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“Gods, please stop that.” Tomas snatches Gavan out of the air from where he sits across from me in the carriage. We use their Brasport names, as we don’t know who is who yet.

“I’ve thrown you off a tower; you’ve jumped off a balcony because you knew I could catch you. Holding a baby up in the air really isn’t anything to worry about.”

But worry he has; hence, we took a carriage from Brasport to Lambridge so the little ones could sit in our laps. “I know, but they aren’t even ours.”

Ours. Someday, there will be babies who are. The sight of him sitting here being protective over these two as we bounce along the road is enough to make me want to slip onto his lap and expedite that. A smile rises unbidden to my lips. “So, you’ll approve of me cradling our own children in the air?”

“If you must.”

“Well, only having one at a time would make this easier. Perhaps it won’t be necessary.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “As if you only use magic when it’s necessary.”

I brush a breeze around his neck to prove his point, and his eyes flash with a promise to return the touch and more. Fortunately, we’ll be alone again soon. The carriage comes to a stop, and Tomas hands me both boys so he can step out. He makes his way to the house while an attendant helps me out—unnecessary though it may be.

Breda’s gaze meet mine from where she speaks to Tomas by the door, and her face pales. Words appear to gush from her mouth as her eyes plead with him. There’s no need to pull the air to hear her. She doesn’t want to see me ever again—my presence will always be a reminder of her son’s death.

I pad toward them, but she doesn’t look at me again. She keeps her gaze down as she says, “I mean no disrespect, Your Grace—”

“There is none. No need to worry about my feelings.”

“I can’t keep reliving my losses.” She sniffles and wipes her eye.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Tomas says.

“You said you need to talk to me about George.”

“Yes, because we’re bringing him back to you.” Tomas gestures toward me, and I step to his side. His hand warms the small of my back.

“Strange magic was involved in George’s disappearance,” I say. “The clock of his life was reversed.”

She looks down at the babies, one cradled in each of my arms. Her eyes focus in on Gavan’s face, and her jaw drops. “Holy gods.” Her chest heaves as she takes him from me with trembling hands. “George. My baby.” Tears pour down her cheeks as she hugs him tightly and sobs openly.

Tomas takes hold of her elbow lest she collapse and leads her inside.

In Breda’s state, I’m not sure how much she comprehends about the situation. Even if she weren’t overcome with emotion, it’s a difficult thing for any of us to understand. Still, we explain as best we can, little Parick curled up in my arms all the while.

You will be quite the surprise for your family. I imagine Richard will enjoy teaching his grandfather how to walk and run and play. We’ll have repaired as much as we can, then it’s on to our new lives as the future Queen and King of Alchos.

Chapter fifty-seven

Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s all I focus on as Lucy weaves my hair into an elaborate style. The braids have braids within them, and I’m certain my hair has multiplied during the process, because there appears to be more of it than usual. Perhaps it’s the sheer number of pins that give that illusion.

“There,” Lucy says as she places a final one then steps back to admire her work.

“It’s perfect,” Mother says from her spot on the chaise next to Nina.

I step behind the dressing screen, and Lucy follows, cradling the gown with tender care. Stepping into it somehow makes the entire thing feel real. She lifts it up, and I slide my arms into the sheer sleeves. I’ve often found tightly drawn gowns confining, but as Lucy pulls the lacings, it feels like an embrace, as if the dress could keep me together and upright. When she’s finished, I run my hands down over the golden boning and straps crisscrossing the bodice and lay the gold chains across my chest so they’re spread just right.

Mother gasps when I return to her view. “Oh, Arabella. You already look like a queen.”

“It suits you.” Nina looks genuinely happy. Who would have thought it possible?

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready?” Mother asks.

“I suppose so.”