Special Delivery
Germania/Dominion/Tenterden
Dropped on the floor like luggage. I can feel the bumps and bruises from where I've been bashed around in here, and feel slightly nauseous. Still, at least I seem to have stopped moving, although I'm still stuck in a wooden box and I have no idea of where I am. At least there are re air holes in the box, but I'm still pretty woozy from the assorted crap the little bastards pumped into my system, and I'm well aware that somewhere out there are blood samples which could be used against me another time. I know Dad and Ian have a way of locating and destroying such things remotely, so I'm going to have to talk to them.
If I can ever get out of this fucking box.
I listen, trying to figure out where I am, when something lands on top of my prison. As if someone just chucked another box on top of the one I'm lying in. Then I hear someone knocking at a door, followed by retreating footsteps down a marble corridor. There's silence for a while, but eventually I hear locks being undone, and a door opening. A man's voice asks in German "Who's there? What is it? Hello?" But there's no answer.
The voice is familiar, but I'm too woozy to identify it. Then I feel something tingling all over me - magic, maybe? The drugs in my system stop me from knowing for sure, but if I have to guess, someone's checking the box for unpleasant surprises.
Christ this is going to be embarrassing.
"What the Hell?" comes the voice, again, and I feel my box being dragged. I'm bumped over what's probably runner to hold down a carpet under the door, and then along said carpet for a while. Then another runner, and I'm dropped again. The side I'm lying on knocks against the bottom of my prison and I feel the bruises again.
"Watch what you're bloody doing!" I shout out, pissed off and in pain.
And then I hear the lid being opened, and I close my eyes against the inevitable in-rush of light. What a sight I must make. Stripped down to a pair of boxers and no idea where any of my stuff it. I hope to God that no-one saw me being so unceremoniously delivered.
"Armand?" comes Artur's voice, clear and recognisable now, and I slowly and carefully open my eyes.
"Tuur, get me out of here."
"Thank the gods you're okay," he says, giving me his hands, and supporting me when my legs nearly give way from being in too small a space for too long.
It must be evening, as he's in jeans and a t-shirt, and the light outside the window seems to be fading. We're in his painfully neat apartment on Germania. The only things out of place are my erstwhile prison and a second box, about a third of the size of my former coffin. No sign of a woman's touch, and I miss that for him. He and Gisela are officially still married, as Heydrich junior wouldn't let them divorce, and I know they still care for each other, and have every intention of staying in touch. But obviously he hasn't brought her here. Maybe because she's too busy with her job as Party Chairperson.
"You must be freezing," he comments, helping me to sit on the floor, leaning against the couch before I fall. From his expression of relief, I can tell he's been worried sick about me, "let me get you something to wrap yourself up in."
While he's gone, I do a self-check, to see how bad the damage is. Bumps and bruises seem to be the extent of it, although I can see track marks on the insides of my elbows, where they took my blood, and my body temperature feels low. I'm trying to massage some life back into my limbs when he returns with a towelling robe, and hands it to me. I wrap myself up in it, and then just sit there too tired to move.
"How long have I been missing?"
"Nearly a week. The police report says that you were taken ill, and an ambulance was called. But it never arrived at any of the Berlin hospitals. At that point, grandfather went ballistic and locked the place down, but it must have been too late."
"Christ. Dad must be frantic."
"He and Ian looked for you, but couldn't find any trace. What the Hell happened?"
"Those effing dwarves that Geran and Lucius keep going on about."
"How?"
"Someone slipped me a Mickey Finn when I was in Das Kolpinghaus. Next I knew I was in a blue crystal sack in the back of a car, with at least four of them poking and prodding me. And then I got thrown in some kind of yellow glass cell with Magnus."
"The mad Asgardian?"
"The same. I lost track sometime around then, so I have no idea how long they had me for."
"What did they do?"
"I don't remember. All I know is eventually they said my blood was incompatible with his, and were threatening that next time they'll experiment with someone who's a better match."
"Bastards."
"Artur, they mentioned you. They boasted about trying to grab us both."
He doesn't answer. He just goes over to the drinks cabinet, pours us a couple of healthy slugs of Schnapps, and brings over the bottle. Mine lasts thirty seconds, and then he pours me another.
"Can you remember anything else?"
"Just that nothing either of us could think of was getting me out of that yellow box. I felt so helpless. I hate feeling helpless…"
I tail off, and realise that I'm shaking. Since I was taken by the Lynx, I've been scared shitless of being grabbed again, and I'd done everything in my power to stop it. And all of it was for nothing. The little bastards had seemingly picked me up at their leisure, with absolutely no problems, and had opened up a lot of old wounds.
