Bryce paced the length of the hall his brow knotted and his lower lip clamped between his teeth in worry. Had it taken this long with Fergus? Should he go back in? No, the midwife would only chase him out again. He looked toward the door for what felt like the hundredth time and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He could no longer hear Eleanor's strained breathing or soft moans of effort; she wasn't one to wail and screech like other women. He remembered when Fergus had been born, the whole thing was over so quickly and with little fuss he had hope for the same thing this time knowing full and well it was not out of the ordinary for a man to lose his wife in childbirth. With that thought, the sudden silence from the chamber was too much for his already anxious mind to handle; he rushed to the door, able to hear nothing over the thudding of his own heart as he thrust it open. The midwife scowled at him a messy bundle of arms and legs in her arms, her apron stained with blood and mucus, Bryce stared at the tiny body and registered with sadness that it was unmoving; the frail skin tinged with a lifeless blue. He heard his wife moan and moved to her side his hand seeking hers. The midwife stepped back to give them some space so they could mourn in some semblance of quiet whilst she cleared the spoiled cloths and dirty water.

"Was it…" Eleanor's voice was breathless, pained with a hurt no salve could fix.

Bryce looked up to ask the midwife but she had left the room; he saw the cloth wrapped bundle and moved gingerly over to it. The child looked like it had been carved from the palest, softest marble; it looked so peaceful as if simply asleep. He brushed his fingertips lightly over its tiny forehead and then lowered them to pull the wrappings aside. He didn't need to; instinctively he knew it was a girl but he checked non-the-less for Eleanor's sake. "A girl." He heard the waver in his voice and placed the wrappings more securely around the body. He then turned his back on her and started to move to his wife's bedside once more.

Something made him stop however; a static feeling that ran from his toes to the back of his neck, the same feeling he had felt in the corridor. He turned to look back at the child and gasped, the sudden sound alarming his grief stricken wife. The child's eyelid had twitched, he was certain of it, just as he rushed back to the wrapped body the midwife came back through the door. He heard her groan as he picked up the child and unwrapped her. He laid her tiny frame against his shoulder and rubbed her back gently as the midwife closed in on him certain he was suffering some kind of grief driven delusion.

"Bryce?" Eleanor was looking at him in fear, perhaps thinking the same as the midwife, but there was something else written there on her features; something very similar to hope.

He felt the child move then, for certain, she started to nuzzle into the side of his neck and it was all he could do not to let out a yell of joy. Seconds later she started to whimper and then to both the midwife and Eleanor's surprise she started to cry. Soft frightened gurgles, but she was crying and moving and very much alive. He moved to Eleanor's side and lowered the child into her arms before kissing his wife on the forehead.

He watched as Eleanor cooed and coaxed the babe to silence. He smiled as the midwife began to fuss over the mother and child with renewed delight, encouraging Eleanor to feed the babe and blessing the Maker when the child latched on. When she asked Eleanor what the child was to be named Bryce caught his wife's eye and shrugged, he had no idea what to call a little girl. Eleanor smiled and said. "Ishild, her name is Ishild."

"Ishild! Come down here you'll fall and break your neck if you are not careful." Marien called after the wayward child, lifting her skirts she jogged so as not to lose sight of the girl. "This child will be the death of me." She muttered to herself as she rounded the corner of the stables.

"Ah Marien, is that my daughter I see on the roof?"

"My Lord." Marien's eyes bludged as she nearly crashed headfirst into the Teryn, she dropped into a quick curtsey to hide her embarrassment. "Yes that is your daughter. No matter what I do I cannot get her to act with more decorum."

"Well, she can be forgiven; after all the attention span of a six year old is hardly…" Bryce grew pale as he saw Ishild's footsteps falter. She teetered on the edge of the roof and then slipped, he heard Marien's scream and his own footsteps as he ran to try and catch his daughter. However he could only watch as she plummeted through the air. That was when he felt it; that static prickling he felt every so often around his daughter. He stopped dead as the pace of her fall seemed to slow and she landed neatly on her feet.

"Daddy! Daddy did you see? I was flying!" Ishild ran to him her dark curls bouncing behind her.

Bryce looked squarely at Marien who was gripping her neck her features clearly aghast. "What did you see Marien?"

Ishild was jumping up and down and hugging her father's legs trying to get his attention, she looked from Marien to her father and then back again. "If you didn't see I will have to do it again." She started to run off.

"No, Pup, I saw it now go and find your mother."

"But–"

"Now Ishild!" Bryce winced at the look of hurt that crossed his daughter's features. "Please go and find your mother." Ishild mumbled and kicked the dirt as she mopped off to follow her father's order. Bryce turned his attention back to Marien who hadn't moved. "Marien." He reached out and touched her shoulder.

Marien jumped and backed away from him. "My Lord your daughter…Ishild…she…she…"

"Marien…" Bryce began as gently as possible. "What do you think you saw?"

"Ishild…I…" A look of clarity suddenly crossed her face. "Nothing my Lord, I saw nothing." She curtsied again then started to back away. "I should make sure that Ishild finds her mother. Without getting into any trouble. Trouble seems to follow that girl like day follows night."

"Indeed." Bryce whispered, it was getting harder to ignore the fact that his daughter was different.

Bryce stared at the flames of the hearth and frowned. Once he had thought he lost his daughter to death and now he feared he was losing her to a force just as terrible. Perhaps his eyes had merely been playing tricks on him; Marien's eyes had deceived her too. The other possibility was almost too much to bear. A familiar knock scattered his thoughts and he looked up to see Eleanor enter. Dear sweet Eleanor, so kind and yet strong, she like him had felt the brunt of losing their only daughter once, how would she take this revelation.

"Ishild told me the strangest tale when I saw her to bed tonight."

"She did?"

"Yes, it seems she has discovered how to fly." She sat herself down on an empty chair and smoothed her skirts. "Apparently she leapt off the stable roof and instead of…how did Fergus put it...smashing her skull and spilling her brains on the cobbles." Eleanor smiled and shook her head remembering her son's excited additions to Ishild's wild tale. "She floated safely to the ground."

"She said that, did she?" Bryce heard the crack in his voice and knew that his wife had not missed it.

"Bryce, what is troubling you? You have been chewing your lip all afternoon and if you don't unknot your brow it will develop a permanent furrow."

Bryce sighed and looked at his wife; she was right. He ran his tongue over his lip and tasted blood where his teeth had worried it. "I don't know what to do Eleanor, I can't lose her again."

Eleanor looked truly worried now and she slipped from the chair to crouch at Bryce's feet, her hands lifting to cup his face before her fingers brushed over his brow smoothing it. "My love. I…I know." Bryce looked down at her as her thumb rubbed gently over his lip, her large grey eyes mirroring his pain and confusion. "I have suspected for some time now, it is just all these little things, I tried to account them to coincidences but it is getting harder as she gets older."

"We have to…" He didn't want to finish the sentence and Eleanor saved him with a gentle kiss.

"If we send her to the tower, she becomes one of them and we will lose her, she cannot be both a mage and a Cousland." She let go of his face and stood slowly. "But we have no other choice, if she is a mage and she is not sent to the tower…" She didn't need to finish the sentence they both knew what would become of their daughter if they didn't send her to the mages.

Bryce rose also and taking his wife in his arms he whispered softly against her hair. "She will always be a Cousland to me."