Ignoring his daughter altogether, Ethelred continued to pin Ram with an unflinching stare, accusation all over his face. "An' how is it this happened again?"
"Knife fight in a bar," Ram answered without hesitation and with the same unflinching stare. The thought fluttered across Elora's awareness that Ram might actually be enjoying this exchange on some level. He seemed to like pissing his dad off. At least he wasn't shying away from it.
Not a muscle moved in Ethelred's face and yet a palpable wave of condemnation penetrated the space between Ram and his father. Ethelred was firm in his position of censure. Ram was just as firm in his position, which had all the signs of a third finger salute.
Elora was aware that Aelsblood was watching the warring emotions cross her face. Her peripheral vision was very good and there was no question he'd been assessing, and perhaps evaluating, too.
Of course, in his position he must be practiced at interpreting communication in all its complex and nuanced forms, not just words, and, in a flash of intuition, she somehow knew that he knew. Her eyes swiveled to meet his and found a smile there. It did not touch any other part of his face, which was a trick in itself. But for a fraction of a second, she thought she might have seen admiration in Aelsblood's expression. For what? Wanting to defend Ram? To have the truth be told about who and what he was?
Looking at Aelsblood she tried to project a telepathic question. She asked if this was typical behavior between the two of them. He responded with a nod so slight she could barely discern it, then turned, and left the room without another word.
It was surprising to learn that Irish surnames were passed by matrilineal descent and that Hawking was Ram's mother's name. As soon as they were alone in the suite of rooms that had been Ram's as a boy, Elora had to ask: "So, will you be changing your name to Rammel Laiken?"
"If you wish," he said, walking toward the bath without missing a beat.
When she didn't respond, he stopped and looked over to find her staring at the floor and frowning.
"What just happened?" he asked.
She looked up. "I love your name. And I'm not just saying that. I really do. It's kind of fai..., uh, elf-tale-like. It brings up images of falconry or shape shifting."
Ram laughed as he walked over and put his arms around her. "You do have a very fine imagination, my girl."
"The thing is... I love my name, too. I mean... it's mine. Maybe we can keep our own names?"
"Elora, this does no' even show up on my list of priorities. You can call me dickhead so long as I get to be the one who sleeps with my leg thrown over your beautiful body at night."
She smiled and kissed little circles around his throat. "I like the way you think."
"Ha! Since when?"
Elora's time at Derry had felt like a whirlwind of activity. Aelsong and Tepring tried to involve Elora in the event planning, but with the exception of preference of flowers, she had finally just turned it over to them. Even so, she still had to be available for fittings, for learning how to say the vows in Gaelic and learning how to dance a reel. Rammel had given her a tour of the palace, which took most of the day. Every turn seemed to inspire another story about him being in trouble for this or that as a child.
Finally overwhelmed by tales of a parent's nightmare, she sat down on a step of a little-used, side staircase and began absently stroking her flat stomach with her fingertips. "Okay. You're scaring me now. Just what am I in for here?"
Ram frowned. "Are you tired?"
"Of course not."
Ram gracefully lowered himself to the step next to her and snuggled close, smiling as he put his arm around her. "The babe has two parents who are Black Swan knights. If he was no' a little firecracker, somethin' might be off."
Elora laid her head on his shoulder, turned her face into his shirt, and groaned. He chuckled softly.
"Even if he turned out to be exactly like me, I believe I would handle it better than did my own da. We will sure no' have him livin' on his own like a half feral. You and I, we're goin' to keep him close and smother him with hugs and kisses every day whether he wants 'em or no'. He's goin' to know we want him.
"As for us, my feelin' is, that if we can survive vampire, we can survive strong-willed offsprin' and find a way to have fun doin' it." He had a way of rearranging perspective so that things never sounded half bad.
"I love you, Ram."
"You know, if you did no' weigh near three hundred pounds, I'd be scoopin' you up and takin' you to bed for naps."
She laughed and raised her head to look at him. "Wonder how much the baby's going to weigh. You think you're going to be able to pick him up?"
"Very funny."
He stood. She raised her hand. "Help me up?"
Ram cupped his hands and yelled down the hallway: "We need a winch and pulley in the mud galley stairwell!"