Epilogue
Two years later
Ash’s solar had, these past few months, descended entirely into chaos.
He leaned against the desk, piled high with papers, as Raff and Penn cooed over the baby at the other side of the room.
They had been showing her the horses riding away through the window, but Marion had been far more interested in taking Penn’s curly hair in her chubby hands and trying to pull it out.
‘Is my little Onion behaving herself?’ Olly asked, as Penn yelped.
‘No,’ Penn said, as the baby tugged at his hair, resolutely refusing to let go.
‘This is what happens when she has not seen her favourite uncles in such a terribly long time,’ Olly said, without helping. ‘It is because she misses you.’
Penn hummed. ‘Raff, would you—’
Raff took Marion, extracting her from Penn’s hair. Penn stood up straight with a sigh of relief.
‘She’s a sure grip, I can tell you that much,’ he said, rubbing at his scalp. The baby giggled at him, reaching back towards him. ‘Although she is a delightful thing, I must admit.’
‘And her hair,’ Raff said, grinning. ‘She’s like a little fire.’
Ash huffed a short laugh, walking over to join them by the window. Raff was correct: she had been born with more hair than he had seen on any baby, an untameable crop of violent red that stuck all at angles.
‘We’re thankful for that, I can tell you.’
‘Oh?’
‘She looks just like Agnes.’
Raff peered back at the baby. ‘That she does. Why so thankful, though?’
‘We are less likely to have anyone starting rumours.’
‘About Marion?’
‘About her not looking like her father, Raff. About her coming out with blonde hair and blue eyes.’
‘But … how?’
Ash gave a long, beleaguered sigh. Penn was watching Raff with a knowing expression on his face – amused but unspeakably fond.
‘Come,’ Ash teased. ‘I know of late you do not exactly sow your seeds in fertile ground’ – at this, Penn gave a snort of laughter so loud it set Marion squealing again – ‘but you surely understand the basics of the act, yes?’
‘Oh.’ Raff blinked at him. And then realisation dawned on his face. ‘Oh. But I thought, that is, I had assumed that you were her father.’
Ash gave a one-sided shrug. ‘I am,’ he said simply.
‘But’ – Raff looked between Ash and Olly – ‘you said her hair … So what about Olly?’
‘I am also her father.’
Raff’s expression slipped into confusion once more. Ash gave him a friendly slap on the back.
‘Do not worry yourself,’ he said. ‘If you think about it too hard, you’ll give yourself apoplexy, won’t he, Onion? We do not want that. Penn would be far too melancholy to deal with.’
Marion babbled in delight. Ash really was thankful that the matter of her father remained uncontested: the pregnancy had been anything but easy, and it had taken some time for them to reach the point where seeing it through even felt possible.
There had been a slip: just once. They had been too blinded by lust and thoughtless overconfidence, and the world had crumbled around them as they waited for the sticky concoction – tansy and pennyroyal and wine – to take hold.
They’d been more cautious since, so when the signs returned, they were more prepared.
Even so, it had been a long, difficult time. Physically, all had gone well, but by the day Marion entered the world Olly had been the only one of them with a full grip left on his sanity. Somehow they had seen it through together, and Marion was as a light in his life unlike any he had ever known.
‘We really ought to stop calling her Onion.’ Agnes appeared in the doorway, a stack of letters in her hand.
‘And whyever should we?’ Olly asked.
‘Because I called her Onion in my last letter to Mother, and did not realise until she responded asking what I meant. I was so tired I did not even notice …’
Olly snickered, then cut himself off at Agnes’s expression.
‘Was she all right?’ Ash asked carefully.
Agnes sighed. ‘Fine, fine,’ she said dismissively. ‘She mentioned that unpleasantness again, and said what a shame it is that we have not yet visited Muriel and the baby.’
‘Ah.’
‘Indeed. No matter, it simply means she must wait another few months to meet our little Onio— Marion, damn it—’ She shook her head. ‘I fear it is a lost cause.’
Ash grinned at the bouncing baby. ‘Perhaps. Did anything else arrive?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ she said. ‘There was a message from Lily: she and Jo are keen to visit again once the weather turns.’
That was good news. Lily was so busy that she had only returned to Dunlyn a handful of times since both the wedding and Marion’s birth.
After some initial complications – which had included three guards wrestling Lily from Olly’s back when she spotted him in the yard, along with a drawn-out argument about who, exactly, he was – things had gone remarkably well. It would be good to see her again.
‘Olly, there was a letter for you, too,’ Agnes continued. ‘I believe it is from your brother.’
Olly smiled weakly. Correspondence with his brother had been slow and cautious. No doubt the letter would go unread for several days while he gathered the nerves to tackle it.
‘And,’ Agnes said, shooting Ash a suspicious look, ‘a rider had this for you, from the goldsmith in York.’
She pulled a little leather bag from the pouch at her hip. Ash felt them both stare at him.
‘I had him make something for me,’ he said. ‘One moment—’ He turned to Raff. ‘Could you take Onion outside?’
Raff complied, Penn close behind, chatting about taking her to see the painters in the great hall or the pups in the kennels. Once the door was shut, Olly turned upon him.
‘What have you been up to, Ash?’
‘Here.’
Ash opened the bag and tipped the contents into his palm. Three identical gold rings gleamed against his skin.
‘I thought, perhaps …’
He took the smallest ring and handed it to Agnes. She looked at the inscription inside.
‘I hope you do not mind, Olly,’ Ash said, as she read. ‘If it is too similar, or if you do not like them, then I can find—’
‘Vōs et non alius,’ Agnes looked up. ‘You and …’
‘… and no one else,’ Olly finished, in a whisper.
‘You,’ Ash said. ‘Both of you.’
Agnes glanced between them. She slipped on the ring. ‘Both of you.’
Ash handed Olly his ring. He held it between his fingers, eyes shimmering, before sliding it on.
‘Both,’ he breathed.
Only one band was left. Olly plucked it from Ash’s palm before he could do anything. Agnes took his hand. Together, they pushed the ring onto his finger.
‘And no one else.’