The Laws of Inheritance, Short #2
For the one year anniversary of chapter one 🎉🎉🎉
Sometimes America wondered if she’d ever enjoy Christmas again.
As a child, winter had been the low point of the year. The house was cold, there was never enough money for food, and the world was literally darker, with fewer hours of daylight to paint and read sheet music by. But when Christmas came along, there was a boon to business. Like a life raft to cling to until warmer weather arrived, personalized paintings as gifts were always in high demand and there was never more work for musicians than when the upper castes started hosting their Christmas parties. All of this money meant some food, some warmth, and something for the Singers to busy themselves with. No more huddling around in the cold, waiting for work to appear as their meal sizes steadily shrank.
All of this was not even to mention Christmas itself, when Shalom Singer never failed to make much of little. Shalom and Magda couldn’t afford to buy much in the way of toys for their five children, but the gifts that the Singer kids woke up to on Christmas morning were always personal, full of love, and unique.
One year, Shalom had hand-painted five breathtaking glass butterfly clips for May’s hair. Money couldn’t buy the loving detail, the time and attention that went into them. That same year, Gerad had been given an enormous poster made out of the good paper. Thick, hearty, and covered in gorgeously rendered diagrams of his favorite insects, made with love from Dad. Kota was the only one who never seemed to appreciate these types of gifts, he wanted top-of-the-line art supplies and name brand clothing to bolster his elite image, he didn’t care two cents for the wood carving knife, painstakingly sharpened with detailed design hand-wrought into the handle.
As for America, her favorite gift was the one Shalom had never quite finished. The painting that hung in baby Adrienne’s nursery, depicting a beautiful, mature, benevolent Queen America before an adoring public, sketched and painted long before America was crowned Queen. It was a physical reminder of how much faith Shalom had had in America, that he’d believed in her future so much. It was the sweetest of farewells, given that America had never actually gotten to tell him goodbye.
Even after four years, Christmas was still ruined for her. The pain had been so strong and stark, it had written over every other happy memory America had connected to the holiday. She could remember enjoying the holiday, looking forward to the traditions and celebrations and the time with her family, but she couldn’t actually feel it anymore. Now, the same traditions and celebrations made her feel practically morose.
Maxon always did a wonderful job of cheering her up and distracting her in the days leading up to Christmas, and more particularly Christmas eve. Not to mention, there was always work in the Palace to keep her busy and to keep her mind off of the death of her father. Usually she had to organize the Christmas Ball, but this year May and Kenna were working with Marlee and Silvia to take care of the details while America remained, except for the coordination of Maxon’s emergency international summit, on maternity leave.
This didn’t mean that America spent her days lounging around, however. Newborn baby Addy kept America plenty busy and plenty distracted, which was a very good thing. The fact that it was actually going to be Christmas eve and actually going to be the anniversary of her father’s death didn’t really hit America until the she woke up the morning of.
Maxon had taken the four AM shift with Addy, feeding and rocking her, so America woke up to a sunny morning and a swooping sensation in her stomach. She’d been dreading this day in the back of her mind all year.
Adrienne’s cry pierced through the small speaker on Maxon’s nightstand.
“I’ll go.” America’s voice came out sounding gravelly and tired.
“Thank you, Love.” Was what Maxon tried to say. The side of his face was smushed into his pillow, so it really sounded more like, ‘Fane-Oooh-Wuh’, but America understood perfectly.
“Is it breakfast time already?” America murmured soothingly as she stumbled into Adrienne’s nursery. “Are you trying to tell me that your father and I have overslept?”
Addy cried, inconsolable.
“You’re just like me. You get cranky when you’re hungry.” America giggled, then yawned, then swept Adrienne into an embrace. “You know you’ll catch more flies with honey, baby bird. You should try asking nicely for your breakfast.”
Addy was not amused.
America settled them both into Amberly’s rocking chair, adjusted a pillow under the arm supporting Adrienne for optimal comfort, and then moved Addy into position for suckling.
