“Ireland was beautiful,” Ophelia said as they all sat around a large table, working to construct the paper lanterns that Genevieve and Elspeth had decided on for part of the ball décor. “Cold, of course, and rainy. But we were in the country, and I’ve never seen a greener place. After Faelad vouched for us, the locals were very hospitable and kind. It was a rather difficult adjustment, getting used to heightened senses and the discomfort that comes with a change,” Ophelia admitted. “But Faelad was able to explain most of what to expect, and the other werewolf was in residence to help me when I was…not myself.”
“Otherwerewolf?” Evangeline questioned, her hands pausing in her work.
“Yes, there are only two Ossory werewolves, you see. It is a condition passed on from one to another. Only ever two,” Ophelia explained. “I got the impression that we were not the only two people in the world who become wolves, but that this…strain…is a little different.” She shifted in her chair. “I can’t say any more without violating the promise I made to keep their secrets.”
“Of course not,” Elspeth assured her.
“Oh, but surely, you can tell us what it’s like to run around as a wolf?” Addie asked, her eyes shining with hope.
“It’s not something that is easy to put into words. There’s a lot of smelling involved, more than I ever expected. And very few words. Lots of ear movement and tail flicking for communication. But oh…” Ophelia sighed. “I have never felt like such a singer as when we howled. It felt like… Well, it felt like the music of the spheres because we howled to the moon. We spent the majority of the two months in Ireland and then traveled back to Yorkshire. Salem and I could have married in Ireland, but I wanted Marie-Claire to be there. It was a lovely ceremony, even if it was in her parlor at evening.” She blushed, and the rest of the table smiled knowingly. “And soon she will have her baby. She’s threatened to make Salem and me godparents.” A little smile played at the corner of her mouth.
“How lovely,” Genevieve said quietly.
Ophelia looked up and met her eyes in a moment of understanding. For who knew what werewolves were capable of, but Ophelia had married a vampire, and there would be no children for such a union. No children for any of them.
But it was not quite true, was it? Because what was Fletcher if not her boy? She stared at the half-complete paper lantern in her hands. She had an endless life, unless someone put a period to her existence, or the Lord came again to bring everything to completion. And there were so many children who needed a home.
She tucked that thought away for further reflection with Kendrick.
“Speaking of marriage, how should we address you?” Addie asked.
Ophelia laughed. “I don’t know. Salem has told me what his name was before, but he does not want to go back to that. And it isn’t very flattering, to be honest. I don’t really relish remaining a Shaw, though.”
“No, you get to set that aside! No more of that.”
“Faelad offered his name, which was sweet of him,” Ophelia said. “But I think he mostly did it to see the look on Salem’s face. I’ve never seen such a mixture of chagrin and outrage.” She chuckled.
“It is a conundrum,” observed Genevieve. “Kendrick said I could choose a new name for us going forward. I picked Stewart. Perhaps you could discuss something similar.”
“What would it be for us, though?” Ophelia frowned.
“Well, I wanted something symbolic,” Genevieve said apologetically. “Stewart comes from the roots ‘stig,’ which means house, and ‘weard,’ which means guard. And it had the added benefit of signaling a shift in how we were ruling the Ossuary. Not cruel overlords, but stewards. Poor Elspeth was subjected to all my choices beforehand. You, however, could simply choose something that you both liked.”
“Isn’t it so funny how some vampires are perfectly content using the names they were born with,” Evangeline said quietly, “yet others reinvent themselves totally? Dominic finds the practice quite ridiculous.”
“Many do it to puff themselves up,” Addie said. “But I know Salem did it because he felt he had become so changed from the person he had been before, he needed a new name.”
“Due to trauma,” Ophelia murmured.
“Exactly so,” Genevieve said, thinking of Sparrow. “A name change of any sort is quite normal—we have just said that even human women do it to signal a change of identity. It’s far more important what that change is. Who you are becoming.”
And who have we become, by taking on the mantle of Mr. and Mrs. Stewart?she thought.People to be proud of, I hope. A name to wear with honor.
Just before sunrise, after she and Kendrick had said good morning to the human staff and were readying for bed, Genevieve remarked, “You know, I like Salem and Ophelia so much.”
“I thought you would.” Kendrick picked upThe Dragon of Langsey Isle. They had decided to savor the experience of reading one of Genevieve’s father’s books for the very first time together. They were about to start chapter five.
“We all fussed over Blaze,” Genevieve said, marveling. “He didn’t mind it a bit. Wulfric was by turns growling and wagging his tail. It was so funny to see.” She pulled the covers back and got into bed. “I’m so glad they came.”
“I am too. I hadn’t much hope for their coming. It was an unlooked-for boon.” Kendrick took her hand and kissed it, meeting her eyes. “You were right to invite them, Wife. You always are.”
“I don’t know about that,” Genevieve said, demurring. “The ball is nearly upon us, and I’m not sure all will be ready. Or if anyone will come.” She twisted the covers in her hands.
Kendrick laid a hand over hers. “All will be well,” he assured her.
She sat up straight and quickly pecked him on the lips. “Thank you for your faith in me. It’s a comfort.”
“Love, you never have to thank me for that,” Kendrick murmured, capturing her lips in a longer, deeper kiss that sent sparks flowing through her. He rubbed his nose against hers before opening the book and beginning to read.
