In Which Yvanette Warns Again

May 8, 1199

"The situation hasn't changed, you know." If Yvanette were to say 'yes'--before she said 'yes'--then she had to make that clear. It was only right. "I might have a better handle on it now, but I'll never be normal."

"What's 'normal', really?" Sevvie asked with a shrug, his hair flopping against Yvanette's cheek. "We all have our quirks--and a lot of the things we're all supposed to do don't necessarily make sense. I don't think there's really such thing as 'normal'."

"You know what I mean." And knowing that, perhaps she could reason that she'd given him plenty of time to change his mind about her--but Sevvie had always been too nice for his own good. "Just because I can control it doesn't mean I don't have to... exercise it. I can't expect you to make excuses for me all our lives."

"What excuses? If you need to miss a party or a banquet or something, I'll just say you weren't feeling up to it. Worse comes to worse, we'll just say you're prone to headaches and leave it at that."

"And children?" She wouldn't guess exactly how long she could go without transforming if she had to, but having assumed that the prickling in her skin was any indicator that she was due, she hadn't dared stretch it past a few weeks. "I can't expect to keep a pregnancy--not without something going terribly wrong."

"We don't need children. We'll have each other, plus a bunch of nieces and nephews that we can happily hand back to their parents for their less enjoyable aspects."

"But what if you change your mind?"

"Doesn't matter; my love for you won't." He eased her onto his lap, unblinking as he swore it. Such was a lofty thing to promise, but Sevvie had always been good about keeping to his word. "I want to marry you. If you'll have me, then I'll gladly take on everything that entails."

Gladly. She barely knew the meaning of the word. She hoped he knew it better than she did. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

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