Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire) (39 page)

Maeve climbed up on the bed with her. “He’s pink and wrinkly, like a baby pig,” she said. “And I wish
I
had elf ears.” She had her hands on her ears, feeling the smoothly rounded edges with a frown on her face.

Tristan was completely absorbed in his baby son, but he looked up and chuckled warmly at Maeve’s comment. He kissed the girl on the top of the head.

“You may be an honorary elf. How about that?” Tristan asked. Maeve grinned up at him, and nodded her head vigorously.

Emara cupped Aislin’s face in her hands. “He’s a beautiful baby. I can’t wait to show him off in Arianrhod.”

Aislin took a deep breath. People
could
change if they really wanted to.

“He’s looking for something,” Tristan said, a wide smile on his face as he watched the baby root around in the blankets. “He wants his mother.”

Aislin lifted her gown, and Tristan laid the babe at her breast. Adric rooted around for a second or two, making impatient hungry noises, then he latched onto a nipple and began to suckle. It was a strange sensation, and Aislin looked up in surprise, then she began to laugh.

Lucky
and
good. She had finally gotten it right.