Amoretta Virgine was not the hesitant young woman she had been during the first few years after her creation. She had grown and learned, and the homunculus was much more confident in her ability to understand the vagaries of human social interaction, even if she thought that many social rituals and tactful manners were pointless, and some even harmful.

Even so, now and again she encountered situations that she did not consider herself prepared to handle. Human communication could not always be avoided, no matter how much more comfortable it would be for her if it were otherwise.

"It's okay, Mother," Cressidor Blan-Virgine said. "You don't have to tell me a bedtime story."

The seven-year-old reached over and gave Amoretta a reassuring pat on the arm. She had inherited a strong sense of responsibility from her adoptive mothers, one that was only being reinforced by caring for her puppy (one hundred pounds of immature barghest currently sacked out at the foot of the bed after a vigorous day of play).

"That's very kind of you, Cress, but it wouldn't at all be fair for you to have to miss your story just because Lillet was kept late with work at the palace."

Bedtime stories were definitely the province of Cressidor's other mother, who had the creativity to come up with a seemingly endless series of tales, many of which ended up being subtly hidden lessons as well (when one was the kingdom's Mage Consul, one had to multitask parenting jobs whenever possible, since she couldn't turn everyone into a mouse who interfered with mother-daughter time). Amoretta definitely lacked Lillet's imagination and way with words; her bluntly honest style didn't lend itself to creative entertainment.

Even so, she wanted to try her best. Amoretta hadn't been making excuses; she genuinely didn't think that it was fair that Cress had to be denied Lillet's story because Lillet had an obligation to people that Cress had no agreement or association with. It was one thing for the palace to require one of the country's ministers to put in late hours or extra labor. That was part and parcel of what Lillet had agreed to when she took the position. But Cressidor didn't work for the Crown, so why should she be forced to sacrifice for it?

There was probably a sociopolitical analysis in that somewhere, with regard to children needing to suffer some privations on account of their parents spending resources in order to raise and care for them, or a citizen's obligation to their government when that government had in turn kept faith with them to act with the will and for the benefit of the people as a whole. Amoretta also knew that while Lillet might lose herself in such ethical conundrums, they really didn't matter to her own sense of right and wrong.

"Well…if you're sure, Mother," Cress said, and snuggled in under the covers.

It will be noted that her hesitation was not entirely born of altruism. There was a selfish motivation to it as well, as Amoretta's side of the family was…not great at telling stories. Nor, as noted, was artistic creativity one of the homunculus's better-developed attributes, and Cressidor knew this. That Amoretta was aware of it just made her all the more determined to do right by her daughter.

"What story are you going to tell?"

Ah, yes, now that was the problem, wasn't it? Amoretta didn't really know all that many stories, since she preferred reading non-fiction to fiction. There were, of course, the myriad of operas she'd performed in at the City Theater, but they tended to not be age-appropriate, and she really didn't have the creative dexterity to edit them on the fly while simultaneously converting the story from song to prose. Indeed, most of the stories she knew that were age-appropriate she knew because she'd heard Lillet tell them to Cress. Growing a bit worried, she racked her eidetic memory for something suitable.

"Oh! That should do. Tahlea told me a story about a melusine she knew."

"What's a melusine?"

"It's a kind of faerie creature sort of like a small dragon, only without legs, and it has a fair amount of magic."

"That sounds neat!" As suited the daughter of a magician and a homunculus, Cress liked stories with magic in them.

"Then I'll tell you that story. Once upon a time, there was a young hedge-knight. His father had been a baronet, but had died fighting in a border skirmish against Lusatian raiders, so his son inherited the estate when he was only a young boy. His mother was a kind woman, but not a strong-willed one, and so was often taken advantage of during her regency, causing the estate to fall deeper and deeper into poverty. When the young knight came of age, he decided, therefore, to set out in knight-errantry, in search of some adventure that might help restore his family's prosperity."

"Like Mama went to magic school so she could earn enough money to send my uncles to school!"

"That's exactly right, except that the Blans were farmers rather than a family that had once been wealthy. She was motivated by her own ambition and love of her family, while the baronet felt—and, legally, had—a duty to the people who lived on the estate that he administered."

"Is that important?"

"Yes, it is. Lillet had a goal to achieve, while the young knight in this story had a problem to fix. It's like the difference between teaching Shuck how to do a new trick versus teaching him not to breathe fire without being told. One would be a good thing if you achieved it, but the other is necessary because there will be unhappy consequences if you fail."

