* * * * *
“When is the fire-haired lady going to come and see us, Papa?”
Élan was on her knees beside him on the sofa, leaning in, resting her little body on his side. She was also, for some little girl reason, curling the ends of his hair around her fingers.
But as she asked her question, Apollo’s eyes stayed locked on his son.
Christophe was on his belly on the floor, knees bent, ankles crossed, feet in the air. He had a board in front of him, chalk in his hand. He was drawing, but at his sister’s question, the chalk arrested on the board.
This did not bode well.
He turned his head to look at his daughter, and watching her closely, being cautious with his words so as not to rekindle her fears of the night before, he said, “She rode with me through the night as well as the day to get to you, precious girl. Because of this, she was tired and today she’s resting.”
Not showing any signs this reminder distressed her, Élan nodded but asked, “Will she come tomorrow?”
“Perhaps,” Apollo answered.
Élan tipped her head to the side and noted, “She’s very pretty.”
“She is,” Apollo agreed.
Élan screwed up her mouth before she stated, “She looked very angry.”
Apollo felt something coming from his son but he kept his eyes on his daughter. “She was upset you were frightened.”
“I was upset I was frightened too,” she declared.
He smiled, turned to her and pulled her in his arms. She screeched in mock protest, as she always did. But when he blew a wet kiss on her neck, she giggled.
When he lifted his head, she put her hand on his face and told him, “I’m glad we’re not at school anymore, Papa.”
Apollo was glad as well. Even when times weren’t troubled, he disliked them being so far away. It might be wrong but he felt this especially this year, Élan’s first. But he was a father and she was his daughter and he couldn’t imagine any father happily sending his little girl two countries away to school.
His son was not only a boy but the oldest child. He was also much like his mother, extremely intelligent and self-assured. Christophe uncannily had displayed signs of both from a very young age. Although Apollo had not liked sending him either, it had caused less unease.
However, Ilsa had gone to that school, as her father had before her and his before him. It was, in truth, the finest school in the Northlands. And it had always been her wish that her children would attend it.
So he gave into that wish, even after her death.
Maybe especially after her death.
When she was alive, they had had plans, of course, to spend much of their time in Benies while the children were at school. And when it was safe for them to go back, Apollo decided that he and Madeleine would do just that.
“I’m glad you’re home too, darling girl,” he replied then arranged his face into mock severity. “But don’t think with your papa home today and me allowing you to be away from your studies that you can be lazy every day. It’s back to your tutor on the morrow.”
She made a face, clearly not looking forward to this, and he again smiled.
“Élan, my love, bath time,” Bella, the children’s maid called from the door.
“Oh no!” Élan cried, twisting and sitting in her father’s lap to look to her maid. “I don’t want to take a bath now.”
Bella put her hands on her hips. “Then can you tell me when you’d desire your bath, little miss?”
“In an hour,” Élan tried.
“In an hour, you’re to bed, eyes closed, dreaming good dreams,” Bella returned.
Élan gave it a moment and came up with a different plan.