A/N I promise no more four months between updates.

Shringaar4

Darika sat perched at the very edge of her seat with a cup of tea in hand. Alin looked like a lazy cat at her side. He sat with his legs spread far apart, his body slouched in his chair in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position.

"It's warm in here," he mumbled.

"Quit complaining."

He shot her a look. "I wasn't complaining. I was merely saying it's warm."

She turned away and sighed. "Keep your opinions to yourself then."

Fabric rustled, and she knew he sank lower into his seat merely to irritate her. All she wanted was for Monsieur Levesque to join them in the parlor and at last answer her questions. He'd know everything, just as her mother had promised her months ago, and he would sit down and explain the situation that led to her conception and birth.

While she watched dust motes dance through the midday sun she thought about what little she did know. Her mother had described a handsome stranger, a brooding man with blue eyes and dark hair. It was from him that Darika received her artistic and emotional streaks, her mother had said. It was from him that she received a love of fine food and craftsmanship when it came to the house. It was from him that she acquired her temper—though that seemed like a lie because other than Alin's insolence, nothing upset her or grated on her nerves.

"How long do you intend to wait?" Alin grumbled.

She turned her head and glared at him, but he didn't notice. His eyes were shut, a curl of hair resting on his forehead. He looked like an overgrown child pouting in his seat. Before she had a chance to tell him he was being rude again, the parlor door opened. They both immediately stood at attention and nearly knocked each other over. With a nervous smile, Darika stepped forward.

"We're not interrupting, are we?" she asked, though she wasn't sure what she would do if he said that they were interrupting and he'd prefer if they returned later—or never again.

Monsieur Levesque turned. The mask still startled her as it was in deep contrast to his dark hair and the gently tanned uncovered side. She did her best to hide her immediate shock but was certain she failed miserably, mostly because he met her gaze and appeared to stare through her.

"My wife is very tired," he answered.

She couldn't read him properly, though she'd tried to remind herself that this would happen. Despite their blood relation, he was still a stranger. With patience, though, she maintained confidence that she could at least earn the love of one parent…the only one she had now. The Little Sultana was not one for affection. As Darika studied Monsieur Levesque, she wondered what he'd seen in her mother all those years ago.

"We shall keep our voices down," Darika answered. "I would hate to disturb her."

"Why don't you ask her to step out awhile?" Alin muttered under his breath.

It was a good thing he stood three feet away or she would have not so casually stomped on his foot to silence him.

"How is she feeling?" Darika inquired behind a fake smile.

"Tired," Monsieur Levesque answered. His gaze lowered, and as he turned to fully face them she noticed he had a wiggly bundle in his arms.

Her breath hitched and she stood very still as though a single movement would cause the newborn to wail.

"Your daughter," she said under her breath. "Oh, she looks simply lovely, Monsieur Levesque. The prettiest baby in the entire world."

"Yes," he said, though his tone was morose. "Yes, she is."

In a single heartbeat this meeting seemed all the more intimate. Not only did she have her father, but now she had her newborn sister. A smile crept across her face, and her body tingled with the delight and wonder of an expanding family. She barely took notice of Monsieur Levesque's stony expression or his protective stance. Through the stars in her eyes, all she could see was a perfect, loving man, a caring, worthy father.

She loved him before he said a word.

-o-

Darika appeared harmless enough, though judging by her expression Erik was certain she had imbibed a mind-altering substance. She gazed at him like a lost puppy, her eyelashes dreamily batting, her lips curled in a smile of perpetual confusion mixed with euphoria.

"Mademoiselle," he started.

She jumped and shook her head slightly as though to clear her thoughts. "I do hope Madame Levesque is resting well. These pains are often trying."

"As we've seen from the birth of calves in the stables," her large, imposing friend replied under his breath. "The cows always look exhausted."

"Shhh!" the girl ordered, making no attempt to hide her frustration. "Do not compare his wife to a bloody cow!"

"I'm not. I just don't understand how you'd know this."

"I just do," she said tightly.

"Well, you haven't a child of your own," he argued.

"But I'm a woman." She paused only for a second. "Oh, sit down and be quiet."

"Mademoiselle," Erik said once they were all seated. He adjusted Sorinji so that she lay closer to his neck. There he could feel each soft breath, each indication of the life he'd helped create, now safe in his arms. "I'm not sure I understand why you're here."

"Actually, I don't quite know why I'm here either," she said lightly. "That is to say, I know why I'm here, of course, but I suppose I find it rather impossible that I've made it this far. I've thought about this moment forever. Well, not forever, but you understand, don't you?"

He nodded slowly and watched her nervously straighten her skirt. She picked imaginary lint from her long sleeves and avoided his gaze a moment. It gave him an opportunity to look her over. Thankfully, he saw nothing of himself in her. She was merely a young woman, unfamiliar to his eyes.

"I would only like to hear you recount the relationship," she said.

"Relationship?"

"Yes, your relationship with my mother." Again she paused, and he felt his muscles tighten. "Now that I've said it, it does sound like I'm asking quite a bit from you, but…perhaps I'm a selfish woman."

Girl, he thought. She was only a girl. He wondered if her mother had sent her to do her bidding, knowing he'd welcome a harmless girl into his home.

"There is nothing to tell," he lied, his voice hard and cruel.

"Surely there is something—"

"There is nothing to tell," he replied through his teeth. Sori stretched and he feared he'd disturbed her. He feared she would wake and cry for her mother, and he wasn't yet ready to hand her back. He wanted to hold this image of her in his mind forever, and if he gave her back now he would lose some detail of her perfect, tiny nose. It was flatter than he'd expected. Nothing about her was as he'd imagined a newborn…his newborn…his daughter. He still couldn't believe he'd fathered a child.

"I only want to know what she was like back then," Darika pleaded.

He met her soft eyes, her pleasant, innocent face. She forced a nervous smile and glanced at her companion, who was facing away from her. Erik couldn't tell if her friend was being respectful or if he was bored. However, it didn't matter what Alin thought or felt; this was Darika's mission. She was the one who would suffer.

"You don't have to tell me much," she reasoned. "Whatever you feel comfortable sharing. A story or two, a day…a moment…the first moment, perhaps, when you met her in the palace."

The way she hunted me down like an animal, the way she tore me away from the only woman I loved, the way she ruined all those years of my life… Is that what you would like to know, Mademoiselle? How this woman wove tales and destroyed my life and how she will do the same to you?

Darika continued to stare at him, her gaze filled with expectation. Whatever he said either wouldn't be enough or would be easily passed off, discarded like a piece too dull for this intricate puzzle.

"I don't feel comfortable sharing anything," he replied at last. Darika gawked at him, and for a moment he thought she would protest, but she merely sat in frozen silence. "Now, if you will excuse me. I must see to my wife."

Despite the girl's protest, he shut the door and walked away.