care for a cup of dancing? It is the most delightful form of tea!"

Behind them, the Countess giggled over a glass of Bastion champagne. Theotar shook his head. Still, he curtsied and took Renathal's hand.

"You are a very silly prince! What did I ever see in you?"

"Power. Wealth. Mind-shattering peaks." Renathal tugged Theotar close, though he looked at Gwennit. "Will you be all right for a few minutes?"

Gwennit nodded. From inside her breastplate, she took the old etiquette book, and sat near the door.

"Are you sure she is well?" Theotar said as they turned in the air.

"As well as we could expect. I'm only grateful she's speaking again."

"I am still concerned. She has not shown a single hint of reopening our soulbinds."

"Give her time. Let her grieve in private until she's ready to share."

"Hmm." Theotar glanced at Gwennit hunching over the pamphlet, as small as a dredger. "Her soul is like a storm cloud."

"I know. I know. Give her time. Every storm breaks eventually."

Too soon the song ended. Renathal eased Theotar to the floor and bowed. Theotar pulled him close by his belt and kissed him, damn everyone watching, whispering, spreading gossip that would grow improper before the evening ended. Who cared if stories put them naked and fucking in the air? Renathal was his husband, his beloved, his beautiful prince, and only Gwennit could say the same.

She had vanished by the time they reached her seat. Theotar looked around. His stomach turned. No flashes of white hair and earthy green armour cut through the crowd. Renathal caught his arm. Theotar opened his mouth to demand a search party, but Renathal pointed to the far end of the ballroom.

On the box of seats where the wretched Council of Blood once ruled, a band of small souls marched across an elevated platform, most of them giggling or wandering out of line, or getting distracted by the party and bumping into each other. Gwennit, moving like her old self, herded them across their makeshift stage. One soul tripped, unrecognisable from the other end of the room, and Gwennit picked her up and hugged her until the girl calmed.

Theotar took Renathal's arm. Renathal pulled him close, his gaze fixed on the stage.

"She is a natural mother." Theotar swallowed. "They are not even hers by blood, and yet---"

"I know. I know."

Theotar rested his head against Renathal's chest. "There must be a way to give her children."

Renathal's grim silence said enough.

Tedo rapped a podium near the child souls. "Attention! Your attention, please!"

Most of the chatter quieted. A clique of Consortium members kept talking, at least until Viscountess Estera noticed Renathal's stare and hushed the others. Tedo shot them a look.

"We have a special presentation from Princess Gwennit and her young charges. Your highness?"

"It's only Gwennit."

Her soft voice should never have carried, but it filled the ballroom. No wonder she had grown so interested in magecraft. A number of lesser spells for amplification existed in the depths of the discipline, not that anyone really used them. Theotar tugged Renathal down to speak in his ear.

"Our dowsabel is terribly clever, is she not?"

Renathal smiled, wide and bright. "And here I feared she wanted a portal to whisk her away."

"My love, do not joke---"

"Shhhh!" Tedo put his fists on his hips and stared.

"Forgive us!" Renathal held up his hand. "Only admiring myself on stage."

A laugh rippled through the room. Tedo shook his head, and Gwennit covered her smile. She cast a kiss to Renathal and Theotar.

A few moments of silence. Gwennit touched her head where her veil would have been, but folded her hands at her belly.

"Since becoming venthyr, I have worked with a number of young souls, some of whom have since gained redemption. My husband, Prince Theotar, helped in the early days, though I have since expanded and further developed the techniques he pioneered. Much like Caretaker Tedo, my assistants and I, especially Inquisitor Clara, use unorthodox means of redemption. Most of you are familiar with Tedo's techniques involving music. Mine are based in etiquette, manners, and the joy of kindness. Results thus far have been even better than we first hoped."

A round of applause rose and grew. Anima rose in Gwennit's face, and she bowed her head until the sound faded.

"For this Feast of Souls, Tedo and I decided to work together in order to demonstrate our curricula. I must add, neither of our methods would be as advanced as they are without the work of my beloved husbands, Prince Regent Renathal and Prince Theotar. Renathal's dedication to a warmer, more egalitarian Revendreth has greatly improved all our lives, even if some of us don't yet realise it. Additionally, Theotar created the etiquette school of rehabilitation. Without his efforts, these children would still be treated as adults, and would not be so close to redemption. If anyone is to be thanked, it should be the two of them, as well as my assistants, Inquisitor Clara, and Caretakers Vasili, Rina, and Nikola."

