Chapter 8 in my answer to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope
Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter 2 is here
Chapter 3 is here
Chapter 4 is here
Chapter 5 is here
Chapter 6 is here
Chapter 7 is here.

You’re mine.

Sefton stared at Lady Taisiya for a minute. He wasn’t sure what else to do, or what to say. You don’t belong to your mother anymore. He worked his throat, but nothing came out.

It was — “The romance novels,” he said, sputtered, really. “And the ballads. When he is off, fighting or about to die in war, or when he’s about to be picked up by slavers because he was unwise…”

“There’s more than a little truth in romance novels.” She caught up his chains in her hand and tugged on them, not enough to pull him to her, but enough to make him very aware of those chains. “You’re mine. You came into my house and into my bed — well, you will. In the Old Times, sometimes the junior spouse would take the senior spouse’s family name, as a way of showing that they were part of their family now and had left their parents’ home. We don’t use family names here — not like they did, an integral part of the person. So instead…”

“Feltian.” His voice was dry. He didn’t know how to explain how much it dismayed him; how much he thought it was a bad idea.

“Feltian, husband of Lady Taisiya. It helps the family, too, your mother and your sisters…”

“…what?” He blinked at her. “My sisters?”

“You won’t stay locked in the husbands’ wing forever. I don’t cloister my husbands, not in the old-fashioned style, at least.”

Renaming your husbands was so old-fashioned it was in the history books. Sefton managed not to say it. You’re mine.

“…but sisters often have a proprietary concern over their brothers, and they often forget that it’s not their job anymore.”

Sisters rescuing brothers their mothers had sold into bad marriages. Sisters standing up to abusive wives, or wives who treated their husbands like slaves. Those were staples of the romance novels, too, and the very oldest plays. Sefton ducked his head. “Yes, Taisiya.” There didn’t seem safe to say anything else.

Her lips touching his forehead caught him by surprise. “Sometimes, sisters think that their brother’s wife is giving them too much freedom, too much leeway.” It’s as if she read his mind. “Sometimes, husbands have been taught that they need to be obedient above all else.”

“Jaco seems a good object lesson in what happens when you’re not.”

Oh, shells, had he actually just said that?

…She was laughing.

“Jaco is a good object lesson in the perils of acquiring a husband sight unseen and one who is already in love with someone else, that’s all. He’s not so much disobedient as he is determined to find a way to be a ‘bad husband.’”

“Why?” Sefton couldn’t keep the horror out of his voice. “Shells, Lady, does he know what happens to bad husbands? What happens to the ones nobody wants anymore?”

Something changed in her face. She went serious suddenly, her whole body stilling. What had he — shells, he’d said shells, and then he’d topped it by calling her Lady. Brilliant move, and while he was complaining about Jaco being a bad husband.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he ducked his head down to his hands. “I’m sorry…”

“Feltian, Fell… no.” She grabbed his hands again and squeezed very gently. “Look at me, my husband. Come on, darling.”

Darling? Sefton peeked up at her cautiously.

She pulled his hands into her lap. “Feltian, I promise you, it’s all right. I’m not angry at you, not at all.”

“No? But I said… and you looked so upset.. and…”

“The problem is…” Her voice had gone quiet and still again, “people who tell young boys that they have to be absolutely perfect or their lady wife will leave them sitting in a ditch somewhere, penniless, with no mother to take them back and no sisters willing to acknowledge them. The problem is with women who assume that any problem, anything that leads to someone being a ‘bad husband,’ is entirely the husband’s fault.”

“So you…” Sefton worked around the idea in his head. “You don’t mind, um, Jaco being a bad husband? Or me slipping up and calling you ma’am, or me not liking being called Feltian?”

“Yes and no. If Jaco was actually a bad husband, instead of an angry young man trying to seem more ‘bad’ than he actually was, I would mind. If you continued to argue with me about your name, or if you called me things that weren’t as nice as ‘ma’am,’ I would mind. You’re trying your best to be a good husband the way you were raised, and I can’t fault you for that.”

She released his wrist to tap him lightly on the nose. “The trick, my darling, is going to be in getting you to be what I believe a good husband is, and not what your mother and sisters think it is.”

Sefton wrinkled his nose at the tap. It took him a moment after that to focus on what she was actually saying. “Wait. I mean… please, oh, shells, what… What do you mean? That you think being a good husband is, um, it’s something different than the manuals and the training and the…” His voice was getting louder. He breathed in an out twice, three times, focusing on the feel of it to keep him from doing something unwise. “Onter didn’t warn me about this,” he muttered.

