"My father will be so cross," she muttered, her head hanging down while shame burned against her cold cheeks.
"Hey, Sashi," Lunet whispered, "we'll bring Qimat along. No one's cross around her and I can stay for a bit, make sure you're really settled back in."
Sashi blinked up at Lunet's offer and attention, then began to blush harder. "You're far too beautiful and kind to ever favor me such assistance."
Groaning, Lunet stretched her neck, "I can see why Apple hung on to you. Come on, along the way there I'll give you a few pointers about the 'old ones' in the city to avoid. There's a group of us that meet in the tavern down by the docks, not the best neighborhood but the building's real shiny. I bet you'll like it." With Sashi in her arms, Lunet guided the girl out the door while Qimat followed close behind like the looming bodyguard.
"One down!" Reiss crowed while she yanked the L'Arange file off the desk. For a moment she looked around for the sword to snuff out the case. Her beautiful smile faded as she realized it wasn't there and, after knocking the file into her hands, stuffed it into a bottom drawer. "That'll go a long way to establishing our credentials. The L'Aranges, despite having Orlesian ties, are knotted up in damn near every business holding on this side of Denerim. We get a few more cases like this solved and they'll be streaming back through the door."
The dwarven twins help up their thumbs in enthusiasm easily persuaded by their Boss, but Alistair only felt Lunet's dire prediction ringing in his head. If Reiss failed at this then she'd have nowhere to go but back to the palace. Back to him with Myra.
"Aneth ara," Reiss greeted their daughter, who clapped and made funny faces at her mother. She placed a kiss to the top of Myra's head, then turned to Alistair. Their relationship was tender and wounded, but her fingers skirted over his arm and her summery eyes beamed at him. "How are you doing?"
"We're good. Aren't we, Wheaty? Are you worried I'll cover the baby in butter and send her down a garbage chute?" Alistair chuckled even as he slid towards Reiss to kiss her softly.
"No," Reiss sighed, "though now I'm rather tempted to try."
That got him to smile wider, Alistair cupping his hands around the baby's toes so they wouldn't get cold. Socks would work as well, but she seemed to have declared war on them. Reiss noticed the lack of them and groaned.
"Kid, your toes are gonna freeze and then fall off. Do you want that?" Myra gurgled, both hands in her mouth as she chomped down on them. "I think she'd sit around totally naked if she could, right out in the cold without a second thought."
"I fear she has too much of me in there," he muttered, his baby girl waving her arms so much she threatened to tip backwards.
"Just enough," Reiss winked, the woman in a jolly mood after her great caper's finish. Who was he to go and puncture it?
Alistair let her keep their baby upright as Myra's head tipped backwards to stare at the ceiling. Spinning back in the chair, he unearthed a bag out of the bottom drawer and dropped it before Reiss. At her look he explained, "Ineria was by with a whole mess of dumplings. I saved a few for you."
"Oh," her eyes lit up, already digging into the bag to stuff one into her mouth.
"Wasn't easy mind you. Jorel tried to bite me twice," he chuckled.
"Did not!" the dwarf shouted from his spot. "Least, I didn't mean to. It got messy."
Reiss sighed, far too gone in dumpling heaven to remain cross at her underling for chomping away at her... Shaking his head, Alistair pinched into the top of his nose and tried to find a semblance of calm in this never ending torrent. Not as if you were ever guaranteed to have an easy life, but a little break every once in awhile would be nice?
"I bet someone else is hungry too," Reiss cooed at Myra.
Alistair watched her hoist up their daughter into her arms. "How can you tell?"
Reiss tapped her chest and chuckled, "Boob sense." She settled back on the kitchen chair they dragged down for her desk, ready to pull out the milk tap, when Alistair staggered up.
"Could we, uh, head upstairs? There's something we should talk about in private."
She glared at nothing for a moment, probably ready to tell him to piss off. Without Lunet around, and Qimat trailing her, that only left the dwarf brothers running the show. And that wouldn't do well for anyone. After a beat Reiss sighed and stood up, "All right. Kurt, you're in charge. Jorel, make sure he doesn't screw anything up."
