He didn't remember Aldeim ever pulling the blankets over Brytha, whispering a goodnight to her. Brytha was above childish things, she told everyone as much when she kicked them out of her room. He heard her whisper something to his father, probably wishing him goodnight as well, Brytha would never ask for a bedtime story. Then he heard soft footfalls and Aldeim was in front of his bed.

"Nikolas are you sleeping?" The covers were pulled over him again, and they were warm, too warm, after he silently roamed the roofs. Then there was a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He tried to make his breathing even, but it was hard to, not when Aldeim was running a hand through his head and not when the talk his father had with Brytha was still fresh in his mind. They might be moving. They could be moving, but where? And what about their mother? And he had never left this town and he didn't want things to change, and what if Richan really did come back as a familiar and he visited with his witch but they both found the house empty? What then? And what about all the others, Felie would never leave without their mother, she was Diase's favorite. Not to mention the twins would have to find brand new hiding places, and he didn't think they would take it well. And for his other sisters… well their classes would be starting soon and none of them would want to miss it. As for himself… well, it didn't matter because he wasn't good at anything so who would care what class he missed?

He jolted when a hand brushed past his cold feet. Aldeim signed, "If you must know there are times when eavesdropping works in your favor and when it doesn't. Do you want some honeyed milk?"

Nikolas opened his mouth to say he was too old for such things but he found himself nodding, "Yes. Please."

"Brytha I trust you'll stay in bed?"

"Yes, Father," Brytha's voice was muffled and tired.

It was rare that he had time with just Aldeim. Even rarer that Aldeim held out a hand to him. His father led him to the kitchen, which was empty at this time of the night. It wasn't as cleanly kept as he remembered. Warada must have been too busy to clean up after tonight's meal. Aldeim sighed deeply, lighting a small fire on the stove and began rummaging for the milk. He even added spice to it, half a stick of the warm smelling spice only reserved for special occasions. Nikolas sat there uncomfortably on the wooden chair. It had only been yesterday was it, when Felie was so excited to be making the cookies for Richan… It was supposed to be a special occasion!

He knew there were flowers and fruit arrangements that would be coming, all made special for Richan's party. He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. Aldeim gave him a look from where he stood, glanced at the pot and then made his way swiftly over, holding out a handkerchief. Where did his father even keep all these handkerchiefs? Aldeim never needed them. It had embroidered flowers on it, blue ones, and what looked like several grapes.

"Give me a moment," said Aldeim, "and we'll talk."

It wasn't a magical stove, so it took longer to heat the milk, and then whatever it was that Aldeim made for himself. Spiced wine, Nikolas guessed, they only drank that in the winter, and Aldeim didn't add dry orange slices. It was too bitter and sweet for his taste, but last winter Richan had visited and he… had loved it.

There was a soft creak as Aldeim sat on the chair next to him, and Nikolas reached for the handkerchief to make a cursory wipe at his face. Then he blew on the mug, because the last thing he wanted was to burn his tongue.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?" Aldeim said, and it sounded like they were at his lessons for a moment, but when he met his father's eyes it did not look like Aldeim was angry.

There were too many emotions today that he couldn't understand, even when they were expressed by the people he knew best. "Yes," he admitted.

"Eavesdropping only works if you can also see someone's face," Aldeim took a long drink, and placed the cup onto the table with a soft thud. Nikolas see the steam rising faintly from it and winced.

"Then that would be spying," said Nikolas before he could stop himself.

"Yes. Do you know why?"

Aldeim didn't want him to ask why, and he hesitated before saying, "You can… see people's faces and their… emotions? Better? When you can see them?"

"You can tell many things from their tone as well," said Aldeim, "but it means nothing, Nikolas if you don't see the whole picture. Someone can sound perfectly nice and calm while looking scared witless. If you only heard the conversation, you won't put together the entire puzzle."

He sounded like Surio when he was explaining what someone was supposed to feel when— Nikolas sniffed and reached for the handkerchief. He took a drink from the cooling mug. It was sweet, exactly how he'd like it, and the cinnamon made swirling patterns on milk. Did witches ever do milk tea readings or did it have to be tea leaves? He shook the thought away from his head, and braced himself as he met his father's eyes and said the question that he was certain Brytha must have asked as well.

"Are you mad that I did?" he whispered softly, not meeting his father's eyes. He wasn't Brytha with her bravery and her straightforwardness.

"No. You wanted answers to your questions. You found a solution." He felt a hand on his chin as Aldeim turned Nikolas's head so the two of them could see eye to eye. Then he spoke, and his tone was very matter-of-factly, "What more do you want to know?"

"What?" Nikolas blinked, the furious shouting match he'd overheard his parents coming back to mind with a jolt, "You're not mad?"

