"It's lovely," Rosabella said, turning Aoife's hand this way and that. The golden ring glittered on Aoife's hand, and the fact that the girl was shaking with happy jitters only made the glints jump and sparkle that much more. "He must have spent a fortune."

Sooner or later--and probably sooner--the Sodality, or what was left of it, would cast Rosabella from their ranks for her part in destroying the Half-father and giving aid and succor to Princeps Dorsin. If this was to be her last act as Ambassatrix, she had decided she would enjoy it to its fullest.

"Oh, I don't know," Aoife said, her voice shivering, her face a radiant red grin. "He probably just went down to the Libraratory and asked his mom if he could scrape some gold from the walls."

"Is that traditional for Adonists?" Rosabella asked.

"The ring, or the scraping?"

"The scraping. Even my people exchange rings." Rosabella smiled coyly. "Though we do not put them on one another's fingers."

"That sounds wicked," Aoife said. "If you told me where you do put them, maybe Tvorh would like it--"

Rosabella.

At the sound of Oralie's voice within her mind, Rosabella stiffened. She hadn't shared any form of Synapsis with Oralie since the Battle of Highkirk; she missed the dreams, but the uxor principis had firm control now over their connection, and Oralie, for obvious reasons, didn't want to spend time with Rosabella.

Something was wrong.

Rosabella leaned back into her femininity and opened, and Oralie slid into her mind without so much as a whisper.

"Uxor Principis, how may I serve?" Rosabella asked.

Tvorh said Aoife might be with you. Is she?

Rosabella's heart sank slightly, but of course Oralie would only call on Rosabella to carry a message. How could she trust Rosabella with more? "She is," Rosabella said, awakening her eyes to Oralie's presence so that she could see the girl, who was now equal parts curious and delighted.

"Are you speaking to Oralie?" Aoife whispered, as if Rosabella were on a shortsphere and might not want the other end to hear her words. Rosabella nodded.

Have you given her the dispensation yet?

"Not yet," Rosabella said. "She was showing me her beautiful new ring."

You intend to, then.

"Of course. That is, if it's all right with Erus Tvorh's lieges."

Oralie's words took a moment. You needn't worry about that. Write the dispensation and get Aoife to the airfield. Rab Zakiel is departing soon, and Tvorh is going with him.

A burst of dismay from Oralie bowled Rosabella over. "Goddess." She grabbed a Folium Nuptialis from her desk and hurriedly scribbled the names of the bride and groom in the appropriate places in the contract. "What's going on?"

I'll tell you on the way. Please, Rosabella. Rosabella hadn't heard Oralie plead like that--heartbroken, determined--for a long time. Please hurry.

"What's going on, Ambassatrix?" Aoife asked as Rosabella rose, shaking the paper and blowing on the ink.

"I'm not certain, Aoife." Rosabella shoved the door open. "Quickly now." Before your chance escapes forever, as mine did.

***

Dorsin watched as Piotr loaded the luggage on the skywhale. Two pieces for Senrii, two pieces for Tvorh, two pieces for Eztli. Whole lives, reduced to two tiny rectangular prisms each.

Two pieces for Oralie, who stood alongside Dorsin and a thousand miles away.

"I'll be available for Synapsis if you need me," she was saying. "If you're in danger, tell me, and I'll do what I can to protect you."

How was Dorsin to tell Oralie that he always needed her? How was he to tell her that her very absence would mean he was in danger, if not of body then of spirit? She wouldn't believe him.

And he didn't blame her.

"At least promise me you'll try to convince the other Gentes to the sweet fruit before the venom gland," Oralie said. "Don't use me like that, not unless you have no other choice."

Dorsin nodded. What were his promises worth to her? They didn't deserve speech, only action. But... "I'll get in touch in the next week," Dorsin said. "I'll present you with a proposal for speaking to the other Gentes."

"And a proposal for what happens if speech fails," Oralie said, frowning. There was more to the gesture than mere sarcasm; that frown carried all the pain and emotion of the past week.

"Yes," Dorsin admitted.

"I...will wait for you to call me. Dorsin." Oralie turned to face him straight on.