“The problem is, Onter was raised quite similarly to the way I was raised. Which means that he had less difficulty adjusting than the rest of you. And he’s been with me long enough…”

“That he’s loyal to you,” Sefton filled in, “and he thinks your way is normal and reasonable, and everything else is wrong. Not that your way isn’t reasonable!” he tacked it on hurriedly, but she was still smiling. He was pretty sure it was a good sign when she was smiling. “It’s just…”

“Not what you grew up with, probably. So. Feltian. Are you ready to be trained all over again?”

Years of training. Years of learning everything just right, preparing to be the perfect husband to his wife. Had his mother known it was going to be different with Lady Taisiya? Had she cared?

She was waiting for an answer. Sefton turned a nod into a shallow bow. “Yes, Taisiya. Please, train me.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1185812.html

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1180518.html. You can comment here or there.

Chapter 7 in my answer to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope
Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter 2 is here
Chapter 3 is here
Chapter 4 is here
Chapter 5 is here
Chapter 6 is here.

There was a look in his lady wife’s eye that didn’t seem to bode well for much discussion or conversation, but Sefton found himself relieved, finally on solid ground. He raised his eyebrows at his lady and made his voice husky. “So, Taisiya, what should I get to know about you first?”

She scooted closer to him on the couch and ran a hand through his hair, her fingertips brushing his ears. “Where would you like to start, Feltian?”

He swallowed a groan — his ears had always been his weak spot. “I’d like to know what you like. What, mmm, what you enjoy.” He glanced up at her through his eyelashes, hoping it looked endearing and not ridiculous.

“Good questions for a dutiful husband.” She pushed his hair off his neck and brushed her hand over the skin she had bared. “I want to know the same from you, first.”

What? He ducked his head and tried to hide his sudden blush. “I…” He hadn’t really thought about that. “Do you mean…?”

“How did you mean the questions, Feltian? Answer those.” She was still smiling, and she sounded as if she were nearly laughing.

“I, oh, shells.” He covered his mouth. “Sorry, m… sorry.”

She laughed. “I’ve heard the words, I assure you. I’ve even been known to say them — but don’t tell Onter. He has opinions on my virtue and clean-mindedness.”

Privately, Sefton thought maybe Onter just was better at playing the innocent and upstanding husband, but that wasn’t his place to say. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he offered instead.

A peek at her expression showed that Taysiya was still grinning. “You have a deal. But that doesn’t get you out of answering the question, Feltian.”

“Oh… sea-sand.” He blushed as she chuckled at his minced oath. “So. Things that I want? Um. Oh. Um…” Something came to mind and he couldn’t do anything but blush and look away. She’d lock him in the basement for sure.

“Tell me, Feltian.” Her tone might have been gentle, but it didn’t disguise the fact that she’d just given him an order.

“I want…” he started carefully, “Oh, please, let me tell you something else, anything else.”

“I won’t punish you for whatever you say. You have my word.”

Oh, no, not her word. He couldn’t question it now, she’d made it formal. “It’s silly…” he offered instead.

“Tell me anyway.” This time, her tone was slightly less kind.

“When… sometimes… um… tongues.” He put his hands over his face. “Urgh. That is, you know, boys play. Sometimes… well… Tongues.”

“A kiss with tongue? Or a kiss down there with tongue?’

He was doomed. She was going to lock him away like Jaco, only worse. “Both?” He didn’t dare look at her, but he looked anyway, one eye peeking through his fingers.

She was leaning towards him. Sefton tried not to flinch, tried not to tense up, but he ended up freezing anyway. He couldn’t pull away. He couldn’t. He’d take whatever she dished out.

Her voice was quiet and right next to his ear, her breath warm. “I like that, too.”

Sefton was wordless. He swallowed hard and dropped his hands, turned to look at Taisiya. His heart was thumping in his chest.

She was smiling. “There are quite a few things that young men think are dirty or secret… and older women know are quite entertaining. Someday, we’ll share a list. Not today, though.”

“No?” He was squeaking. He’d thought he was past squeaking by years, and here he was, his voice pitching up like a teenager.

“I think if we do that today, your heart will stop, Feltian.”

Feltian. He should be getting used to it. But it was strange to hear her be so gentle, so understanding, and then call him this new name that wasn’t his. His nose wrinkled up before he could stop it, and he turned away, trying to control his expression.