"You should always assume your conversations are heard unless proven otherwise," said Aldeim, and in a softer voice, "I am sorry if you heard the argument. I am… beyond mad at your mother. I am… very tired." He took a drink from his own mug and wiped at his face with his sleeve. There was a deep purple stain on it now, Nikolas observed, watching it spread across the fabric.

He supposed everyone was not acting themselves today, Brytha with her sneaking out of bed and talking to his father and being perfectly fine with sleeping in a bed that wasn't hers. Aldeim with his shouting at their mother and the lack of cleanliness that in any normal day he would scold Nikolas and his siblings for.

"Does that mean we will leave, like Brytha said?"

Aldeim raised an eyebrow, "You want to leave?"

"I do!" I want to go to Skapina, Nikolas wanted to say but said in a whisper, reminded of his father's words with Brytha and his conversation with Jozin and Surio, "Brytha said you might want to leave and I do want to but what if Richan returns and he can't find us?"

"Who told you that?" said Aldeim sharply. "Who told you he could return?"

"I… well… not as magic but… a familiar… is it bad?" Nikolas stammered, taken aback.

"The people your Mother consorts with are in the middle of thinking which magic is good and which one isn't," Aldeim said, and there was something in his voice that begged Nikolas not to argue. "Familiars are one of them. They don't like them, and they certainly do not like talking ones. Do you understand?" He took in a breath as well, and took a drink of his own. There was a soft clink as he placed his own drink on the wooden table. "Don't ever speak of this again."

Nikolas nodded, the milk felt sour in his mouth now, but he would do anything to have a conversation with his father. Just the two of them. "Yes, I understand." Then he placed his own cup down and hesitantly inched towards Aldeim. "I… I miss him. I know, I know you love Richan and—" Richan is… was your favorite son, he thought and tasted the salty tang of tears.

"Nikolas," he smelled the spice wine, and heard the scraping of wood on wood as Aldeim abandoned the chair to kneel next to him. He'd never seen his father's this close before. Aldeim looked so much older now, there were lines and lines under his eyes, like the Voevoda from earlier and Nikolas didn't want him to look that old! He was supposed to just sit there in his study and teach them, not look so… defeated.

"You know I love you as well, don't you?" It was in such a low whisper that Nikolas thought he didn't hear the words.

"You do?"

"Why? Did you not—"

"But I'm not... special! I've got no magic or math or music or—" he waved his hand around the air before wiping at his eyes, "I've got nothing." He didn't want to look up from the handkerchief he held in front of his face. Richan had been the talented one, Richan and Brytha and all the others and he was stuck in the middle just normal, just Nikolas.

"Your namesake was very normal as well," said Aldeim and Nikolas found himself being pulled into his father's arms. Aldeim had seated himself on the wooden floor again, which must be extremely cold. "Did you ever hear Brytha read about him? Did you remember?"

"No."

"Nikolas was a very normal—"

Here Nikolas gave an angry huff, of course he would be named after someone normal, someone ordinary.

"There is nothing wrong with living an ordinary life!" said Aldeim, "Nikolas was a good man that helped people you know. He was a kind man that lend a hand to people. He didn't have magic or birthright, he was just," and here Aldeim tapped Nikolas's shoulder again, "a normal man."

"You want me to just be normal?" he said, high-pitched, "I don't want to be!"

He wanted to be special like Richan, he wanted to have people like him for his talents like they did Brytha and he wanted to be charming as well. He wanted people to like him, not to struggle and struggle to find the right words and the right tone and the proper things to say.

"You know on the day of my wedding," said Aldeim, there was a wistfulness to his voice, and he briefly closed his eyes before opening them again, "the žrica turned to me and said that she wished I lived a long and ordinary life." He chuckled softly at the look Nikolas gave him, "Ordinary is sometimes good Nikolas. An ordinary person lives a good life and those around him remember him fondly." Then another laugh, but this time it wasn't as warm, "She should've said that before I married such an ambitious woman."

"Do you not like mother anymore?" said Nikolas in a very small voice.

"Love is supposed to be a mutual thing, the same as trust," said Aldeim, "I trust you not to break into the kitchens and eat every sugared treat in here. You trust me to tell you what you ought to learn, don't you?" At his nod, Aldeim continued, "Love is sort of like the same thing. You can only... only break so many promises before you don't trust the person with your... ah, cookies. But you will just lock that door, wouldn't you, and keep them away from it. When you have your own wife," Aldeim let out a long breath, "You'll understand what I mean."

"I don't think I want a wife then," said Nikolas firmly, and Aldeim gave a startled bark of laughter.

"We'll see about that Nikolas," he said, chuckling and taking a final swig of wine.