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Farrendel gave a sigh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t understand why his son preferred something made of stone over wood.

The stone tree was perfectly smooth, its branches rounded so that there were no sharp tips for Fieran to hurt himself. Even the top of the stone tree was extra pudgy, the whole thing looking like a dumpy, squat tree rather than a tall spindly thing, so that Fieran couldn’t jam it into his mouth so far that he choked. The stone itself was laced with Melantha’s magic so that it would not harm Fieran.

It was convenient that Fieran liked his stone toys. They had a small healing stone that they secured to his ankle whenever they entered Winstead Palace, just to be on the safe side. Instead of fighting them when they put it on, Fieran acted like it was some challenging game to twist around to put the stone at his ankle in his mouth.

Nose wrinkling, Farrendel plucked at his shirt, holding a large, damp section away from his skin. It smelled of sour milk, and had the clumpy, off-white look of baby spit up.

She could tell him that maybe Fieran wouldn’t spit up so much on him if he didn’t hang him upside down, but she didn’t. Fieran enjoyed it too much, and he spit up on her while right side up just as much, so it likely didn’t make a difference. “Do you need to go shower?”

While Farrendel was better at tolerating messes than he had been, his anxious need to be clean was still there. How long it took depended on how good a day he was having.

Farrendel released his shirt, lifting his head as if forcing himself to ignore it. “Not yet.”

Fieran’s eyes—a blue that was darker than the silver-blue of Farrendel’s eyes—flicked between them at the sound of their voices. He continued industriously gumming the tree. Half of it was now thoroughly covered with slobber, and a glob of drool worked its way down Fieran’s cheek.

Essie reached out and tickled Fieran’s stomach, the fabric of his elven-style shirt and trousers soft and silken beneath her fingers. He smiled around the stone tree, kicking his tiny little legs.

Their son. She still couldn’t get over his perfect little toes, tiny little fingers, and, most of all, his adorable little elf ears that even now were visible through the short strands of the red hair for which he had been named.

That red hair. It stuck up in several inches of the most untamable floof imaginable. No amount of water could get it to lie flat. Nope, her son was a little elf wild child.

Essie could feel Farrendel’s growing tension in the muscles of his shoulder. She reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers. “What are you worrying about this morning?”

“His future.” Farrendel held out his hand and released a cascade of gentle, magical sparks over Fieran.

Fieran dropped the tree and stretched for the sparks. He closed his fist around one, the spark fizzling out before he had even fully closed his fingers. Not deterred, Fieran stuffed his whole fist into his mouth.

“What about his future?” Essie tickled Fieran’s toes as he reached for another spark, his whole face puckering as if in confusion that he couldn’t seem to get the sparks into his mouth before they disappeared.

“I know how hard it was, being different. I had the taint of being illegitimate always hanging over me.” Farrendel sighed, reaching out to brush his fingers over the top of Fieran’s poof of red hair. “Fieran is half-elf, half-human. He will always be torn between two kingdoms, two peoples, and never fully fit in with either one of them. It will not be easy.”

No, it wouldn’t. And she didn’t want to just tritely brush aside that concern. “I know. It will be up to us to prepare him as best we can and teach him about both sides of his heritage. We will provide him with an abundance of love so that he always knows he can find shelter and safety with family, even when everything else is hard. I know that there are things we won’t be able to predict or prepare for. And we likely won’t ever really understand what he goes through, being elf and human as he is. But we will love each other and love him, and that is the best thing we can do, in the end.”

Farrendel nodded, though he didn’t look at her. He pinched the stone tree at a yet unslobbered part and handed it back to Fieran.

Fieran’s eyes widened, as if he had never seen that stone tree before in his life, and grabbed it, turning it over in his tiny fingers to study it, before stuffing the stone back into his mouth.

Essie turned to better face Farrendel, touching his cheek. “Besides, he will not be alone in facing that struggle, more than likely. If he does get any more cousins, all of them will either be elf and troll, human and troll, or human and elf. Only Ryfon, Brina, Bertie, and Finn are fully elf or fully human.”

Finally, the hint of a smile creased Farrendel’s face. “True. At least Fieran will not have the burden of inheriting a crown, as Rharreth’s and Melantha’s child will someday. He can be in the public eye as often or as little as he wishes.”

“Exactly.” Essie didn’t mention that Fieran would also be titled and wealthy enough to never have to worry for anything a day in his life. She might be an optimist who saw the world through naïve, rose-colored glasses, but she was realistic enough to know that titles and riches would make Fieran’s life much easier than that of a half-elf, half-human born to peasant parents, just as Farrendel’s title had erased many of the barriers he would have normally faced due to the stigma of illegitimacy.

It was natural as a parent to worry. But Essie had to believe that Fieran would be all right. He would grow up well-loved and find his place, just as she and Farrendel had. Farrendel would be there for him, when he came into his magic and had to learn to handle the immense power. She would be there to smother him with hugs and kisses until she embarrassed him.

Fieran’s face puckered again, and he waved his arms, giving the first sniffling cries that meant he was hungry. The stone tree flew from his slobber-slick hand, sailing far enough that it nearly hit Mustache. The cat scrambled away and raced the length of the porch before he jumped onto the railing, settling with huffy dignity into a patch of sunlight.

“Time to feed him again.” Essie straightened, letting go of Farrendel’s hand.

“Then I will shower.” Farrendel jumped to his feet. After hesitating a moment, he peeled off his shirt, pinching it with two fingers and holding it away from him as if it was contaminated with a deadly substance.

But, instead of dashing away to wash away the baby spit, Farrendel leaned over, cupped Essie’s face with his free hand, and kissed her, the strands of his long silver-blond hair falling around them.

Essie rested her hand on the bare skin of his chest, over the patchwork of scars and the fierce heart of a warrior that beat beneath, and kissed him back, trying to ignore the way Fieran’s cries were building into a scream for just a moment longer.

Farrendel broke off their kiss with a wince, his head leaning sideways. Dropping his soiled shirt to the floor, he picked up Fieran, who had grabbed a fistful of Farrendel’s hair and was tugging at it, alternating between stuffing the ends in his mouth and scream-crying.

Holding the baby out as far as he could with Fieran still clutching his hair, Farrendel gave him a pretend stern look. “You do not respect an elf warrior’s hair as you ought. Thanks to you, I am thinking about chopping it off again.”

Fieran’s cries halted for just a moment, huge tears rolling down his face, before he went back to wailing, tugging even harder on Farrendel’s hair.

“He’s a baby. I don’t think he’s going to listen to you.” Essie stifled a laugh as she pushed to her feet. Fieran’s cries tugged at her heart, even though she knew he was perfectly fine.

“Worth a try. We are supposed to be teaching him about his heritage, after all.” Farrendel held Fieran out to her, his head still tilted under Fieran’s yanking. “Could you?”

She laughed and reached to disentangle their son’s small, but surprisingly strong fingers from her husband’s hair.