Another round of applause rose. Renathal kissed Theotar. Someone whooped. Renathal raised his hand for silence.

"I think our wife underestimates herself. We've watched her come home exhausted from long days in the Ceremony Ward, only to regain herself telling us about her wards and their educations, as well as their various mischiefs. There is nothing closer to her heart than children, and I can think of few others who would take on her role with such spirit, enthusiasm, and love." He bowed his head. "Revendreth thanks you, my lady."

Gwennit covered her mouth, her cheeks red. Her whisper echoed: "Thank you, my love."

One of the younger child spirits ran to her and hugged her leg. "Can we sing now, Mama Gwennie?"

Gwennit stroked the girl's head. "Yes, go on. Back in line."

"Yay!" The girl thrust her fists in the air to soft laughter. Gwennit curtsied and hurried to the side of the box.

"She really has done very well," Kassir murmured behind Theotar. "The both of you should be proud."

Theotar nodded just as Tedo lifted his hands to lead.

Something about the song took Theotar back to mortality, though none of the words sounded right. Tedo or Gwennit, or one of her fellows, had translated it to the Revendrethi tongue. Where the sweet, mournful tune mentioned bats, his head filled with sparrows, robins, even a heron. Renathal shushed him and pulled him close. Theotar touched his cheek to find it damp.

"I know this tune," he said in Renathal's ear. "From long ago."

Still, the children sang. Their voices were too young for a tale of death, of loss, of moving on. At the side, Gwennit nodded to the beat, her fingers twitching. She mouthed along, and kept glancing towards Renathal and Theotar.

Too soon, the song ended. The little ones bowed, several bending as far as they could. Applause rose once more, and continued until Gwennit led the children from their small stage.

Renathal scowled as the orchestra once more took up instruments, and dancers rose into the air, many of them talking about the children. "Do you feel like that was a message?" he said.

Theotar looked up. "What are you talking about, my love? It is simply an old song. No doubt from her memories! You know how upset she has been. It likely only had to do with her son."

"You're probably right." Still, Renathal's smile did not reach his eyes when people commented how proud the two of them must be of their wife.

Something small and soft collided with Theotar's back. "They did so well!"

He turned, and hugged Gwennit. "They did beautifully! Oh, dear." He pushed her hair out of her red face. "Do we need to leave?"

"You can stay if---"

"There's no fun here if you're gone." Renathal kissed Gwennit's head. "You look ready to burst!"

"All the little ones needed extra hugs and kisses good night. And everyone between the stage and here kept trying to talk to me!" Gwennit took their hands and pulled them to the door. "Are you all right with leaving?"

Renathal picked her up and carried her out of the ballroom. At least two dozen people commented on the little ones as they passed, and Mona kissed Gwennit and told her to remember to get some rest. Gwennit only nodded and smiled, and by the time they reached their suite, far from the party, her pallor and her stiff grip on Renathal made her more porcelain than alive.

"Was that song from Lordaeron?" Renathal set Gwennit on the drawing room sofa and kissed her. "Theotar recognised it."

"Was it that obvious? I thought I'd done a better job changing it. Tedo put it in a minor key and everything. Annabell, erm, sang it to her children." Gwennit looked around and tugged her false beard. "I want a bath, and to go to bed."

"I'm sure you're tired after---"

"Not for sleep." Gwennit looked between them, wringing her hands. "If that's all right."

"Are you sure, dowsabel?" Theotar kissed her hand. "If you do not wish---"

She kissed him, long and slow, and drew her fingers along the skin at the edge of his ruff. Theotar whimpered. Before he could do more than pull her to him, she kissed Renathal.

"Take these costumes off," she said against his lips. "I want my duke and my prince."

"Would you like us to bathe with you?" Renathal tugged her false beard with his teeth.

"I don't think we'll all fit."

"I'm sure we can try."

Gwennit looked between them. She unbuckled her quilted pauldrons and dropped them to the floor. "Let me soak my beard off first. It's not as nice as the real thing."

She stayed at one or the other's side in the bath as they fussed with alcohol and water and various oils, and shed wigs and pins and beards and clothing (and, in Theotar's case, regained his beard). Soon, the floor a mess of costume pieces, Renathal set to filling the marble bathtub. Gwennit still wore her linen shirt and striped trousers.

"You are lovely in green, dowsabel." Theotar kissed her fingers. Renathal stretched, bare as the Light, and settled in the filling bathtub. Theotar looked to him. "Is Gwennit not lovely in green?"

Renathal smiled, leaning against the side of the tub. "And white. And red. And black. In or out of anything, really."

