Page 204 of The Crown’s Temptation

He did not know which style of ring she would want best. She would not like the idea of additional jewelry and the expense, but he would find a way to get her something beautiful. Something perfect.

As for the original ring, they could save it for when Fiorakis came of age.

He frowned at the thought of Fiorakis being old enough to marry.

Colsar was still deep in thought when Aviaryn knocked once.

He opened the door and she stood in the corridor with a book in her hands, her expression somber and certain the way it always was.

She held the book out.

"Asharin likes this book," she said. "She wishes to read it to me. But until she returns you may give it to Fiorakis."

He took it. "Thank you."

She looked at him. Then she turned and walked back down the corridor. He was not sure about how to respond to children. Should he have insisted she stay and listen to the story too? Oh well.

He closed the door.

The room was warm. Saurin was placing Ari into his bassinet, her movements quiet and practiced. Cambra had Fiorakis against her shoulder, rocking her in the slow methodical way that had started working sometime in the past week.

He looked at the book in his hands.

He did not understand the point of reading to an infant. Fiorakis gave no reliable indication that she was aware of anything beyond her immediate physical needs and her brother's whereabouts. Ari seemed marginally more present but not by much. Neither of them was going to remember this.

But Asharin seemed to think it mattered. She had said it more than once. He had watched her talk to them when they were barely a day old, her voice low and certain, as though they had simply not met yet rather than not existing yet as people.

He was not good at this the way she was good at it.

But until she was back with them he would do it. It was a small thing. Small things were what he had right now and he was going to do all of them.

He sat in the chair beside the bassinet and opened the cover.

He turned through the first pages looking for something suitable, running his eye down titles. Several were too long. One was about a merchant who fell into a river which seemed like poor bedtime material. He kept turning.

His eye caught a title near the back.

The Little Hare.

He almost smiled.

He was fairly certain his version of that rhyme was correct. He had told Asharin so and she had disagreed with the kind of conviction she brought to things she had decided were important. He had enjoyed that conversation more than he had let on at the time. He had enjoyed most conversations with her more than he let on.

He turned to the page.

Everything in him went cold.

The rhyme was there. Four lines printed cleanly on the left side of the page with a small illustration of a hare beside them. He read through to the last line.

A little hare hopped here and there

Looking for a crown to wear.

He searched all day, Till Owl did say,

….

It was crossed out.