Vera looked into Elaria’s eyes. “You don’t…?”

  The question stalled halfway up her throat, and she shook her head instead. “We’ll discuss this. But it’ll have to wait until after dinner.”

  She turned, refocusing on the pancakes before they burned through. One had already started to darken, and she wasn’t used to cooking on this kind of stove setup, or to doing this under scrutiny.

  She could still feel Elaria’s stare on her back—hot and steady, like a hand pressed between her shoulder blades—as she slid the turner and flipped the pancake to expose its browned underside.

  A few seconds passed before that furnace-hot attention from behind finally faded. She heard Elaria step back into the other room, where Serel’s excited voice picked up.

  Vera exhaled slowly.

  That woman was intense. But at least she’d had the sense not to push while Serel was around.

  Vera finished one pancake, then poured another batch of batter. The batter wasn’t the usual pancake batter she knew. No wheat flour or regular eggs. But Caldrin had found her a rice-based flour and some kind of local eggs she didn’t ask too many questions about. The result wasn’t bad. A little softer, a little crumblier, but nothing a hearty amount of jam—or the local equivalent, which was mostly honey or mildly sweet fruit preserves—couldn’t compensate for.

  She slid the finished pancake onto a growing stack at the counter. Resonance hummed faintly under her skin as she adjusted one of the sigilplates beneath the griddle to keep the heat stable. The surface hissed. Bubbles formed and popped across the top of the batter.

  Despite her focus, her thoughts went somewhere else.

  ‘What is that girl?’

  Elaria hadn’t said Serel. She’d said ‘that girl’. Not unkindly, but with a tone that might have been reserved for dangerous artifacts or battlefield anomalies.

  Vera waited, jaw tight, before flipping the pancake.

  From the other room, Serel asked Elaria questions about the dragon.

  For a moment, she worried the woman might try to interrogate the kid, but she pushed that thought away. Elaria might have been severe, but she didn’t strike Vera as cruel.

  Besides, she’d seen the woman’s face when Serel had asked to fly with her. Elaria hadn’t smiled, but something in her had softened. That had been enough to loosen one of the tiny knots in Vera’s chest.

  No. She seriously doubted Elaria would hurt the girl.

  Though the woman clearly wanted answers.

  “Same as me, then,” Vera muttered, stacking more pancakes.

  Once the batter was finally gone, she set out small bowls of jam and honey on a tray, plus an extra plate in case Elaria accepted the offer to join them. Then she wiped her hands on the apron, removed it, and picked everything up.

  The walk back to the dining chamber felt longer than it should have. When she stepped inside, she saw Elaria seated along the long side of the table, angled toward Serel, one elbow on the wood, fingers resting against her temple as she watched the girl. Her gauntlets were gone, revealing bare hands that were faintly scarred, but the rest of her armor remained. It looked completely out of place in the otherwise cozy room, yet somehow it still fit her.

  Elaria’s gaze flicked up as Vera entered, then back to Serel as though nothing had changed.

  “Mooommy!” Serel called, cutting off her own retelling of how they’d found a dragon skeleton in the Marrowvault. “Mama says she’s never had pancakes before!”

  “Really?” Vera asked, setting everything down.

  She was fairly certain pancakes—or something like them—existed here. Caldrin had recognized them, at least. Then again, Elaria had a pretty complicated background, and her life as Covenant commander probably hadn’t involved many leisurely breakfasts.

  “I’ve eaten griddlecakes,” Elaria said, eyeing the stack of pancakes. “If that’s what these are meant to be.” Her gaze swept over the bowls of jam and honey, then fixed back on Vera. “You intend to eat all of that?”

  “…Yeah?” Vera frowned. Was she being judged because of all the sugar? Did they worry about that here?

  Serel had already reached for the nearest bowl. Vera passed her a pancake and sat down beside her.

  “So?” she asked, glancing at Elaria while keeping her tone as casual as she could. “You having any or not?”

  Serel gasped. “Mama, you have to try! They’re so good. Much better than Mommy’s other cooking.”

  “Could you not sell me out like that, Serel?” Vera said. “I made this beautiful, heartfelt, and culturally enriching masterpiece for you, and the first thing you do is insult my kitchen skills?”

  The girl blinked at her, confused for a second, then giggled and stuck her tongue out.

  Elaria considered both of them, then the food. After a moment, she reached for the extra plate Vera had set aside and took a pancake with a level of seriousness that honestly wasn’t far off from when she’d dismounted a dragon in the middle of a city.