Gwennit shrugged. Theotar took her hands.

"If you would prefer, we could simply cuddle."

She shook her head and kissed him, and again, again. "It's been too long. Erm." She bit her lip. "Could we...."

"What is it, my duchess?"

Gwennit ran her finger along his ear. "Could Apărător see what it's like? Only a little bit."

"That is not what I expected." Theotar looked to Renathal, who shrugged.

"Why not? He's been watching for, what, four years now?"

"Since the beginning." Gwennit hid against Theotar's chest. He shushed her, rubbing circles on her back. "Before the battle in the castle, he saw the whole night---"

"Shh." Theotar kissed her head. "We are not upset, my love. You are worth your passengers."

"I'm grateful you weren't friendless in that crypt." Renathal put out his hand. Gwennit hesitated, but took it, and Renathal kissed her fingers. "Your experience there changed the way many of us see Revendreth, you know."

"That doesn't make sense. I chose to come here---"

"It makes perfect sense." Renathal laced their fingers. "It made clear how badly we handle too many situations, assuming everyone deserves the same flavour of punishment. Why else do you think the Accuser has allowed you so much freedom with your charges? She said to me a few days ago that she wants to test some of your techniques on older souls. Not many, but some certainly."

Gwennit ducked and kissed him. Renathal unlaced her shirt and worked it over her head, and untied her trousers. Gwennit shook them off and climbed into the bath to straddle his thighs. Theotar turned off the tap and followed. He kissed Gwennit's neck, her shoulder, cupped her breasts (so much smaller and softer than Yelseveta's, so much more interesting with their echoes of mortal scars). Gwennit rocked her hips.

"I want you both to peak inside me." She sighed as Theotar nipped her shoulder. "Please. I need part you both inside me."

"My lady." Renathal kissed her forehead. "I think that can be arranged."

Gwennit pressed her cheek to his. Renathal rubbed her arms and slid one hand between them. Gwennit sighed and leaned against Theotar.

"I thought we were taking a bath." She turned her head, and squeezed Theotar's hand over her left breast. "Wouldn't this be more comfortable where we can move?"

"Do not underestimate his skills, dowsabel." Theotar licked the length of her neck, where sweat had long since dried and left its salt. "Let us ensure you enjoy your bath."

Gwennit lifted his hand and kissed it. "What about the two of you?"

"We'll get you clean." Renathal grinned. "Before we make you filthy."

Gwennit pulled him to her. Their teeth clicked as they met. Renathal tipped his head to deepen their kiss, one hand on her arse and the other moving on her quim. Theotar drew her hair out of the way and nipped her neck until red pricks covered both sides. He set to doing the same on her shoulder.

As minutes passed, Gwennit's rocking turned to grinding. She panted against Renathal's chest, every breath a high, soft whine.

"Don't stop." Most of her whisper vanished beneath the slosh of bathwater. "Don't ever stop."

"Aren't you delicious when you plead?" Renathal nuzzled Gwennit's head. "Imagine if we could do this downstairs, hidden in some nook where no-one would ever find us, but your cries drowned the music? The Countess's party would be an orgy!"

"Has that--has that ever happened?" Gwennit caught her breath and gasped.

"Many times, dowsabel, but not to the queen's own pleasure!" Theotar sucked a mark on her neck so she cried out. "Renathal could tell you any number of stories!"

"Hmph! I'd rather tell of the time we hid in Sinfall Tower and you stroked me senseless, only to lead me in a dance while our spend soaked into my clothes."

Gwennit shivered. "Really?"

"Do not listen to him, my duchess!" Theotar leaned closer. "My seed dried on his beard and lips, not his clothing."

Renathal chuckled as Gwennit gasped. "So it did. Though as I recall, I sucked a good portion off your fingers."

"Ah, quite! My memory, it is not so good as it once was." Theotar ran his fingers down Gwennit's quivering belly and pressed two atop Renathal's, and Gwennit's gem with them. "Though that was still not so fun as the time Diania formally presented Mona as her business partner."

"Oh, goodness, that was a fine Court!" Renathal smiled, his eyes bright. "How many times did Dia peak?"

"I have no idea, but that was a terribly lucky birdcage."

Gwennit turned her head, her eyes hazy. "What do you...."

"Mmm, my duchess, you are getting so close! Renathal, my love, may I finish her?"

Renathal caught the back of Theotar's neck and kissed him, deep and damp, tongue and teeth and whimpers. Gwennit whined when Renathal stopped his teasing and reached to squeeze Theotar's cock.