I down the second glass and pour a third. Artur sits down on the floor beside me, and I feel his arm on my shoulder as he tries to help me calm down.
"I'm so sorry, Armand," he says, quietly.
"Goddamn it!" I answer, torn between scared and angry, "is there never going to be an end to all this? How the Hell do I protect myself? Or you?"
"We'll figure out a way," he replies, firmly, "but maybe not tonight. Any idea what's in the other box?"
"My stuff, maybe? Any chance you could…"
He nods, gets to his feet and fetches it. However, before he hands it to me, he casts some kind of spell on it.
"Feels clean," he says and passes it over, and I open it up.
Inside I find the clothes I was wearing when I was grabbed, neatly folded and laundered. I also find my Death's Head ring, an obligatory accessory when I'm on Germania, even for an evening down the bier Keller; the Celtic signet Ian made for me to give me access to Tenterden, and then modified to help me store spells; and my wrist knife, still in its scabbard, of course, because I didn't have a chance to bloody draw it. The contents of my pockets are there, too, but when I flip open my wallet, to make sure nothing's missing, I see Adrian's picture, tucked in one of the card pockets.
Oh God. If they can grab me from Dieter's backyard without a second thought, what about my son? I'd thought leaving him back on Dominion, with Charlotte, would be the best thing, as it wouldn't mean uprooting him so close to the end of the school year. But as far as I know, unless Dad has been making modifications, it isn't even protected as well as Germania, let alone Tenterden.
I sit bolt upright and down the third glass. By now I feel slightly drunk, as well as woozy, but I have to do something.
"What's wrong?"
"I have to get to Dominion. They probably know about Adrian."
"Armand, you need to rest."
"No. Not until he's safe."
"From what I've heard about them, I'm not sure anywhere is safe," he says, quietly, which doesn't help my mood any.
"I have to try. What about Tenterden? It's protected."
"I understand. Do you want me to come with you?"
"Not if it makes it easier for the little bastards to grab us both."
"My guess is if they've sent you back, they've done with you for a bit. We should be okay."
"Then yes."
"Okay. But first, you need to clean up and get dressed. And while you're doing that, I'll call Wolf and Ian and tell them you're okay."
He gets to his feet then helps me to mine. Then he gently pushes me in the direction of the bathroom, handing me my clothes as I go.
"Grab a towel from the airing cupboard."
I nod, and do as I'm told. I stand under the warm water of the shower until my head begins to clear and I get control of myself again. Then I dry myself off, dress and join him in the lounge, where he's wrapping up a Trump call.
"…no, you don't need to come here. He's with me and he's fine …I'm quite sure…he's resting and I'll get him to call you in the morning. Wolf, please don't worry…okay?"
He breaks off the contact and sighs.
"I'm resting?" I ask.
"Believe me, if I hadn't said that, he'd be here burning with righteous vengeance, and he'd probably do something bloody stupid which would get him hurt. Grandfather always says that Ian's weak spot is Wolf; well, by the same token, you're sure as Hell my brother's, and he's a lot less rational about it than Ian is. And let's be honest, I'm not sure you'll be able to reassure him that you're okay until you know Adrian's safe. You ready?"
"Aye."
"Can you get us Dominion? Or do you want me to?"
"I'm not sure I can concentrate right now. Hell, I'm not sure I can do magic. Bloody merasha."
"Then I will."
He crosses to the front door, and unlocks the cabinet by the door, then takes out his Honour Dagger and a pair of holstered pistols. He hands me a Glock 19, which I clip onto my belt, while he attaches the dagger and his own sidearm - a Browning Hi-Power, if I remember rightly - to his own.
"Think we'll need these?" I ask.
"I hope not, but best be safe. Ready?"
I nod, and then I feel him open up a gate spell. The next thing I know, we're outside Dad's house by the Weissensee, to the north-east of Berlin. He'd bought it soon after he first came to Dominion to teach Ian's twins, so Katharine and the kids could visit their nearly home when he wasn't around, during the Great Project, He had deeded it to Blaine - and Elena when she's in Germany - before we'd headed home. Despite the fact that Charlotte and I haven't been together for a long time, she and Adrian have been living there with my brother since I sold my own place.
