Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(140)

Even when it was not.

* * * * *

Maddie

Three days later, I sat in the warm dining room at the inn where we’d stopped for the night. I had Viktor curled in my arms. His eyelids were drooping, a long day out in the snow having taken its toll.

My thoughts were on the precious bundle of toddler in my arms but my eyes were on Chris all the way across the room.

I was thinking thoughts of Viktor in an effort not to think thoughts of Chris.

It had been days and he was still avoiding me.

In doing so, he was avoiding his sister which she didn’t understand. This proved true what I’d guessed and that was they weren’t just siblings, they were companions. Apollo had a young servant in his house, I saw him. But Chris and Élan spent a great deal of time together out of necessity, necessity that was familial, warm, and if not overtly loving, the love was there all the same.

So, regardless of their different ages and genders, they were close.

Élan wishing to be near me meant her brother was not around her.

This, of course, made the little girl cross because any time she tried to get his attention, he continued to evade it. She didn’t understand why and further didn’t know how to communicate that.

I’d noticed that Apollo was giving this situation a wide berth. I could see he was watchful but he wasn’t intervening.

I had agreed with him that night days before that Christophe should be given some time. He was a boy but he was keen to learn how to be a good man and I figured this was one of Apollo’s ways of teaching him how to be this.

But four days seemed long enough to me.

Apollo said I had a say in raising his kids and that was perhaps the most beautiful gift anyone had ever given me. And considering Apollo had given me a vast amount of beauty that was saying something.

But his assessing if I agreed with his course of action and me bringing it up that I no longer agreed with his course of action were two different things.

“He remembers his mother.”

This came from Finnie who was sitting at my side.

I looked her way.

She really was very pretty, all that white blonde hair, those fascinating ice blue eyes.

Though she didn’t look much like a princess and this mostly had to do with the fact she dressed like men from this world, in breeches, boots, sweaters and cloaks.

It also had to do with the fact that if she was not in the sleigh with me or with her husband and/or son, she was practicing knife fighting with one of Frey’s men or bows and arrows with Chris (and Frey and Apollo’s men).

Frey had joined our party a couple of days before and I enjoyed watching them together even as it kind of broke my heart (I didn’t think on this too much, if I did, the “kind of” part of that would be gone).

I loved how he called her “my wee Finnie.” I loved how she addressed him as “husband” and he returned that by calling her “wife.” I loved how they bantered and teased. I loved how his men were with her. I loved how they looked at each other. How they both clearly adored their son and equally clearly adored that the other adored their son.

It was so cool watching a man like Frey, in other words, a man just like Apollo in the macho department, who was entirely unconcerned with communicating to anybody who paid attention that his heart rested in the hands of his wife and the child she gave him.

No, it wasn’t cool.

It was beautiful.

Finnie wasn’t secretive about doting on her husband and son either. And I knew it wasn’t hard to do, considering Frey was as he was and Viktor was an immensely active child (in other words, the sleigh ride was akin to toddler torture), but a sweet one.

In another way Frey was like Apollo, Viktor looked nothing like Finnie. He had inherited his father’s dark hair and green/brown eyes (or, they could also be brown/green, I hadn’t yet decided).

I wondered if given another shot and they had a girl, if she’d get Finnie’s hair and eyes.

And I wondered, if given a shot with Apollo, if we’d make a girl (or a boy) who had my red hair and freckles.

“Maddie?” Finnie called.

I blinked and focused on her.

“Sorry, I was on another planet.”

She grinned. “That happens.”

At her response to my unintentional pun, I grinned back.

Her grin faded and her eyes grew assessing. “Would you like to share?”

I would.

In fact, I needed to share.

This, I found, happened when you actually had someone you could trust to share with. Then again, it happened when you didn’t have someone too. It was just good that these days I had people to talk to.

Yet something more Apollo had given me.

Since I needed to share, I did it.

“Yes, he remembers his mother,” I responded to her earlier comment. “We were doing okay. I’ve been on this world for months now but I’ve only known the kids a few weeks. He was fine until recently when Apollo and I went to the gale, something he saw his parents do often. I don’t think before that he put the two of me being around and the two of me being around together. That night, seeing me with his father the way I was, he put it together.”

“I’ll bet,” she replied.

“He’s been detached since then,” I shared. “He’s told his father things are fine. And even though Apollo knows they aren’t, he’s letting him work through it on his own.”