Theotar nipped her neck, and spoke against her skin, his fingers making rapid circles on her gem. "Diania and Mona had the clever idea to hoist a great, golden birdcage with 'the Hennery' painted on a piece of silk. At the appointed time, the silk was drawn away, only to bare the two of them sharing their talents. No guests were permitted to touch, but as I understand, the two of them were more than busy for months after!"

"And you ended up on my lap, rubbing your beautiful arse against my cock for most of the evening." Renathal grinned. "Apart from a few with no interest in that sort of thing, not a single person left Court alone that night, including Dia and Mona."

Gwennit's gem swelled beneath Theotar's fingers. She ground against him, panting, whimpering, wet and warm and leaving slippery traces on his palm.

"If I--I had--with Mona---"

"I imagine you would have had a joyous presentation and a full diary as well. The two of us would have been your most avid custom." Renathal drew his nails up Gwennit's back. "Go on, my lady. Show us how high your peak takes you."

Gwennit keened. Threw her head back, hips and thighs jerking. Her cries turned high, desperate, starved and broken. A burst of warmth filled the water between her legs, and she cried out, grinding for more, her voice echoing from the marble walls.

Only when she flinched from his touch did Theotar let her rest. He held his fingers to Renathal's mouth. Renathal sucked them and groaned.

"Is that a suitable appetiser, dowsabel?" Theotar kissed her behind her ear. Gwennit sagged against him and sighed.

"Minute."

Renathal chuckled and kissed her. "I'll never tire of watching you do that."

"What of me, my prince? Am I to be tossed away like the apple core?"

"Hush." Renathal kissed Theotar, and again. "You know perfectly well I could never have my fill of you. How am I so lucky as to have earned both of you at my side?"

"You're kind," Gwennit said, and closed her eyes.

Theotar and Renathal held and soaped her in turns. When Gwennit snuggled Renathal, Theotar rubbed the strain from her shoulders. They switched, and Renathal scrubbed her feet with a brush. Soon enough, Gwennit took up the soap and rubbed heavy lather all over Renathal's chest.

"If you had been alone for an instant tonight, someone would have asked you to a private room." She slid onto his lap, rinsing him so his wet skin shone. "You should go without a shirt more often."

"Then you need to go back to caring for the bats with me. Especially when I train the young ones in taking a rider. Before long, I'm half naked and dripping with sweat." Renathal drew her damp hair into a tail, and squeezed water from the ends. "Would you care to wash the rest of me? Or would you prefer I watch you see to poor, neglected Theotar?"

Theotar chuckled and drew his hand up his cock. "I am in no way neglected, my love." He rubbed a bar of sweet almond soap between his hands, got to his knees, and waited until he had Renathal's attention before he twisted his arm behind to scrub his arse. He moaned, and Renathal gulped.

"You were so pretty tonight." Gwennit turned to watch. "Anyone who didn't know would think you were a princess." Her gaze trailed over Theotar and sent a shiver through his skin. He eased his fingertip inside, and she sat up and kissed him.

Renathal grabbed some soap, scrubbed himself beneath the water's surface, dunked, and stepped onto the mat. "I think I'm ready for bed, unless the two of you would like to make a show of things."

Gwennit shook her head, and licked the head of Renathal's cock. Renathal rested his hand atop her head, staring as she took him into her mouth. Theotar rinsed, stepped out, and hugged Renathal from behind. He trailed his nails up and down, from throat to the pale hair turning puffy at Renathal's groin, kissing his back and shoulders.

Renathal grunted. He picked Gwennit from the bath so water sheeted onto the floor, and carried her to bed. Theotar grabbed an armload of towels.

"Do not dare set her down! I would like to sleep on dry sheets tonight."

In some fit of mercy, Renathal stopped on the rug, both he and Gwennit dripping, their mouths open and urgent as they kissed. Gwennit murmured as Theotar spread towels on the bed, and Renathal chuckled.

"I thought you wanted us to peak inside you, my lady, but if you would rather bend him over and give him a taste of your shining cock, I don't think he'll mind."

Theotar squeaked. Turned. Stared at the two of them, wicked and delightful. He swallowed.

"I would be more than amenable to that, my pastry. But only if I may have our prince's cock in my mouth at the same time. We do not wish him to sulk, after all."

Gwennit watched him, her eyes bright and wide in the hearth-light. She kissed Renathal, who set her on her feet, and hugged Theotar.

"Bend over, my love. My Theotar."