His heart leapt once, and he clamped down on it, for it wouldn't do to indulge in false hope. Nonetheless, it seemed to beat sideways beneath the smothering force.

Hope...

Oralie, beautiful, agonized, bit her lip and clenched her fists, wriggling her fingers nervously. She studied his eyes as if she might see straight through them to the back of his head.

Dorsin waited, dry-mouthed and hopeful despite himself, for her words.

"Dorsin, don't contact me otherwise. Please."

His hopes crumbled to dust.

"I need some time. I need to..." She shook her head and looked away. "I need to decide what I can live with."

Dorsin couldn't speak. He could barely even nod.

The scraping sounds of a crawling biomobile distracted them both, breaking the painful gaze. The vehicle strode through the darkness behind them, picking its way between the landing pads, before coming to a stop a few meters away. The doors opened, and Rosabella and the golden-haired acolyte scrambled out.

Dorsin had never seen Rosabella scramble before. The breach of decorum was momentary; by the time she was standing upright, Rosabella was all grace once again. Grace fit her and Aoife better than panic. Both were dressed in their finest Sodality garb: a plunging backless scarlet gown for Rosabella, a slightly more demure golden outfit for Aoife.

Slightly.

Rosabella glided quickly toward Dorsin and Oralie and curtsied. "Uxor Principis," she said. She sounded slightly breathless, but it wasn't as though she'd run here, so it had to be nerves.

She held out a sheet of paper toward Oralie, who took it and scanned it.

Oh.

Oralie had told her, then.

Rosabella glanced at Dorsin, and then her eyes fluttered downward. How terribly had Dorsin abused his power and place, to make Rosabella--Rosabella, of all women--feel shame.

"Thank you, Ambassatrix," Oralie said. "Aoife, are you in agreement?"

"Of course," Aoife said.

"Tvorh is already aboard," Oralie said. "So is Rab Zakiel." She handed the paper back and glanced at Dorsin. "You should join him."

Before my husband forbids you, that look said.

Dorsin wasn't going to do that. He'd already anaesthematized Tvorh for the good of Senrii's expedition, and even if he hadn't, he was too demoralized to fight further.

Aoife nodded. "Okay. I..." She turned and hugged Rosabella. "Thank you, Ambassatrix."

"Of course." Rosabella rubbed the girl's naked back. "Have joy. Have children."

"We'll get right on that. Princeps, Uxor Principis." Aoife tossed off a quick curtsy and then ran for the skywhale's loading leg.

"Her luggage will be here in a few minutes," Rosabella said. "Please don't leave without it."

"I'm sure we can spare a few minutes," Oralie replied. "But now that you're here, I think I should board."

Dorsin wanted to say something to stop her, but knew he couldn't.

"We'll do our best to prepare Tellus without war," Oralie said. "You have my word, Dorsin."

"Be careful," Rosabella said.

"Stay safe," Dorsin said. "Stay out of sight and out of danger. You don't need to be with them to help them, and your presence would raise questions about their anaesthematization."

Oralie gave Dorsin a sideways look then. Did she catch his meaning? Did she understand that he didn't mean to cast his family out forever; indeed, that he would do anything to keep them safe, even if it meant disavowing them for a time?

"I'll take care of them." Oralie closed her eyes, and Dorsin thought she might be seeking the dark void of Synapsis, but her breathing stuttered, and when she opened her eyes tears glistened in them. She reached for Dorsin; she reached for Rosabella. She took their hands in each of hers. "And you take care of each other."

Dorsin wanted to die at the pain in her words.

"She needs you now, Dorsin," Oralie said, her voice cracking. A tear tracked down past her nose as her eyes scanned down to Rosabella's navel, caught in the bottom of the V between the strip that looped from her waistline up over her breasts. Hardly a dress at all. "And so does your little one."

Their little...

One?

Rosabella choked and stumbled back, her face becoming a masque of shock. "Goddess..."

Oralie let their hands go. "Treat him well, Ambassatrix. Make him happier than I did." She blinked more tears free as she turned to the ship, then took a shuddering breath.

Dorsin's world spun. Rosabella, her lower lip trembling, her hands rising to cover her mouth; Oralie, striding off to the skywhale, the only sign of her discomfort the way that her body shook with uneven breaths.

