Ul’rin was three when it happened, and Ba’an noticed it first.

She had been making dinner with Kera, keeping an eye on the twins as they played near the hearth. She always piled rocks between them and the fire, but three-year-olds got into all sorts of mischief the moment one’s back was turned. She never let them out of her sight, and if she had to, she always had Kera watch them.

Even so, they still managed to take a tumble here and there.

The door opened. It was winter, and with the cold blew in flecks of snow. Lukios entered, stomping his feet on the rug to dislodge the snow even as he shut the door against the wind and latched it.

“Papapapapapa!” Ana shrieked in excitement, toddling over to him as rapidly as her legs could take her.

“There’s my little princess,” he cooed, and he set the firewood down immediately, scooping up their daughter instead.

She sneezed, and he laughed.

Ba’an would have normally joined them with Ul’rin, except—

Ul’rin was behaving very oddly.

“Papa’s got to take his shoes off, princess. Ba’an, can you take—sweetheart?”

She didn’t turn. Ul’rin was looking at something in the corner of the kitchen. His eyes were tracking movement, but—

There was nothing there.

“What’s he doing?” Kera was staring at him as well, confused.

Ba’an went to her son and squatted down beside him. “What are you looking at, ma’turin?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the corner. “Funny man, Mama.”

“What does he look like?”

“Fat head.” He giggled. “Honey.”

A fat head, with a penchant for honey.

Ba’an heard Lukios come up behind her. “You made a new friend, Ul’rin?” She could tell by his tone that he thought it was an imaginary friend.

Ba’an’s stomach clenched in apprehension.

“Yes, Papa!” Ul’rin finally turned, beaming up at Lukios. He held his arms up in the air. Laughing, Lukios lifted him. Now he had a child on each arm, clinging to him like moss against a cave wall.

“A man with a fat head, huh? He bigger than your Papa?”

“No. He’s small.” Ul’rin held his arms out and apart. “He’s thiiiis big.”

Kera smiled. “He is very imaginative,” she said.

Ba’an did not respond. Her heart was beating very fast now. “Ul’rin,” Ba’an said, abruptly, “What did he say he will give you?”

Ul’rin grinned, but Lukios looked over at her sharply. Kera glanced over as well, with a very doubtful expression. Well, of course. Kera did not know Ba’an had been a witch, though she had been very impressed by her garden.

“Secrets,” said Ul’rin. “Has secrets.” He peered at the wall again. “You’re quiet.”

“What?”

“Birdy is quiet.”

Ba’an’s stomach dropped.

“Kera, you staying for dinner?” Lukios turned to her very casually, as though Ul’rin hadn’t said anything terribly unusual. He was still grinning, but Ba’an knew he was worried.

“Oh—well, is it snowing very hard?”

“A bit.”

Oh. She could see what he was doing. Ba’an frowned at him. She would not send Kera away in the snow. If the weather did not break she would have to sleep here. It would be fine. Ba’an would remember to call him Farhad and they would distract Ul’rin so he would stop talking about the man with the funny head—at least until Kera went home.

“Kera,” said Ba’an, turning back to the pot over the fire, “You may stay for dinner and the night. The snow is coming harder now.”

She could feel Lukios’ stare, burning into the back of her head.

“Oh, thank you.” Kera went to the window and peeped through the slits in the shutters. “Yes, I think I should stay. I’m not sure I can make it through all this snow.”

“Beloved,” said Ba’an, “you must wash their hands. It is nearly dinner time, and their hands are filthy.”

Lukios grinned at her as though he had not a worry in the world. “Whatever you say, Ba’an. Let’s go, kids. The faster we wash up the faster we eat.” He went down the hallway to the small Dolkoi’ri-style bathing room he had added, the children still clinging to him. Asur did not have aqueducts, but Lukios had built the room with tanks for hot and cold water, and he filled them every evening before going to bed. It was even easier now—he only had to haul snow, of which there was more than plenty.

Kera helped Ba’an finish cooking and set the table. It had taken some getting used to, eating at a table. Neither Dolkoi’ri nor K’Avaari ate this way; this was purely Bistian. Still, it was very practical and Ba’an found that she liked it. It made serving and cleaning very easy.

There was a squeal from down the hall. Ba’an could hear Lukios laugh, then there was the sound of frantic splashing, then giggling.

“They do not need a bath, Farhad,” she called, but there was no response.

“I am sure they are only playing.” Kera scooped the soup from the cauldron into a large serving bowl and put it down. Ba’an placed the bread and cheese, and then the little slices of different meats. Vegetables were very important as well, and Ba’an’s garden had been designed after a bir-vuti, though the cave was not a true cave—it was manmade, just as it had been at Synoros. There were some plants that were hardy enough to grow even in the winter provided they were kept clear of the snow, and Ba’an had cooked them into soup and baked them in clay pots as well.

Kera was very pleased to be eating with them, Ba’an knew. Lukios was very good at making money, and they lived more comfortably than most people in the town. Ba’an was always nervous when Lukios went on his merchanting trips; there was no telling what some people could and would do for material wealth.

Of course, Lukios always made sure Kera and her brothers stayed on to give her a hand whenever he was gone. It wasn’t just to help her with the work—it was to ensure people knew she was not alone in their home with only their children.

Ba’an still hated it when he was gone. Hated it—but it could not be helped. If there was one good thing about the winter, it was that it made travel impossible. Lukios would stay with them until spring, and for this Ba’an was grateful and pleased.

Lukios returned with the twins. Ba’an stared.

“Beloved. They are very wet.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Ana wanted to play in the water and she pulled Ul’rin in with her.” He shrugged. “They’re fine. It’s just their hair.”

This was true. Lukios had taken so long because he had changed them. Their hair, however, was wet, even with the amount of toweling he had obviously done.

“It’s warm enough in the kitchen, mistress Ba’an. They won’t catch nothing.” Kera spoke to Ba’an, but she turned her bright, cheerful smile on Lukios.

Hm.

“Mama, I’m hungry.” Ana stared down at her from her position against Lukios’ hip.

“Me too.” Ul’rin looked at the corner again. “I want honey.”

“Not tonight, Ul’rin.”

“But mama—”

“You heard your mama. Not tonight.”

Kera seemed rather bemused by all this. Of course she would. She only thought Ul’rin wanted to feed his new imaginary friend.

They ate, speaking of mundane things. Ul’rin and Ana could feed themselves, of course, but they always made quite the mess.