Theotar brought her hand to his lips, but did as she said. He rested on the bed, chin on his folded arms. She stroked his back, spread his arse---

The first touch of her tongue all but put him out of his skin.

"Dowsabel!" He buried his face in his arms. Renathal swore, and the slap of his hand on his cock filled the air.

"Don't stop," Renathal whispered. "Never stop surprising me."

Gwennit worked her tongue in tight circles. No, letters. Tiny letters, just as Mona swore would make any lady peak in minutes. Her breath gusted over his skin, and she adjusted her fingers to hold him wide. Gwennit pressed her tongue just shy of entry, and Theotar grunted at a surge to his tightening sac.

He whined at her hand on his cock---

Nothing. No tongue, no breath. The scrape of a wine bottle. Gwennit nudged his hip.

"Please peak inside me."

The scent of sweet anima wine overtook those of soap and skin as Theotar crawled onto the bed. He stared as Gwennit straddled his hips and touched her cunt, her rude cunt, so rude as to stay her tongue. She pressed her wet fingers to her mouth. He took them, cradled her wrist with both hands, sucked and licked, and grunted as she eased her way down his cock. As soon as she rested atop him, she touched her belly and sighed.

"My loves." Eyes closed, she rocked atop him. "My only loves."

Renathal sat across Theotar's thighs just behind her. He held her, rutted against her each time she rocked. Gwennit turned her head for a long, slow kiss, hugging Renathal's arms to her chest, her thumb moving back and forth across one of her nipples. Large nipples in larger halos, far too big for her breasts, but so much a part of her. Renathal rolled her other nipple between his fingers, and she put her head back, groaned, ground upon Theotar, who stroked her arms, her shoulders, her chest and neck. Such a delicate body, too small to contain the wonder and strength and impossibilities and worlds that were his Gwennit.

His and Renathal's Gwennit.

She grunted at a twitch of his hips. Theotar lifted himself, his arse tight to the edge of shaking. Gwennit whimpered and ground upon him, hard and fast, her breaths short and quickening. Renathal kissed her neck, her shoulder, the curve between them. He drew his fingers up and down the plain between her breasts, and over her belly to find her gem. His fingers pressed into Theotar, sharp nails teasing the base of his cock with each rub. Theotar gripped Gwennit's hips and held on.

"Are you close?" Renathal kissed the side of Gwennit's neck. "Beautiful lady, starving for our seed. Desperate to be filled. To bring us to peak again and again 'til you burst with it. To wear it as a badge of seduction, the scent clothing you so no-one can ever deny how thoroughly you've claimed and been claimed."

Gwennit keened. Renathal rubbed faster, harder, pressing to the left of Gwennit's gem, the most sensitive spot, the one that made her shriek. She set to fucking, Theotar's wet cock cooling for an instant every time she rose. He panted with her, even as her eyes darkened to blue, the cyan that laced her blinding soul, and her cry echoed, high and deep at once, as she pulsed around him, thighs trembling, trembling, trembling as he burst and grew blind and deaf to all but his lovers on his skin.

Renathal eased Gwennit to the bed and cuddled both of them. Gwennit pressed her thighs together as though a bit of seed was too precious to lose. She kissed Theotar's shoulder, his chest, the curve of his neck.

"Oh." Apărător's voice echoed.

"Mmm." Theotar wrapped his arms around Gwennit. Around the two in one body. "You see?"

"It is love?"

"Yes. It is."

Gwennit's eyes dimmed. She whispered against Theotar's chest. "Have you got it?"

No answer, as ever, but Renathal snorted. "I think he's absolutely got it, and wants more." He kissed Gwennit, then Theotar, and stretched. "You surprised me, my lady. I thought you quailed at the thought of using your tongue there."

Gwennit shrugged. "It's not so bad."

"You seemed to enjoy yourself." Theotar hugged Gwennit, kissed her, rested his forehead to hers. "Were you picturing a lady's gem beneath your tongue? I thought I felt Mona's techniques."

"Maybe a little." Gwennit snuggled closer. "You were so pretty tonight. I wanted you to be a lady. I could have made you feel like I do when you touch me."

"Dowsabel." Theotar kissed her between her eyebrows. "Are you so besotted by a costume?"

"I am with you." Gwennit squirmed. Renathal pressed against her back.

"Are you already hungry for more, my lady?"

Gwennit nodded. "Like this? So I have both of you?"

"You are terribly needy!" Theotar nuzzled Gwennit's cheek. "My poor duchess. It has been far too long."

