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Ylandre, in the 3020th Year of the Common Age
The Midsummer revels in Rikara always attracted a great number of visitors from other regions of the kingdom. It was a time of festival and thanksgiving and both were celebrated accordingly with food stalls lining the major streets and entertainment staged in every square even in the exclusive north district. The revels were the one time the common folk could venture into that affluent enclave without being run off by the city constabulary except if they wandered thusly to take advantage of the crowds and pilfer from the revellers.
It was also the chance to reunite with family or friends scattered around Ylandre that drew many people. And for the more mindful of social status and political opportunity, to see and be seen by the most influential Deira in the country. Mayhap even the Ardan himself.
But the Ardan and his family were not out on the streets of Rikara tonight. Not when they’d been invited to his Calanthe cousins’ begetting day celebration. To Rohyr Essendri, family was of the essence; the keeping of relations more important than mingling with his subjects at some public performance or trying out the many unfamiliar delicacies on offer. Besides it was only this one night. There was still the rest of the week to do his duty.
The twins were in fine form this eve, their spirits further boosted by the presence of close kith and kin. Particularly members of their immediate family now swelled by the addition of spouses and children.
Zykriel espied Qristan stepping out of the dining hall with Imri. Probably to check on the children who were eating in the adjacent breakfast room. He signaled to his brother to join him in following their mates. They would just take a peek at the younglings.
As they exited the dining hall, they saw that Qristan and Imri were peering into the breakfast room with something like awe on their faces. And were those tears trickling down Imri’s cheeks?
“Imri is more emotional than I was when I carried Adrial,” Gilmael remarked.
Zykriel looked sympathetically at him. “In that case, may Veres have pity on you.”
“Hey! I wasn’t that bad,” Gilmael protested.
“You aren’t the one who had to put up with mood swings and temper tantrums,” Zykriel reminded him. “Aba threatened you with banishment to Jhonu if you didn’t get a hold of yourself, remember? And Dylen told me he had to take over several meetings lest your behavior let the kit out of the sack before you were ready to have everyone in on your secret.”
Gilmael pouted. “I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind at the time. Hardly reason to call me over emotional.” When Zykriel only chuckled, he said, “Ah, never mind, let’s find out the reason for Imri’s tears.”
When the brothers joined their spouses, they realized there was rapt silence in the breakfast room save for one voice. They listened to Mishar as he recounted his parents’ courtship to the other youngsters at the table.
“So, Uncle Gilmael isn’t really your father?” Gabrel Arthanna asked when Mishar finished his story.
“They aren’t blood kin,” Crown Prince Vyren said. “But Uncle Gilmael is Mish’s ama just the same. He’s married to Uncle Imri.”
Mishar nodded. “Besides, he chose to be my ama.”
Gilmael blinked hard. No wonder Imri had shed a few tears.
“Family isn’t only about blood,” Firyon Mithani-Sarvan sagely added.
“Tell that to Great Uncle Imcael,” said Kieldar, Dylen’s older son. “Aba says he puts too much stock in titles and bloodlines, the old fart.”
The twins stifled their laughter. They’d have to warn Dylen to keep his voice down when he discussed their far from beloved uncle lest his children pick up more choice words from him.
“What’s a ole far?” Jonir the younger of Zykriel’s twin toddlers asked as he spooned roseberry fool into his mouth.
“It’s ole far-t,” Jenev the older twin helpfully corrected.
Zykriel and Qristan groaned while Gilmael chortled until Imri elbowed him in the ribs.
“That’s a bad word, Kiel,” Danyr Henaz-Mesare admonished. “You shouldn’t say it.”
“Why not?” little Edhrin Deilen inquired.
“Because only grownups can say bad words,” Brion Hadrana explained. Apparently Jareth and Yandro’s son had inherited their gift for diplomatic misdirection.
Rohyr’s younger son disagreed. Calen shook his head vehemently and said, “Ama gets mad when Aba says bad words.”
“Only if he says them in front of us, Cal,” Vyren clarified.
Zykriel and Gilmael sniggered much to their mates’ annoyance.
“Oh! I learned something last night,” Mishar suddenly said. “I heard Uncle Qristan telling Aba about it. I think it’s a secret.”
“Heyas,” Imri breathed.
“Fuck the saints,” Qristan said at the same time.
The twins glanced at them curiously just as Mishar announced in a loud stage whisper, “Uncles Zykriel and Qristan are going to have another child!”
The twins froze. At length, Zykriel stared pointedly at his spouse.
“And when were you going to tell me?”
Gilmael guffawed. “In a hurry, are we?”
“Shut up, Gil.”
Qristan hastened to explain. “I wanted to be sure of it before I told you. I’m no spring chick, ariad.”
“Neither am I, but I’m going to try anyway,” Zykriel retorted. “Confound it, Qris, we agreed I would carry the next one.”
“I forgot to take mirash that one time.” Qristan pressed up against Zykriel, looking at him apologetically from beneath half lowered lids. “I swear it won’t happen again. Not unless we agree on it first.”
Zykriel ran his fingers through his hair and huffed. “I’ll hold you to that.” Unable to resist his mate’s wiles, he pressed a kiss to his mouth and hugged him close.
“What if it’s twins again?” Kieldar’s voice rose above the childish babble.
Noting that Zykriel had turned quite pale, Imri clapped his hand over Gilmael’s mouth before he said something that might earn him a blackened eye.
“One set is already a right handful,” Zykriel groused. He glared at his tittering brother. “Go ahead, laugh all you want. Im might be carrying twins for all you know.”
It was a stab in the dark and both knew it.
Gilmael snorted. “Have you nothing better to throw back at me?” Grinning smugly, he looked at Imri. To his surprise, his mate grimaced. “Im?”
Imri and Qristan exchanged furtive glances. Whereupon the brothers shared sideways stares of consternation.
Gilmael laid a hand on Imri’s shoulder and nervously asked, “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
Imri winced and then sighed. “When we arrived yesterday, your ama said he felt it was too soon for me to start showing and that it reminded him of when he carried the both of you. Qris agreed and it made me wonder. So I visited Eiren this morn and...”
“And?” Gilmael prompted none too calmly.
“He said it was just like you to ignore a gift because it has naught to do with work or copulation and had you bothered to use it, we’d have known that you’ve sired three sons on— Saints above!”
Zykriel caught his twin as he all but swooned and carefully lowered him to the floor. As Imri patted Gilmael’s cheeks and Qristan loosened his collar, Zykriel snickered.
“Methinks you’re the one in a great hurry, brother!”