“Evening, Miss Ellie,” they all said as they passed. “Miss Aly.”
“Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi,” Alysia sang, her arm waving. She was a miracle child. Adopting Oliver had been an easy choice, if they could even call it one. Their sweet boy had adopted them was more accurate, and he’d become theirs so effortlessly, Elloven couldn’t imagine their life any other way. From time to time, she and Jesstin had discussed bringing other orphans into their family. Her work with Daire put many such children in her path. But there were always better placements for them, couples who had been hoping and praying for their own little Oliver to come along and complete their family.
Elloven had never dared to dream for more. She had all she needed, and she’d long given up the fantasy of carrying a child herself after what Fabrien had done to her. But then, just before Oliver turned four, she’d become inexplicably and aggressively ill, enough for Jesstin to nearly lose his mind and send all the way to Whitechurch for a physician. No, it can’t be a child, she’d insisted, but the doctor had exhausted all other manner of examination before asserting there was no other explanation. A few months later, when the little flutters in her belly escalated to jabs, she conceded he may be right, but it was not until she held Alysia’s cooing, wriggling little body in her arms that she’d accepted the impossible had become reality.
She slipped outside into the busy night, nodding at their two guards on her way to the building two doors down, which Jesstin had purchased for her a year after their marriage. He’d carved and hung the sign himself—The Bellessa-Gennady Trust—and though it was Elloven’s foundation, he poured plenty of time and funding into the efforts as well. There’d been far more disenfranchised young women in need of aid than even they’d guessed, and within months, she’d brought Daire on as a partner to help. Wyat had offered his time to tutor in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and Endeara taught them valuable trade skills such as sewing and baking. Rhiain offered instruction on self-defense monthly, and Caterina’s blacksmith husband, Percy, forged protective weapons for anyone who wanted one. Others from the family filtered in and out as they could.
“Auntie,” Wyat said at the door, kissing her cheeks. “And Aly!”
“Wyat!” Alysia shrieked, her arms outstretched. Elloven passed her daughter over, shaking her head.
“She’s all Mama, Mama, Mama until cousin Wyat shows up.” She laughed. “Everything well here? I thought you and Endeara would’ve left by now.”
“I’d say.” Wyat shifted Alysia to one arm and gestured into the large, central room. “I have some happy news to share. Lola got the apprenticeship at Farrah’s Mending. They offered boarding through the training, and if the assignment goes well, she’ll be able to rent the room for a reduced fee.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I had a feeling it would work out.”
He nodded modestly, but pride colored his cheeks. “I never doubted it. Also, Ellen sent off her application to the universities this morning. I’ve never seen someone so nervous paying a courier. Market Day is at the end of the week, so the others are busy working on their submissions. Did I tell you Viola may go train with my father? I hope she does. The world needs more women blacksmiths.”
“If only the world agreed,” Elloven said. “Percy is a rare man, Wyat. You both are. Daire and I are sad to lose you and Endeara soon, but you’ve both done so much, and we couldn’t have done it without you.”
Wyat flushed darker. “And about that, Aunt El, I’ve made arrangements with the archminister that when I take over Grandfather’s old assignment at the Reliquary, I’ll only be providing half my time there, so I can still give the trust the other half.”
Elloven squeezed his shoulder. “That’s very thoughtful but unnecessary. You petitioned so hard for them to revive the office of the dealer. That’s your passion.”
“So is this.” When he smiled, he resembled his grandfather, Asterin. “Endy is just straightening up in the back and then we’ll be ready. Mind if I show this one something while we wait?” He gave Alysia a playful bounce in his arms.
“You’re sure it’s the right time?” she asked.
She knew about the black bunny Wyat had rescued from a ditch after the last storm, but she had asked him to wait until he was certain the poor creature would survive before introducing it to the children, who would immediately ask to keep it. Rabbits were food, not pets, Jesstin had said when she’d told him, but it hadn’t taken much persuasion to change his perspective.
“Sure as I’ll ever be.”
“Go on then,” she said. “I’ll wait here.”
When they were gone, Elloven settled onto her favorite chair by the fire with a contented sigh. She surveyed the well-worn room, filled with imprints of everyone who had passed through on their way to a better life. It was a rare moment to be alone anymore, but she no longer feared the silence or the unknown.
Elloven Skylark had been to the netherworld, cheated death, and conquered her demons, but not by herself. She would never truly be alone.
The love surrounding her was all the magic she needed.
In this life and the next.
Oliver went running toward the carriage before it had even stopped. Jesstin had hardly swung the door open before his son leaped in, chattering about the latest language Uncle Sesto and Uncle Asterin were teaching him.
“I’m ready to work, Papa. I told them to put me to work,” Oliver said proudly.
“Are you?” Jesstin waited for the others to exit and jumped onto the dirt. “Don’t want to wait a few years, until you’re done with your toys?”
“Toys are for children,” Oliver said with a stuttered blink he’d learned from Jesstin, who had picked up from Gennady. “Like Aly.”
Elloven stood a few feet away, watching in amusement. Jesstin grinned at her. “Oh, so we can give Alysia all your toys then? You won’t mind?”
“No, because my toys are for boys and her toys are for girls.”
“Do you want to know a secret?”
Oliver nodded exuberantly.
