Page 256 of Season Warriors & Wolves

“It hurts your stomach, love of mine.”

“An orange then.”

“Oranges, too, if you do not eat something else before.”

“Kil.”

“One slice,” I said, finally relenting. With Sam, she had consumed so much salted mushrooms I thought some were going to grow out of her. Larg’s hands had been raw from collecting them all over Adriata by the end of the ninth month. With our girl, all she craved was sourness. Moriko had not handpicked anything, but she surely would soon grow tired of sending us fresh lemon crates every week.

Sam had finally woken and sat on Snow’s lap, letting her feed him little pieces of buttered bread whilst he coloured on a sheet of paper.

“Son, do you want to sit with me? Your mother must be tired.”

He shook his head and blinked up at her. “Ma, are you tired?”

She showered his face with kisses. “Just a little, but not for you.”

Caiden marched in, unbothered and finally for once bathed before dinner. He patted Snow’s head, picked my son up like a leather ball and sat on a chair. “Didn’t come to see me at training today, soldier.”

“I had a nap,” my son said, yawning. “Papa said I could have one, uncle.”

“You can have many of them,” Caiden agreed, chewing on some pie. “Got to put some feet on you if you want to be part of my command.”

“How do you allow him to say things like that?” Nia asked, strutting in and picking Sam up from Caiden’s lap and putting him on her own.

My son rounded his small arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder, all shy as he blinked up at her. “Auntie Lenia.”

“Sweet baby.” Nia cut up some grapes in half and handed them to him before asking Snow, “So, how are things in Isjord?”

Snow only huffed in response, glaring and sneering at a spot on the table like it bore all fault.

“Mor and her are being too secretive for my liking,” Nia somewhat agreed with her. “If the Islines are giving her trouble, why won’t she just ask for your aid?”

“Because she is stubborn.”

“Because she wants to give her people a choice. Something they never had before,” I said, sliding my hand over Snow’s. “If the Islines want to create another Tenebrose and Isline, then so be it. Thora is capable.”

My wife huffed. “But so is their new queen. They are calling Thora half a Krigborn. Iskyla this, Iskyla that. This blood talk is driving me mad. As if it matters. Isjord is thriving, her people should be happy. Why aren’t they happy? Why are they never happy being ruled by someone who cares about them? Why do they care about blood so much they are willing to have another wicked ruler on the throne?”

“It won’t come to that,” Alaric said, walking in and taking Sam from Nia. “And quit bothering my grandson’s ears with nonsense. Eat.”

“What is nonsense, grandpapa?”

“All adult talk, kid.”

My son nodded and turned to me. “You speak nonsense all day, papa?”

“If you ask your mother, she will say I’ve only ever spoken nonsense.”

Sam quickly chewed his grapes till he was out of breath before telling his mother, “I also think papa speaks a lot of nonsense. He speaks it to the papers, too, mama, all day!”

“He does,” my wife agreed.

“Will anyone else grace us with their presence?” Alaric asked, trying to count who was missing.

“Eren is not coming until the week after,” Nia explained. “Visha has gone all mad Crafter on her new apprentices. Penelope is off frolicking with Atlas who had prepared a picnic for her. Mal won’t return from Seraphim until spring. Thora won’t breathe outside of Isjord until she is rid of the Isline queen. And my own wife is inspecting the autumn crops for the upcoming festival. Who have I missed?”

Snow raised a brow at her. “You know your duties as my spy ended five years ago, queen consort of Hanai.”