The silence was immediate. America sighed, reveling in it, and closed her eyes. “You know Aunt Mary and Aunt Paige aren’t even coming in today. They have the holiday off to spend with friends and loved ones. What would you do if I took the holiday off of being your personal milk factory?” America asked. Addy clamped down a little too hard in her eagerness for sustenance, and America winced, taking that pain as Adrienne’s response to the question. “You’re a total tyrant, do you know that? You’re going to have all of Illéa completely subjugated, making milk and milk products for you day in and day out. You’ll turn us into an entirely dairy-based economy. I can see it now.”
Addy made a sound of complete satisfaction as she gulped down and America sighed, “You could be a little more diplomatic about it all, Addy. You can’t just storm onto the set of the Report and announce in front of the entire world that you’re doing away with every job that isn’t milk-related.” she lectured.
Addy’s doe eyes, still holding steady at a dark grey color, locked on America’s ice blue gaze and America melted. “Oh, have it your way. Do whatever you like, Adrienne, but don’t come complaining to me when you have a revolt on your hands because your citizens are tired of cheese and ice cream and chocolate milk and what am I saying? That will never happen. Cheese and ice cream and chocolate milk are the best things in the world. Perhaps you truly are a great visionary, Birdy, under-appreciated by your own mother. Ouch. That was too hard, Adrienne.”
Addy didn’t particularly seem to care.
“Anyway, what will you do for the people who are allergic to dairy, you little milk dictator? What of them?” America paused, hearing her own voice coming from the doorway. She looked up. Maxon was leaning against the doorframe leading to the nursery, a goofy grin on his face. In his hand, he held the little speaker that usually sat on his nightstand.
“You forgot to turn off your end, Love.” Maxon’s expression radiated warmth.
“Oh. Oops.” America was still getting the hang of the little devices, still amazed that such things even existed. Like the electronic communicators that guards used throughout the Palace, but especially designed for babies and parents. It seemed an absurd luxury at first, though now it had proved its value time and again. More than once America’s mind had been set at ease, just by being able to hear Addy’s steady, deep breaths coming through the speaker at all hours of the night.
Maxon was still grinning like a fool at the two of them, but he sauntered over and clicked off the little speaker attached to Adrienne’s crib. “That was quite the lecture for such a small baby, so early in the morning, and on Christmas Eve no less.”
“No, she’s nearly two weeks old now. She’s got to learn sometime.” America joked. “I am sorry that we disturbed you, Maxon. I’ll remember to click the silly thing off next time.”
“I really liked it, Ames.” Maxon reassured her. “It was the best way to wake up this morning; ‘the Ames and Addy radio show’. I’d wager Gavril himself could learn a few lessons from you two.”
America smiled and allowed her head to loll back onto the padded chair. “I learned it all from you, actually. The way you used to conspire with her when she was still in my belly.”
“Ah, yes.” Maxon chuckled, kneeling before America and gently brushing Addy’s soft red hair with his thumb. “My little action movie baby.”
The truth was, Maxon had lost his taste for action movies recently, not that he and America had had a ton of time to go downstairs and watch movies. While they were both on leave, they did take Addy once. America was expecting a fight from the King and his firstborn, but Maxon didn’t even suggest the latest action film. He was more than happy to watch as much of the comedy as they could get through before the exhaustion became too much and all three of them fell asleep in the plush seats.
America suspected his new attitude had a lot to do with the K bombing. Watching a staged explosion just wasn’t as thrilling as it used to be, now that he’d lived through the real thing. America studied Maxon’s face as he studied Addy’s, and Addy peered up at America.
Finally, Maxon exhaled and stood. “I’m going to shave and get ready for breakfast, then I’ll take Birdy while you get dressed.”
“Perfect.” America said, then wiggled a finger at him so he knew to come closer to her. He leant down and she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Good morning.”
Maxon grinned, kissed her more thoroughly, and replied, “Good morning to you, my wife.”
