In Which Jeda Does Not Find Point Enough

August 24, 1180

"Can they go for their ride yet?" Gennie bobbed her doll up and down in indignance. She didn't lack her older sister's intelligence, or so it seemed to Jeda, but it manifested itself differently. Dea was cerebral, methodical, and thorough, not a detail left untouched and her sights on the far-off future. Gennie was Jeda's little social butterfly. Her language abilities were far beyond what Jeda would have expected of a three-year-old. Even if they hadn't been, the girl was fearless! She took to any given stranger like an old friend--for all she wasn't even old enough to have old friends--and would talk and talk and talk, often until she talked herself to sleep if the hour was late enough. And if she wasn't moving her mouth, she had to make up for it with some other part of her; she would be quite the horsewoman once her legs could reach the stirrups, Jeda was sure of it.

Of course, all her pent-up energy meant that she wasn't exactly thrilled about what Dea saw as the key aspects of their dolls' lives: their studies and their assemblies.

"No. They have to decide where to build the new bridge first."

"They can stay on one side of the river."

"Doesn't matter. Trade routes are stalled. They need that bridge and they need it n--"

Knock!

Odd. It was Ietrin's knock. Ietrin usually didn't bother knocking.

But puzzled or not, she supposed it would be easier to just get whatever he wanted over with. She hoisted herself out of her slouch and sighed. "Yes?"

The door closed before she'd fully registered it opening. Ietrin took to the couch with a swift, premeditated motion, choosing not to acknowledge any of them before making himself comfortable. If he was ever comfortable around them. "Jedaline. Girls."

"Hello, Father," the girls muttered in unison. Their father greeted, they resumed their play--only more quietly.

Satisfied--at least, as much as he ever was--Ietrin sniffed and turned to Jeda. It was a fight to maintain eye contact. If it wasn't on one of her girls, she fucking hated violet. "Jedaline, remind me: how old is Geneva?"

Gennie turned her head and held up a hand. "I'm--"

"Not now, Geneva. Your mother and I are talking."

The little girl slumped, put-out as little could make her. It was enough to merit a comforting pat on the shoulder from her sister. Jeda would have to tend to the both of them later. Perhaps it was time for another weekend at her father's castle. "She's three."

"Hmm. A little old for a youngest child, wouldn't you say?"

Jeda frowned. It was a conversation they had almost nightly--if one could call it a conversation--but in the middle of the day? And in front of the children? "Ietrin--"

"No. This has gone on long enough." His wedding band slipped as his hand fell to his side. It had always been a little loose on his finger, just as hers had always been a little tight. "We'll try thrice daily now. The usual nighttime coitus, plus first thing in the morning and then around midday--right around this time, in fact."

Thrice daily? But... "Ietrin--"

"Be in my bedchamber in half an hour." He stood, as if that was point enough. Jeda caught Dea frowning at him, but he didn't seem to notice. "And don't think about simply not showing up. I imagine it would be quite embarrassing for both of us if I had to send the servants after you."

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