Valgar
Quincy’s dogs had been around their rooms and their daughter since she’d been born, so it was unexceptional to see her sitting on the floor with them nuzzling close.
At first, he’d been somewhat concerned, but it was clear they somehow understood she was a child, not reacting if she slapped them or pulled at their ears.
What was new this afternoon was that Lelth stretched her tiny fist towards a bright red scarf of Mar’s she had become obsessed with, and Xam took it in his mouth and deposited it on her lap to lots of enthusiastic babbling.
He observed for a while longer, but there was nothing else telling. Even so, he sent for his mates—not through the bond, which might have alarmed them, simply sending Revel to fetch them.
“Would my lord like to order a bath for the child once she is done being slobbered on?” His old servant asked dryly.
Valgar didn’t look away from his daughter. “No need, since she will go right back to it the moment our back is turned.”
The door clicked shut and Valgar lowered himself by her side, touching her tiny shoulder. Lelth looked up and chirruped happily, so when Quincy came in, he had her on his lap, playing horsey to enthusiastic giggling.
His omega looked amused when Valgar met his eyes. “I see my Lord is busy with his duties.”
Valgar ignored the teasing this time, although he had plenty of ammunition of his own; Quincy might not have wished for a child, but he’d been besotted with Lelth from day one and getting more so as she grew older and capable of more than sleeping, eating and being the most gorgeous creature ever to grace the earth with her presence.
“Yes.” He said, barely able to hold back a smile. “I hope I am not seeing what I wish to see, because in truth I had not considered it possible at all, but...” He licked his lips. “I think she is talking to them. I saw Xam fetch her the red scarf just now.”
Quincy’s joy was immediate and incandescent in the bond, only pulled back at the last minute from his twitching lips. He’d softened in the year he’d spent in Saran, but his previous life had left a mark that would not fade completely. “But she’s too young. It’s not...”
Mar found the three of them on the floor, with Quincy talking to the dogs and listening for Lelth intervening.
But she was too young for speech so all they managed was to get slobbered on as well.
Mar wisely opted to watch from an armchair until Revel showed up to announce it was the young lady’s bath time.
Quincy was cautious, but he could think of no other explanation for what had happened.
Xam was an intelligent animal, raised as he’d been by someone who could stimulate him to expand his horizons beyond instinct, but Quincy did not believe him capable of learning Lelth’s preference when it’d been only a week since she’d formed it at all.
Valgar did not insist, even if in his gut, he could barely contain his relief. Multiple gifts were the purview of mythical figures, not real people, and her youth could only mean her strength would be impressive.
***
IT WAS MAR WHO brOUGHT up the matter three days later. They were at breakfast, talking of what they expected to accomplish that day.
“What would it mean for her right to inheritance?”
Quincy stiffened, and Mar reached for his hand like she’d felt it—sometimes Valgar wondered if in some way, they were forming a bond of their own.
“I do not mean to question it, you must know that. But the council—”
“The council will want a water mage at the helm,” Quincy responded, low and bitter. “An alpha man if they can manage it.”
And enough was enough. “All this means is that she will not be asked to fight,” Valgar told them and startled himself with the willpower behind it. “I—” He shook his head. “No, I will not apologise, not for this. She is my daughter; I have every right to defend her.”
Mar raised an eyebrow at him.
Valgar huffed. “Yes, I know they aren’t here. But I need you both to believe me when I tell you that I will find a way. Lelth is my heir and whether she is gifted or not, that will not change.”
“And the war?” his lady pressed.
He could not think what to say to that. If he or anyone had ever seen any path but forward, the bloody war would not have chewed up and spit out the bones of his whole family for three generations to no real gain.
“Perhaps it is no accident.” Quincy sounded thoughtful now. “Water has not done it, neither have fire, earth or air. What if it’s another gift that’s needed?”
Valgar stared at him, remembering his own thoughts regarding the Veolians’ choice of leadership.
Quincy dropped his eyes, retreating in the bond as well, so Valgar moved slowly as he reached for his free hand. “Perhaps. I have not heard of a child so young showing signs of a gift before, and... What could an animal speaker do if she were trained from infancy?”
“You said she wouldn’t have to fight,” Quincy said quietly, grey eyes wide and pleading.
“Of course not,” he promised. “Never that.”
It was Mar, naturally, who found the bravery to speak the words of hope he was too afraid to. “Perhaps not fighting is precisely what is needed. I have seen you command dogs and horses to follow instructions without supervision. Could you do that with wild beasts? What about whales?”
Quincy’s surprise was tinged with incredulity, but he did not immediately reject it as out of hand.
“Well, actually, there is a story about my great-great grandmother. They say she spoke to wolves. She... It sounds absurd, but they say she got them to find a child lost in the forest for her. It might only be a story, though, people do love to exaggerate.”
“Old wives’ tales you call them, don’t you?” Mar asked in her smooth Veolian.
Their partner softened at once at the sound of his native language. Valgar should brush up on his own language skills, he had been spoiled by Quincy’s and Mar’s fluency in his own tongue.
“Yes.”
“Well,” Mar went on. “I have met many old wives, and they usually remember exactly what they should. They don’t have to care about being believed like scholars or high priests, so they only care about whether something will get them and their families through the winter.”
Valgar could feel Quincy’s blooming hope in his chest, or maybe it was his own.
“Just think of it this way,” he suggested slowly, turning his hand to take his lady’s and close the circle. “It is not for us to say what will come, but if Lelth has your gift, what would we do but nurture it?”
Quincy was already nodding, his heart racing, a bird about to take flight.
And Valgar had to tug them both to their feet, sidestepping until he could bring them into his arms. They held on for a long time, and yet he would have asked for a few moments longer if it had not been for their daughter’s cries demanding their attention.
For her, he would do anything.
[The end]