"I think I see."

Cress had a bit of a frowny face, not an unhappy one but the face she got when she was Thinking Hard about Serious Things. Amoretta was very proud of her little girl for trying to process difficult concepts despite being sleepy, but she also couldn't help smiling at how adorable she looked.

"So, as I said, the knight set off, and he encountered a number of adventures on his travels. He helped a village drive off a bandit raid, he escorted a noblewoman's carriage through rock-goblin territory to reach Andrenne, and he even slew a spinewyrm that had infested a well in a baron's manor. For this last act, the baron offered him a place in his household, but as the knight had his own estate to care for he regretfully refused, and set off again."

"Oh," Cressidor said. "Is that why you talked about him having a duty?"

"That's some of it, but it becomes more important later."

"That's kind of sad," she decided. "But, he couldn't let his family down, either, could he?"

"No, he couldn't," Amoretta agreed.

"That sounds really hard!" Cress declared.

"Oh? What does?"

"Having responsibilities."

Amoretta let out a little sigh.

"It can be. When Dr. Chartreuse first made me, I didn't have a purpose, and that made me sad, because I thought I needed one to justify being made. But Lillet helped me understand that it was all right to live for the sake of living and find things that I wanted for myself."

"Like singing!"

"Yes, like singing. But also, the more that I interacted with other people, the more responsibility I took on." She smiled at Cress. "It's like being a mother. I wanted to be a mother, but all the love and happiness you bring into my life also comes with an incredibly important responsibility to care for you and protect you and teach you how to be a good person and to help make you happy. That's what duty really is: it's the bonds that tie us together as people. If you don't have love, consideration, or respect for the other person, then you really don't have a duty, only possibly a forced obligation."

Cress thought about that for a bit.

"But what about the knight?" she said, eventually deciding that her story was more important than philosophy and ethics. At least at bedtime.

"Well, he decided to seek his fate in the Forest Adventurous. That sounds like a made-up name, but it's what they called the northern area of the Great Wood of Moirane in past days, on account of its strong natural magic that gave rise to rich mana and even natural gates to Faerie. Many knights would venture into the wood in search of adventure, whether it was to defeat some monstrous beast to win glory through heroism, or to seek out magic or the answer to some personal quest.

"The young knight rode on through the day, and it seemed to him as if the trees around him were different than the woods he had encountered before. The trunks were thicker, but grew more closely together than was usual, as if each grew freely instead of fighting for the soil's nutrients. And the canopy of leaves seemed to glow green, like the trees caught the sunlight within and shone themselves."

"Is that really true? Was it magic?"

"I don't know," Amoretta said. "That's the way Tahlea told the story, but she didn't say if there were any special magical conditions present that made the forest look different, or if it was just the knight's emotional reaction. But regardless, he felt as if every step his horse took brought him deeper into a world of magic and mystery."

Tahlea had quite a flamboyant turn of phrase sometimes, Amoretta thought, but it seemed to work for a story like this.

"It was just then when a great green serpent, at least six feet long, flashed from the undergrowth and slithered across the path. It startled the knight's horse, which reared up in sudden fright. The baronet quickly calmed his steed, as it had been trained for battle and so was used to recovering from shocks, and drew his own sword, believing that the snake was attacking them."

"Was it a magic snake? Mama said that snakes only attack things they can eat and a horse is really big." It will be noted that Cress had had an "eek, snakes!" phase when she was four.

"That's very true, though they also can bite in self-defense if startled or encroached upon. In this case, though, the knight soon realized that the snake was not attacking him at all, because in the next moment a twisted figure burst from the underbrush and pounced, snarling, upon the snake."

"Oh, the snake was running away? Um, slithering away, I mean?"

"That's right. Its pursuer was a terrifying creature, manlike and thin-framed almost to the point of being skeletal, over seven feet tall but hunched and bowed to stand scarcely four. Its face was wizened and twisted, its mouth like a wide slash from ear to ear, and its teeth and nails alike were two-inch spikes of bone. The creature wore green clothing like an elf, but its hat was stained a dull read, dyed in the blood of its victims."

Cress let out a little squeak. This was scary!

"W-what was that?"

Amoretta eyed her closely, and concluded that this was more likely the "fun with scary stories" fear rather than the "it'll give her nightmares and we should stop now" fear. Thus, she continued.

