Disclaimers:As stated in Chapter 1.
Author's Notes:In which the Lady Holder's bedtime story finally comes to an end...
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Dairve yawned sleepily as his mother ended her last sentence, his green eyes content in his freckled face. The stuffed rabbit fell to the floor as he threw his arms about Shavra's neck and gave her a hug.
"I'm glad Papa picked you over Lady Ravella," he murmured; and at the sound of Crimson's laugh, the boy turned a questioning gaze to his father. "Mama's *much* nicer, isn't she, Papa?"
"Of course she is," said Crimson gently, as Shavra rose with the child so she could bring him to bed. His cobalt eyes met the amethyst ones of his wife and the look that passed between them was not lost on the boy. "It was worth it, waiting for her all those years."
Dairve nodded, and snuggled up against his mother's neck. "It was a nice story, Mama...thank you."
"Sweet dreams, poppet," whispered Shavra, as Dairve closed his eyes. She watched Crimson press a kiss to his sleeping son's hair, and then her next words were stopped by the tender pressure of his mouth over hers as his arms embraced mother and child.
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Much later, at Kuruda's palace royal, the assembled courtiers broke into hushed murmurs as the 56th sevalle and the Lady Holder made their way into the main ballroom. Notice was taken of Crimson's gentle hand at the small of Shavra's back; the rumpled state of her skirts and the dreamy expression in her eyes. Conclusions, correct and otherwise, were soon drawn, and were the food of speculation for days after the ball.
Halfway down the room, Scarface strode up to them, his cinnamon eyes alight with laughter.
"You're late. The King was about to send a search party to Fort Ly'valle, you were taking so long," he said, offering his arm to Shavra. "What kept you?"
"After all these years, now you know how it feels to be kept waiting," retorted Crimson with feeling, and with a soft chuckle, Scarface looked down at Shavra's face.
"Does this dreamy expression in your eyes, my dear Lady Holder, mean that another Ly'valle brat will be addressing me as 'Uncle Scarface' in the very near future?"
"Hush, incorrigible man," came the mild rebuke. "I need not explain myself to you -- not when I can see Faulstis wearing the same expression."
Scarface inclined his head, accepting the words with good grace. They had reached the King at last, and beneath his keen stare, Shavra swept into a graceful curtsy as the sevalles on either side of her bowed low in respect.
"You are late," murmured the King, gesturing for Shavra to rise, and beckoning a page to bring wine goblets to the new arrivals. "I trust all is well at Fort Ly'valle?"
"Quite well, Your Majesty," said Shavra, taking hold of a goblet. "My son requested a story before going to bed, and I could not find it in my heart to deny him."
The King's eyes twinkled, for Shavra's devotion to her son was well-known. "Perfectly understandable. What kind of story did you tell young Dairve, then?"
Crimson and Shavra exchanged a look, and then both smiled. Crimson's cobalt eyes were filled with humor as he answered, "It was the story of a princess in a tree, waiting for a sevalle to come and rescue her."
"It sounds interesting. And does it have a happy ending?"
"Oh, yes, Your Majesty," grinned Crimson, pulling his wife to his side. "It ends most happily, indeed."
end