In Which Yvanette Has to Learn

March 4, 1202

"Gah!" Little Lonriad bounced the kitten about, his chubby hands dangling the furry form clumsily from beneath the shoulders. The kitten--who probably should have had a name--squirmed, but only for want of his own mobility. The baby couldn't hurt him even if he tried.

The kitten couldn't hurt the baby either, as more than one unfelt scratch with no lingering marks had proven.

"Should be interesting, watching those two as they get older." Sevvie, of course, would call it 'interesting'. Yvanette needed another word, but she didn't think one existed that quite captured the sentiment of 'greatly relieved that her transformations were a thing of the past and that her son and any future children of hers weren't doomed to involuntary felinehood of either the temporary or permanent variety, but still wary of Lonriad's kitten and her cat and not satisfied with the information Imran's journals had managed to provide'. "I suspect our boy will be able to answer most of our questions better than any old diary can, once he starts talking."

Yvanette pursed her lips. Sevvie was too good a man to point out that she could have unlocked some of those secrets for herself if she stopped keeping the cat at arms' length. Perhaps it was her responsibility as a mother to do so. She didn't want Lonriad to hurt himself for the sake of his own curiosity, and certainly not for the sake of hers or Sevvie's. She would try, eventually.

But she wasn't ready yet.

Things had been so complicated for so long. Her last bout of true peacefulness had been long enough ago that she scarcely remembered, when she'd been so small a child she couldn't properly appreciate it. But now... well, things weren't perfect.

But, they were so much better than they'd been before. Her body was her own again. The child she hadn't dared consider was here and healthy and happy. The possibility of more children was no longer a thing to be dreaded for their own sakes, but a thing to be considered--even hoped for. She could attend weddings and feasts and parties and not have to worry about whether she could duck away for an hour, whether absence or tardiness would be noticed. She could come and go from her own home as she pleased, without worry as to what might happen if she was gone too long.

She was free.

For now, she'd savor that.

But...

"I'll look into things myself before he talks."

Sevvie squeezed her hand. "I hope you don't feel that you have to."

"I don't--or, not for the reasons you'd fear, at least." She burrowed herself further into her husband's embrace and watched as their son rubbed his face with a fistful of kitten. "No one could understand what I went through as a child, since no one who knew me had gone through the same. Lonriad, at least, can have someone who can empathize--and I'm the only one who can be that person. I just have to learn to trust the familiars."

Her son's--and her own, staring wide-eyed from her perch on the other couch.

"After all, it's because of them that our lives can be so much better now."

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