"It was an evil faerie called a redcap. They attack both humans and magical beings for the sheer pleasure of causing pain and suffering."

Cressidor knew that the various wards her mother had placed on the estate and on her specifically would protect against anything like a rogue fae creature, but she still clutched her plush dragon close. Just in case. It might have been scared, after all.

"The baronet recognized the creature for what it was at once, and more, realized that it had been his horse startling the snake that allowed the redcap to catch up. Feeling the sting of that responsibility, he immediately charged at the evil fae, slashing out with his sword.

"As Lillet has taught you, faerie creatures are vulnerable to weapons of metal, particularly that which has been crafted and shaped, as this takes it further and further away from nature, and as such is damaging to the glamour that gives them their power. The knight's sword cut into the redcap's side, and it hissed in pain and shock, dropping the serpent and rounding upon its attacker. Quick as a flash, it slashed out with its hooked claws at the baronet's mount, and only by a deft feat of horsemanship did he pull back in time to save his steed."

"Whew!"

"Realizing the risk, the knight dropped from his saddle to meet the redcap on the ground. Sword clashed against claws, and he soon found that despite the faerie's emaciated appearance it was as strong as an ogre, and it was he that soon found himself being driven back, desperately staving off what would have been mortal blows. At last, what usually happens when mortal strength is pit against magic occurred, and he was knocked sprawling, gashed deeply across the chest by the monster's claws. It pounced upon him, pinning him down with one hand while raising the other for what would surely be a killing or crippling blow. Just then, though, the knight's horse intervened, rearing up behind the redcap and, before it could turn and react, delivered two mighty strikes with its hooves that knocked it tumbling away from the knight."

"What a good horse!" Cress declared. She was very much the kind of girl who loved animals of nearly all kinds (even snakes, now that she had been persuaded of their lack of eekworthiness) and was always happy when a story showed them at their best. She was also, however, a girl who had grown up with magic since infancy and very much did not just assume anything could just happen even in a story. "Wait a second, Mother. How could a normal horse hurt a magic monster?"

"That's a good question; Lillet would be proud of you!"

Cress blinked at the praise.

"Tahlea didn't tell me the reason," Amoretta continued, "but it was probably because of the horseshoes. So it wasn't just being kicked by an animal; the redcap was effectively bashed twice with iron clubs, wielded with much more power than a human's blows could deliver. For a knight, their horse is an even more powerful weapon than their sword or spear."

Her daughter would probably be surprised to learn it, but Amoretta was in fact quite skilled with arms; the sword she'd worn as part of her ordinary outfit when she'd met Lillet at the Magic Academy had not been for show. Much like her talent for music, Lillet speculated that this was part of Amoretta's angelic core expressing itself through her homunculus body.

"Oh, I see! Thank you, Mother."

"You're very welcome. Now, the knight did not hesitate, but seized the chance offered by his momentary salvation. He snatched up his sword and struck the redcap's head off while it lay stunned. As he stood there, keeping a careful eye out in case the creature should regenerate or perform some other trick of wicked magic, he heard a rustling from the underbrush, and glanced up just in time to see the serpent's tail disappearing into the forest. It had, it seemed, not fled at the moment the knight engaged the redcap, but wished to see the outcome of the battle.

"'Well,' the baronet chuckled to himself, 'it's not exactly the rescue of a princess from a wicked dragon, but it was still a victory over evil, and that's worth fighting.' When it became plain that the redcap was well and truly dead, he cleaned and sheathed his sword, then pulled himself back into the saddle and once again set off riding.

"However, it was not much more than an hour before he began to feel weak and light-headed. Though he'd tended to his wounds as he rode, the redcap's black-bone talons were envenomed, instilling a foul corruption into the wounds that had begun to eat away at the knight's strength. He continued on for some time, the horse finding its own way along the path more than being guided by its rider, but at last his eyes fell shut, and the darkness swallowed him. Um, not literally; that was just a metaphor for his falling unconscious from the effects of the poison."

"I know that, Mother," Cress said in the universal vocal tone of children who think they're not quite as young as their parents seem to believe.

"I thought it made sense to specify, as the forest was a place of wild magic and the hero might well have blundered into another threat while half-conscious." Amoretta thought it was a reasonable possibility. At least she had when Tahlea told her the story and she'd had to ask her sister to clarify.

"Speaking of magic, Mother, I thought that you said that the redcap was a fae creature. They use Glamour, don't they?"

"That's correct."