"Yes, Boss," both dwarves shouted at the top of their lungs. The climb was slow, Reiss speaking a little to their baby but not glancing back at him.
Alistair waited until Reiss was situated on her bed, Myra happily lunching away, before dragging a chair over and weighing what was on his mind. "I have to head up to the palace soon. Today for sure. Any longer and Karelle will have my head on a pike."
She nodded her head to a strange beat, well aware that he couldn't remain long here to watch over their child, even if he really wished to. For the entire week, Alistair would slip down at night to sleep near and offer protection for his little family. The days were spent trying to catch up with what few duties he could manage up at the palace, but a lot slipped through the cracks. Too much.
"Spud and Cailan, they..." he tipped his head back, groaning at the ceiling, "they need me too."
Reiss' fingers broke from the happily nursing baby. They were supposed to be impossible at this age, far too easily distracted to eat properly, but there were few things Myra loved more than food. Too much like her father. "We made an arrangement," she whispered, trying to not distract the infant adhered to her breast.
Three days at the palace, four days here. It was the best Reiss could offer for her escape, while Alistair knew he'd be unable to stay down in this part of Denerim. People were already twitchy about their King squatting near the slums without a single guard on him. Add on the knowledge the same building he slept in was nearly burned to a crisp a week prior and it was a wonder they didn't bar the gates to keep him stuck in the palace. Returning, save for a little hello here and there, wouldn't happen. He was doomed to be a part-time dad to his Wheaty whether he liked it or not.
"About that..." Alistair began, causing Reiss to glare. It wasn't an easy fight getting her to even three days with him. She'd been so dead set on believing she was the only one to turn things around, she'd first talked about needing an uninterrupted month here. That was not going to happen, not ever.
Dragging the chair closer, Alistair tented his fingers together in thought. They froze when he realized how evil that made him look. Why not cackle while at it? He could do a great Mwhahahaha at the very least. "In the budget for various royal household affairs there's a small stipend set away that I haven't had need of for...a long time."
Reiss' glare faded to confusion, she hadn't been expecting that.
"It's for the King's, uh..." Shit! His eyes met with hers and for a brief second those summery fields broke into shame before anger flared up instead. Trying to shake away his bringing up the word that hounded her like a vengeful demon, Alistair stampeded out, "And I want to give it to you, for the baby."
She leaned back against her wall that was stained and scuffed from shifting the bed around. They'd cleaned up most of the deadly things to a baby, but her room was tiny. The crib took up nearly all of what had been walking space, causing Reiss to abandon her table downstairs. Now she either ate at her desk or while in bed. The place could barely hold one adult before. How was a baby going to grow into a second adult here?
Only concentrated sucking sounds broke through the silence while she stared at him. "You want to give me money," Reiss spoke softly, "money meant for the King's Wh--."
"Not," Alistair beat out her word, "not for you, for her. Maker's sake, Reiss, she's going to need things. Clothing, food, a proper bed before that one bottoms out. I don't know what street bin you swiped it out of but that crib's not going to last long."
"It's doing just fine for now," she sat up, the anger returning. "I'm not an idiot. I know what babies need, and I'm worki
ng on it."
"Uh huh," Alistair jerked his chin towards Wheaty. "Her little butt's already got a rash from the cheap nappies you had to rely on."
Reiss tenderly soothed down the bottom wrapped in near on burlap and then swaddled in one of her old shirts because they were low on blankets. She was surviving before by scraping to the end of the month, but with a baby she'd be living hand to mouth every day. "We've talked about this before, I will not accept any money from the crown. Do you have any idea how that will look to the people? Especially now."
"Can you yank that martyr stick out of your ass for two seconds?" Alistair sneered at her. She quieted but glared murder at him. If it weren't for Myra in the way she may toss him down the stairs. "Your agency is in bad shape. You know it, I know it, Lunet sure as shit knows it."
"What did Lunet say?"
