Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next morning when Det woke, Loralie was gone. Only the indentation of her head on the pillow next to him indicated that she'd been there at all. That and the unbelievable tangle of his sheets. He was usually a tidy sleeper, but this morning, his sheets were all over the place. He smiled in satisfaction. He'd really enjoyed making a mess of his bedclothes with Loralie.

It was a memory he would always cherish. And something he'd never expected would happen here, in his own home. Though, to be honest, he'd always wished for it. In a more conventional way, of course. He'd wished she would marry him and live with him. The normal way. But their relationship hadn't been normal from the first day.

It had been tempestuous. Carnal. Exhilarating. And maddening.

Det got up and tried to make sense of the sheets, then gave up and threw them all in the linen hamper in the corner of his room with his soiled clothes. The staff would redress his bed later today. They'd probably have their own ideas about what had happened here last night, but he wasn't afraid of a little bit of gossip, and everybody knew he'd been intimate with Loralie before. The twins were living proof of their relationship. It wasn't a giant leap to think that the passion that had once flared between them might have been rekindled by proximity.

Though, if he was being honest, it wasn't just proximity. He'd never stopped dreaming about Loralie. She'd been the only woman to ever capture his heart, and he truly believed she had most likely claimed a little piece of his soul.

He dressed and left his room to find that no urgent messages had come for him overnight. In fact, the reports waiting for him from his Guard Corps told him all was well within the enclave and with the special task force that had been assigned to watch Gebel's ice block.

Loralie was already in the dining room when Det stepped into the doorway and paused to just watch for a moment. She was sitting quietly at one end of the long table while his grandmother held court at the other. Things weren't exactly frosty between the two women, but they weren't warm and cozy either.

Det suspected hearing Penny's testimony last night—especially the way Loralie had come to her daughter whenever possible and taught her things to protect herself while making sure the child knew her mother loved her beyond measure—had probably thawed his grandmother's attitude. At least, a little. But Lady Adain wasn't one to make sudden changes in her life, or in her attitudes. It would take a while for her to warm up to Loralie, if she ever would.

Penny and Petr were sitting on either side of Loralie as she doted on them, buttering their toasted bread and chatting with them in a gentle voice. She was telling them about how her mother used to butter her bread when she was little and teach her about magic.

"What kinds of things would she teach you, Mama?" Petr asked in his piping little voice.

Loralie seemed to think a moment while she took a bite of her own breakfast.

"How to conjure mage lights was an early lesson. Do either of you know how to do that yet?" she asked her babies. Both shook their heads. Loralie looked at Lady Adain. "Is such a thing permissible here, under the Veil?" Loralie asked politely before proceeding.

His grandmother nodded slowly. "It is permissible, but not common. Our mages don't use their powers for frivolous displays."

Loralie sat up straighter, and Det almost intervened. He didn't want his grandmother's words to cause Loralie to take offense, but she looked calm when she replied, so he waited to see what would happen.

"Where I grew up, there was little to no light at night except what we could conjure, milady. It wasn't a matter of frivolousness, but of necessity." Loralie turned back to the children and took one of their little hands in each of hers, holding them out, palms upward, over the table. "Now, watch and feel what I do," she said to the twins before conjuring two balls of magical light in her palms, which were held under the children's hands.

It looked like the light balls were balancing on their littler hands. Then, Loralie slid her hands out from under the children's hands, and the light balls stayed with the twins. Both children had expressions of delight on their faces when they realized they were holding the magic on their own. Within a few moments, though, the light faded and fizzled out. They both looked expectantly at Loralie.

"You felt what I did. Why don't you two try it?" she suggested, smiling encouragement.

Both little faces scrunched up almost identically with concentration as they tried to replicate what their mother had done. Petr managed a small glowing orb within a few seconds, and Penny wasn't far behind. Both children beamed at their own success and their mother's glowing approval. Even Det's grandmother unbent enough to congratulate the kids on their ease with magic.

He'd had no doubt they'd inherited their mother's abilities, but it was still a bit startling to see just how much at ease they were with magic and how powerful they were, even at such a young age. Det had friends among the mages and knew conjuring mage lights wasn't as easy as his children had just made it look. The fact that they'd been able to simply copy what their mother had done with no verbal instruction was also amazing. He'd never heard of such a thing among the mages of the enclave. Loralie's influence was something outside the experience of the mages under the Veil. If his children were going to grow into their powers gracefully, they would need their mother's guidance.

Just as Det was discovering that he needed Loralie… For so many complicated and wonderful reasons. He needed her in his life, in his bed, and in his home—for himself, and their children, if he could possibly swing it. But she had her own ideas, he knew, and they didn't necessarily include him or their children, he was sorry to acknowledge. Her duty was paramount, and while he understood the importance of her duty, he also felt a bit jealous of the fact that she had something in her life that came before him, before the twins, before everything else. Somehow, it didn't seem fair to any of them that she had to consider the good of all the lands first, before her own happiness or that of her family. Just as her mother had done. And probably all of the women who had gone before her who had held the title of Guardian.

She looked up then and caught him watching from the doorway. Her smile held the pride she had in the twins' abilities, happiness at the time spent with the kids, and a special little something just for him. There was an intimate gleam in her eyes that held knowledge of what had gone on between them in the dark of the night, and how much they'd both enjoyed it.

"Good morning children, Loralie, Grandmother," he said as he moved into the room and headed for his place at the table.

His grandmother, as leader of their House, sat at one end of the rectangular table and his place, as the eldest and most highly ranking male of the line, was at the other. Loralie and the children sat on one side.

"Good morning, Papa," the twins chorused.

Lady Adain simply nodded in his direction.

"We should be leaving for the Council Hall within the hour, Detlif," Lady Adain reminded him. "We have much to do today."

"Yes, Grandmother," he agreed readily enough.

He remained standing as his grandmother stood up and took her leave. Breakfast wasn't a terribly formal affair in this household. Especially on days like this when everybody had different schedules to keep and woke up at different times.

Det sat once his grandmother was gone from the room, and he wondered if she had stayed until he arrived so that Loralie would not be alone with the children. If so, that was a troubling sign that bode ill for the future if Loralie remained part of the twins' lives. Of course, his worry could all be for moot. Loralie might well leave and never return, in which case it wouldn't matter what his grandmother thought of her trustworthiness to be alone with her own children. That thought made him sad, but he did his best to hide it as the children showed him the magical lights they'd just learned to make and he made a fuss over their cleverness.

Loralie was complimenting them on their prowess, as well, giving them pointers on how to make different colors, different shapes, and different sizes of magical orbs as the ever-efficient servants brought in Det's breakfast. The children were having the time of their lives, but also learning something important. Out from under the protection of the Veil, the world was much different and being able to conjure your own light source was a very handy skill to have.

His grandmother had been isolated in the enclave for many years, where nothing really bad ever happened, and there was always heat, and light, and warmth. It was different in the outside world, and many of the fair folk who lived in the enclave had not set foot outside in too long a time.

Perhaps his people had been too sheltered. Perhaps living as they did under such strong protection made them less aware of the outside world, and the difficulties of living in it. The warriors went out into the world much more often than anyone else, but even they had their boundaries. Only recently had there been more contact between the fair folk of the enclave and its neighbors. Not that many intrepid souls lived this far north. Just a few villages scattered here and there, quite a distance away, and the manor house that had been in a protected valley which allowed some basic comfort for the people who had settled there.

The biggest thing to happen in recent years was the opening of communication between the enclave and the Kingdom of Valdis. Still, it was only really Luc and Lilly who commuted often between the two locations. They were the envoys, messengers, and ambassadors to each other's lands. They were also a married couple now. The first marriage of an outsider to one of Det's people in centuries.

Things were changing, but perhaps, not rapidly enough. The outside world had gone on without them, and the people of the enclave were going to have to race to catch up. This was an argument he had made several times since Luc's marriage. It had taken his little brother finding the love of his life for Det to wake up and realize that the enclave was not doing itself any favors with its isolationist tendencies. In order to have any effect on the outside world, the fair folk had to be more aware of what was going on outside its borders. Not just watching from afar, but being part of the greater world in a more direct way.

Det ate steadily as he considered these deep thoughts, while Loralie and the children continued playing with their magical orbs of light. When one buzzed by his nose, he looked up and realized he had been far too preoccupied. Loralie was here. In his house. Having breakfast at his table as if she belonged there. In a more perfect world, she would. But his world had always been far from perfect. Especially since he'd met Loralie and fallen in love with her.

"You are both getting very good at that," Det complimented the twins, who giggled happily at their own antics.

"Will you be gone long today, Papa?" Petr asked.

"We have some very important work to do today, Petr. It will take as long as it takes, but I hope to be home for dinner," he told the boy. "Don't you two have lessons today?"

"Yes, Papa," Petr piped up for both of them. He was much more assertive since Penny's arrival, Det was glad to see.

They all heard the particular merry tone of the school bell ringing in the distance. It was the first bell that called all the students of the enclave to go to their respective training halls. Both children got up from the table, leaning in to kiss their mother on the cheek, then raced around to where Det sat to kiss his cheek as well. Then, they ran out together to go to the mage hall for their daily lessons.

"I can just imagine what their teacher will say when they start flinging mage lights around the classroom this morning," Det observed wryly, grinning as he finished his meal.

Loralie frowned a bit. "Should I have told them not to do it except when they are here?"

"No. I'm sure it will be fine. But as my grandmother said, our mages don't often have the need to conjure light. Frankly, I think our children are going to have a different set of skills than the mages of my folk normally develop. They are half-human. Half you, Loralie. And you are mage without equal among humankind."

"It's because my line are Guardians. We were trusted with more magic than most when the wizards left," she explained with a shrug.

"I guess I can see that," Det agreed with a nod as he folded his napkin and prepared to rise from the table. "But that might just send the enclave's mage school into a tizzy. I'm not sure they're ready to handle our twins as they grow into their power."

Loralie joined him as he rose, and they walked out of the dining room together. They both had to be at the Council Hall for the beginning of Gebel's trial.

"Are the Guardians always female?" Det asked as they left the house and began walking toward the hall.

"Yes, as far as I know. I'm not sure if a Guardian has ever had a male child before. That kind of information was kept in the library, which is now encased in ice and has been since I was a teenager."

"When your mother set off the failsafe," he said quietly.