"But isn't Glamour all light and healing? Isn't it Sorcery that's for evil?"

Amoretta shook her head.

"Glamour is the magic of nature. It's about using the forces of the world in the way that it actually exists, as opposed to Alchemy, which uses the rules of the world in ways that do not naturally exist. Good and evil have nothing inherent to do with either one. Morality can only come from willful choices that people make, and there are no choices in nature. A rainstorm can provide water for your grandparents' crops, but can also cause a flood. Fire can cook our food and enable us to work metal to build things, but it can also burn houses and fields. The redcap in the story was evil, but it was not evil because of its magic; it was evil because of the things it did, deliberately harming others."

"So you can use Glamour to curse people?"

"Yes; all magic can be used for both good and evil. Why, just look at Shuck." Cress's pet barghest twitched his ear in his sleep at the sound of his name. "He's a creature of Sorcery, but he's a good boy most of the time. As for Glamour, many fae monsters are poisonous. Lillet once fought and defeated a manticore, for example."

"Oh, I see." Satisfied with her new knowledge, Cressidor said, "Thank you, Mother; I'm sorry for interrupting the story."

"It's all right. If something doesn't make sense to you., we want you to ask questions about it. Not only is that how you learn, but sometimes you might end up discovering a problem that nobody else realized existed before you asked."

"Oh, that's good, then! But what happened? Was the knight okay?"

Amoretta nodded.

"When he woke up, he found that he was lying in a bed, in what looked like a rustic cottage.

"'Where…where am I?' he asked aloud. 'Is anyone there?'

"He was answered at once. 'Oh! You're awake!' he heard, and in the next moment a woman entered the room. She had long red hair and eyes as blue as the sea, and he thought that she was the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen in his life. 'Are you feeling all right?' she asked."

"Oh, it's a love story!"

"Yes, it is. She told him of how she had found him, unconscious, across the back of his horse two days past, so she'd brought him to her home and tended to his wounds. She told him that her name was Dahlia, and that she lived in the forest."

Cressidor bit her lip, thinking, and then displayed a sound knowledge of story contrivances.

"She was the snake, wasn't she?"

Some storytellers would have put off the question so as to preserve the flow of the narrative. Amoretta was not one of those storytellers. Or, in fairness, a storyteller at all, as she was just filling in for Lillet for their daughter's sake. Besides, she'd just gotten through encouraging Cressidor to ask questions just a few minutes ago.

"Yes, she was. Dahlia was the melusine that I mentioned at the start of the story."

"I though you said a melusine was like a dragon?"

"It is. Technically, it's what Lillet would call a winged wyrm, as they don't have legs. But they can magically change shape to look like snakes or humans, which is what she was doing. The knight had been hurt saving her from the redcap, so she had kept watch just in case he'd needed help, and when he'd passed out she had come to his rescue. Even the cottage wasn't real; it was actually her den, altered by glamour."

She had been about to explain how the other meaning of the word "glamour," when applied to magic, meant the creation of an artificial physical reality that was not an illusion but that was also by its nature ephemeral and temporary, but decided that it would probably just confuse a seven-year old. At the Royal House of Magic, Lillet had had to explain the specifics of how it worked to Amoretta's friend Marne.

And it really wasn't important to the story, anyway.

"'Thank you,' he said. 'If it wasn't for you, I'd have surely died, with no one to leech the poison from my wounds. That was very kind of you to do for a total stranger.'

"'No; I could do no less! In slaying that horrible redcap, you have done a good service for all of the peaceful inhabitants here.'

"Perhaps, from this, he should have realized her identity, or at least that she was not what she appeared to be, but the combination of his gratitude and her beauty clouded his awareness, and he accepted her on the terms she presented herself. Over the course of the next two weeks, she treated his wounds with salves and unguents that sped his natural healing and he worked on building up his strength. As he began to heal, he helped her with minor chores around the hut, and they talked together for many long hours, growing closer and closer, so that attraction began to deepen into love, until one day, she seized her courage and ventured to kiss him. He accepted the kiss at first, but then, just as it seemed they would be swept away by love and passion, the knight broke away and held himself at arm's length."

"Oh, no; why?" Cressidor yelped, loudly enough that Shuck woke up and looked around in confusion before settling back down. Cress was definitely a romantic-minded girl, a tendency that was only encouraged by the fact that her mothers were doing their best on a daily basis to live up to "and they lived happily ever after"—even if she found it a little embarrassing sometimes.

