Some well timed, pre-Christmas festive feels coming up... And villains doing what they do.

Chapter Eleven

It was the day before Christmas Eve and Helena stood in her living room, sipping a cup of tea while she watched her children move slowly and silently in the games room. Tai Chi had been Myka's suggestion after Freddy had complained endlessly about not being able to join in with their combat training until his doctor gave him the all-clear for energetic exercise. Christina had enrolled herself at a night class and was passing on everything she learned to her siblings. It had crossed the regent's mind that she would probably enjoy a bash at it herself, but there was something special about the three youngsters having this activity to themselves.

She felt a presence behind her and half turned. "Catherine is growing too fast," she noted and looked back at her youngest. "She's all arms and legs."

"She'll grow out of it," Myka replied. "I did."

The inventor eyed her wife's figure from head to toe and drank it in. "Then she has much potential." An elbow caught her arm deliberately and nearly tipped the last of her drink in her lap. "Christ!" she hissed and scowled at the quiet chuckle that followed.

Ignoring the inventor's narrowed gaze, Myka tried the move again and doubled over at the incredulous look on the Brit's face. Holding her sides, she clamped a hand over her mouth and put some space between them in case HG decided to retaliate. The whispered 'you are playing with fire' did little to scare her. In fact, if anything it only spurred her on. "Why, what are you gonna do about it, old lady?"

Helena's eyes darkened at the question and a spark of mischief and scheming reappeared briefly – enough to send a thrill of nervous anticipation through her companion. She stepped closer, eyes searching for any sign that she was crossing a line while her voice took on the quality of silk. "When you least expect it, I will get my revenge." Realising that their antics were drawing an audience, she met the brunette's gaze with a challenge and retreated – moving fluidly across the room to head for the hallway.

Myka swallowed and sucked on her lower lip for half a second before following, oblivious to the curious gazes from her children. A couple of months ago, a comment like that from HG would have dragged up every ill feeling from their time in Egypt, but all she felt at that moment was a carnal desire to feel the inventor pressed tightly against her. She wanted her partner's hands and lips to do something with the throbbing in her veins and it would be much later in the day before she would recognise that this was a sign that she was beginning to trust again.

In the games room, three pairs of eyes smiled at each other with knowing and three hearts eased as a little more worry melted. Catherine tracked her parents' movements with intense curiosity, anticipating lips meeting and preparing to screw her eyes shut if it happened. When her mothers parted with nothing more than words exchanged, she pouted and leant as far as she could to one side, hoping to catch sight of a kiss as her Mama disappeared through the door after her Mum. Realising the shift in her centre of gravity too late, gangly arms flailed with no effect and she crashed to the floor in a heap. At the sound of barely restrained sniggering, she flushed with embarrassment, huffed and dragged the sliding door open before stomping off.

"Oh dear, we're for it now," Christina commented as she watched her sister disappear.

Freddy shrugged, irritated by the regret that pulled at his insides. "It's not like we were making fun of her; she should know that." He was determined not to feel guilty when his amusement had been a reflex. "I mean, come on! That was pure comedy material. Who wouldn't laugh?"

"I know, but she's upset," the young woman countered as she reached down for her yoga mat and began to tidy the few things they'd taken out for their session.

"So, she gets to be upset because she fell over and feels embarrassed, but I guess I'm not allowed to be annoyed that we had to finish early 'cause she's clumsy?" he complained and shoved his mat non-too carefully into a storage chest. "She keeps saying that she doesn't want to be treated like a little kid, but then she goes and acts like one!"

"You're allowed to be annoyed, Rick. Just don't be an arse about it!" Christina told him, rolling her eyes as she left him to his grumbling.

"Oh, dear," Helena commented as her eldest entered the kitchen and sank her head into the fridge. "And you were all getting along so well," she joked and surreptitiously moved her hand from where it'd been woven with Myka's.

"I bet you'll be glad to get back to college after the winter break," the younger regent said as she shifted her chair a little further away from the inventor's.