  Serel dragged what looked like an entire spoonful of jam across hers before Vera could intervene, then took an enormous bite. Her cheeks puffed as she chewed.

  “Mmf—” she swallowed and pointed eagerly at Elaria. “Mama, try!”

  Elaria picked up a small knife, spread a much thinner layer on her own pancake, and took a bite.

  Vera watched.

  The woman’s expression didn’t change much. The only reaction was a brief pause. Then she nodded once, as if the pancake had survived an inspection, and took another bite.

  “Is it good?” Serel demanded.

  Elaria looked at her, then at Vera. “It is acceptable.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Serel seemed amused. She repeated it at Vera like it was a new word. “Acceptable.”

  The tension in the room didn’t vanish, but it loosened.

  They ate. Serel did most of the talking, jumping between topics without slowing down. She told Elaria more about what they’d seen in the Marrowvault, told Vera about the dragon flight, then circled back to a song she and Gloria had made to use with the Wick. Unlike Vera, Serel looked completely at ease with the whole situation. She acted like this was normal. Like having both of them here was how things were supposed to be.

  Vera answered where she could. Elaria mostly listened. Sometimes she asked a short question about the Wick or about something Vera had let Serel do—Vera tensed up when the girl mentioned trying to hunt a Fencoil Strider, and Elaria’s gaze cut toward her—but that was it.

  By the time Serel finished what was probably her eighth or ninth pancake, her energy had started to drain. She sagged against the back of her chair, fighting a yawn.

  “Serel,” Vera said.

  The girl looked at her. “Mmm?”

  “Can you do something for me?”

  Serel straightened a little. “Yes.”

  “It’s a bit soon, but I promised that I’d show you how to add some simple shading to your drawings before bed, but first, you should wash up after such a long day. Your… mama and I haven’t talked in a while, so can you go do that while we have a chat?”

  Serel’s eyes flicked between them, suddenly a touch sharper.

  “…Is it a serious adult talk?” she asked.

  Vera’s stomach twisted slightly.

  “Yes,“ she answered, because lying didn’t feel right.

  Serel looked at Elaria.

  Elaria looked back.

  “Okay.” Serel slid down from her chair, hurried over to hug Vera, then crossed to Elaria and wrapped her arms around her. The woman didn’t stop her; her hand settled lightly on the girl’s back.

  Serel stepped away, squinted at them both one last time, then scampered out.

  The sound of her footsteps faded.

  Silence rolled in to replace them.

  Vera stared at the empty doorway for a long beat, tongue pressed against her teeth.

  Had Serel picked up on the strain? Probably. The kid was bright, after all. Vera would have to talk to her properly later. No more repeats of the last time she’d kept things from her.

  But first things first.

  She began clearing the table, stacking plates and bowls with deliberate care. The soft clink of ceramic filled the room. When she finished, she turned.

  Elaria hadn’t moved. Elbow on the table, fingers against her temple, eyes locked on Vera.

  Vera met the look.

  “You know Serel is your daughter,” she said. Not as a question, but as a statement. A confirmation she wanted to hear out loud.

  “Yes,” Elaria replied.

  “Then… what was your question earlier? ‘What is that girl?’”

  Elaria didn’t answer immediately. Several seconds passed before she finally spoke, her crimson eyes narrowing. “How old is she?”

  “…Six. Roughly.”

  Elaria nodded once. “Yet today was the first time I saw her.”

  Something tightened in Vera’s chest. “But… you remember her.”

  “I remember six years of having a daughter named Serel,” Elaria said. “Of visiting Sablewatch Hollow to see her. But I can say for certain that today was the first time I met her in person.”

  Vera’s stomach sank. Was this similar to how it was with Caldrin? Where memories existed, but with details he could tell weren’t quite right?

  Did that mean her worst fear was right? That she’d essentially forced Serel into Elaria’s life without meaning to.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “This is on me, but I didn’t mean to…”

  “What,” Elaria asked, “did you not mean to do?”

  Vera opened her mouth, then closed it. Her thoughts scattered for some reason.

  “Serel isn’t…” She raked a hand through her hair. “It’s complicated. She’s complicated. I don’t have all the details, but she’s not entirely… natural.”

  Elaria’s expression barely shifted, but something in her eyes sharpened. “She carries my Resonance and yours. Our blood. Of course she is not natural.”

  “Right,” Vera said faintly. “Obviously. That’s… yeah. I mean, it’s not like we could just…” Her voice trailed off as her brain realized what it was about to say and decided to dig in its heels.

  Elaria raised both brows. “Procreate and have a child?”