"My little one," Rosabella whimpered. She touched her belly. "My... little one?" Her hand reached out for Dorsin's, clasped it tightly.

Piotr, standing guard at the bottom of the loading leg, stood aside so that Oralie could climb into the bucket seat, which the leg's muscles then pressed upward to the loading door on the body of the skywhale. Once there, Oralie turned back. She smiled, or tried to. Then she stepped into the darkness.

Aoife's effects, a few suitcases for clothes and guns, arrived within minutes. Piotr steadily loaded them into the bucket seat of the landing leg, which squeezed them like an upside-down esophagus up to the door.

Senrii appeared up above to load them into the skywhale. "Piotr," she said once she was done. "Talk for a sec?"

Dorsin squeezed Rosabella's hand as Senrii descended and conferred with Piotr. She was too far away for Dorsin to hear her words, but she kept glancing his way in the darkness. Piotr, on the other hand, kept his eyes on Senrii.

Senrii's body language changed over the course of the minute that they talked, from inquiry to pleading to frustration. She gestured at the skywhale, then flung out her hands and leaned in, hissing something in low tones, as if she couldn't believe whatever it was Piotr was saying.

Piotr looked Dorsin's way. There was longing in that stare, mixed with crushed hope. I can't, he seemed to say to Senrii.

Senrii spun on her heels and ran up the loading leg, not even waiting for the bucket. Piotr deflated. As the big man came back toward Dorsin and Rosabella, Dorsin realized he'd never seen the poor Tutela so miserable.

Dorsin let him pass.

At last the loading leg retracted and the door closed. The skywhale heaved a great breath inward, and its body bulged out. It rose shakily into the air and was swallowed by the night.

Rosabella turned her head into Dorsin's chest and wept. Dorsin wrapped an arm around her, and when she turned her tear-stained face up toward him and whispered, "Our little one," he let her kiss him.

Why did joy and misery have to walk hand in hand?

***

Tvorh could hardly hear Rab Zakiel's words. He could barely feel the roll and pitch of the skywhale under his feet. Senrii, Eztli, and Oralie, who'd gathered in the bridge to witness the ceremony, were as nothing to him.

All he had ears for was Aoife. He wanted so badly to look on her, but as they stood face-to-face and hand-in-hand, she rubbed his palms gently with her fingers, and that was enough for him.

It had to be enough for now, at least for a few years, until his body stopped growing and they could regrow his eyes. Until then, he'd learn every inch of her by sound and touch.

And maybe by mirrors, if she would let him use her eyes during--

During--

He squirmed with anticipatory discomfort.

She smiled at him; oh, she smiled, and wisps of her hair that had escaped from her up-do scraped across her forehead, announcing their presence to Tvorh's ears, and the recirculating air swirled the fabric of her dress, and all he wanted to do was drink her in forever.

"...by the hopes of our return to Salem and our share in the world to come," Rab Zakiel intoned. He stood next to them and was reading from a book in his hands. "Aoife Tutela Nethress Ortus Highkirk, will you before Adon and Yesh swear to the blessing, risking the curse should you betray it? To life, risking death as mortal? To faithfulness, risking betrayal as imperfect humanity? Will you swear your flesh to Tvorh's, never to be severed, as Adon and Yesh are one?"

"I will," she said, heat radiating from her cheeks. Tvorh wished he could see them flush!

"And you, Tvorh Generosus Nethress Ortus Meg--"

"I will," he said.

Zakiel laughed. "You can cut me off, young man, but the oath still stands as if I'd presented it in full. Oaths are no little things, and the breaking of one is grave indeed."

"I will," Tvorh insisted. "Every bit of it."

"Very well. Before Adon and Yesh, may you be one flesh, man and wife. As it was before the Exodus, so it is today. Tvorh, you may kiss--"

Tvorh grabbed Aoife and pulled her to him and kissed her like he'd never kissed her before. Too much enthusiasm, not enough skill; their teeth clacked together.

Aoife didn't seem to care, which was good, because Tvorh sure didn't.

"All right, you two," Rab Zakiel said, pushing them apart gently. "You'll have your chance in a few minutes."