It's about eleven at night when we arrive, Dad having synced up the time with Amber and Tenterden since we'd left. I knock on the door, which is opened by the butler, Haas, who looks rather sleepy. He wakes up noticeably when he sees Artur and myself on the doorstep.
"Mein Herren…" he says, almost frightened, "we weren't expecting you…"
"Will you please inform Fraulein Sachs that we're here," Artur answers, stepping across the threshold.
Haas isn't foolish enough to either try to stop him, or complain that it's too late for callers. Artur gained something of a reputation in his eighteen years as RFSS. Hell, he's still technically RFSS Emeritus, even if he's passed day to day control of the organisation over to his deputy, Emil Kauffmann. I follow behind my friend, and we head for one of the drawing rooms to wait. Charlotte comes in about ten minutes later, dressed in a light silk wrap that I remember buying her a few years ago. Artur nods to her, then steps out to give us some privacy.
"What are you doing here?" she demands, crossly, "don't you know what time it is?"
"I know exactly what time it is, but it can't be helped. I need for you and Adrian to come with me. Right now."
"We talked about this," she replies, and I can see a trace of anger in her eyes, "you refused to tell me where you and Artur have been posted to. You agreed that we could stay here."
"I know."
"So why on Earth would I drop everything in the middle of the night and follow your orders? I'm not one of your subordinates."
"You wouldn't understand."
"Of course I bloody wouldn't, Armand Becker," she snaps, "because you've never explain anything to me. You've never trusted me enough to actually let me know what the Hell is going on with you. What right do you have to walk in here at half-eleven at night, and demand that I go with you?"
She's right, of course. When we were together, there was a lot I didn't tell her. I couched it under ‘national security', given my rank and position, but I used that to cover everything from who I really was, to my relationship with a British tech billionaire, to where we came from, to what we were doing on Dominion in the first place. And I certainly hadn't gone anywhere near magic with her, always using the excuse of ‘out of town on business' when I went to England for Group celebrations. Ultimately, it was why she and I had broken up when Adrian was still a toddler, even though I've carried on supporting them, and remained a part of my son's life.
"It isn't safe here anymore," I say, finally, "I want to take you somewhere that is."
"Don't be ridiculous," she snorts, "What could have changed in the last month?"
"About a week ago, I was attacked and taken prisoner, and I'm afraid that if they find out about Adrian, they'll do the same to him."
"He's just a little boy."
"He's my son. Which means they can use him as leverage against me."
"It's never bothered you before," she answers, "we've accompanied you to Party rallies, SS celebrations…all sorts of events with all sorts of people who might want to hurt any one of us, and no-one ever has."
"This is different."
"How Armand?" she demands, "how is it different?"
"In the past I've known how to defend myself, and you and Adrian. But this time, I don't know how to stop it happening again. And until I do, I want to know that you're both somewhere safe."
"That makes no sense," she says, angrily, "you can't have it both ways. Either we're safe, or we're not. If we're not, then we deserve to know why."
"Can we argue about this later?" I ask, frustrated.
"So what, we just pack up everything and come on your word?"
"Surely you know me well enough to know that I wouldn't be asking this if it wasn't serious."
"And just how long are we going to have to go somewhere else to be ‘safe' for? A day, a week, a month?"
"I don't know."
"What about Blaine and Elena? Aren't you afraid that they're in danger as well? Are you taking us all away?"
"Blaine should be okay, and Elena's in England right now. This is a threat against me and mine."
"And what? You brought your best buddy the RFSS with you, so that he could call up a goon squad and drag us away if we don't do what the great Oberstgruppenführer Becker says?"
"No, damn you!" I answer, actually losing my temper with her.
Obviously the sound carries through the door, as seconds later, Artur is back, Blaine following in his wake.
"Is everything okay, Armand?" he asks, looking first at her, and then at me.
"No it bloody isn't," she answers, staring at him, her expression hostile, "he wants to take my son away."
"I want to take you both away," I snap, but it makes no difference.
"What's going on?" Blaine asks, confused.
"Armand was taken by a bunch of ritual magicians," my friend says to him, "they had him for several days, and he's afraid that while they had him, they found out about Adrian. So we're taking him back to Tenterden, just to be safe."
"Makes sense," Blaine says, with a shrug.
"Magicians? Have all three of you gone stark, staring mad?" Charlotte demands, shaking with anger, "this is our home. We're not going anywhere."
"Mama?" comes a sleepy voice from the doorway, and I see Adrian standing there, in his pyjamas. Artur hadn't closed the door when they came in, and obviously our raised voices have carried upstairs.