Christina pursed her lips and joined her parents on a stool at the breakfast-bar, fixing them both with a knowing stare. "You two can stop trying to pretend that you weren't just making out, you know," she told them pointedly and smirked triumphantly at their twin, chagrin expressions. "It's not as if I haven't seen or heard worse," she prodded further and had to chuckle at the deep red that painted her Mama's face.

HG tutted, recovering quickly from the shock of nearly being caught in a heated embrace by her daughter. Christina was right, it would hardly be the first time. She wasn't going to let something as trivial as embarrassment prevent her from kissing her wife. Behind the young woman's teasing, she detected something else though and assumed it had to do with Myka's comment. "Did you need to talk to us, love?"

"Erm, about college…" she hedged and waited until she both her mothers' attentions.

HG reached over the counter-top and wrapped her hand around one of her daughter's. "You don't have to worry about being at home or at the shop if you need more time to yourself. You've done more than enough to help out around here; you deserve a break to study and socialise outside of your family."

Myka nodded, making the same assumption as the inventor. "You're Mum's right. We can handle anything that comes up around here or at the shop. Just don't forget to give your moms a call every now and then, huh?"

"That's great, but…" Christina drew a long breath before ripping off the news like a band-aid, "I dropped out." She watched as her parents' faces froze and felt her stomach drop. "I mean, I have the credits, and I already have a first with my degree, and I plan to go back eventually to finish my doctorate but…" Hearing the desperation in her own words, she shrank back into her chair. "Are you angry?"

The regents shared a glance, attempting to communicate their thoughts to one another. The exchange wasn't what Helena had known before Myka became separated from their vows and the rings, but there was still a seed of some natural bond that had been resurrected in the last couple of weeks. With that one look, they knew instinctively what the other was feeling in this case.

"No, sweetheart, we're not angry," Myka began for them.

"Did you imagine that we would be?" Helena added, hoping that the answer would help her understand her child better.

"Well, you were both so happy when I graduated and started studying for my doctorate," Christina explained. "I remembered how hard it was for you, Mum, when you wanted to study at university, and Ma, you pushed hard to learn too… I just wanted you to be proud, but everything that's happening around us – especially after Rick was hurt – I need to train harder. I need to feel ready to fight back and a piece of paper and a title aren't going to do that."

HG nodded slowly, feeling the sting of those words for different reasons. "You are an adult and entitled to your own decisions. I feel many things on your behalf, love – disappointment, frustration, concern – but only pride in relation to your bravery."

"You think I'm brave?"

"We know you're brave," Myka assured her daughter firmly. "In this case, you had to be worried about how we would react, but you've obviously thought about what you want to do and decided to do it anyway." She laughed at herself a little as a memory rose up in her mind. "You know, if it hadn't been for an artefact taking hold of my dad, I don't think I'd have ever told him that I left the Secret Service."

"It wasn't your choice to leave," Christina noted sympathetically.

The brunette smiled, grateful for the effort the young woman was making. "But it was my decision not to tell him. In a way, I suppose the Warehouse saved my relationship with him. I hope you know that it's not just a title and a piece of paper," she added. "Those things might be nice to have, but the important things are the knowledge, understanding, experience and so much more that you find during your studies."

"And true equality comes from having a choice, love. There are many ways to learn – formal academia is not the holy grail."

Christina sighed with relief, her eyes misting over again as she smiled. "Thank you. I know you're feeling more than you're saying, but thank you for being ok with this."

"Supporting you is what we're here for," Helena told the young woman in no uncertain terms. Feeling that the conversation was over for now, she changed the subject, "So why is your sister sulking upstairs?"

As the morning drifted into the afternoon and lunch was laid upon the table, Catherine emerged from her bedroom and slipped in beside her sister without a word about her minor tantrum or her embarrassment. Freddy eyed her suspiciously but when his younger sister dove into her food without a glance in his direction, he decided that it was safe to tuck into his own meal. All three adults looked briefly at one another, silently wondering if this was a calm before a storm.

