Lee, Sharon - Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon

However, Daav was not.

He spun in a graceful arc, arms extended, as unhurried as if there were no possible danger, swooped the hurtling body out of the air and continued his spin, faster now, the child slung over his shoulder screaming with laughter.

Daav slowed, coming to a halt with his back toward her. Shan grinned at her, blithely upside-down.

“Hi, Aelli.”

“Hi, Shannie,” she returned, over the frenzied pounding of her heart. “Perhaps next time you might consider an approach less fraught with peril. How if your uncle had missed you?”

“Uncle Daav never misses,” Shan said comfortably.

The subject of this encompassing trust gave a shout of laughter, snatched the child off his shoulder and set him upright on his feet.

He dropped to one knee, and peered down into the small face.

“Even the quickest pilot sometimes misses,” he said, seriously. “And it is not at all the thing to be ambushing your kin from the shrubberies.”

Shan frowned uncertainly. “No?”

“No,” Daav said firmly. “Also, you had frightened my pilot, a circumstance of which I am required to take a very dim view, indeed.”

Silver eyes sought hers.

“Were you frightened, Aelli?”

“Yes,” she said, kneeling beside Daav on the grass. “I could see the path of your fall, and I could see that you would strike your head, and that I was too far away to catch you.”

“Oh.” Shan looked down, frowning ferociously.

“You see numbers,” he said at last, looking up again. “Like sparkles.”

She had previously been introduced to the concept of “sparkles,” by which Shan would have one believe that he could see another's emotions. It said much for the change in her circumstances, that she had not found this odd in the least, though he was young, so Anne had told her, to be showing Healing talent.

“Perhaps, a little,” she admitted. “Recall that I cannot compare directly, for I do not see sparkles.”

He nodded, and abruptly bowed.

“Forgive me,” he said formally.

Aelliana inclined her head. “It is forgotten,” she answered properly.

“Very well,” Daav said, rising. “Now, if you please, young pirate, lead us to your parents!”

Their arrival was greeted with embraces, and exclamations about timing and the luck. It transpired that Er Thom had only arrived home himself within the last two-day, and had scarcely, as he told Daav with perfect solemnity, had time enough to sort through his mail.

Shan being returned to the care of his nurse, with whom Daav had a quiet word apart, the adults repaired to the patio overlooking the twilight wild park, where a cold meal was served, over which she and Daav were quizzed on every detail of their trip.

Anne asked the majority of questions, while her lifemate contented himself with studying Daav's face, his displaying what Aelliana could only say was tenderness. It was very much pilot and copilot work, Aelliana thought, though she could not have said for certain who sat which board.

“No more!” Daav protested at last, falling back in his chair and raising his hands, as if in surrender. “You now have every crumb upon which we had hoped to dine out for the next relumma!”

Anne laughed.

“We won't tell a soul,” she promised. “Besides, you know that Lady yo'Lanna refuses to believe anything she hears of you, unless it comes from your own lips.”

“Whereupon she disbelieves it doubly! But, here—turnabout is fair play. Tell us all and everything that has happened to you while we were apart! And mind you tell it well!”

“I'm to be interviewer and interviewee? What will you do?”

“Sip my wine and be entertained,” he retorted. “I hope you don't believe that I memorized that long list of inquiry.”

She laughed, and shook her head, brown eyes dancing.

“If you want it then, laddie, here it is—I was dull and held at home, teaching my classes and playing with my son while Er Thom went out on the route. He came home once, between, and then we were merry.”

“A pleasant tale, if a short one. Brother? Have you nothing with which to embroider this spare narrative?”

“A single thread, I fear, though perhaps it will please.”

He extended a hand to his lifemate, who received it with a smile so brilliant Aelliana felt her eyes tear.

“yos'Galan will soon welcome a second child into the house.”

Anne laughed.

“Don't let him cotton you,” she said. “I'm only just caught, so it's more 'eventually' than 'soon.' ”

A ferocious joy struck Aelliana from across the table, nearly unseating her. Daav being Daav, it was nothing so simple as only joy, no matter how fierce; it carried envy on its back; hope, anticipation, delight, and a single dark stroke of fear.

“The clan increases!” he cried, and it was joy only that informed his face and his voice. “May we reap much delight from Korval's new child!”

They arrived at Jelaza Kazone with the rising of the stars, and went first to the inner garden, walking hand in hand along the flower-choked path, toward the center, and the Tree.

“I see that I shall have to free the pathways,” Daav said, “else random strollers will become engulfed.”

“Do we have many random strollers?” Aelliana asked, letting his happiness marry her own. The result was a gentle euphoria, edged with excitement.

“We do from time to time host gathers, and the garden is of course open to our guests. I will lead here, Pilot, in case there is a savage beast lying in wait . . . ”

He stepped forward without relinquishing her hand and led her safely past a tangle of twigs, leaves glossy and black in the starlight.

When she was able to walk beside him again, she murmured, “I like the garden wild.”

“As I do. I swear that I envision no such pretty tribute to the landscaper's art as we might see in the city. Though they have their place, it is not this place. No, I merely wish to widen the trail so that two may walk abreast.”

They left the path altogether then, and walked across the root-woven grass to the tree. Daav put his free hand flat against the broad trunk, and she did the same.

Immediately, she was aware of warmth, of a sense of welcome, and of a gentle probing, as if the tree asked how did she go on.

“Very well, thank you,” she murmured. “I hope you have not been lonely.”

The leaves directly over her head fluttered, though there was no breeze—laughter, so she thought. Intense focus sizzled along her connection with Daav, and her fingers grew quite warm. She did not pull away, and after a moment the heat faded.

Daav moved, retreating two deliberate steps from the trunk, pulling her with him. From high in the boughs came a clatter of leaf, as if a rock had been thrown from inside the canopy, then two seedpods plummeted out of the Tree, striking the ground precisely—one at Daav's feet; the other at hers.

“It seems we are welcomed home,” Aelliana murmured, bending to retrieve her pod.

“So it does,” Daav murmured. “Shall I open that for you?”

“Please.”

She lifted the first of the neat pieces to her lips, abruptly and ravenously hungry, though the meal with Anne and Er Thom was only recently behind them. Tonight's nut smelled of sweet cedar, the taste . . . If hot and cold were tastes, it would have tasted thus. The first morsel left her hungry for the second; the second for the third, and the fourth—sated her entirely.

Fulfilled, she looked to Daav, who was watching her with a quizzical tilt to his eyebrow.

“Have I forgotten to say that you are a thing of astonishing beauty,” he murmured, “the love of my life and the guiding star of my heart?”

She smiled up at him, shivering with delight. “I believe you may have mentioned it once or twice,” she said. “But how unhandsome! You leave me with no words to say at all, van'chela, only a wish to stay always at your side.”