He sees me and his face lights up. "Papa!"
He runs over to me, and I kneel down so he can put his arms around my neck. Then I lift him up, supporting him until he's comfortable, and step back slightly.
"No, damn you," Charlotte says, as she sees me holding him, "I won't let you take him. Put him down this instant."
And when I don't immediately do as she says, she starts moving towards me. Adrian looks confused. We've had arguments before, Charlotte and I, but generally not in front of him. Then Artur steps deliberately between us. He extends his right hand against her shoulder and stops her in her track; and with his left, he catches her chin and forces her to look into his eyes. She struggles to get free, but his grip is firm.
"Your son is in danger," he says carefully, and coldly, and I can feel his force of will behind it as he does, "his father is taking him somewhere safe, and you are not going to stop him. That is not open to debate."
"You have no right," she says, defiantly.
"He has every right," he answers, and from the way she flinches, I can tell he's increasing the pressure on her mind.
"That child is of the Blood of Amber, like his father," he continues, evenly, although it's obvious that she has no idea what he means, "your only choice in this matter is whether you come with us, or stay here. Personally, I don't care either way, by my friend has other views."
While I know that he doesn't follow the same tradition and moral values as Dad, Ian and I, it's not often that Artur actually scares me. But watching him, and knowing that he is a hairsbreadth from ripping into her mind and forcing her to do what he says is one of those moments. I hope the Hell that Artur and I never end up as enemies.
Blaine and I look at each other, and I can tell that he's thinking the same as I am. And suddenly I feel scared for her. We may not be together any more, but I still care for her. I can't let him do this to her.
"Artur, don't…" I say, quietly, stepping forward to intervene if necessary, "Charlotte, please, do what he says, or he's going to hurt you."
Artur notes my movement, but remains focused on her. He cocks his head slightly to one side, obviously trying to weigh up what she's going to do, and in the end, I see the defiance drain out of her, and he breaks eye contact with her.
"You son of a bitch," she says to him, quietly, and walks past Adrian and I and out of the room, ignoring us both. As she does, I can see angry tears on her cheeks.
"Mama?" my son asks.
"Just let her be for a little while," I say to him, quietly, because he can't possibly understand what just happened, and put him down. He looks at me, and then over at Artur, who's flopped down in one of the chairs, looking deathly tired all of a sudden. Then he stomps over to my friend, with seven-year old indignation.
"Why were you so mean to my Mama, Uncle Tuur?" he demands.
Artur's switch from threatening to tender is almost instantaneous, like flicking a switch.
"Because she wasn't going to listen any other way," he says, quietly, and gently reaches out a hand and strokes Adrian's cheek, "but I'm sorry you had to see that, little one."
I call Adrian over to me, because I'm not altogether sure I trust Artur with him just yet, and lift him onto my lap. I can feel him trembling, and I know he's more upset than he wants to say.
"Was it the Lynx?" Blaine asks me, as he comes over, and perches on the arm of the settee. After all, he's grown up with the stories, and like the rest of the family, knows what happened to me.
"Not this time," Artur replies, "this was different. Have either Ian and or Wolf ever mentioned the dwarfs to you?"
"No…I don't think so."
"They love grabbing Family, then using their blood to power rituals for building projects," I offer, "and no-one seems to be safe from them once they get their claws into you. Now I'm on their radar, they'll probably try to grab me again. They've also threatened Artur, and I'm afraid they'll take Adrian too."
"Who are these people?" Blaine asks, frustrated.
"If we knew that, we could stop them," Artur answered, quietly.
"And what about me and Elena?" my brother says, "By coming here, have you told them this place exists?"
"I really hope not, Blaine," I say, quietly, but I have to admit it's a fair question, "hopefully they don't know about either of you, and taking Adrian to Tenterden will help keep it that way, because I won't be coming here on a regular basis. But if you see anything out of the ordinary, let either Dad or me know."
"I want to see Mama," Adrian demands, and I sigh.
"Come on then," I answer, and help him down, then let him run ahead of me as we head upstairs.
I find her packing in her room, clothing heaped everywhere, but as she does, I can see her shoulders shaking as she sobs. She doesn't turn round when Adrian runs in, and wraps himself around her waist.
"Let me help," I say, quietly, and start trying to sort things out for her.
"That man is evil," she says, wiping her tears with the back of his hand, and sniffing, loudly, "I don't understand…I've never understood…how someone as good, and kind, and decent as you can be friends with a monster like Reichsführer Acker."
