Of course not

Roland looked curiously at his wife. 

"Should I arrange for someone else to be assigned the task of consolidating the maps?" He tilted his head. It wasn't directly under his purview, but no one would challenge such a benign suggestion from him. 

"Of course not." She shook her head as if he were dense… which perhaps he was in matters like this. 

"Are you sure? You said she was uncomfortable." He looked at the door the young woman had just left through. He didn't know his wife's stepbrother well, especially as he'd been away on a mission for years. Was he unlikeable? 

"They are both adults, and smart ones at that. They will find a way to work together." Finn patted his arm. 

"Smart people are often the hardest ones to get along with," Roland reminded her. Years of politics had driven that simple fact home. 

"You have more important things to worry about than whether they are getting along well." Finn replied. 

That was very true. The matter of the small anomalies was constantly on his mind lately. The appearance of Leviathan was also something of great importance, given their long absence from the world.

Each piece of new information he got felt like a picture he couldn't quite grasp the meaning of. A puzzle, or a broken thing. He blinked, willing the image to come together, but it refused. His mind wouldn't cooperate. 

"You are right, as usual, Serafina," He said. 

"Dancing with your wife, for example. A very important thing to worry about… or your daughter playing by the punch bowl." Finn snapped her fingers several times, and all three of their children's heads snapped towards her like trained animals. 

Finn raised a finger to one of her eyes and then extended it to ten-year-old Lily, who was lingering next to the large beverage container with a too-innocent look on her face. The girl smiled and shrugged as if that would testify to her innocence. 

Her parents knew better. She liked nothing better than to practice her control of water and other liquids. Such a container of beautiful red juice was a tempting target for her. 

Roland sighed. "We've been able to keep their tutors quiet, but this won't hold forever. Word will get out eventually."

"You're right, but what else can we do? Make an official announcement of the subject?" Finn's voice twisted as she mentioned the proposal Roland had come up with. 

"Would that be better or worse than underground rumors we can't control? At least an announcement would allow us to choose the timing and content of the information." 

"And make our children out to be some sort of freaks, or magicians? You and I both know why the children are the way they are, but the timing right now…" 

"Would be better than a time when we didn't control it," Roland responded calmly. "We don't know what is happening in much of the world. The Leviathan's return… I feel that things may change. I don't want that change to be blamed on our children, for good or ill. If we wait and keep hiding them, I'm afraid it will be."

"We can discuss this later, perhaps with them," Finn suggested. "They are old enough now to have intelligent opinions on their futures." 

"Opinions don't change the future. Unfortunately, their parentage has done that for them." Roland frowned. 

"Hush. Dance with me," Finn nudged him with her shoulder, and he obligingly offered his arm to his wife. Even after twelve years of marriage, it still delighted him to have her so close. 

"Mayra's glaring at the door," He observed with a chuckle. 

"But look who else is," Finn lifted an eyebrow and tilted her head. Roland's gaze found Shayn. He was glancing at the door more often than someone who didn't care at all. 

"Interesting." He murmured. "Should we go talk to him?" 

"No, we'll let him come to us, if he wishes." Finn smiled.

_________

Shayn showed up early for work the next morning, and in a perfectly foul mood. He sat at the table, unable to do a single thing since Simone had 'thoughtfully' locked up their work in a cabinet to which she apparently held the only key. 

He was sour that she'd jilted him. He was happy not to deal with her anymore, certainly, but the looks from his family of pity were absolutely unbearable. 

Eventually he'd broken down and asked Finn what had happened. She seemed to be the last one Simone spoke to before the girl had left. 

His stepsister had expressed some mild concern that the librarian had seemed a little distressed and had needed to go home and rest. Did Shayn think a guard should have been sent to make sure Simone made it safely?

No, he had answered. She would certainly be all right. 

He was beginning to question his own assumption when she came in the back door to the library. It was nearly deserted right now; he was fairly certain he was the only non-worker present so early. 

She was carrying two small volumes in her hands, cradling them closely. Her hair was pulled back into a sensible bun, and her uniform was pristine. She moved her hands over the leather volumes and smiled at them both before putting them carefully on a shelf at the far end of the room. 

Curious. Those looked similar to the kinds of books his sister used to read. Adventures and romance. Silly stories. 

He stood and moved quietly up behind her as she finished putting the volumes in what he assumed were their proper places. 

"What have you been reading?" He said, just above a whisper. 

She squeaked and whirled around, almost hitting him in the face. 

"Don't sneak up on people!" She angrily whispered at him. 

"It's a library, was I supposed to be loud?" He challenged her. She opened her mouth to reply but paused. 

"You could have waited at the table," She pointed. "I was coming right over." 

"After you put back whatever books were so fascinating you couldn't bear to be at my party any longer." He raised one eyebrow at her. 

"You didn't want me there! I didn't want to be there! Leaving seemed like the obvious solution to both of those goals." Her whisper was becoming tense with irritation, and it was gratifying to watch her become so frustrated with him. 

"So you abandoned me to deal with the fallout and pity of being jilted at a party in my own honor." He shook his head as if she had done something truly reprehensible. 

Simone closed her eyes. Her lips moved slightly. Was she counting to herself? When she opened them again, she looked into his face with an apologetic smile. 

"You're right. I did not adequately consider you having to bear the consequences of my early departure. Please accept my apology for abandoning you." 

He studied her for a moment. "I'm not sure whether I can accept. There had been no offers of reparations. My suffering was great." 

She blinked at him, then suddenly smiled a little wider. "As reparations, I offer that which I deprived you of: an evening with me, and one dance." 

He scowled. She had him there; he'd never take her up on it. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd been hoping for. Some groveling, maybe. He'd sought to wipe the smile off her face, not make it wider. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He retorted. It was a lazy comeback from his childhood days, but he could think of nothing better while she stared at him so smugly. 

"What I would like is irrelevant. We're talking about reparations, and giving you what you wanted. I'm very sorry I didn't stay to dance with you. I had no idea it meant so much to you." The satisfaction nearly rolled off of her at bettering him. He hated it. 

He reached behind her and snatched the brown book she'd just put on the shelf. She tried to grab it from him. 

"What are you doing?" She whispered frantically. Interesting. 

"Since you're so eager to please me, I thought you could start by recommending a good book for me to read in my after-work hours." He said, looking at the book as he kept it out of her reach. "You were reading this one, so it must be quite good." 

"Please don't–that volume is rather old, you see, and, fragile–" 

"It seems sturdy enough to me," He eyed her. "Tell me, Simone, why would a fine, upstanding librarian like yourself feel the need to read 'The Harrowing Adventures of Harold The Magnificent?' It doesn't sound terribly historically accurate." 

"I peruse most of the books in the library so that I can adequately advise readers and guide them to what suits their interests," She defended herself. 

He didn't buy that for a moment. Perhaps it was technically true, but this book was special to her. And it bothered him a little how much he wanted to know why.