Her hand landed on his thigh, and Sefton’s heart nearly stopped. Eggshells and salt water, can’t I do anything right?

“You don’t like your new name.”

It wasn’t a question. Sefton swallowed and looked at her. “It’s not that,” he offered cautiously.

“You don’t like having a new name,” she elaborated.

He nodded slowly. What was she going to do? What was he going to do?

“But you’ll answer to it, and you’ll introduce yourself that way, and, eventually, you’ll come to think of yourself that way.”

Once again, there was no question there. Sefton nodded slowly one more time.

“I’m not surprised you hate it,” she admitted. “Onter’s the only one that didn’t. And maybe I should have let you pick it out, like I did with him… but your mother is very traditional, and she was feeling, I think , a bit guilty.”

“Guilty?” This was new to Sefton. He looked at Taisiya, searching her face.

She was smiling, but it was a sad smile. “I’m quite a bit older than you, and there is always a bit of guilt when one is marrying men the age of one’s sons… and when one is sending those sons off to marriages to other older women, so you can marry that young man. She wanted to keep you close as long as she could, and she wanted, I think, to let you squeeze every last drop out of your childhood. So she wouldn’t let me see you.”

Sefton blinked. There was quite a bit to take in. “You…” Proper young men don’t meet their wives before they meet at the altar. Only in ballads and those ridiculous novels does that happen. His mother hadn’t discussed the wedding — or Lady Taisiya — at all with him, other than to tell him the date and time. “…Oh.”

“But even if I could have talked to you beforehand, I would have changed your name.” She took hold of his shoulders and looked him straight in the face. “You don’t belong to your mother anymore, or to the nursery, to school, to playing in the fields with your friends.” Her left hand dropped to his chains. “These will remind you for a while. Your name — you’ll hear that every day for the rest of your life. And you’ll never forget, even when it seems like the only name you’ve ever worn, that you’re mine.”

next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1180518.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1175837.html. You can comment here or there.

Chapter 5 in my answer to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope
Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter 2 is here
Chapter 3 is here
Chapter 4 is here
Chapter 5 is here

“You really are lovely, aren’t you?” Lady Taisiya put her arm around Sefton’s shoulders. She was a couple centimeters shorter than him, if that, not enough to make the gesture awkward. “And young.”

Sefton swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. I’m old enough, though,” he hurried to answer.

“Oh, I know. Your mother sent over all the paperwork when we were working up this deal. Besides—” Her voice took on a rueful tone “—I remember when you started school. The same year as my oldest son.”

Sefton felt his cheeks warming. “Yes, ma’am,” he repeated. That seemed safe enough.

“And now I’ve gone and made everything awkward. Come on, darling. I promise I’m not an old withered husk.”

“What?” Sefton stared at her in horror. “No, of course not! I mean, you’re beautiful!”

He couldn’t take the words back, and he wasn’t sure if he should or not. Sefton ducked his head, cheeks hot. She was beautiful, her eyes sparkling with life, her smile broad happy, her shoulders broad and yet delicate-seeming. She was more than beautiful; she was stunning. But did you say things like that to women? Did you say things like that to your wife?

She chuckled. “Oh, I knew I’d like you.”

Sefton risked a glance at her face; she looked pleased. Indeed, there was even a little warmth in her cheeks.

She took the chain between his wrists and tugged on it, pulling Sefton against her. “You’re sweet, and, what’s more, you look honest. Thank you, Feltian.”

Feltian. That was him. “Of course I’m honest with you, my Lady—”

“Come, come, what did I say?”

“Taisiya. I have been pledged to serve you.” He started to hold up his chained wrists, the classic gesture of submission, but she was already holding the chain.

She smiled, a look that seemed almost playful, and gave a tug on his chain. “You have, and I accepted the pledge, and here we are. In my chambers.”

Sefton nodded slowly. “Yes… Taisiya.” Years of being told always treat your Lady with respect and honor was running headlong into always be obedient and never give her cause to be upset with you. Sefton settled for saying her name as if it were a deity’s name, careful and reverent.

He was rewarded with a very warm smile. “Are you nervous?”

All of Onter’s advice vanished from Sefton’s mind. He answered as honestly as he could. “Of course, Taisiya. I want to please you.”

“Would it surprise you to learn that I’m nervous, too?”

“My Lady? I mean… I mean…” Sefton bobbed an awkward bow, since she was still holding his chains. This wasn’t going well!

“Look at me, Feltian.”