"I've told you before," I say, quietly, "we grew up together."
"It felt like his eyes were boring into me. Like the worst migraine I've ever had."
"I'm sorry. I should tried to stop him sooner…"
"Yes, Armand. You should. But you didn't…you never do. It's like you're in thrall to him or something."
I sit down on the edge of the bed, and pull her down to sit beside me. Adrian stands on the floor between us, and I wrap an arm around him as well. We stay like that for a few minutes, and I take in the perfume of her hair.
"Is he really in danger?" she asks, finally.
"I don't know…but I don't want to take the risk. For either of you."
"So where are you planning to take us?"
"Somewhere safer than here. Somewhere protected."
"For how long?"
"I don't know. But it could be a while. Pack a couple of cases of what you need for now, and we can get you anything else when you get there, or Blaine can send it on."
"Will you help Adrian get his things?"
"Of course," I answer, then get to my feet and take him to his room to help him pack. I try to fend off his inevitable questions by making it sound as if this trip is going to be a great adventure.
About half an hour later, the three of us head downstairs to find Artur and Blaine. They're sitting chatting in the drawing room, and Artur is acting like nothing had happened. Blaine seems uncomfortable, though. I guess he, like me, hadn't realised how far his uncle might go.
"Are you ready?" Artur asks, getting to his feet.
Charlotte doesn't meet his gaze, and makes sure I'm between him and her. She clutches Adrian's hand tightly in hers.
"As we'll ever be."
"Then I suggest we use the portal," he comments.
Ian had added both Comb Wood Manor and this place to his transfer portal network when we left, which would be handy for getting back to Tenterden. Strangely, he'd never felt inclined to do the same for Artur's flat on Germania. We head out into the hall, where the portal sits in the coats alcove by the front door, decorated with a mosaic of tiles. I grab Adrian's favourite coat, and suggest Charlotte does the same for hers.
"I'll take him, you take her?" Artur suggests and I nod.
He picks up my son - I almost have to restrain Charlotte as he does that - and steps onto the portal. I place Adrian's two cases beside him, and he says the activation phrase and is gone. Charlotte cries out as they vanish, and it's all I can do to stop her bursting into tears again.
"Don't worry," I say, quietly resting my hand on her shoulder, and using a calming cantrip on her, "it's fine."
"But they just…disappeared. That isn't possible. "
"There's a lot I'm going to have to explain to you. I'd hoped I wouldn't need to, but I can see I was wrong."
"Where's did they go, Armand? Where's our son?"
"They're at Ian's place by now. You remember Ian, right?"
"The English guy who was at Adrian's name-giving."
I'd never bothered to mention to her that Ian was my grandfather, given that he only looks a few years older than I do. It's just one of a long string of things I'm going to have to change now, because she's smart enough to realise that Tenterden is a very different place to Dominion.
"That's right. He has a big place in the country. We just need to give them a few minutes, and then we'll follow them."
"Follow them how?" she says, hesitantly.
"It's a form of transport. It helps you get from here to there in a really short time."
"Be careful," Blaine says, from behind us, and I turn and give him a goodbye hug.
"We will be," I answer, "And you, little brother. Watch your back, and call us if you need anything."
"I will," he answers, with a smile.
I step back and indicate for Charlotte to step on the portal, then hand her the other two cases.
"I'm going to miss both of you, Charlotte," he says to her, regretfully, "it's going to be very quiet here without you."
"Thanks, Blaine," she answers, gently, "we're going to miss you too."
"You can always visit them," I say to him, and step into the alcove.
I say the activation words, and moments later, we're in the Wittersham House entrance hall. Artur is waiting for us, my son standing beside him, looking around at this brand new place, his eyes huge from the transport.
"Where are we?" Charlotte asks, realising that she doesn't recognise where we are, "how did we get here?"
"As I said, almost instantaneous transport," I answer.
"Some kind of secret technology? Like Star Trek?"
"Something like that," I say, with a shrug. After all, they say that once any technology becomes far enough advanced it looks like magic. So why not used the opposite argument, until she's used to the idea.
"Welcome to Wittersham House, ma'am," comes Carmichael's rich baritone as he walks into the hall. I don't even want to think about how come he's up and about, and looking as fresh as a daisy, at long-gone midnight, "Master Armand, Master Artur. It's good to see you."
