Her mother had good taste, Kira saw. The robe a delicate weaving of the finest silk. The pattern a work of art in and of itself.
Belongings were scattered throughout the rest of the room. Small things that pointed at the occupants’ personalities. A variety of weapons mounted on the walls that must belong to her father except for the pair of daggers whose hilts looked like they were made from a butterfly’s wings.
Those would be her mother’s, Kira guessed.
There was a small replica of one of Roake’s battleships in the process of being assembled on a table in the corner. The pieces still arranged in neat little lines as if waiting for someone to finish putting them together.
Her parents had been neat but not immaculate. The room had a lived-in feel even after all this time. As if waiting for its owners return.
A picture of Liliana and Harding was hung on the wall. The image of her father was of a younger, less rigid version of Harlow. Love radiated from his gaze as he stared at the side of her mother’s face.
Kira resembled him. Her mother too—in the eyes and her smile. But Harding was the one who’d donated most of her looks.
They seemed happy.
They were happy. It was written in every line of their features. Whatever their ending had been, they’d lived a good life.
If nothing else, that was a source of comfort as Kira crossed the floor. Their lives weren’t filled with only tragedy. They’d laughed and they’d loved and made a million good memories between the two of them.
Kira’s only regret was that she didn’t get a chance to make any of those memories with them.
The sight of a bassinet in the corner stopped her in her tracks. Other items intended for babies were arranged neatly around the bassinet. A bookcase with toys already put in their homes. Play stations with soft rugs meant for a baby’s knees.
Above the bassinet was the Tuann version of a mobile. Lu-ong swam together, rotating through various poses when Kira pushed the mobile. Light caught their scales, creating a shimmering pattern that would probably have left a baby enthralled.
It took a lot of time and effort for the artisan who had carved this. Care and love were embedded in every inch of the mobile, showing the level of thought they’d put into this area.
Kira hovered over the bassinet, staring at the tiny blanket crumpled inside. Hesitant, she reached for it, picking it up to stroke the material. It was soft except for the slightly raised ridges along one corner.
Embroidery, she found as she investigated further, tracing the lines someone had stitched into the blanket.
Whoever had done them had struggled. The lines slightly wobbling and the pattern a little crooked.
Her fingers encountered a round object that gave slightly under her touch.
A hologram formed over the bassinet. Her mother leaned over something in her hand, the blanket Kira held, her face full of love as she pulled a needle free of the fabric.
“Are you working on that again?” a man teased from out of sight.
Harding moved into view, dropping a kiss onto Liliana’s head as he gently touched her round stomach.
“Don’t tell me you’re recording again.”
Harding flashed her a grin that was a replica of Kira’s own, unaffected by the faint note of rebuke. “I want our child to know she is loved.”
Liliana rolled her eyes. “How will she ever forget with how much you are sure to spoil her?”
Harding leaned one hip on Liliana’s chair, his arm sliding behind her as he touched the embroidery. “No more than you, my heart. It’s a fine name you’ve picked for our daughter.”
“Do you think she’ll like it?”
So much love shone from Harding’s face as he leaned forward to kiss his wife. “She couldn’t ask for a better one.”
The hologram stopped. Liliana and Harding’s foreheads pressed together as they looked down at Liliana’s handiwork.
“I still don’t know what name they gave me.” Kira held up the blanket. “I can’t read Tuann.”
In the last months she’d learned to speak it fluently, but she hadn’t quite progressed to the level of reading. Jin had always been there for that.