Feltian. Right. Sefton looked into her eyes. They were jade and malachite, three hues warring for dominance in a bright, regal pattern. She was smiling, too, one eyebrow raised in what he hoped was amusement.

“Taisiya?” he tried.
“Of course I’m nervous. There’s so much to a new husband — everyone’s different, you know, and what makes Onter pleased might freak you out — and juggling four husbands means four personalities to handle besides my own. But, more than that, we’ve had no chance to find out if we’re compatible. Most people don’t, of course. I suspect some people don’t care.”

Sefton gulped. “Compatible? He didn’t even know what she meant by the word. “I mean… my genes are good, ma’am.”

“I didn’t mean genetically. With fourth, fifth husbands, one can allow for less egglings anyway.” She smiled crookedly. “I have quite a few children already, as I’m sure you’ve seen. No, I meant… Well, I meant personality-wise. Will we get along? Can we stand each other? And, of course, there’s also sexual compatibility.”

“Ma’am?”

“Taisiya.” This time, her voice was a little more firm. “If you make me tell you again, I will spank you, and you don’t seem like the sort to enjoy that.”

Enjoy… punishment? Sefton’s cheeks grew hot and he ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Taisiya, it’s just that, my Lady, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“What do they teach boys in school?”

He wasn’t sure if it was a question actually aimed at him or not, but Sefton answered, carefully. “Math, figures. History, child-rearing. Basic combat skills and basic literature. Biology and some chemistry.”

She chuckled at him and patted his head. Sefton resisted an urge to snarl or snap at her, like a dog who hadn’t been well-enough trained. “I’d forgotten how raw and fragile new husbands are. Thank you, that was a very thorough answer. Come here, my dear, sit down next to me and try to relax.” She led him to a low couch which overlooked a magnificent view of the coast — her coast, Sefton realized. “So, the questions end up being: what do you like, what do I like, and where do the two intersect?”

“M… “ Sefton shut his mouth and just blinked.

Taisiya sighed. “…They just told you to do what it took to make me happy, didn’t they?”

“Well, yes,” Sefton blurted out. “You’re in charge.”

“Yes,” Taisiya answered patiently. Sefton would have been far more concerned about her tone if it didn’t seem like she was annoyed at someone that wasn’t him. “And what it pleases me to have, as the one in charge, is lovers who wish to be in my bed and partners who wish to spend time with me — and vice versa. So, compatability.” Now she smiled, and Sefton thought she looked playful. “Don’t worry so much, Feltian. It’s not something you need to do, it’s something we need to find out. Together.”

Sefton swallowed around the dryness in his throat. He was worrying. She didn’t like worrying, was that what Onter had said? “How — How do we do that, Taisiya?”

She smiled at him. It seemed as if he’d finally said the right thing. “Well, my dear Feltian, we get to know each other. Then we go from there.”

Chapter 7: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1175837.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1171106.html. You can comment here or there.

Chapter 5 in my answer to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope
Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter 2 is here
Chapter 3 is here
Chapter 4 is here.

Sefton looked around the nursery. The wing was large enough for every child there and then some, the beds stacked bunk-style in four adjacent rooms, the cradles sitting near the incubators. He guessed at the ages between the children — maybe two years, not long enough that you’d ever be done changing diapers, even if the older kids helped out. He stared at the incubators again, and the chairs where the men would spend hours a day singing to their eggs.

He smiled weakly at a young child presenting him a board book. He had spent his teenage years helping teach the younger children, every moment when he wasn’t in school. It wouldn’t be all that strange to keep teaching children.

“Not now, Lorthie. Husband Feltian can read to you tomorrow. Today, he has to go be with Lady Taisiya.” Onter didn’t so much scold as he cajoled.

Lorthie bowed solemnly at Sefton. “‘Morrow,” she lisped. She was barely walking, but already sounded authoritative. He couldn’t help but grin at her in response.

“Tomorrow, yes, little miss. I look forward to it.” He bowed to her deeply, the way he would any Lady, and looked up to Onter. “Lead on,” he said, much more bravely than he felt.

“Here we go.” Onter steered Sefton with a hand on the small of his back again. “Look. She’ll tell you if you do something wrong, and she’ll tell you, she won’t just punish you and expect you to figure it out.”

Sefton nodded quietly. “Okay.”

“She isn’t going to expect any tricks or anything innovative out of you, and if you’ve been experimenting on the side, stay quiet about it. Ladies like their men to be pliable, biddable, and teachable in bed.”