"So, Tommy's going to help me bring back everything from campus – he's keeping it in his room for now. I was wondering if I could store some of it in Aunt Tracy's old room at the shop?" Christina asked, breaking the odd silence.

"Is there not enough space in your bedroom?" Helena wondered aloud.

Catching on faster, Myka eyed the young woman. "You want to live at the shop?"

Catherine's head snapped up, her eyes meeting her sister's. She dropped her cutlery back onto her plate with a clang and pushed herself sharply back from the table. "Everybody's supposed to be coming home, not moving away!" she cried and fled from the room for the second time that day.

HG began to get up, but a hand on her arm gave her pause and she looked to find Myka pushing her plate away too. "Are you sure?" the inventor asked gently.

The brunette nodded. "I'm sure. She needs to hear this from me."

Fredrick's eyes followed his mother from the room and he felt his appetite leave him. "Here we go again! She always gets attention when she's in a mood," he grumbled. "I get a lecture and she gets a pat on the head. How is that fair?"

Helena's eyebrow shot up. "I have more than enough lectures to go around, love. Catherine has had her share, believe me."

The teen frowned like he didn't believe her. He eyed his twin, recalling her earlier words and then huffed and slumped back in his chair. Part of him understood how his little sister was feeling. Much as he didn't want to admit it or analyse the feelings too closely, he hated the rift that had formed between his parents, even if it was slowly closing. Some days, he wanted to stomp off to his room too or shout and scream at everyone, but no, he had to be mature because he was older. "I'm sorry, Mum, but this is shit. First Ma moves out, then Tina does, and now we can't even have Christmas at home!"

"Rick…" Christina began in her 'older sister' voice, but stopped at the sharp look her mother gave her.

"Love," Helena started as patiently as she could manage. "The last few months have been hard on all of us. Do you think that there are no nights when I wake up to find your mother not there and cry myself back to sleep?"

At that confession, twin expressions of mild horror rounded on the inventor and the teen appeared immediately contrite. "Mum, I'm…"

"No, don't be sorry. You're absolutely right – this situation is far from ideal and you have all handled it remarkably well. We all keep our feelings hidden when perhaps we shouldn't. I am guilty too of assuming that Catherine has the advantage; she appears to exorcise her emotions better than any of us, but don't let her strops fool you – she keeps as much bottled up as you and I." Helena pulled her hands through her hair and briefly closed her eyes. "I know we've always asked a lot of you. I hate to ask for more, but your mother needs us. Change is rarely easy, but it doesn't have to be unenjoyable. If you can think of anything that will make the holiday better for all of us, then by all means, dip your oar in."

Quelled, Fredrick hung his head and nodded. Great. Now I feel worse. Good going, Rick! he admonished himself. Christina got up and disappeared from the room, leaving him and their mum alone. "I really am sorry, Mum," he said quietly.

HG pushed from her chair and moved quickly around the table to sit next to her son. Ignoring any and all teenage boundaries, she cupped her hands around his still slightly child-chubby features and kissed his forehead. "If you want to tell me that things are 'shit' in future, let me know and I will make time for you. You are no less important than your sisters." She wrapped her arms around him and smothered him with a hug that she maintained until he had to physically pry her off, leaving both of them laughing at the effort.

Upstairs, Myka had searched her youngest's bedroom to no avail and eventually found the eleven-year-old in the attic. "Cat?" she called softly into the room. Her shoulders felt like they held a lead weight and she began to seriously regret suggesting uprooting the entire family from their home for the holidays. You couldn't have just taken the guest room? It seemed like the simplest answer, but in reality, they still wouldn't have had the Christmas that they were used to. "Hey," she said as she found the girl leaning against the wall, a cushion clutched against her chest. With entirely too much effort she felt, Myka lowered herself to the floor. "Cat, do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

The girl shook her head and buried it into the cushion. She felt her mama's arm wrap around her shoulders and gradually tipped to one side so that she leant against the adult. Breathing in her mother's scent, she immediately felt her muscles relaxing and a sense of calm seep into her veins. Though her discomfort began to recede, she still didn't have the words to explain how she was feeling. "Are we taking Pappy and Grandma Ellie to the bookshop for Christmas? We can't leave anyone behind."

"Helena talked to them last night and they're happy to join us. Though they might prefer to sleep upstairs rather than on the floor with the rest of us," Myka informed the pre-teen. "Do you think we can have a nice holiday celebration at the shop?" she asked cautiously. A heavy head nodded against her arm and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

Catherine smiled a little and craned her neck to look up at her mother. "I think it'll be fun. Are we really going to sleep on the floor?"

"Well, your mother told me that you all have self-inflating mats and/or cots that you can quickly set up. Yesterday, Christina and I rearranged all of the furniture so we have a nice big space and the big tree is all ready to be decorated." As she talked, the regent felt her daughter's body relax a little more and she soon realised that the girl's worries probably had less to do with their Christmas arrangements and more to do with the loss of people who lived permanently at their house. She had never wanted her memories back more than in that moment. Heracles' plan might well have been to distract her and HG, but the impact of that attack was hardest on her children and she found more and more than she wanted him to hurt. "I've started to get all of the food ready, so all that we need are presents and people. Namely, you," she joked and flicked her finger against a nose, eliciting a slight chuckle.

"Can we have a camp-fire?" Catherine asked, shooting the regent a mischievous look.

"Haha, I don't think the insurance would cover that," Myka replied and scruffed up the girl's hair. "We might manage a few candles though, if we're very careful with them. Books are very flammable, you know."

"Or inflammable," Cat shot back with a grin.

"Yes, smarty pants – they mean the same thing."

"Weird."

"Very," the regent agreed. Deciding that she couldn't ignore the reason that they were in the attic and not eating lunch, she stroked the girl's locks into a less unruly mess and gathered her courage. "Cat, are you upset with Christina because she wants to move away?"

Having felt the shift in her mother's body, Catherine had half anticipated the change in the conversation and tensed instantly. "No one wants to live with us anymore."

Knowing that 'no one' probably meant her, Myka felt the words tug at her heart-strings, but she wanted to address the other issue first. "Your sister is an adult, sweetheart. It must be hard to see her coming and going, but that's a normal part of growing up. Eventually, you will want to be independent too and we will support you as much as we can." She watched a reluctant nod and leant down to kiss the top of her daughter's head. "I know you haven't enjoyed me being away," she began with the harder topic. "I don't remember living here, but I know now that this is my home and it is where I want to live, it's just taking me a bit of time to be ready to come back."

"Because of Mum?"

"Yes, but because of me too." She sighed. "I don't know how to explain it, Cat."

"Don't you love her?"

"That's not the issue… I fell in love with Helena very quickly. But when feelings hurt you, it can be hard to trust them again. So, while I still love your Mum, I don't know how to trust that it won't hurt me again, but I am trying, sweetheart and it is getting easier." She eyed the pre-teen carefully. "Does that make any sense?"

"I think so. Why do people want to hurt us?"

"I'm not sure. For some of them, it's because we're different. For others, it might be because we choose to protect something that they want."

"The Warehouse."

"Yes."

Catherine thought about this for a while, but whatever conclusion she came to, she kept it to herself. "Ok," she said eventually and pushed herself to her feet.

They made their way downstairs and managed to get through the rest of lunch without further incident, but Myka couldn't help her mind from wandering back and forth between her conversation with Cat and her developing relationship with Helena. She knew that she really wasn't ready to live with the Victorian as a couple and she couldn't imagine living in the guest bedroom even if it was only temporary.

She wondered if they'd ever experienced a period in their marriage when one of them had taken refuge in or been relegated to another part of the house. As they were left alone in the kitchen after they'd all finished cleaning up, this was the first question that came out of her mouth.

"We very rarely went to bed with an argument unresolved. Or at least, without having made some kind of concession toward each other," Helena responded. Seeing Myka's sceptical look, she felt the need to explain, "Early on, when Catherine was still quite young, Fredrick was in competition with her for attention and Christina was a typical teenager, we were exhausted and bickering about every little thing. One night, we had a rather spectacular disagreement and I took myself off to the guest room."

"And?"

"It was awful. Neither of us had properly learned how to block our empathic bond and it was as if every miserable thought I had was magnified by one of yours, and visa-versa. That was motivation enough to want to avoid a repeat incident."

"So, it was having that bond that made you work things out?" the brunette wondered as she tried to imagine their situation. There was something oddly comforting about hearing of their downs as well as their ups, but at the same time, it only confirmed her concerns.

"We worked things out because we wanted to," HG clarified, wanting to give no impression of having had a magical fix-all. "I suppose the bond merely forced us to go about it in a particular way." She eyed her wife for a moment and tried to imagine the thoughts that were swimming around her head. "I can guess what you're thinking, Myka, but you are either ready to move back home or you are not. It will benefit no one if you move in before you are ready."

Myka opened her mouth to contradict the assumption, but realised quickly that she had been contemplating that very thing. "Y'know, when you say things like that, it makes me wish that I was readyf."

Helena placed her hands on Myka's hips and brushed a kiss against her mouth. "No adventure worth having is without its complications and our family is the best adventure of all."

Steve stared out at the members of Gamma squad as they ran through their drills and wished that he could enjoy the show. No matter that he was a… well, not currently happy, but a married man – he was alive enough to appreciate a few well-built physiques in action. If things were different, his husband would have been sitting right there next to him, taking notes and arguing about which was more attractive, arms or ass.

He sighed. How could he not have known that his significant other was a sleeper agent? His lie-detector sixth-sense had failed him for the first time in his life and he didn't know where to turn next. Before he was aware of what he was doing, his mind turned to his last significant ex and remembered sharply how Liam's lies had stung. So he hadn't been a great cook and his tea had been undrinkable; right now, he felt like he wanted to trade all of his problems in for a few stupid fibs. Some husband I am!

No amount of meditation had been able to clear his mind or help him find a sense of peace with how his life was at present and he felt completely lost. Once or twice he'd called Myka at the shop to check that everything with the business was running smoothly and that Jason had not left any nasty surprises during one of his black-outs. Everything appeared to be fine, but he'd hung on to talk with her for almost an hour about how things were going with HG and came away with only a mild feeling of envy instead of the hope he'd been searching for.

Sitting, staring into space, he didn't notice the sound of footsteps approaching until a figure plonked themselves next to him and bumped his shoulder gently.

"Enjoying the view?" Claudia asked as she bit into an apple and gazed out at the four figures in the trees.

"What do you want, Claude?" he asked, his tone clearly suggesting that he would rather not have company.

"Lookin' for you, Sulky Sue," she answered and deliberately took an extra-large bite of her snack, grinning maddeningly at her friend until he was forced to swat her away. "You know, if the butts and abs aren't distracting enough, I've got blu-rays of Tatum's greatest hits in my room?"

In spite of himself, Steve smiled sadly at his friend's antics and shook his head. "Not even Tatum can reach me right now, babe." He glanced back at the island's medical building and nodded towards it. "How's it going in there?"

"JJ's holding up well. He wants answers more than any of us." She glanced sideways at the ex-ATF agent and waited for the expected response.

"He still won't see me?"

The caretaker chewed her lip. "I told him he's an idiot, but he's not listening. He says it's bad enough that he did so many things without knowing that he was doing them, but he won't risk doing anything to hurt you."

"Idiot," Jinksy agreed, muttering to himself.

"You want my advice?" Claudia asked, appearing casual.

Steve huffed with amusement. "As if I could stop you." Seeing her 'don't mess with me' face, he nodded. "I always want your advice. I don't have to like it, do I?"

