In Which Ashe Picks the Wrong Words

August 2, 1180

In hindsight, it should have been obvious that going to Jadin for advice was a bad idea.

The lecture--an hour-long ordeal Ashe had already forgotten out of sheer embarrassment--had been a nightmare in itself, but things hadn't improved when Jadin had gotten it into his head to assign a reading. By reading, of course, he'd meant an old journal of some of his own exploits, a crumbling little book with the characters "7/?" inked on the cover in a sloppy hand.

Against his better judgment, he'd skimmed it briefly after settling Yvanette down for her nap. The best thing to be said about the book was that it was barely legible, through some lucky combination of old pages and Jadin's careless penmanship and Ashe's still-not-quite-masterful grasp of the written word. What he had caught, however, were doubtlessly overblown anecdotes and pages-long descriptions of numerous women who probably hadn't expected to be included in a written record; for their sakes, Ashe had tried to avoid the names. There had been even more names on a list near the back, not of women Jadin had slept with but women he seemed to want to sleep with, judging by a suspicious sticking of the pages. Jadin's immediate family excluded, it seemed every woman Ashe knew who hadn't been mentioned earlier had earned a spot on this list; at least Jadin had done the courtesy of scratching out the name "Rona" before lending it, for all the very thought was blood-curdling.

He'd ended up slipping the book inside of another book, an old collection of heavy poetry he doubted anyone could take in large doses. But knowing his luck, Rona would come home from her day at the market with her mother in just the right mood for a lengthy ballad.

At least she'd understand the explanation, for all he dreaded giving it. Still, it was humiliating enough that he'd even had to borrow the damn thing. A real man never would have had that problem.

He shoved the book a little further back, just for good measure. It was on a high enough shelf that he could barely reach it, so surely Rona...

"ASHE TORGLEID!"

The study door burst open, hitting the wall with a hollow bang!. Ashe stumbled somewhat, catching himself on the bookshelf. What had he done? Was Jadin spreading rumors about their issues? That bastard. He'd sworn he'd keep it to himself! "Rona--"

"Shut up!" He did. Her pretty face contorted into a scowling mask of rage and he wasn't quite sure what he'd done to deserve it. Well... not unless she'd figured it out. But how would she have--? "What's wrong with Yvanette?"

...eh? "What do you mean? I picked her up from your stepfather's castle and I put her down for a nap as soon as we got back. Is she having trouble sleeping?"

"No! She's as cute and cuddly and peaceful as ever." Then why was she yelling at him? "What's going on? What's wrong with you? You're the one who's always fretting over her--something you're not telling me?"

"I just don't know anything about kids?" That did little for the throbbing vein in her brow. "I don't have any siblings. I was never swimming in nieces and nephews like you are. I never had anything to do with kids before Yvanette was born, so I don't know what's normal or what's a bad sign or what's--"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Again, he did. "Stop giving me all these bullshit excuses! I have the right to know what's wrong with my own daughter!"

"There's nothing wrong with her! She's perfect!"

"Well, I know that!" Then why could he almost see smoke coming out of her nostrils? "Look, I have a brother who died a decade ago, came back as a suit of armor, and now suddenly has an actual body again. That sounds like the stupidest load of crap story anyone could ever tell, but I know it's true. I've seen it. And because I know that's true, maybe I'm not going to immediately dismiss any other stupid load of crap stories I hear."

Shit. She did know. How, though? Had Lonriad told? Had she run into Deian? "Look, I didn't mean--"

"I don't care what you did or didn't mean! Why is my brother sensing some sort of weird aura around you and Yvanette?"

Or maybe not. "...What?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" She slugged him on the shoulder. She was too distraught to have thrown much weight into it, but it stung anyway, just because it was her. "This has something to do with that thing you won't tell me, doesn't it?"

"Rona--"

"Well? Are you going to tell me now?"

He ought to have--again--and he knew it. But as always, the jumbled mass of unsorted words formed in his throat an unintelligible lump. Snarling, Rona shoved him. "You are unbelievable! What the hell is your problem?"

"Rona--"

"Don't you 'Rona' me!" She pulled back a hand as if to slap him, but let it drop to her side, the shaking in her limbs unlikely to allow for much harm anyway. She didn't want to hurt him anyway, not for the sake of it. Not any more than he'd already hurt her. "Just... just something, all right? I don't need the whole story, but I do need something. Anything."

"I--" Something. Anything. Not the whole story. He fished a few words out of the clump and hoped to any god that might have existed that he'd picked the right ones. "I was exposed to some sort of magic at some point. Before--" Before they met? That was a lie. He didn't want to lie to her. "--before you met me. And I do worry about Yvanette, but I thought that if there was any issue, it would have been that I couldn't have children at all. Is that...?" He was cut off by an ill-constrained sob. "Rona?"

Oh God. Those hadn't been the right words at all. "I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"I'm pregnant."

Ashe swallowed. They hadn't been trying, and Rona hadn't given any hint of wishing otherwise. That said, he'd been around long enough to know that accidents happened. "You're sure?"

Rona nodded. "I've missed two courses. And then Farilon said--" Her voice was forced aside by another sob, but he could guess what she'd been about to say. If Farilon had sensed something off about Yvanette--something off about him--who was to say that the baby didn't have it too?

He shuffled forward and eased a hesitant arm around her, half-expecting her to shrug him off. She didn't. "Yvanette seems healthy, and very happy. And I haven't even been sick since it happened. I'm sure the new baby will be all right."

"But you don't know." Her voice was small and frail beneath her tears.

"No," he admitted, his fingers running along the curve of her trembling shoulder. "But I'll get to the bottom of it, all right? I'll see if I can find someone who knows more than I do, see what they have to say about it."

Rona sniffled and wiped her nose with the side of her thumb, not as discreetly as she might have normally. Ashe didn't care. "Who would know?"

One name came to mind immediately, but it wasn't a name he could mention, not in front of Rona. Deian had killed her father. "One of the Naron, maybe? What about that friend of Lonriad's sister's?"

"But what if he doesn't know?"

What if he didn't. What could he tell her? His only thought was perhaps some herbs from Arydath, but no--Rona wouldn't have been so worried if she hadn't grown attached. And even if she hadn't, what about Yvanette? What if she needed some sort of medical aid no human doctor or herbalist could offer?

"Then--then I'll find someone else. I won't stop looking until I find someone who can help." He took her face in hand and wiped back a stray tear. In a mental image, his next child stared up at him with those same bronze eyes. "I won't let anything happen to them, all right? I promise."

Rona choked back the last of her wails and grimaced, but she refused to meet his eye. False smiles were their great shared talent.

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