"'I'm sorry,' he told her, 'but it wouldn't be fair to you to lead you on in this way. I am falling in love with you, with your beauty and your kindness and your wit, but I am not free to offer myself to you.'

"'Are you wed, then, or betrothed? Is there another in your heart?'

"'No, there is no one of that sort. Rather, the prior claim upon me is one of family and estate. I am but a poor knight with little fortune, and there are those who depend upon me. It is for this purpose that I adventure, in the hop of finding a great treasure, or winning the hand of an heiress. I cannot pledge myself to you knowing that not only my family but all of the followers, retainers, and farmers on our estate could be harmed.'"

It was at this point that Amoretta made some swift edits to the story Tahlea had told her. Apparently, the melusine had told the knight that she understood his reluctance but that so long as he was not pledged to another there was no reason why they could not indulge their mutual attraction. To Amoretta, this seemed eminently practical, though not without emotional risk, but her daughter was really too young by human standards to get into a discussion about sexual ethics.

So, she skipped past the entire encounter and picked up the story with what had originally happened the next morning.

"'I…understand your position,' she said regretfully. 'I wish that it were otherwise, but you would not be the man I have fallen in love with if you were capable of abandoning your obligations and the trust of those who rely upon you. I wish it could be otherwise, but I can only wish you well, and will treasure our time together.'

"'As will I,' he said. 'It is cruel, indeed, that worldly concerns must force us to part and make this moment only a sweet dream of spring.'"

"Aww, but that's so sad! Wasn't there anything they could do? Maybe she knew where there was a treasure hoard? If he found that, then he could marry anyone he wanted!"

"No, there wasn't such a convenient answer, but she did have another idea. It was a grave risk, but she decided to take it, because her feelings for him were so strong. She took a deep breath to help steel her courage, and said, 'If it's only a question of money, then…then there's a way I might be able to help. Each month, on the night of the full moon, I can use magic to create a quantity of gold. But to do this, I must be alone, for what I do cannot be witnessed by anyone. If you were to disturb me, then I would be forced to leave you forever.'

"'Is this true? With magic like that, then we could indeed be wed! No one could object to my marrying a wealthy woman, no matter her origins.' Which, honestly, sounds a little naïve, because some people can be very nasty about social rank and things," Amoretta couldn't help adding.

"Like Jenny's stupid cousin!" Cress said. "He was saying mean things about Marcia because her grandfather was an Illyrian merchant."

"You're lucky that Lady Smithwick shared your opinion of her nephew, or you and Jenny would have gotten into much more trouble for dumping the chamber pot over his head." It was rather hard for Jenny's mother to be very stern with the girls when she was barely able to stop laughing.

"We did have to scrub the floor, but that was only fair," Cress agreed.

"In any case, none of this occurred to the couple at the time, possibly because they were just happy to be with each other. The melusine then told him, 'I don't expect you to just take me on faith. The highest day of the full moon is in four days, and if you will stay with me that long, then I can show you proof of what I claim.'

"'I would happily stay with you for that time even were there no pragmatic benefit to be drawn from it,' he told her, which was quite true since he had no scheduled route or appointments to keep, so spending a few extra days would cost him nothing and bring him happiness. So they spent the next several days together as they had done, with long hours in talk and sharing the beauty of the woodlands, and taking joy in each other's company."

"I bet there was kissing."

"I expect there was. They were falling in love, after all, and most couples in love enjoy kissing."

"I thought so," Cress said with satisfaction.

"And then, on the night of the fourth day, the melusine went into a back room of the hut and closed the door, and repeated to the baronet that he must not enter, or else he would lose her forever. He swore on his honor that he would wait until she emerged, and so she changed herself back into her natural form. And then, she commenced to lay a golden egg."

"Oh! Like the dragon hens?"

"Yes, very much, although dragon eggshells aren't made of gold." Though come to think of it, Amoretta didn't know if melusine eggs were ordinarily gold as well; it might be that she'd use some transformative magic to change the egg within her body. In any event, she was happy that Cress understood how birds and reptiles alike would lay unfertilized eggs. "The process was long and arduous for her—perhaps because she was working magic to turn the egg to gold, or perhaps it was just the nature of melusine bodies, but there were many groans and cries of pain. Sometimes the knight was worried for her because she thought she was suffering, and other times because the sounds came from an inhuman throat and he was afraid there was something else, something dangerous, in there with her.