He ignored the probing question of her friend, needing to get this out, "I'm not offering you a hundred Sovereigns a day to spend frivolously on all the fine wines you can drink and silks you can spit in. This is coin to keep you on your feet."
"We'll make it. We've come out of worse," she stuck out that chin of hers as if it was made of solid iron.
Alistair growled, "You mean those early days when you had no heat and were surviving off scraps of food? When it was mostly handouts and praying you made it to see the next day?" She'd been stubborn then too, refusing his help on principle, insisting any sign of interference by the crown would turn the people against her. Well, look at how well all his non-interfering turned out. He'd tried to subtly assist, showing up with food he claimed was leftover and going to waste. No doubt she saw through it, but let him play along because watching her in pain stung him. Having to see his daughter suffer as well may kill him.
"By the Maker, Reiss, you can't go back to that. Not with her," he pointed at the little leech literally sucking her dry. She was already looking more drained than usual, her hair dull, eyes flat, and her stomach rumbling as Reiss was forced to skip meals for this place. Again. "I'm offering you a hand, okay. A little bit of help to make it easier."
"No, you're offering me a crutch. Worse than that, you're painting me as one of yours, holding me liable in all their eyes to the crown's influence. I won't be a member of this neighborhood, one of theirs anymore."
"For Andraste's sake, you never were!" Alistair shouted. He'd played her game of keeping their lives separate, of accepting that some nights would be long and lonely so she'd feel secure in her decisions. But that was between two grown adults who knew what they were getting into. A child wouldn't understand, a child needed them both, and he wasn't about to let Myra starve here just so her stubborn mother could cling to her paper ethics.
Reiss took it about as well as he suspected. She raised her accusing finger at him and hissed, "You don't..."
"Know what is to be on the streets, what it is to be an elf, what it is to be an elf on the streets," Alistair repeated what he felt he'd been hearing ad nauseum. He pinched tighter into his eyes, trying to will away the headache that was rising no matter how tenderly he pussyfooted around this.
Reaching out, he caught Reiss' fingers in his. The glass cuts were beginning to heal but a few red marks remained across her palm. There was so much in her life he couldn't rescue her from, a fact he came to accept begrudgingly. But this... "Reiss, I'm trying to help you from having to face the choice between keeping the fire lit or firing one of your friends. From having to accept those dirty cases you'd refused before in order to put food in your belly. Even if...when you come back, there's going to be a lot of lingering damage that won't go away and... Andraste's mercy, just let me help."
He stared up into her eyes to find them brimming in tears. His own pleaded with her to Maker damn listen to him. He could let her fail, watch from on high until his lover and child came scampering back but he wouldn't. Alistair had to try and help with what he could, now if she'd just blighted accept it.
"If anyone knows the agency is running on money for the King's mistress..." Reiss whispered to herself. She seemed to be mulling over the idea, opening up hope in Alistair. He really thought she'd toss him out on his ass for even bringing it up.
"Like I said, it's not for you, or the agency, or even to feed Jorel's beard waxing habit. Is he eating that stuff?" Alistair cupped her cheek, feeling the familiar tears drip down, "It's for our baby. So she'll grow up happy and healthy, knowing both of her parents love her very much."
"You can't just send coin here to me," Reiss continued to argue, bringing a scowl to Alistair. He thought she was finally on board with this. Sighing, she explained, "It'll be traced back, trailed, the same amount delivered at the same time of the month will draw attention. People will notice if there's a lot lying around and may try to break in to steal it."
"Oh," he staggered back, "I hadn't thought of that."
"If you send gifts, clothes, furniture, toys, things like that, it's far less likely to attract them or be wanted by thieves," Reiss explained. Her eyes were shadowed as she seemed to be mulling over the fact that she became the kind of person who had to accept a handout.
"Okay, I can do that. I may have seen an adorable stuffed nuggalope in the shop that Wheaty would love." He tried to get her to smile, but Reiss was still glaring off at nothing. Finished with her meal, Myra unlatched and began to stuff her fingers into her mouth instead. Alistair smiled at his daughter's antics before returning to her stricken mother, "Reiss? What is it?"
