In his more ridiculous moments, he wondered if it was the highlight of his, too.
Daisy made him a cup of tea and together they watched Libby bottom-shuffle on the rug, playing with coloured blocks. When Gavar realized he had to get back for Silyen’s showtime, Daisy said they’d walk over to the house with him, and hurried to find a coat and carrier for Libby.
‘You can’t,’ Gavar called, as he heard her rootling among the clothes pegs in the hall. ‘Father said she mustn’t be seen.’
Daisy stuck her head back round the hallway door. She looked outraged.
‘The pig!’
Gavar couldn’t agree more. His anger had blown out several panes from the Small Solar window when Father had told him. But the man had repeated his threat to strip Libby of the Jardine name. Gavar had clenched his fists so hard he wondered if it was possible to break your own fingers, or if being an Equal meant your Skill would protect you from yourself.
He scooped his daughter up from the floor and held her close, smothering her face with kisses. The baby squirmed and giggled.
‘She knows her daddy is so proud of her, though. Don’t you, Libby? Daddy loves you.’
‘Dada,’ Libby agreed, reaching out a pudgy hand and patting his cheek. ‘Dada.’
And there, thought Gavar – right there, in his child – was more magic than Silyen would ever be capable of performing.
Surprisingly, though, Sil didn’t make a big production of waking Aunt Euterpe.
They’d all crowded into the bedchamber, just as arranged. Sil had indeed brought Crovan, who folded himself into the furthest corner by the window. Gavar was next to Jenner, both of them standing behind Father. Father had his hands on Mother’s shoulders, every inch the supportive husband.
Gavar wondered whose perfume he had smelled that morning. Poor Aunty Terpy would have a quarter-century of gossip about her sister’s marital woes to catch up on.
Zelston looked like a man close to death. His whole body was trembling, and sweat stood out on his forehead. It would be ironic if the man had a heart attack the minute before his tragic beloved woke up.
What must it be like, to have wanted something so much, for so long, and be finally about to receive it?
Silyen stood beside the bed, one hand steady against the table. Despite himself, Gavar watched with fascination as his brother’s eyes rolled up, their blackness replaced with blank whiteness.
Silyen’s relationship with his Skill was something Gavar had never understood, or recognized within himself. Gavar’s own Skill felt like a barely contained force, one that blew straight through him with little or no direction or control.
He assumed that was how it was for most of them, although he’d never really asked. It wasn’t polite to go enquiring about other people’s ability, just as you’d never pry about the contents of their bank vault. Skill was exactly like money in that respect. You didn’t need to ask, to know who had lots of it.
Except Silyen’s Skill wasn’t a strongroom stuffed with bullion. The boy himself was pure gold. Right now, Gavar could almost see him shine.
Zelston made a noise like a wounded creature, and Gavar realized his mother was crying.
Aunt Euterpe had opened her eyes.
It all became rather embarrassing rather quickly after that.
Zelston appeared to be having some kind of full-on breakdown. He’d taken Aunt Euterpe’s hand. It was small and pale, cupped in his large brown palm like a tiny fledgling in the nest, too weak to fly just yet. The Chancellor’s other hand was stroking her hair.
‘You’ve come back to me, my darling,’ Gavar heard him say. ‘You’ve come back. And I’ve waited.’
It seemed to Gavar that no one should be here watching this. No one but Mother and the Chancellor – the two people who’d been with Aunt Euterpe when she’d first gone under. But Father had his reasons. This wasn’t only about showing off Sil. When Zelston broke apart, he wanted as many people as possible to see it.
The Chancellor was doing his best to oblige. Tears were coursing down the man’s face, soaking the coverlet. Aunty Terpy’s last bed bath. It looked like he wanted to get up beside her and take her in his arms and never let her go again.
A whisper came from the pillow, so faint it seemed to reach them from very far away. A quarter of a century away, he supposed. His aunt had lain asleep for Gavar’s entire life. A tiny part of him envied her. Twenty-five blameless years in which she hadn’t made a single mistake or disappointed anyone.
‘Winter?’ said a voice no louder than the rustle of sheets. ‘Tally? I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I’m back now. Silyen’s explained everything.’
Her head turned and looked for Sil. And would you believe it, he received her first smile. Something uncertain but full of familiarity, as if spotting an old friend by chance in a foreign country. Silyen smiled back.