From over to one side, I see Adrian staring at him. Haas just doesn't pull ‘butler' off as well as the imperturbable Carmichael. I gesture for my little boy to come over.
"Carmichael, this is my son, Adrian."
He nods, then addresses him directly, "Master Adrian. I've heard a lot about you. Your father is very proud of you."
Adrian looks up at him, and then buries his face in my thigh, suddenly overcome by shyness. I look at Carmichael, slightly embarrassed, but he just shrugs. If he could survive first Soren, and then the twins, the comparatively normal Adrian should be a walkover for him.
"And this is his mother, Charlotte Sachs."
He gives a little bow, then looks back at Artur and I, his expression apologetic.
"I wasn't expecting you, sirs, so your rooms aren't made up. If you'll give me a few minutes…"
"I'm sorry we couldn't call ahead," Artur answers, "but things were a little complicated."
"I understand," Carmichael says, and knowing him, he probably means it. After all, he must have got used to my family's bizarre comings and goings over the years.
"Don't worry about me, as I won't be staying. It'll just be Armand and his family."
"Very good sir."
"Do you want a hand?" I ask him, feeling guilty about putting him to such trouble so late, but he shakes his head.
"If you wait in the library, I will see to things as quickly as I can," he answers, then looks at me, perhaps a little embarrassed, "although if you'll forgive me asking, should I make up two rooms or three?"
I glance at Charlotte, and let her make the decision.
"Two," she says, quietly, then looks at me, "I don't want to be alone tonight."
"Very good, ma'am," he answers, and heads upstairs with the first two cases.
"I should get back to Germania and let grandfather know you're okay," Artur says to me, then pauses before adding, "you are okay, aren't you?"
"Tired…pissed off…but otherwise, I think so," I answer, "I'm sorry about all of this, Tuur. And I'm sorry they dragged you into it."
"No need to apologise," he replies, "and hey, better me than Dieter, eh?"
There I have to agree with him.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow, when you've had some sleep," he finishes, and then gets out his Trump deck. He shuffles out a card and disappears, leaving Charlotte, Adrian and I alone in the entrance hall.
"Thank God he's gone," Charlotte says, watching as the Trump rainbow fades, "was that more of your…technology?"
"Yes," I answer, and take them both through into the library.
As we sit down to wait for Carmichael, I can see that Adrian's eyes are getting heavy. I sit him on the settee next to me, and very soon he's asleep against me. I put my arm around his shoulders, protectively. Although I have to admit, I feel almost as exhausted as he obviously is. Delayed reaction, I guess, along with coming down off the adrenaline high.
Charlotte does a circuit of the room, reading the titles of the books, and noting the laptop that either Ian or Marina has left on one of the tables. I can see her spotting other things, too - other things that aren't quite right from her experience. A flat screen TV. A DVD player. After all, she's used to 1983, not 2009.
"What is this place?" she asks, as she finally comes back over and sits opposite me.
"I told you. It's Ian's place in Kent."
"But I thought you'd said that was called Comb Wood Manor? That Carmichael person called it Wittersham House."
"I promise I'll explain all of this," I say, quietly.
"That'll be a first, Armand Becker."
"I know. But now I realise that I can't keep it from you anymore, as you and Adrian have been well and truly dragged into it."
"Isn't that the truth," she snorts.
"All I ask, is you let me do it in the morning."
"I'll hold you to that."
"I know you will."
At that point, Carmichael came in to find us.
"Everything's arranged, Master Armand. You and Ms Sachs are in your normal room, and I've put Master Adrian in the nursery for now. I hope that's satisfactory?"
"As always," I say, quietly.
I gently excavate myself from under my sleeping son, and then carefully pick him up. He grumbles a bit in his sleep, but doesn't wake up. Carmichael holds the door open for me, and leads us upstairs to the nursery. The twins toys - long outgrown now - have been neatly cleared away, and the bed next to the window has been made up. I lay Adrian down in it and then pull the covers over him and kiss him on the cheek. Charlotte does the same, and we back out and shut the door.
"Will you need anything else this evening?" Carmichael asks.
"No…we'll be fine from here."
"Very good, sir."
"And Carmichael…thank you."
"You're very welcome," he says, with a nod of his head, and makes his way down the corridor towards the stairs to his own quarters.
"This way," I say, to Charlotte, finally, and lead her in the opposite direction, towards my own rooms.
I'm too tired to do anything but strip and get into bed, and I'm slightly relieved when she does the same thing. And then we curl up against each other, and I turn out the light.