Sefton bobbed his head again. His fathers had told him similar things: know what you’re doing, then keep it behind your teeth and let her tell you what to do.

It was one thing to have heard it. Now… now he had to act on it. He nodded one more time, even though Onter hadn’t said anything else.

The elder husband studied him. He wasn’t that much younger than Sefton’s father; he already had grey in his beard and at his temples. “Remember this. Answer to Feltian. Nothing else you’re likely to do will get you in much trouble today, but if you forget your name — she won’t like it. She’s a stickler for the new names, our Lady. And because she is, you have to be, too.”

Sefton — Feltian — nodded slowly. “Wh—” He closed his lips on the question, and could see Onter approved of that discretion.

“Ask questions after you’ve been here a week or two,” the older man suggested. “That sort of question, at least. Then you’ll know what questions to ask.”

Sefton nodded once more time. “Yes, sir. I… any other advice?”

“Don’t expect her to be rough, don’t get flinchy or nervous. She thinks of herself as a reasonable, right-thinking woman — I’m not saying she isn’t, don’t ever think any of us have said she isn’t — and if you act like she’s out of one of those bad plays, you know, The Cruel Older Wife, she’s going to get temperamental. Being nervous is fine. Try not to be scared.”

Sefton laughed shortly. “I can try not to act scared,” he offered.

“I guess that’ll have to do.” Onter’s voice softened. “She’s not a monster. More importantly — she wanted you. Go with that. And if all else fails, just close your eyes and bite your lip and think about whatever you have to to get you through.”

The older man’s voice had gotten a little rough at the end. Sefton stole a glance at his face but decided whatever Onter was thinking or remembering, it was none of his business. “Yes, sir,” he said instead of asking questions. “Now?”

“Yeah. You’re still clean, you’re still naked, and you’ve got your chains. This way.”

The exit from the men’s ward was a smaller door than the one he’d come in, with no ornamentation. Onter knocked on it three times, and they waited.

Sefton tried not to shift from foot to foot. The door wasn’t locked, was it? No woman would lock her children in, after all, and her men were with her children. They weren’t stuck…

He stomped down the thought the moment it reared its head. Yes, of course they were “stuck;” they were married. They were chained. They were husbands.

The door swung open. Lady Taisiya awaited, in a soft robe so unlike the clothing she had been wearing for their wedding, her hair brushed back. She was smiling. She was beautiful.

Sefton cleared his throat, but Onter spoke before he had to figure out something to say. “My Lady, your newest husband awaits you.”

Oh, no, not more ceremony. Sefton kept his head down and a small smile on his face to cover his growing nerves.

“Come, husband Feltian.” Lady Taisiya’s voice was formal. Sefton stepped forward over the threshold; there was no way he was disobeying that tone.

The lady — his wife, his wife, his lady — put her hands on his shoulders. “Thank you, First Husband. Rest well tonight.”

“Rest well, Lady Taisiya.” Onter’s voice wasn’t formal at all. It was thick and warm and affectionate. He slapped Sefton lightly on the back. “Enjoy this one.”

Taisiya’s chuckle surprised Sefton enough that he risked a glance at her face. She was smiling at Onter over Sefton’s shoulder, clearly amused. “I think I will. He’s a sweet one so far, isn’t he?”

Sefton’s cheeks were growing hot. Onter’s laugh made him even hotter, and there was no-where to hide.

“Oh, my Lady, I think you’ll find this one very sweet indeed. Be good, Feltian.”

Sefton didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved by the sound of the door closing, locking Onter back in husbands’ territory and leaving Sefton all alone with his new wife.

Chapter 6: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1171106.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1164752.html. You can comment here or there.

Chapter 4 in my answer to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope
Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter 2 is here
Chapter 3 is here.

The chains jingled every time Sefton moved. When he took a step, they swished between his ankles, jangling on the stone floors. He noticed that Jaco walked to make the noise louder, and that, even though Onter and Callum weren’t wearing the chains anymore, they’d developed a bit of a sway to their step. He tried imitating the sway and found that it made the chain noise quieter.

The chains on his wrists were worse, if a bit quieter. Hooked to his waist, they meant he could pull his hands up to mid-chest or, if he let one hand get yanked down to his waist, he could get the other up to his shoulder. He couldn’t imagine doing any work that way, or holding a weapon.

That’s the whole point, he reminded himself. He was bonded to Lady Taisiya, to her house, and to her children. That’s why they put the chains on him. He supposed, on some level, it was supposed to be a reminder that it could have been worse.