"Any time is too long to go without the two of you. I'm sorry I've been so distant."

"You have been grieving! My little pastry! You have had so very much to mourn. Lifetimes of mourning in a handful of years! You know you may have whatever you need, yes?"

"Not everything."

Renathal kissed her head. "One way or another, we'll work out a way to get a child. The right soul will come along---"

In Theotar's arms, Gwennit trembled. He pushed her hair from her face. "My duchess?"

"You know it can't happen here." Gwennit wiped her face on a corner of a towel. "No child can be born in the Shadowlands."

"I'll find the First Ones if I have to." Renathal pressed his face to Gwennit's hair, tightening his arm around her waist. "Petition them. Beg on your behalf. One way or another---"

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Forgive me." Renathal kissed Gwennit's head. "You know how I prattle."

Gwennit turned in Theotar's arms. She stroked Renathal's face. "All I want right now is my husbands. I need to carry part of you with me."

Renathal kissed her forehead. "You shall. I'll commission a piece of jewellery woven from our hair, if you'd like. It's quite stylish."

"Yes, please."

"My lady." Renathal touched Gwennit's cheek. "Why are there tears in your voice?"

Gwennit hid against him. "I can't lose you. Either of you. Please don't leave me. I don't know what I'd do."

"Where is this coming from? Why would we abandon you?"

Gwennit shook her head and kissed him. Renathal returned it, rolled her onto her back, kissed her again and again as he pressed her into the bed. Gwennit put her arms around him. She squeezed Theotar's hand when he took hers.

"Please peak inside me." Gwent kissed Renathal all around his mouth. "I need you."

"The night has hardly---"

"I don't care. I don't care. I need now, not long."

"All right, all right." Renathal glanced at Theotar, who could only shrug. He took Gwennit's hand between his and kissed it.

"Dowsabel, would you like to rest your head in my lap? You are so very lost tonight, and I fear letting you go."

"Please don't let go."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Renathal peered into Gwennit's eyes. "Your soul is even more clouded than it was downstairs. What's bothering you so much?"

"I can't lose you! Not after everyone else."

"All right. Shh, shh, we're not going anywhere." Renathal kissed Gwennit, who wrapped her legs around him. "At least let me tongue you---"

"Sand grease. I need you in me. Please, I need to feel you."

Renathal frowned. "Are you certain you're all right?"

"Renathal." Theotar rubbed his back. "This is a part of her grief. Give her what she desires."

Renathal looked between them. He sighed. "Hand me the grease."

Gwennit grunted as he pushed inside. Renathal stopped, but she tightened her legs around his hips. Theotar stroked her hair, and held her hand while she lay on his lap. He licked his finger and thumb and rolled her nipple so she whimpered.

"Yes, please." Blue light shone through her eyelids, and her voice echoed, but it remained hers. "Renathal, please."

"Shh. Let me bring you off."

"You haven't got---"

"I have." Renathal kissed Gwennit's nose so a smile broke through her turmoil. "Where's the joy in selfishness? If we're loving, then let me love."

Gwennit drew him down and kissed him yet again. Theotar ran his fingers through Renathal's hair. It clung to his skin, wet from their bath and everything between them. Gwennit moaned against Renathal's mouth. He echoed it, deep and soft.

The sounds between them grew wetter by moments. Soon, Renathal chuckled, and ground his hips so Gwennit whined.

"That's more like it, my lady. Mmm, as slick and warm as ever! Give me a chance, and I'll have you peaking until you're too sore to walk."

"Yes, please." Gwennit pressed her fingers again the give of muscle in his back. "Keep me. Don't let me go."

"Not even the Sire could make me let you go."

Gwennit hid her face against his shoulder. Theotar gripped her hands atop Renathal's back. His cock, already long past stirring, rose to its height at her moan.

"Dowsabel, at this rate, I am going to have to take you again as soon as he finishes!"

"Please. Yes, please. I need you."

"Usurped already, am I?" Renathal kissed Gwennit's head. "Shall I bow out for the moment and let him take his turn?"

Gwennit shook her head. "Need you, too."

Renathal traced her marriage cuff. "Then I shall endeavour."

At every one of his thrusts, Gwennit rose, pushing for more. Renathal paused to rub his eye. Gwennit bit his neck.

"All right, dearest! I'm getting there! Are you sure you wouldn't prefer Theotar for now?"

"Both!"

"Ah. No. You're not Mona, and I shan't risk tearing you."

"Please. I need both of you with me."