"He wanted nothing more than to rush in to her aid, but he had given her a promise, and though he sat there with hands clenched so tightly they hurt, and sometimes he paced back and forth, hand on his sword ready to act at once if she should cry for his help, for nearly two hours he stayed strong and resisted the urge, until at last his love emerged, once more in human shape and holding the egg, which was perhaps a foot long. Though the shell was hollow, it was still a goodly amount of pure gold, enough to purchase a fine horse or a knight's arms and armor. With this much wealth as income every cycle of the moon, it was plain that he would be able to restore his estates to prosperity and support all those dependent upon him."

Cressidor, meanwhile, had scrunched up her face once again into her Very Serious Thinking Expression, which Lillet found positively adorable and even Amoretta thought was cute now that she knew it wasn't an unhappy expression.

"Mother?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Why did she make him promise? It seems kind of mean, and it's not fair to marry him without telling him she was a faerie creature."

"I agree about it not being fair, but in this case, I think that it wasn't her fault. When creatures of Faerie come to live in our world, they do so by magic, as our world isn't their natural place. The rules of that magic can be very complex, and have a lot to do with the symbolism of what is happening. In the melusine's case, it seems that she could not live as a human if a human saw her in her true shape, and having known her as a human first, if he then saw her in melusine form the magic would be broken and she would be banished back to Faerie. If you're really curious, I'm sure that Lillet could give us a full explanation."

"I'll ask tomorrow. Sometimes when I asl Mama complicated magic questions she really gets carried away and I don't understand what she's saying."

"That's because Lillet loves magic so much, she gets very enthusiastic and can't stop talking about it. It's just like she is when she talks about us to your Grandma and Grandpa Blan."

Cressidor blushed. Lillet, it will be noted, was the kind of person to gush about her lover and daughter when left unsupervised.

"I kind of hope I find someone some day that I can be as silly about as Mama is, though I wish she'd tone it down a little. Um, so what happened to the knight and the melusine?"

"Well, as you might assume, the knight was overjoyed that she was all right, and almost as happy to see that she'd told him the truth about the magical gold. So they went together to his home, and there they were married. And every full moon, she would lock herself away in the tower of the castle keep, and she would bring forth another golden egg. She and her husband invested the money wisely in building the estate back up, increasing the productivity of the farms, maintaining roads and infrastructure, paying for guards to product against monsters, bandits, and rival lords, and in many ways generally improving the well-being of the people and helping the estate to reach a state where it could properly support itself. In time, they even had children, two sons and a daughter, in whom their fae heritage came through in an enhanced awareness of magic and sensitivity towards animals and nature.

"Of course, not being a fool, the baronet soon realized that his wife was almost certainly not human, something confirmed when no golden eggs were forthcoming during her pregnancies, and as the years went by, he was beset with curiosity that gnawed at him, rising to a head each month when his wife would seclude herself away."

"What did he do?" Cress asked, excited. "Did he make a plan so he could spy on her?"

Amoretta blinked.

"Of course not. He loved his wife very much, and he had made her a solemn promise. What difference would it make to find out what kind of fae creature she was, when weighed against that? It would have been every bit as bad as if he'd taken up with another woman!"

It was Cress's turn to blink in surprise.

"That's it?"

"Well, so far as Tahlea told me. I don't know anything about the specifics of their private lives."

"But that's not how these stories work. In my books of fairy tales, the human always breaks the weird faerie rules and something bad happens."

"That's very foolish of them."

Cress didn't really had an answer for that. It was true that in a lot of magical stories, humans did do stupid things and faced unhappy consequences. Especially in the operas that Amoretta performed in at the City Theater, which either ended with miserable tragedy or farcical comic hijinks.

"Maybe the knight read the same books," Amoretta suggested, "and he learned from the characters' mistakes. And in doing that, he could in turn serve as a good example for other people. I think that's important. People need to see good things happen to people who make the right choices, or else they might come to believe there aren't any good choices at all and nothing that they do can help."

"I guess so," Cress mused.

"I'm certain of it," Amoretta said. "And I like for you to hear stories that end with 'And they lived happily ever after until the end of their days,' because that's what I want you to do, too." She got up from her seat and leaned forward so she could give her daughter a hug. Cressidor's little arms closed around her sides and squeezed.

"I love you, Mother."

"I love you too, Cressidor."

"And while you don't tell stories as good as Mama's, you're lots and lots better at it than Grandpa Chartreuse!"