“She’s nearly finished, you should hurry along.” America reluctantly reminded him. She knew that they could have continued trading kisses and ‘good morning’s well into the afternoon (they’d done it before), but their family would miss them at breakfast (and lunch, and maybe even dinner).
Addy had a full tummy and was cooing contentedly, lying across America’s lap as America patted her little back with one hand and pumped a bottle for Maxon to use next time with the other. Maxon reappeared, fully dressed, and seemed to marvel at the sight of America’s multitasking for a moment, before snapping back into action and swooping in to finish burping the princess.
Feeling much lighter and more comfortable in the chest area, it didn’t take long for America to dress for the day. She slipped on a pair of comfortable, stretchy grey jeans that Mary had sewn with extra support for America’s shrinking little tummy; then one of Maxon’s favorite pale blue sweaters. He said that he liked it when she stole this shirt from him more than any of his others, because this one brought out her eyes. America also suspected it had something to do with the dip of the v-neck that fell just so on her swollen cleavage.
She tossed her hair up into a messy bun, concealed the slight shadows under her eyes that came from being a new mother with pale skin, glossed up her lips, slipped on a pair of grey flats, and rejoined her family.
“Look how beautiful Mommy is, Adrienne.” Maxon beamed as he finished up a quick diaper change. “Let’s take her down to the kitchen and show her off, shall we?”
“Daddy’s joking, Addy, he knows that Mommy is not a trophy to be shown.”
“But Mommy was Daddy’s prize, once upon a time.” Maxon amended.
“Addy, darling, you might have to take over for Daddy sooner than expected. It appears his memory is faltering. That, or he’s lost his mind.”
Maxon laughed, “Alright.” he conceded, but America continued.
“Daddy was looking for a wife, not a prize when he found Mommy. He wanted a partner not a blue ribbon.”
“As always, your mother is right, little love.” Maxon grinned, and he and America worked together to get Addy into a warm little red dress with big white buttons on it that made her look just like a baby doll. “There. Now our princess is ready for her first ever Christmas Eve.”
***
America and Maxon were the last ones down to the kitchens that morning, which wasn’t surprising, since they’d had to get Addy comfortable before leaving the third floor.
Since it was Christmas, Maxon and America had agreed to work with the smallest possible staff to keep the Palace running and safe. This meant that they’d given their kitchen staff, including the chefs, the morning off. The staff would have to come in for the ball that evening, but at least they’d get the morning to finish preparing for the holiday with their families and friends. Some of them still had shopping, cleaning, and cooking to do for their own personal festivities.
Magda and Astra had volunteered to take over breakfast duty, and the Singers, Schreaves, and Orders’ would be eating down in the kitchens.
“Good morning.” Maxon called out cheerfully, opening the door for America and Addy to pass through.
Gerad and James were seated on stools next to an island where Magda stood slicing bread. Astra was sat on the surface of the island, focused intently on mixing the large, silver bowl in her crossed lap with the enormous wooden spoon in her tiny hand.
Kenna and May were laying dishes around the island, having determined that this would be the optimal place to eat breakfast.
“Good morning!” Kenna and May called at the same time.
There was a quick race to get to America’s side. Kenna and May hurriedly set down their bounty of plates, cups, and forks, but James had the advantage, as his hands had already been empty, and he was the first to arrive at America’s side. Therefore, he was the one to claim first holding rights for Adrienne.
He carefully supported her little head with his hand, bringing her upright against his broad chest. “Hello, little one. Uncle James is here, so your day is about to become much more fun.” He pressed a kiss to Addy’s red hair and danced her across the kitchen.
“Do you need any help?” America asked her sisters, still smiling at James’ display of affection.
“No, we’ve got everything under control.” May assured her.
Maxon snaked an arm around America’s waist. “How about you, Magda?”
“Astra and I are doing just fine. I suggest the two of you pull up a couple of stools and enjoy the cooking show.” Magda smiled up at them.
America complied, slipping away from Maxon’s grasp while Maxon moved closer to the island to greet his beloved pumpkin head with a kiss. “What are you making us for breakfast, Astra?” Maxon asked, pecking Astra’s cheek. Astra continued to frown down into the bowl, hyper-focused.