The congratulations of the women echoed as Tvorh turned, arm around Aoife, and gave a shy wave. Aoife clung to him like she'd never let go. Or maybe like she was drunk.

Either way, Tvorh wasn't complaining.

"Hi, Reggy," Tvorh said, looking at Oralie. "Hey, Bilr. I know it's way past your bedtime, so thanks for staying up. I hope you're behaving well for Ductrix Lenaa." He nodded, a secret message of gratitude to the Ductrix for sharing her nerves with his sisters so that they could be here in spirit. "I've got to go for a little while. I'm so sorry. I want you to know that I love you very much--"

Aoife poked him in the side. "That we love you very much."

"--that we love you very much, and I'll see you again real soon. Be good for Princeps Dorsin and everyone else, okay? Because I'm coming back soon." And he was. Nothing would keep him from his family.

A family that had been severed at the root, yet somehow also grown by one, tonight.

"I'm coming back, and we'll be a family again, and we'll ride horses and play Chasm-Quester and Chimera--"

"--and Tvorh will bring you stinky rocks and maybe you'll be able to play with some little nieces and nephews," Aoife said.

Tvorh flushed. "Uh, right," he said quickly, trying to ignore the impulse to think more deeply about that statement. "So be good, and I'll see you soon, all right?"

A strange light faded from Oralie's distant eyes, and she smiled. "They don't want you to go, Tvorh, but Dorsin will... they'll be well taken care of." She looked aside at Senrii and Eztli. "It's time to let the newlyweds go."

Senrii quirked a grin, but she didn't crack a joke at that. "Yeah. Why don't you kids go and... you know."

"You sure?" Tvorh asked. "Don't you--ow!" He rubbed his side where Aoife had poked him.

"Kid, you've been sprinting so long, you wouldn't know how to relax if there was a big glowing sign that told you to do it."

"Well, glowing wouldn't work on Tvorh anyway. Maybe if it shouted 'Relax' instead," Aoife said.

"We've got this. A brief stopover at Highkirk, then off to Hallard to track down a massless. Take a break, kid." A phantasmal injury hovered behind Senrii's smile. "Go and...you know. Enjoy what you've got." She swallowed a little too hard, and then stepped over to the navigator's console, where she engaged a little too animatedly with the officer manning it.

"Come on, you," Aoife said, poking Tvorh again.

"Fathers. Stop that." He swatted at her hand.

"Then stop making me wait."

Oralie stepped up and placed a hand on their shoulders. "Take the Principal quarters. It's the best in the ship."

"Thanks, Uxor Principis," Aoife said. "But are you sure?"

"I won't be needing it," Oralie said.

Should Tvorh be feeling bad that he was feeling good even when everybody else was feeling bad? He'd figured out Senrii and Piotr, and while he didn't quite know what was going on with Oralie and Dorsin, he could read between the lines, even without eyes. Did he deserve to feel joy, when families were crumbling around him?

Why didn't it matter to him that he'd been anaesthematized? Why was he happy, rather than miserable?

A squeeze of Aoife's hand reminded him that even as his adoptive family, Gens Nethress, was disavowing him, he was forming a new family. And he would return to Acerbia. He'd go back triumphant, convince Dorsin that they'd done the right thing, and set everything right.

He'd hug Hrega and Bilr and even mother, and he'd say to Dorsin, "I told you we made the right choice," and clasp the Princeps's wrist.

He would fight until everything was right.

The Sulfurians weren't going to win. Aoife, standing here by his side, was proof of that.

"Go," Oralie said. She pressed them toward the door. "Go."

Eztli nodded at them as they passed. Tvorh returned the gesture.

"Hey, Aoife," Senrii called from the navigator's station.

Aoife twisted as they walked. "Yeah?"

Tvorh's ears caught Senrii's whispered words. Remember, he owes you a week in bed. Aoife tensed and clung more tightly to Tvorh's arm.

Yes, he thought as they made their way through the skywhale's interior passages toward the Principal quarters. Families were crumbling, monsters were arising, and aliens were descending on Tellus.

A week in bed with Aoife didn't sound so bad.

And by the time they fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, sweaty, exhausted, and satisfied like never before in their lives, Tvorh suspected it didn't sound so bad to her either.