"Pfft, no!"

"Go on then," he answered and gave her his full attention.

"Stop being 'Mr Considerate' and get in there whether he likes it or not," she told her friend firmly.

"But…"

"No buts. We have enough man power to keep him under control if he starts listening to Satan's Special Kill-Time hits again. So, in the meantime, you two need to be where you can start workin' through things." She gave him a long, hard look that brooked no argument and reached out to pinch his arm when he didn't immediately bow to her wisdom.

"Ow! Jeeze, Claude," Steve complained and rubbed the spot that she'd assaulted. "I think that qualifies as bullying in the workplace."

"Silly rabbit, this is a swanky, private holiday resort slash artefact-rehab centre. Minor physical coercion is in our complimentary best-friend-for-life fine print."

"I want a refund," he grumbled.

"Sorry, no returns or refunds." The caretaker scrambled to her feet and offered a non-apple-juiced hand to her friend to help him up. "Go be with your man, Poopy. If he was battling with a parasite or a cancer you'd be fighting to be there with him, right?"

Steve looked up sharply from where he'd been examining a twisted blade of grass, opening and closing his mouth as he searched for something to say. "Damn," he spat simply, realising the obvious logic. As tears sprang abruptly into his eyes, he stepped into the caretaker's space and pulled her in to a hug. "Thank you."

"No sweat, Jinksy. We gots to stick together if we want to kick ass yo!"

Finally, a genuine chuckle bubbled up from Steve's chest and made them both smile. "My hero," he teased and turned with her to begin the walk back to the medical unit.

Heracles tapped the end of his pen against his chin as he considered the ice-trapped figure of former agent Kipling. The man had mellowed somewhat after losing his hand – well, he'd been less abrasive and more subdued – but the heir was relieved to have the odious man out of the way for now. Spending the next unknowable months and/or years listening to Kipling's jealous ramblings about Helena Wells was not something he wished to tolerate. More than a few times he had suppressed the urge to wrap invisible hands around Kipling's neck and only a gut-deep knowledge that he had yet to fulfil his purpose stayed the heir's hand.

Besides Kipling's attitude, the slowly worsening stench of rotting flesh had been getting too much and so Heracles had insisted on throwing him back into his icy coffin. With a promise of allowing the man an outlet for his violent leanings at his next release, the undead agent went willingly.

The pen came down to rest against the table and the heir watched it roll towards the edge, curiosity filling him as he waited to see if it would fall or come to rest on the precipice. Such was life and its many battles; most successes or failures hanging in the balance, waiting for a catalyst to tip them one way or the other. Change might seem sudden to the unassuming, but often it was years in the making, visible only if one knew to look for the writing on the wall.

For a very long time now, he'd observed and manipulated, becoming surer of his success and increasingly hardened to the fate of innocent victims left in his wake. The voice of his conscience, which had been loud and opinionated in the formative years after his father's death, was little more than a whisper now. The other voice, eternally seductive and persuasive, had gradually taken over, marking his every thought with malice, cunning and an unwavering faith in his destiny to control the Warehouse. Never had he questioned – to what end?

This self-appointed sequestering that he and his followers were under was an idea that came to him during the time of Warehouse 9. Over the centuries, he'd existed in relative obscurity and had drawn very little attention to himself, but as his influence experienced an abrupt boost, he found more and more questions and obstacles thrown in his path. At the time, he'd been vulnerable and since he'd instinctively known that the Warehouse was nowhere near in his grasp, he'd organised a strategic retreat, transitioning early into the body of his young son and leading everyone but Cassandra to believe that any threat had died with his previous body.

And so, regardless of his personal preference, he worked far below the radar and removed himself routinely from the ever-marching world until he felt once again that his interference was necessary. When Cassandra stalked into his study, her face a picture of a gathering storm, he had to force himself to hold tightly onto that thought.