  Vera stared at her. Just stared. Then she choked out a noise that might have been a laugh at any other time. “Yeah. That.”

  The woman clearly didn’t have any hesitation about saying the quiet part out loud.

  But Vera wasn’t twelve. If they were going to have an actual conversation, she couldn’t keep tripping over the wording—no matter how thoroughly this entire situation sat at the top of her personal list of ‘deeply awkward life moments.’ And it was up there. Possibly number one.

  But she wasn’t here to blame anyone else for it. After all, her own careless, half-baked backstory ideas were the reason she was in this situation.

  Vera forced her thoughts back into order and sat straighter. “I didn’t mean to force anything on you. Legitimately, I mean that. If I’d had any say in how this happened, I wouldn’t have just… overwritten your memories and then dropped off the face of the earth.”

  The woman frowned. It wasn’t anger, exactly. More like she was narrowing in on something. “I did not say you forced anything on me.”

  Vera stopped. “You… didn’t?”

  “No.” Elaria tapped a finger against her temple. “Whatever was done, I can tell I consented to it. The memory itself slips away when I reach for it, but I’m certain I agreed to be Serel’s parent.”

  “You… did?”

  Relief hit so hard Vera felt mildly dizzy. A heavy chunk of guilt eased. Not all of it, but enough that she didn’t feel like total garbage.

  “Okay,” she breathed. “That’s good. That’s something.”

  “That does not absolve you,” Elaria continued evenly. “You still owe me answers.”

  Of course she did.

  “What did you bargain to bring her into being? Why did you vanish for more than two years afterward?”

  Vera held the woman’s gaze, watching her. The two of them weren’t in entirely dissimilar situations on this, at least not with respect to Serel. She hoped that meant they could reach some kind of accord.

  “Before I answer, I need to know what you remember. About how Serel… happened.”

  Elaria shifted her elbow off the table, shaking her head. “There is no clear beginning. My memories of her feel continuous, but the origin point is a haze.” Her mouth tightened. “I remember caring. That’s all.”

  “Alright…” Vera took a moment to consider and piece together the simplest version of the truth she could manage. “It’s similar for me. My memories aren’t complete. I don’t remember exactly what I did that led to her, but I know the Graven Daughter was involved. There was some kind of deal.”

  A trace of danger showed in Elaria’s eyes as the temperature increased. “You bargained with a Forgotten Throne?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. I don’t know how optional it was.”

  “Explain.”

  “There’s not much to explain. I only learned about the Graven Daughter’s involvement myself recently, when she tried to take Serel back.”

  Elaria’s voice cooled. “The Throne tried to take her?”

  “Yes.” Vera hesitated, then steadied her voice. “The Graven Daughter assumed I didn’t want Serel. She was wrong. Whatever circumstances surround her birth, they don’t change anything. She’s my daughter.” She looked directly at Elaria. “Whatever issues you have with me, don’t let them touch her. Please.”

  Elaria watched her for a long moment, then turned slightly toward the empty chair where Serel had been sitting. “…I won’t do anything to harm her.”

  Vera exhaled. Another knot in her chest loosened.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m not asking you to act like her parent if you don’t want to, or to play into something that is my responsibility. I can handle things on my own if necessary. But it would be too much for her if you outright rejected her.”

  Elaria’s eyes shifted back to her, frowning again. Vera paused, unsure if she’d said the wrong thing.

  The woman studied her for another long moment, then lowered her gaze to the stacked plates. “You still haven’t explained your disappearance. Was the Forgotten Throne responsible for Sablewatch Hollow’s sealing?”

  “I’m still a bit unclear on that front as well,” Vera said. “Caldrin seems to think that was because of House Hollow, though.”

  “I see.” Elaria’s tone didn’t reveal much of what she thought about that.

  Vera nearly grimaced, now feeling sure that she’d said the wrong thing.

  She cleared her throat. “So… you said before I had a lot to answer for. I’m guessing Serel was one of those things, and I’ll take responsibility for that. Me disappearing for two years probably pissed you off if you suddenly remembered having a kid, so I’m sorry about that too. But… was that all I had to answer for?”

  If so, maybe this wasn’t as bad as she feared.

  Elaria’s frown deepened slightly as she kept silent for another moment. “No, there were other matters. But those… can wait.” Her gaze lifted again, locking on Vera. “First, I have another question.”

  Vera hesitated, an ominous feeling rising. “Alright…?”

  “Explain,” Elaria said without blinking, “why I found a doll resembling me in your room.”

  Vera froze.

  Heat shot up her neck so fast she nearly coughed. “W-What?”