Hadrian knew he had waited too long to see the child. He should have been there, perhaps, or at least visited in the days following. But over the past weeks, Hadrian had changed. He’d become more irritable, swinging in his temper, more absent from family matters, and consumed entirely by the enormity of the political and military realities he was facing.

He sat in the carriage for a moment to collect himself. Valeria was a woman, but still a child in his eyes. He didn’t need to inflict his foul temper on her—not when she was adjusting to motherhood. This was an occasion for joy, Hadrian told himself. And he wouldn’t deny her that celebration.

Eventually, Hadrian made his way inside and entered the lounge. He smiled to see her—genuine, but the lines of his face were strained. He came forward and kissed her on the cheek.

“You look well, minnow.”

Hadrian sighed with an exhausted chuckle, running a hand over his face.

“I’ve been better,” He said, knowing that it was the understatement of the season, “I would have come sooner, but, well…” Hadrian’s voice trailed off as he searched for an excuse but found none. He looked at her, his niece, his child, and felt so inadequate standing before her.

He smiled, nodding and taking a seat next to her. Hadrian would take the child into his arms as he’d taken Valeria into his care a thousand times before. He held her gently, looking down with a smile.

“She looks like you. She has that black Delaney hair but otherwise..." He smiled.

Holding the small babe in his arms, Hadrian was overcome with emotion. Some of it was what he’d expected—the light of grandfatherly love filling the crevices of his heart with its glow. But that light was dimmed with a sorrow that sprung from a well far deeper than he’d thought it to be. It was mourning, perhaps. Mourning the fact his years had passed him by, that the life he’d dreamt of with Kenent was dead, and that he was forever reduced to his military career—nothing more. The price of failure would not only be his livelihood, it would be his legacy.

“She’s beautiful,” Harian said, gently bouncing the child as he gazed at her with a distant expression.

It hurt. Hadrian looked back at Valeria, a misty distance in his eyes as if he were a million miles away and not here beside her. He held the infant in his arms—the next generation of Nevermere, while he was nothing but fading gray.

“What is there to be proud of?”

Hadrian was reluctant to let the child go. He held on to her for as long as he could, the emptiness he felt remaining as the babe was carted away. His eyes followed her, followed the dogs as they took after her exit. And then Valeria. He stood and listened, his expression first one of shock, and then one of…rage. Rage that Valeria would have only seen two or three times in her entire life. He’d done good to shelter her from it, but now the dark storm clouds gathered in his eyes. Hadrian could still feel the absence of the child in his arms and instead saw his own child—or as close as he could ever come—standing before him as a woman he did not recognize.

He was quiet. Quiet for a long time before he spoke.

“Did Keir Delaney teach you to talk with a mouth like that?” Oh, his voice was quiet, but it was ever so serious.

Hadrian hardly recognized her. His sweet girl, swearing like a foul-mouthed sailor before openly defying him. Perhaps he’d been too soft with her, perhaps to atone for her mother’s death he’d spoiled her in a way he hadn’t seen until just now. What he saw now was an entitled girl who did not know her place. Hadrian had come to see his grandchild, but the child had been taken away to put another child in front of him.

“Watch your tone, Valeria.” No—no Minnow. Simply Valeria.

Hadrian decided it was likely the hormones of a new mother that had gotten the best of her. That was an easier pill for him to swallow than the possibility that Valeria had been turned sour by her Delaney husband. Hadrian softened, but the fatherly warmth didn’t quite return.

“You’re not going to lose me,” He said, trying to be reassuring but not losing his air of authority. He pulled her in to hug her before parting. “You seem tired, Minnow. You should rest.”