Chapter 25
KAELION
Shahar, meddlesome as she is, insists on coming back to Mythara to vet Lyn in person.
It's a long ride from the Arborium—too long, really, to drop everything and come at a moments notice like this—but Shahar says it's no bother, she's happy to do it. I’m more inclined to believe that she simply wants to involve herself in my personal life, rather than that she’s concerned for Solvi.
She likes Lyn, she says when I tell her what’s going on.
She wants me to be happy.
And…I believe her.
And I think I am happy.
“You look funny,” Solvi says as I go through my apartment again, making sure the place is spotless before Shahar and Lyn arrive. Flicker keeps getting on the sofa and wiggling underneath the cushions; I’ve re-ordered them at least four times, and the damn drakon won’t leave it alone.
“How do I look funny?” I mutter, peering over at my ten-year-old.
She’s hunched on the floor over her sketchbook, and I realize she’s drawing none other than myself—looking, like she said, markedly less cranky than usual.
“It’s like…you just got a new toy or something.”
I grunt, putting the pillows on the sofa once more before snatching Flicker into my arms and insisting on a belly rub. She yowls and squirms around, but eventually settles and sets to purring as I take a reluctant seat on the couch.
“I’m…eager for tonight’s meal,” I say.
Solvi rolls her eyes, tendrils twitching. “Right. The meal is what you’re excited about.”
“I am.” I shrug. “You know that Tritonese hotpot is my favorite—”
“I’ve never seen you this excited about food, Baba,” she says. “Not ever.”
Then she smiles, tensing like she’s holding back a stream of questions that I am not even close to prepared to answer.
“It’s Lyn, isn’t it?” she breathes.
I sigh and let my head rest back, which Flicker takes as an opportunity to wiggle away from me. She sends the pillows flying as she shoots into them, each one going in a different direction.
It’s time to give up on the pillows, I think.
“Yes,” I say. “I am…happy about Lyn, I suppose.”
“‘I suppose’ isn’t very romantic.”
I lift my head to narrow my eyes at my daughter. “Did you learn that from your picture books?”
“It’s called manga, Baba.”
I’m not sure if I like the tone she used there, but I let it lie.
“I like her,” Solvi says. “Why can’t you just like her?”
“Because adult relationships are complicated.”
“But why?” She cocks her head. “You like her, right?”
Like her? That is…a massive understatement. “You weren’t even supposed to know about her yet,” I murmur. “That’s what your mother and I discussed.”
Solvi chews on her lip for a moment, her eyes downcast…then she looks up at me. “I knew about Wulfric before Mata told me, too,” she whispers.
My brows shoot up. “You did?”
“Yeah, pretty much like…right away,” she says, her face flushing a dark violet. “Grown-ups aren’t as sneaky as they think they are. Ever.”
I can’t help it—I laugh.
A real, full laugh, deep and helpless and unguarded.
Solvi looks startled for a second, then smug.
“There it is,” she says. “That’s the new toy face.”
I cough into my sleeve and try to school my expression into something vaguely authoritative. “You are far too observant.”
“I am your daughter.”
I extend my arm and she comes over to the couch, abandoning her sketchbook to snuggle into my side. It reminds me of when she was smaller; we have so few moments like this now.
“How did that make you feel?” I ask. “When you found out about Wulfric.”
She shrugs. “I think…” she pauses. “Sometimes we have friends that we don’t talk to anymore, and new people you and Mata like are kind of like that. They might not be around that long, and that’s okay. I know you and Mata are going to be here for me, no matter what.”
It’s a line we’ve both used with her for years.
It’s good to know she’s internalized it.
I tighten my arm around her. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”
She hums, letting her head flop dramatically against my chest. “I know. I’m excellent.”
I chuckle. “Modest, too.”
“I get that from Mata.”
We sit there for a long minute, just breathing.
Her tendrils twitch faintly against my side, unconsciously syncing with mine.
It’s the sort of instinctive closeness I thought I’d miss forever when Shahar and I separated.
But Solvi, for all her precocious commentary and absurdly high emotional IQ, is still just a kid.
She still wants to curl up next to me and be held.
“If you don’t like Lyn,” I say suddenly. “If there’s ever anyone in my life you don’t like…you can tell me. You know that, right?”
“But I do like Lyn,” Solvi says. “She talks to me like I’m a person.”
“I would hope most people talk to you like you’re a person, given that you are one.”
“Wulfric doesn’t.”
I look over at her and she slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
“Don’t tell Mata,” she breathes behind her fingers.
I frown, suddenly terrified that I’m not the one who’s brought someone dangerous into Solvi’s life. “Is Wulfric…has he said or done something to hurt you?”
“No, no.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Wulfric just acts like I have to be protected all the time and it’s reeeeally annoying.”
I nod slowly. “I understand. He’s...overzealous.”
“I’m not saying I don’t like him,” she adds. “I just think he’s not as cool as Mata thinks he is.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” I mutter.
Solvi perks up. “You don’t like him either?”
“I tolerate him.”
“You think Lyn’s cooler?”
“Infinitely.”
“Good.” She nestles in closer. “I want you to have someone cool.”
“I want that for you, too,” I murmur. “One day.”
A few heartbeats pass in silence. Then—
“Is Lyn gonna be my stepmom?”
I almost choke on my own tongue.
“That is not—that’s not a title I think she’d like.”
“But is she?”
I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “She is someone I care about. Deeply. Someone I want to keep in our lives.”
Solvi considers that. “Okay,” she says at last. “But I’m still gonna make her prove she’s cool.”
“That seems fair.”
“And if she’s not…you’re dumping her, right?”
“We’re not even technically dating.”
“But Mata’s coming tonight so she can talk to her,” Solvi says. “Like she’s your girlfriend.”
I blink at Solvi. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
She gives me a look. The kind only a preteen can muster—the blend of skepticism and preemptive disappointment that says you’re lying to yourself and wasting my time.
“She’s not not your girlfriend,” she says.
I start to respond, but I don’t get the chance—because at that exact moment, the door chimes.
Whatever is going to happen tonight…it’s going to happen soon.
Shahar has arrived.
Lyn is on her way.
My family is already changing.