In Which Dea Is Not the Good Daughter

March 3, 1183

Dea spent every birthday at her grandfather's castle. Her mother came with her, and her sister, and this year, her brother as well. That was why she'd taken to the couch in the old sitting room, alone.

Not that she minded being alone--she actually rather liked it, most of the time--but the baby so monopolized her mother's life since he'd been born that she'd felt the need to retreat on principle, just to see if her absence was noted. It was a petty and juvenile response, but she didn't think she could say much better about everyone else's reactions to Holden.

It hadn't been like this when Gennie had been born. Sure, Dea hadn't been her mother's precious only child any more, but she'd always been "an independent spirit" as her grandfather liked to call her, and her mother had still made her efforts, so it hadn't seemed like much of an adjustment. And even babies needed their space every now and then, or at least Gennie had--for all she could have stood to need her space every once in a while now--so Dea and her mother had still had their moments when it was just the two of them.

Holden, though... had she seen her mother without Holden since he'd been born? She hadn't caught her alone, that much was certain--and when she'd asked Gennie, she'd found her sister's experience no different. She supposed she could have understood if Holden had been sickly or even fussy, even if babies were nowhere near a spot on her list of favorite things, but from what she could tell, her brother was as happy and healthy as could be expected of an infant. If she recalled correctly, Gennie had been more demanding.

And then there was their father, less noticeable but similarly troubling. Dea wasn't stupid; her father claimed to love her and Gennie whenever he was expected to do so, but he'd never had a shred of real interest in either of them. But now that he had his long-awaited son, there was a jig in his step and a smile on his lips and always a boast about his fine new son bursting from his mouth--even though Dea could have counted the times she'd seen the two together on one hand. Her father was not an affectionate man where anyone was concerned, but his preference for sons had been obvious long before he'd had one. She recalled distinctly how he'd been when Gennie had turned out to be a girl.

But she never would have thought her mother shared that preference! Her mother, who was so painfully aware of what it was to be a woman in a man's world. The only explanation Dea could think of was that she'd hoped her thirdborn would be spared that fate... but if that was the case, then ought she have been more concerned with the girls still, if only out of pity?

"There you are."

It wasn't her mother, but her uncle. At least her brother wasn't with him. "Hello, Uncle Sparron."

He'd been out when they arrived. Aunt Camaline had said he'd taken her cousin out for a ride, now that it was dry enough for the pony Prior had received for Christmas. Whether Holden was the favorite or not, Dea doubted her father would be bothered whenever her brother was big enough for a small pony. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Can I sit with you?"

Nodding, she pushed herself up and sidled over. Her uncle took the vacated seat and scuffed his boot against the floor. "How are you holding up?"

"With what?"

"Holden." Of course Holden. "Though... I don't blame you if you don't want to talk about your brother. You've probably heard too much about him this past month."

Dea snorted. If she told her uncle that talk of a single baby boy being more prevalent than talk of a university in the works was a sign of a world without priorities, he might appreciate it. "And not nearly enough of it is interesting."

"Baby siblings as a rule aren't very interesting. Trust me, I have six of them--seven if you count your mother."

"My mother is eight minutes younger than you."

"The point stands."

Did it? She doubted he remembered being eight minutes old. That and... "But you're a man."

Way to state the obvious, idiot! she cursed herself as the remark slipped away, practically sticking its tongue out at her as it flew away. But her uncle didn't seem offended, or confused. They'd always been well-attuned. "So that's it. Everyone's treating Holden as special because he's a boy."

"Exactly." The crown prince, the heir. A baby. Who even knew if he'd make a better monarch than she would? How could they tell, at his age? "I mean, I expected this from my father, but my mother..."

"Seems to have taken the baby on as an extra appendage?" An odd image, but fitting all the same. Dea nodded. "Yes, I'll grant you that her mothering there is a little excessive, but... well, she has her reasons. She may tell you one day, when you're older, but I take it you at least have some idea of how much pressure your father has put on her to produce an heir?"

"And Gennie and I were failed attempts?" Like she needed him to answer that.

"No, your father is an idiot." A good daughter would have protested. Dea was apparently not so good. "Your mother loves you, Dea--you and your sister both, and your brother, and she loves you all equally. Differently--you're all different people--but equally. Your mother's attachment to Holden is not rooted in any distaste for you or Gennie."

"And you're sure of this?"

"Positive. No one knows your mother like I do. We shared a womb for nine months, remember?" He smiled fondly, as if he actually remembered it. "I know your mother loves you--and you will too when you see what she has planned for you this evening."

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