“I’ll take it back!” Illia warned, grinning too broadly to look very insulted.

Seregil hugged her. “Oh no you won’t! The first flake of snow I see, I’m putting this on until spring.”

“It’s because of all those stories you told me, how cold it was at that cabin you lived in. If you ever go off like that again, you can take these!”

Alec kissed her. “Thank you. And as it happens, we have some surprises, too.”

He went into the dining room and retrieved two little silk-wrapped parcels from the top of the painted plate chest. Returning, he knelt down in front of the boys. “You first!”

Two pairs of eyes widened-Luthas’s the same blue as Cilla’s had been, Gherin’s the same hazel as Micum’s.

“Presents?” lisped Gherin. The shyer of the two, he hung back while Luthas boldly reached for the parcels.

The coverings were loose and quickly cast aside, and both boys crowed happily over the brightly painted toy dragons. Alec had tried to give them toy bows on their last visit, but Kari had put her foot down firmly.

“Give me a few years before you go putting weapons in their hands!” she’d scolded. “Besides, they’ll only put out each other’s eyes with the damn things.”

Alec had had a bow in his hands for as long as he could remember, but he honored her wishes.

“I see you over there, pretending you don’t care for presents,” Seregil said to Illia. “Or are you too old for such things, now?” It was a long-standing game between them.

“Oh, I don’t care!” she replied with a coy smile, twisting this way and that to make her striped skirt twirl.

“Well, then, what am I to do with this?” Seregil wondered, pulling a small box from the air with practiced sleight of hand.

Illia’s dark eyes lit up. “Is it something magic?”

“Not this time, I’m afraid. But if you give me a kiss, I’ll show it to you.”

Illia skipped over to Seregil and sat on his knee to kiss him.

“Alec and I used to promise you necklaces of dragons’ tongues and eyeballs. Do you remember?”

“You didn’t bring me any of those!” She wrinkled her nose comically eyeing the box with distrust. “Did you?”

“You’ll have to look to find out.”

Illia opened the box and lifted out a pair of tiny, tear-shaped pearl earrings. “Oh, Uncle!” she cried, throttling him with an excited hug.

“A young lady old enough to attend a Royal Progress ought to have suitable jewels, don’t you think?” Seregil asked, chuckling. “And I did notice on our last visit that you had your ears pierced. Alec has a gift for you, too.”

“My lady.” Alec presented her with the necklace to match-three matching pearls on a little gold chain.

“You spoil my children,” Micum said, laughing. “Proper uncles, both of you.”

Alec bent to fasten on the necklace. “Stop squirming.”

“I’m too excited!” Illia exclaimed. “We’re going to see the queen, and Beka’s coming home for Mourning Night!”

The chain slipped from Alec’s fingers, and the necklace slithered into the girl’s lap. “She’s coming back from Aurënen?”

“You mean you haven’t heard?” asked Micum. “We had a letter from her last month. Her Urghazi Turma is on border duty above Cirna right now.”

“And Thero?”

“On his way back to the city, last I heard.”

“But not Klia?” asked Alec.

“Not yet. She’s with your sister in Bôkthersa for the winter. A new guard was sent to replace Urghazi Turma.”

“Under whose command?”

“That I don’t know. You mean you haven’t had any word of this?”

Alec shared a worried look with Seregil.

“Maybe they wanted to surprise you,” Illia offered. “Oh dear, and now I’ve spoiled it, haven’t I? But I didn’t tell the other part, did I, Mother?”

“Other part?” asked Alec.

“Beka’s married,” Micum told him. “I believe you know the fellow. A ’faie she met down there, name of Nyal.”

“Our interpreter.” Alec shook his head, smiling. “Well, that’s not much of a surprise. I think you’ll like him.”

“I know I will,” said Illia. “Beka says he’s very handsome!”

Seregil gave her a wink. “He is, indeed.”

“But you mustn’t let on that we told you.”

Seregil fastened the necklace, then swung her around until she giggled. “Don’t you fret, little bird. The joke will be on them when we meet again. Come, let’s go see what Cook’s got for supper.

Seregil kept up a cheerful façade through dinner, but his mind was already turning over possibilities suggested by this new development. This sudden change of bodyguard boded ill for Klia, and Thero would certainly be concerned about it. Why hadn’t he sent word? Phoria had left her popular half sister in unofficial exile all this time, when every good commander was needed in the field. Now she’d stripped her of her trusted entourage and wizard? He began to suspect that Klia’s “visit” with his sister was a strategic withdrawal into friendlier territory.

After dinner they gathered around the hearth in the salon again, Kari and Illia with their knitting, Micum with his pipe.

“Uncle Seregil, why doesn’t the queen like her sister?” Illia asked, looking up from the stocking she was working on.

“Well, they are only half sisters, you know. Klia and her two late brothers were the children of Queen Idrilain’s second consort. And besides, not all sisters get along as well as you and Beka and Elsbet.”

“But why?” Illia persisted.

“It’s not polite to talk about the royal family’s business,” her mother told her. “Tend to your stitches now, and count for the slips. If you don’t turn that heel properly, you’ll give poor Beka blisters.” Kari had been around Watcher business for most of her life and had a good sense of when a conversation wasn’t for young ears.

Alec had somehow ended up on the floor and provided a welcome distraction as he let the two little boys crawl delightedly over him, pulling his hair and wrestling him down onto the rushes. He let them win for a while, then tickled them until they shrieked with laughter and Illia forgot her newfound dignity and joined the fray in their defense. The dogs watched from a safe distance, heads on paws, following the tussle with alert yellow eyes.

Alec had a soft heart for children, and it was never more apparent than around the Cavishes. Seregil had often wondered at that, since Alec had no brothers or sisters of his own, and his father had been a wanderer, never settling anywhere long enough for Alec to make any real friends. Gherin was sitting on Alec’s back now, taking his braid to pieces and Alec laughingly submitted, like an indulgent older brother.

Or a father, thought Seregil. An ordinary, full-blood human of Alec’s age, especially a Dalnan, would have married and fathered a child or two by now.

Seregil was generally very good at not thinking about things that displeased or discomforted him; he’d had a lifetime of practice at that. But when those discomforting things involved Alec, they were harder to put out of his mind.

It was baffling, and not a little annoying, this breach of control.

A touch on his shoulder pulled him from his uneasy thoughts. Micum stood over him, with a look of understanding Seregil wanted no part of. But all he said, with his usual tact, was, “What do you say to a few games of cards? It’s been a while since I’ve taken your money. My purse is feeling a bit light.”

“It’ll be lighter when I’m done with you,” Seregil warned.

“Aren’t we cocky tonight?”

Alec joined them, then Kari, when she’d put the children to bed.

Grateful for the distraction, Seregil threw himself wholeheartedly into the game, and managed to win without cheating much at all.

“I can’t believe no one wrote to us!” Alec grumbled as he and Seregil readied for bed that night.

“Who says they didn’t?” Seregil countered as he sat naked on their wide bed, combing the day’s snarls from his hair.