"If you're so desperate, use your mouth, my love." Renathal peered into her eyes. "Are you certain this has only to do with loss? The way you behave, one would think we might go years apart."

Gwennit whimpered and tightened around him. "Don't say that!"

"Dowsabel." Theotar kissed her forehead. "Let me finish you. Please? Pretend we are hiding in a closet, with time not on our side."

"Will you peak inside me?"

"The both of us will! I know you are lost in grief. Let us give you a moment of delight."

Gwennit covered her face with her hands when Renathal lifted from atop her. Still, he took her in his arms, kissed her fingers, every tiny joint and span until she parted them enough for him to kiss the skin above her eye.

"I'm sorry." She hid her face against Theotar's thigh. "This should be happy."

"Every moment with you is happy." Renathal kissed her jaw. "You are our wife. Our joy."

"Come here, my duchess." Theotar offered his arms. "Let me please you."

Gwennit nodded, but wiped her face and blew her nose on a towel. Renathal scooped her against his chest and set her on Theotar's lap, but pressed his forehead to hers.

"You will not lose us, my lady. We've survived the Jailer, the grave, and the Maw itself. Nothing could tear us apart. You could give into your terror and flee the very Shadowlands, and we would love you no less."

Gwennit wiped her eyes. She looked to Theotar, who nodded. A sob broke in her throat, and she kissed Renathal, again, again. Took his hair in her hands and pulled him to her.

"You mean it."

"You always return to us, yes?" Renathal smiled. "And you will not run. We know you that well. Running is long in your past."

Gwennit's smile sent an ache to Theotar's heart. He hugged her, let her turn on his lap, gasped as she took his cock, stroked it, slid onto him still open and wet from Renathal. She hugged him. He returned it, and again when Renathal settled against her back.

"Someday," she whispered, and set her knees on the bed to rise and fall and rise again.

"Someday what?" Renathal drew her hair from her neck to trace the play of muscle beneath her skin.

"I don't know, but something good."

"Perhaps the Lady Moonberry will join us." Theotar chuckled at Gwennit's gasp. "Goodness, if that is how you respond to only her name, imagine the taste of her quim!"

"I've lain with members of the Night Fae." Renathal worked his hand between them and teased Gwennit's gem. "I recall whose peaks tasted of elderflower. Do you like elderflower, my lady?"

"You know I do, damn it!" Gwennit whimpered, grinding on the two of them. She licked her lips and panted. "I'll bring you--bring you--elderflower liqueur from--from the Undercity---"

"Have you still friends there, dowsabel? You have never mentioned them."

"What?" Gwennit opened her eyes. Stared. Softened all over. "Oh. No. I'll ask--ask someone to bring--Renathal, please!"

"I love it when she forgets where she is." Renathal grinned as he rubbed faster. Gwennit writhed so Theotar squeezed her hips to fuck into her.

"Mm!" She sagged against Renathal. "Don't stop! Peak in me!"

Theotar bowed his head and shifted just enough to give her all he could.

Moments, and Gwennit wailed. Heat trickled over his cock and down, and he gripped her shoulders to keep going. Renathal stroked his back, ran his nails down, squeezed his arse, and reached between them to stroke what he could. He cupped Theotar's sack and groaned.

"So tight, my love. You're so close I can taste it!" Over Theotar's panting, he said, "Give her what she wants."

A few more thrusts, and Gwennit moaned as she fluttered within. Theotar jerked more than thrust. His mind frayed and took the world with it. Gwennit kissed him at the height of his wavering. "Please, yes. Please, my love."

Too soon, the world returned. Theotar slumped against the headboard, panted, hugged Gwennit close. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"So red," she whispered. "Such a beautiful red."

"It is, isn't it?" Renathal kissed her ear. He touched Theotar's cheek. "You look properly wrung out, my love."

"Mm." Theotar squirmed until he and Gwennit lay together. He wrapped his leg over her clenched thighs. "I did not hurt you, did I?"

Gwennit shook her head. "Been so long. Remembering."

He pecked her. "Perhaps we ought to take a rest? Eat something?"

"M'not hungry." Gwennit looked to Renathal. Put out her hand. He kissed it and held it to his chest.

"What would you like, my dearest lady?"

"Only you."

"You've been soundly fucked. Would you like my mouth?"

Gwennit shook her head. "Please. Now. While I'm between you."

Renathal went on his knees and bowed. Theotar took his hand.

"Go on, my love. I will hold her."