"If you come bearing distressing news, I would ask that you take a moment to compose yourself," Heracles told the commander softly but firmly. It didn't always work, but condensing everything down to the simple facts made it easier to keep his cool when he learned things that he didn't like.

Nodding sharply, the imposing former-slave marched towards the crackling fire and stared into its depths. When she turned a moment later, her fury had transformed into a controlled, dark focus. "Your son's watcher has taken him from the country. She slipped off the transport with him as your guards were accompanying them to the city."

Silence filled the room as Heracles stared into space and Cassandra brewed on her spot, waiting expectantly for her orders. She had witnessed her idol's transition between bodies many a time, so the boy was almost as important to her as the man sat before her now. Since she would do any to protect or avenge her saviour, she began to envision the many ways that she could track Mathild and bring her to justice. Rather than seeing her old friend's gathering anger though, as she watched, she witnessed a gradual calming behind his eyes.

The man known to most of his followers as Lloyd Spenser-Chapman, rose from his seat and began to pace the length of his study, his thoughts working overtime to listen to and process the voice of wisdom that he had learned to trust. As always, he felt the deep annoyance and hatred for those of his followers who disobeyed his orders and failed to meet his expectations, but in the shadows of this unexpected escape, he sensed potential. "To where does she appear to be heading?"

"West. To them I believe."

"And how exactly did Mathild learn about them?" he wondered aloud.

Cassandra hesitated uncharacteristically, but it was indignation and a whole new wave of rage that stilled her words. "Your guards gossip like old women. I should cut out their tongues!" she hissed.

"Satisfying and deserved as that might be, it would be difficult to explain should anyone question their reticence. No, I have a feeling that this unfortunate breech may yet be used to our advantage."

The commander's face morphed into a fixed expression of confusion and concern. Regardless of her absolute trust in his vision and decisions, she often found it difficult to see the intricacies of his plans for how their mission could unfold. "You are not angry? I do not understand."

"You mistake me, my dear," Heracles replied as he wandered over to his personal bar and poured two conservative measures of an amber liquid. "I am incensed by her audacity of course, but I am somewhat amused by her bravery." He held out a crystal tumbler, encouraging her to take it. As he returned to his chair, he sipped his own drink thoughtfully. "You will see to it that she pays for her insolence, but not yet I think. Ansgar is of my blood – he will not be able to resist the call when I have need of him. His experiences might become my own, in time. This blunder could provide us with an insight that might otherwise have eluded us."

Cassandra considered the plan with a frown, not trusting that their enemies would not also take advantage once the boy was in their possession. "You believe that Ansgar will be unharmed?"

"Whether the thought crosses their minds or not, they will not cause him undue harm. As far as they are concerned, he is an innocent victim of my nefarious plans for control of my father's kingdom. I expect that they will take precautions however." He followed the thought through his mind for several seconds in silence. "Most likely, they will hide him where they're hiding all of their other most sensitive movements. I see potential for finding the centre of the caretaker's operations."

"We can strike where they feel safest," the commander added, eager to reclaim the failure that she felt keenly.

"Possibly, but until then," he began, turning back to the table and reclaiming his pen. "Do your best to track my son's whereabouts and make sure that the traitor is indeed going where you predicted. I truly will strangle someone if she is stupid enough to try to hide him on her own."

"I could leave immediately if you wished for my personal touch?" Cassandra queried hopefully, though it was clear that she was unsurprised when he shook his head.

"You cannot afford to be seen. None of our closest assets can. We will rely on this century's technology to be our eyes."

"And if she disappears with him?"

"As unlikely as I find that scenario with the number of cameras recording the daily toil of the hoi-polloi, I will review the situation as changes arise. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir. Crystal," the commander assured the heir and replaced her empty tumbler back where it belonged, leaving it for the staff to clean as she pivoted to return to her wing of the generous house.

Only one more chapter of Part Two to go. Next up: more of Christmas, some sexy times, a little angst and someone gets a telling off. ;-)