In Which Renata's Wonderings Are Confirmed

March 8, 1182

The baby's little eyes had barely flickered when Renata lifted her from the basket. This was her tenth child. It was about damn time she'd birthed one who slept through her first night without a fuss. "Morning, sweetie."

Her daughter's tiny lips were moist against her shoulder, but no suckling motion came. She'd been fed just before the two of them had retired, and it seemed she was not quite hungry yet. For that, Renata could not complain either. "There's my good girl."

Good girl indeed. Perhaps it had been predictable with nine children before, but this birth had been the easiest by far. The baby had waited for the midwife as politely as an imminent birth could, but once the woman had arrived, she'd wasted no time in meeting the world, crying just boldly enough to assure everyone of her well-being, but quickly quieting to a soft cooing sound.

And in these first minutes of their shared morning, the baby's easy existence continued. Renata couldn't even smell any indication of a soiled diaper. "That's my really good girl."

"She's awake, then?" Octavius pulled himself out of the chair by the fireplace and joined the pair of them by the basket, fond eyes on the new arrival. She didn't look much like any of Renata's other children when they'd been first born, but Octavius had sworn she was the spitting image of his beloved, ill-fated Pandora.

"Yes, but she doesn't want to be any trouble, it seems." And that was fine. An early bout of colic aside, Lettie had been an agreeable baby as well; Renata had just had to remember to check her needs without the prompt of a cry. "You know, it's funny. When I left Naroni, we were teasing Searle about how neither of us would ever have to put up with a newborn again, and he's been teasing me back ever since he learned. I can't wait to tell him she's the least fussy infant I've ever seen." Searle, she had never forgotten, had been the precise opposite.

"And his latest was a nightmare, or so Valira told me." They shared a smirk. Once again, Renata had to thank whatever angel had put in the request for such a calm reunion.

"So... does she have a name yet?" he asked as he leaned forward, a silly grin on his face for the infant's benefit.

"Uh... well, I named my last daughter for one of my late sisters, so I was thinking maybe Cladelia? I know it's more of a grown woman's name, but she'll be a grown woman some day." And hopefully, she'd be a grown woman a lot longer than she was a child.

"True. Plus we could always find a way to shorten it in the meantime."

Delia? No, that was taken by some other Cladelia--not that Renata could ever remember whose nickname was whose. Claddie, for her poor departed daughter-in-law? No, it didn't feel right, using that name on anyone else.

"Hello, Cladelia." Octavius kissed the baby on the forehead, then nuzzled his nose against whatever she had of one. "Cladelia. Cli-Clia-Cladelia."

Thank God for baby talk. "I like that--Clia."

"Clia it is, then." If it stuck, a grown woman could probably pull that off as well. "Renata, can I ask you something?"

"As long as you're not asking for another baby." Clia, she figured as she lowered her back into the basket, was no doubt the last her body would allow anyway. "But in all seriousness, yes, you may."

"Thank you." He took her by the hands and led her a few paces away from Clia's bedside. Did he not want to trouble the little girl? As if she would understand him anyway.

Then again, maybe he just wanted some semblance of privacy. "Look, I've been thinking about what you said last night--you know, about our arrangement not accounting for a baby?"

She nodded. She had said something like that, supposing she could indeed remember clearly the moments before the labor. "All right..."

"And I was wondering... well, maybe once you and Clia can travel, if you wouldn't be averse to coming back to Naroni with me?"

She'd wondered if it might have been that. "I don't know. I know you have enough to deal with at home without a baby around."

"Yes, but unless the change leaves you be for a few more years yet, she'll probably be my last child. I know it's impractical, and rather selfish of me, but I'd like to be a part of her life, and not just a fleeting one."

It wasn't selfish, but of course he would say that. The one lucky star that was Holladrin aside, Octavius was not used to getting what he wanted. "No, that's understandable..."

"If you'd prefer not to leave, I won't continue to pester you." She trusted he wouldn't--even if a glance toward Clia's basket suggested it would be a struggle not to do so. "But if there's any chance you might be willing, I'd appreciate it if you would at least think about it."

Think about it. She was comfortable here; she had children here, and grandchildren, siblings, friends. Then again, the same could be said of Naroni. And perhaps she was stepping on Odette's toes somewhat, still taking on many of the responsibilities of lady here. And perhaps Octavius might have needed a baroness.

She was comfortable here. But perhaps she wouldn't be any less than that there as well? "I'll think about it."

NEXT CHAPTER: