Home was wherever her children were.
And these days, they all lived in the white-tree palace in the heart of the arboreal city of Mittriel, the capital of Aratay—a long way from their tiny cottage tucked in the outer forest. Life takes strange turns, Naelin thought. “Erian? Llor? I’m home!”
“They’re with their father,” Ven said, coming out of the bedroom. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and droplets of water clung to the scars on his skin before dripping off his muscles. He was drying his hair with a second towel, and clumps of his hair were spiked up, stuck together with water. “Meant to greet you at the gate, but I didn’t know when you’d return—sorry.”
Crossing the room, she plucked the second towel from his hand and dried water from his neck before smoothing his hair to the side. “We came in through the tower, so you would have missed us anyway.” She breathed in the smell of soap as he hooked his arm around her waist and drew her up against him. He was still damp, but she didn’t mind. She felt herself smiling—he always seemed to bring a smile to her lips, even without saying or doing anything particularly smile-worthy.
Right now, though, so close to him, she had plenty of reason to smile.
“Everything okay?” He nuzzled her cheek.
More than okay, she thought. She kissed his neck below his beard. “Yes.” Her fingers slid down to the knot in the towel. “Daleina and I fixed twelve barren areas. By the last few, I was even able to avoid any violence.”
“Lovely. Avoiding violence is a plus for any day.” He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her. He tasted like pine tea and mint, and his beard was as soft as moss. She loosened the towel around his waist—and then heard the guard at the door:
“Your Highnesses.” The children were back! “Master Renet.” And her ex-husband. “Queen Naelin has recently returned,” the guard told them. “She will be pleased to see you.”
Naelin shoved the towel at Ven and shooed him back into the bathroom. “Quickly! Come out when you’re presentable.” He was smiling at her, silently laughing as she closed the door behind him. She knew she was wearing the same silly smile. She flattened her hair down and smoothed her shirt as she turned to face the door.
It swung open and her children, Erian and Llor, spilled inside. They raced to her—Erian’s legs were longer, but Llor was like an arrow. He embedded himself in her waist, wrapping his arms firmly around her with so much force that she let out an “Oof!” Erian, only slightly more dignified at age ten, stretched over Llor to hug her.
Llor’s words spilled out like water from a spigot. “Mama, Mama, Mama! Father tried to take us out into Mittriel, but the guards wouldn’t let him, not without your permission, so we went to the treasure pavilion instead, but it was boring so we went to the weapons room but the guards wouldn’t let me play with any of the swords, even though I promised to be careful, and then we went to the kitchen and ate pie. I don’t like cherry pie. It’s slimy. Like slugs. Cherry pie is red slug pie.”
“Don’t be disgusting, Llor,” Erian scolded him. “Besides, how do you know what a slug tastes like? Have you ever eaten one?”
“I will if you dare me to.”
“I dare you.”
“I double-dare you,” he said, then cackled with delight. “Now you have to!”
“Do not.”
Still in the doorway, Renet lingered with a wistful expression on his face. Naelin knew he wanted her to invite him inside, but she wanted to be alone with Erian and Llor. She got precious little time with them, in between the schedule the palace seneschal set for her and Daleina’s requests. “Thank you, Renet,” she said, and hoped he understood.
He took a cautious step into the room.
“I’ll bring the children by to visit tomorrow. You may go.” Inwardly, she winced at herself. That was a terrible way to talk to the man who’d fathered her children. Later, when she had more time, she’d explain . . . Except there’s no good way to say “Thanks, but I don’t want you in my life anymore.” Leaving him should have been enough to communicate that. She shouldn’t have to keep saying it. Maybe someday it will be easier.
Yes . . . maybe.
It would be nice if they could be . . . if not friends, then at least two people who didn’t conjure up a mess of sadness, guilt, and regret for what could have been but wasn’t. That was easier said than done, though. So much history couldn’t easily be rewritten. She supposed it would take time.
She left the words unsaid as the guard escorted him out, and he shot one last forlorn look at her, Erian, and Llor. Pushing the issue of Renet aside for now, Naelin hugged her children tighter. “I missed you today!” she told them.
“We don’t like when you leave,” Erian said seriously.
“You’re safe here. All the guards know to watch for you, and if any spirits were to . . . misbehave, Queen Daleina and I would feel it and hurry back. You don’t have to worry anymore. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Llor rolled his eyes—he hadn’t quite mastered the expression, and his eyes darted back and forth before they went up in an exaggerated way. Naelin schooled her face into bland seriousness so he wouldn’t think she was laughing at him. “We aren’t scared,” he said. “We miss you!”
“Then I have good news: how would you like to come with me on a little trip?”
Erian’s face lit up like a firemoss lantern. “You’ll bring us with you?” She hugged Naelin again. “Yes, please!”
Naelin laughed. “You didn’t even ask me where.”
Behind her, the bathroom door opened, and she twisted to see Ven emerge, fully dressed, his hair still wet but brushed, sloppily, to the side. Both Ven and Llor paid about the same amount of attention to their hair. “I’ll ask, then,” Ven said. “Where?”
Llor catapulted himself across the room and into Ven’s arms.
Ven caught him neatly and swung him in a circle. “Hey, tiger.”
“Roar!” Llor growled.
“To the villages in the outer forest,” Naelin said. “It’s Queen Daleina’s idea. She thinks the people will feel better if they meet me. I can reassure them that the invasion is over, that we’re at peace, and that we’ll be helping restore the harvest and rebuild their homes before winter. I can also heal any barren areas I come across.” Privately, she thought she’d be more useful healing the dead zones than parading in front of people, but she hadn’t argued. Well, not much. She had insisted on no entourage. Just her, Ven, the children, and Renet (who wasn’t an ideal choice, but she’d need someone to watch the children when she and Ven were working). Also the wolf, Bayn (who was an ideal choice—the children adored him, and Naelin felt safer when the wolf was near).
Llor tugged on Ven’s sleeve. “Ven, Ven, Ven! If you double-dare someone, and they refuse, what do you do?”
“Challenge them to a duel.” Ven then flipped Llor horizontal and charged forward at Erian, holding Llor like he was a battering ram. Llor shrieked with delight, roared, and clawed at the air as Erian scampered over a table with gorgeous carvings of flowers and over a couch with golden embroidered edges until she reached the fireplace. She brandished a fire poker like a sword.
Naelin swooped forward and intercepted the poker. “Bad idea.” She replaced the poker with a pillow. “Better idea.” She then scooped up a pillow of her own, and both she and Erian attacked Ven and Llor with pillows.
“Retreat!” Ven shouted, and then, carrying Llor, raced into the bathroom.
Naelin and Erian collapsed on the couch, laughing. “Nicely done,” Naelin told her.
“You’ll really take us with you?” Erian asked. “You won’t leave us behind, like today?” In her daughter’s eyes, Naelin saw a hint of fear—it had been lurking there ever since the invasion and never seemed to go fully away.
Naelin cupped her daughter’s face in her hands. “There may be days when I have things I have to do and people I need to help. But I’ll never leave you,” she told her, trying to make her believe, trying to erase that touch of fear. “Ever.”