He cleared his throat anyway. It was a stupid question, a question he should have asked before, but… “what happens when raiders come?” Out here, by the coast, they were too far from the capital for proper help.

Jaco snorted. Onter gave him an unreadable look. “If the raiders come, you and Jaco go to the nursery. Callum and I go with the Lady.”

“Yes, I mean…” He ducked his head. “That’s what always happened. We went to the nursery with the junior husbands.”
“That’s what happens to you,” Onter answered. His tone brooked no argument. Sefton swallowed his retorts and studied the floor.

“There will come a time when you can help the Lady defend the home,” Callum added quietly. “The Treaty says that we can’t take up arms or throw magic. You will… you will be taught how that works with defending the home. Until then, you and Jaco are the last line of defense for the nursery, and if that is ever breeched, well, you do everything you can to keep yourself and the egglings alive. Understand?”

No. Sefton nodded slowly. “I can… Yes, sir.”

“It’s Callum down here.” The correction had a bit of a sting behind it.

Sefton lifted his chin and looked at the older man. “When you’re giving me orders, sir, you’re sir.”

Dumb, dumb, mouthing off to his senior husbands when he’d been here less than an hour. Sefton tensed. He knew better, damnit.

Callum smirked slowly. “All right. I’ll give you that. So. Same as back home, you come in the nursery, you protect the egglings and yourself. Okay?”

No! “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Now, speaking of the nursery… brace yourself.” He said it with a smile, but Sefton still rolled his shoulders back and made sure his feet were set. You heard stories, about other nurseries…

This was not that sort of place, Sefton reminded himself firmly. His mother would not have sold him to those sorts of people, even if she had wanted the deal. And even Jaco didn’t look worried or upset. No. This was fine. It was — he was just braced. For…

Onter opened the door. “Hey, kiddos, it’s… oof!” Five children had tackled him the moment the door swung open, knocking him into Sefton. Sefton, braced, managed to catch Onter on a shoulder, his chains jerking his hands down as he tried to bring them up.

The kids were all talking at once. None of them were older than seven or eight, but Sefton was pretty sure it was three boys and a girl, a normal distribution. Then a taller child, nearly an adult, stepped around then. He had the same blackish-brown hair as Onter and wide eyes like Lady Taisiya, and he was wearing a scowl. “You’re the new one.”

“Hothyan,” Onter scolded.

“What? He’s the reason we lost Isham!”

“Other way around,” Sefton answered quietly. “Isham’s the reason I’m here. Lady Lithinie wanted him, and my mother, ah, had an interest in Lady Lithinie’s oldest son. So. I’m S… Feltian.” He clasped his hands together at the length of his chains and bowed.

“And he outranks you.” Onter tapped the top of Hothyan’s head not-ungently. “Something you ought to get used to pretty soon.”

The boy glowered at Sefton, but he clasped his hands to his chest and bowed as well. “Hothyan. I’m the oldest, now that Isham’s gone.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Hothyan.” Sefton nodded his head again. He might outrank the boy by protocol, but if the children were anything like Sefton’s family, they’d be far more likely to listen to Hothyan than to a stranger.

“These are my brothers and sisters.” He started with the next-tallest one and went through the other teenaged boys, then the small children who’d greeted Onter, and then the toddlers. Lady Taisiya’s family had eleven children still in the nursery, almost twice what Sefton’s family did. Sefton swallowed around a lump in his throat and greeted every one of them politely.

“…And here are the egglings.” Hothyan’s voice went soft and reverent. Three eggs sat nestled in their padded incubators, each next to a soft, reclining chair. The set-up was similar to what Sefton’s fathers had used, everything arranged to be as gentle as possible to the egglings. A fourth chair and incubator sat empty nearby.

Sefton was still. He felt as if his world had slowed down to nothing. The egglings. It was one thing to know what was coming, to have read stories and watched his fathers with their eggs. It was another to see the chair where he’d sit, nurturing the egg, telling it stories, keeping it warm and introducing it to human touch.

He cleared his throat. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered. They were, of course: speckled and marbled, as hard as granite and as fragile as glass. One was swirled with pink patterns over a mauve base; one was green with darker speckles, and the third was one of the rarest combinations, black over the blue of the sea. He could picture how one would fit nestled against his chest as he lay in that chair, his whole world reduced to just the little eggling. “They’re…”

“They are,” Onter agreed. He rested his hand atop the incubator holding the pink egg. “This one is mine.”

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