"Do you think I'll fail?" her voice breathed in agony while tears began to rise up. Alistair tried to catch them with his hands, but they seemed to be a long time coming. Her lips trembled as she gazed down at their baby, "With the agency, with Myra, with you?" At that Reiss stared right at him, hurt and fear rising in her eyes.
Alistair scooted off the chair to join her on the bed. She snuggled onto his chest, Myra sliding in between them. More tears soaked into his tunic, but Alistair just kept rubbing his hand up and down her back while he buried his chin in her hair. "You are an amazing woman," he said softly. "You've done amazing things, survived odds that would humble full grown men with beards down to their navels. Saved my life, a couple of times. Three? I think we were at three last count, or was it four?"
She snickered a bit at that, a hand wrapping around him.
"You made this agency from nothing. Flames, nothing like it had ever existed in all of thedas until you," he tugged her tighter, gently swaying with the woman he loved and their daughter. "And you made her," Alistair tousled Myra's hair, the baby already yawning wide in preparation for her after lunch nap.
"I could still fail," Reiss whispered, her lips bunching up against his chest.
"And you'll get right back up, wipe the blood off, and charge into battle once again," he chuckled. She terrified him not only because of the fear of losing her but what she was capable of when backed into a corner. Alistair never thought he had a type but from Lanny to Reiss it seemed rather obvious he did.
"I'm sorry it's not enough," Reiss moaned, her face twisting fully against his.
Kicking his heels up, Alistair slid back onto the bed, letting both Reiss and Myra rest upon him. It was a tight squeeze, Reiss nearly at the edge, but he could make it work. He had to. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he whispered, "We'll survive."
"It's what we do." She smiled, their baby lifting her head off of him to stare up Alistair's nose. Whatever Myra saw up there made her laugh. Reiss cupped their baby's back, snuggling her tighter as those tiny fists pounded into him.
Survive. A new step each day, praying hope didn't dwindle to nothing. His eyes darted down to the mop of blonde hair as Wheaty began to gum up and down on his shirt. He had to, for the both of them. Make it work, even if the world tried to tear it apart. He had love on his side, which had to count for something. And he wasn't about to let go of either of them for anything.
"You know what," Reiss said, drawing his attention away from their baby, "I think I need to get a bigger bed in here."
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Dada
25 Weeks Old...
Gavin turned tighter into Lana's chest, his amber eyes shut tight while she sighed at her son's shyness. Even with coaxing from his mother, there was no getting the boy to flip over and look at the Arl who kept waving softly at them.
"Sorry about this, Teagan," Lana apologized. "He just woke from a nap and can take awhile to rise and shine."
"It's quite all right, I fully understand. I can often be crabby fresh from sleep as well," he laughed, time crackling his face, but those sharp blue eyes sparkled as always.
"Thank you again for setting this up. I don't know what we would have done if Cullen had to travel all the way to Val Royeaux or even Skyhold." She reached over to him, trying to grip his hand. The movement must have been enough to rouse Gavin as he eyed up this stranger warily.
Taken in by the baby's attention Teagan at first jostled his fingers like jangling keys for him, then took Lana's hand for a gentle shake. "It was my pleasure. And hello there to you too, young one."
Gavin blinked slowly, his mouth hanging slack as he silently watched this unknown man speaking to him. Struggling under his growing weight, Lana hefted him up higher and buried her nose into his cheek, "Don't be such a sour puss. Teagan's a good friend."
"They were not exaggerating about how much he shares in common with his father," Teagan gasped. When Gavin was all smiles and giggles during play it was harder to tell; but cranky from a nap, with his amber eyes glaring at the world, it was impossible to not see the lineage.
"Grumpy gus," Lana sighed at her boy, well aware he wouldn't wake up properly for another half hour or so. Shaking it off, she turned to Teagan, "Have you been out to see Alistair's baby, yet?"
"I'm afraid not," he admitted, his crystal eyes still beaming at Gavin who was warming to the Arl. "Our King does not require my services as often as he once did."
Love's Blush Page 111