Renathal leaned over Gwennit and kissed him. Theotar opened his mouth and sucked Renathal tongue. Renathal groaned, running his palm over Theotar's side. Gwennit watched, all but crushed, and put her arm around Theotar.

"I'm glad you have each other." She snuggled closer and nuzzled his throat.

Theotar stroked her back. As soon as he got one last peck, he kissed Gwennit's cheek, her nose. She turned her head for more, and Renathal kissed her as well.

"We have each other, my lady. All of us."

Gwennit watched him a moment, kissed him hard, touched his cheek. "Please, my prince. Right now."

She gasped when he pressed inside. Theotar stroked her hair, pulled her leg over his hip, kissed her and kissed her and shared her breath. Renathal pushed deep, but kept himself slow, gentle, as he had done so many times when it was only him and Theotar.

"My duchess." Theotar cradled her cheek. "I have so many memories rising! The first time Renathal dared take me, he did so as he does just now. You see how very gentle our prince is? I lost my senses so many times that night! We had to stop and eat, he was so generous!"

"I don't want to stop. I want the both of you."

"We aren't going anywhere." Renathal took Gwennit's hand where she clung to Theotar. "None of us. We have eternity."

"Duchess Galina thought she had eternity with her first husband."

Renathal went still. Theotar peered.

"Where did that come from, dowsabel?"

Gwennit shrugged, and refused to look at them. "It's true, isn't it? The Consortium might not exist if...."

She covered her mouth. "Sorry."

Renathal shook his head. "I think I'd rather discuss this when I'm not pouch-deep inside you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean---"

"You have lost so much, my dowsabel." Theotar squeezed Gwennit's hand. "I promise, we will never choose to go. We would challenge death itself to stay beside you!"

"As he said." Renathal nuzzled Gwennit's head. "You will never be abandoned."

Gwennit squeezed her eyes shut. "Make me not have to think."

Once more, Renathal nuzzled her head. "Theotar, give her your teeth."

Gwennit groaned as soon as Theotar bit her shoulder. Something bitter ran with her blood, and her anima struggled to escape. It fizzed on his tongue, even as she shivered and cried out. A faint blue glow lit the pillow, and only as Renathal groaned and stilled did Theotar remember something about Apărător taking part.

#

The world shivered.

Long after the sheets had dried, and Gwennit had fallen asleep, something woke Theotar, as though the world had folded on itself.

He lifted his head. Only Renathal held him, but a lamp glowed in the bath. Gwennit would return soon enough.

He snuggled into Renathal's embrace.

#

Night guard at the Stormwind portals might as well have been punishment duty. Private Longford already sat under a tree, passing a bottle back and forth with a tired mage just off her shift. Lieutenant Stonetoe knew better, though, as dwarves usually did.

After all, one never knew when some messenger from elsewhere in the world would come---

As the Shadowlands portal burned to life, and a creature like nothing he had ever seen stepped through, Stonetoe remembered that no-one from Stormwind had entered it in months.

#

"Gwennit?" Renathal stuck his head into the bath. A lamp burned, a waste of anima, but the room stood soulless.

A piece of paper had been stuck to the mirror with a bit of lanolin. My loves, it read. The s had run in a drop of water, or a tear. The floor seemed to lurch as Renathal took it from the glass and unfolded it.

I'm sorry. I have to.

#

It was bad enough being woken when Taelia kicked him, or Wrathion returned from the Dragon Isles. With Taelia so near her time, the kicking increased, but a pounding on the door was worse than all the kicks a pregnant wife could give.

"Sir! SI:7 needs you at the Shadowlands portal!"

Beside Anduin, Taelia stirred. He kissed her head. "Go to sleep. I'll be back."

"Mmm. Fishburgers."

Anduin chuckled. Leave it to a daughter of the sea to want all things fish in her final weeks.

Still, he opened the door. "What do you mean, the Shadowlands portal? Keep your voice down. Taelia needs to rest."

The guard who had knocked leaned closer. "Something came through the portal. Asked for you. Said it's queen of the venthyr. Don't look much like the pictures in that book, few years back."

Anduin straightened. "Gwennit's here?"

"What it called itself, sir."

At the portal clearing, any number of SI:7 agents surrounded someone seated on the ground. She wiped her face with a piece of her black veil. Anduin knelt before her. She had been crying for a long time, from the look of her.

"Mama, what are you doing here?"

She glanced at him. "I need a place to stay. Until the babe comes."

"Taelia's in good hands---"

"Not her babe." Gwennit took his hand and pressed it to her belly. "Mine."