As it often is with sleep, coming awake to a gentle prod leaves one unsure of where one was, what time it was, and how long one had been asleep.
Blinking awake, I stared dully at two small elven children, twins, in their sleep clothes, looking down at me. They held each other’s hands. Their hair, gold as the sun, was to their shoulders, knotted slightly. Bright blue eyes regarded me. Even without crowns, I knew who these two were, for they looked exactly like their father—the king. I had no clue how I was to greet the highnesses. We’d not covered that in my nobility for arseholes classes.
They were my nephew and niece. I was also unsure of how to feel about them at the moment.
“Shouldn’t you two be in the royal nursery?” I asked, sitting up a bit straighter to get the seat of the unsittable chair under my shoulder blades.
“My brother wanted a book,” the one on the right said. At this age—or perhaps because of my scant knowledge of children—it was impossible for me to know the prince from the princess.
“Ah, well, you’ve come to the right place.” I gave them a smile they didn’t return, nor did they scream in fright. They simplystood there, clasping hands, staring at me as a horse might when seeing a stuffed rabbit in its path. I missed that pony. Dumb as a rock, but a good riding steed for the young Coelum when he was ashore. “May I ask where your nanny and the royal ward protector are right now?”
Prescott snorted roughly, his long lashes fluttering open at the sound of my voice. His happiness at seeing the children flared to life, for he pushed up to hands and knees, then sat back on his rather round arse to clap softly in sheer joy. To their credit, the twins didn’t scream or run off, they just watched us with curiosity in those sapphire Stillcloud eyes. Eyes like mine. Eyes like their lady grandmother as well.
“Nanny is sleeping in her quarters. Guard Tezen is in the barracks. Pixies who chase after heirs to the throne need sleep and lots of ale,” the princess informed me. She seemed to be the talkative twin.
I chuckled and closed the book lying open on my lap. “I’d imagine that to be the case. So how did you two manage to sneak past all the guards to enter the library?”
The prince, a quiet lad, pointed to an alcove beside a side table with quills and inkpots. A small door, the outlines unseeable when closed, I was sure, stood open. Ah, the clever little stinkpots. They were using the servant’s service corridors to scamper about like galley rats in the night. I admired that. Then corrected myself for admiring it, for it was my duty as an adult to discourage such things. Gazing back at the twins—my family—I could understand how dangerous it would be for them to be larking around unsupervised. I’d heard whispers of a kidnapping not that long ago. Still, their ingenuity was impressive.
“Piccolo,” Prescott whispered then mimed blowing on a musical instrument. Spit flying, the miming made the twins giggle softly. They sat down with us. Just dropping down to rest,legs crossed, in front of Prescott. The three of them began an impromptu air concert with invisible flutes and piccolos. Soft toots and tweets filled the air, floating upward, as I tapped my fingers on the back cover of my book. They were not in sync at all.
Grateful the mouth music was soft, for no one wished to have the keeper of the tomes come storming out in his nightgown again, I let the three of them enjoy their tunes until they tired of it. The twins, sitting facing us, fell into a reflective mood for a moment. The princess tipped her head this way and that, seawater-blue eyes tight on my face.
“Mama says you are a comely cup purse scallion.”
I had to laugh. A comely cutpurse rapscallion. I couldn’t deny it. That got me a tangled set of slim golden eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, your mother is quite funny. So, she thinks me a wild onion? Do I look like an onion to you?”
“No. You look like an elf with stubby ears and pretty blue eyes like my papa’s.”
“Do you know why my eyes and your papa’s are the same?” She shook her head, her brother growing bored with our discussion, so he climbed into Prescott’s lap to help the gentle giant whisper-read the bird book. “Well, your father, the king, not your other father, the guard commander, we’re related by blood. He’s my half-brother, which makes me your uncle.”
Her eyes flared. “You look whole to me.”
“Yes, I am wholly whole, and not an onion. A half-brother means we share one parent but not two.” The fire spat and hissed as rain dripped down the flue into the flames.
“Al’fur and I have four parents,” she informed me as her brother’s head came to rest on Prescott’s thick shoulder as they read about swallows. She held up four little fingers. “Mama, Mama, Papa, and Papa.”
“You’re doubly blessed with parents then. I knew only my father when I was little, so growing up with four adults to love and guide you is wondrous.”
“At times.” She sighed in a way far beyond her years. “Sometimes there are too many of them, and they have too many rules.” She wiggled closer on her butt to rest a tiny hand on my knee. “Where is your father now?”
“He passed away last year and now swims at the side of the sea witches,” I said, hoping I’d not pulled the thread and ruined the garment. Perhaps my forthrightness about my familial connection, as well as the mention of the sea witches, would not be appreciated by the queen. I was sure it would not be upon reflection, but that pig was truly out of the poke.
“I am sorry your father is dead. Our great-grandfather went to sit at the side of Ihdos, and we miss him. He gave us soft candy treats and told us stories of our father when he was little.”
“I heard of his passing. I’m sorry for your loss too.”
“Thank you.” She was already so prim and proper. “Who are the sea witches?” Alfina asked just as a rattling wind blasted down the flue, scattering sparks into the fire screen where they flared and then turned to ash.
I thought to answer that the storm winds were the witches as they blew in off the sea, but scaring my niece and nephew—what a novel concept that was—was not on my agenda. I found I rather enjoyed them. Smart little shites they were. Perhaps I felt a strong liking for them because they possessed a tiny bit of mischief in their blood as well as regal bearing. A small shard of devilment like their uncle. Uncle. A nice word indeed.
“The sea witches are powerful sisters who guide and watch over sailors,” I explained, omitting the more gruesome things the daughters of the Nerevahn had wrought on those who displeased them. “Those of us who live on the sea pray to them.”
“Mama says you are a pirate most foul,” Alfina stated.
“I am a pirate, true, but do I seem foul to you?” I asked and got a shake of her gold head. The prince also shook his head, as did Prescott. I had three fans here in the castle. An honor indeed. “Good, because I’m just a sailor who borrows goods from the rich to hand out to the poor. I may keep a very small percentage to feed my crew and buy boots for my feet, but otherwise I’m a kind and conscientious merchant.”
“Are all pirates contentious?” Prince Al’fur asked. Seemed birds were boring compared to pirates. Truth told, we were rather illustrious.