“We… are…” Astra trailed off.
“Go ahead, sweetheart, what did Gramma call it?” Kenna encouraged, as she continued to lay forks, spoons, and knives.
“Um, it’s a special thing, Mackin, only for Christmas Eve.”
“What is it?” Maxon grinned. America sat the two stools she’d scavenged next to the one Gerad was sitting in. She slipped in next to her brother and caught Maxon’s eye with a wink.
“This is called… um, Gramma Shannon’s Christmas cinnamon special bread thing.”
Magda laughed so hard, she choked and had to cough to clear her throat again. Wiping a tear of laughter away, she clarified, “Grandpa Shalom’s special cinnamon bread recipe, that we only make on Christmas.”
Maxon laughed, too, now that he knew how off Astra’s interpretation had been. He perched on the stool next to America’s, and Astra considered the mixture she was making before blinking up at Magda. “That’s what this is called, Gramma?”
“Yes.”
“That’s too long of a name.”
“What should we call it instead?”
Astra shrugged, “Special bread.”
“Alright, my lovely.” Magda agreed, happily. “For today, we will call it ‘special bread’. Now, I think your mix is just about done. It looks smooth and yummy, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Very yummy.”
“Come, stand on this stepping stool and you can help me cover the bread slices in the cinnamon mixture.”
Maxon touched his right elbow down to the far side of where America was resting her left arm. At this, America raised up that arm and locked hands with him, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before lowering their hands back down onto the surface before them.
“Your father’s recipe?” Maxon asked America softly.
“Yeah. He invented it, didn’t he, Mom?” America asked.
“I’m sure other variations of it exist, but he came up with this particular blend one Christmas morning shortly after Kenna was born. We wanted something warm and sweet on that cold winter morning, so he had a look at what was left in the pantry, which wasn’t much, and this was what he came up with. We only had four slices of bread left, and not very fresh bread at that, but once he’d added the cinnamon mixture and toasted it all in the oven, we thought we had a Christmas feast.” Magda smiled fondly. “Here, Astra, let me show you how to keep from spilling it all over the counter like that…”
Maxon squeezed America’s hand gently. He knew this was the hardest part of Christmas for her, all of the memories and stories of Shalom that only cropped up once a year, when it was time for traditions.
“Mackin?” Astra peeked up. She didn’t need to look at what she was doing now that Magda was guiding her little hands, taking care of the hand-eye coordination part of this cooking business.
“Yes, my dear?” Maxon replied, looking away from America’s face.
“Mommy has said to me that tonight is the ball.”
“Your mommy is a very smart lady, and entirely correct.”
Astra nodded solemnly, her suspicions confirmed. “My dress came from a big store, Mackin, we went shopping there yesterday.”
“Last week?” Kenna suggested, gently.
“Yes.” Astra agreed. “You are right, Mommy. We went to town, Mackin.”
“Did you like town?” Maxon asked, grinning.
“Yes, it was very big and there were different people there, and the store had lots of dresses in it.”
“Did you get to choose your dress?”
“Yes, I picked seven!”
“Seven dresses?”
“Yes!”
“It’s true.” James lamented, finally rejoining Gerad and the others at the island. “Our little baby bug girl has hit a growth spurt these last few weeks. She can’t wear half the things in her closet anymore.”
America perked up, “What are you doing with the old dresses, Ken?”
“Would you like to save any for Addy?”
“Addy’s the heir to the throne, she’ll be well-clothed, but Meri might benefit from a few. I know the Legers are always looking for ways to stretch Aspen’s paycheck as far as it will go.”
“Of course, I’ll let Lucy have her pick of the lot, the next time she comes by the Palace. After that, I thought I’d donate them to your women’s clinics, Ames. They could put those excellent clothes into the hands of girls who need them.”
America smiled gratefully. That had been her next thought, too, to donate them to the clinics. Ever since the clothing drive two months ago, the clinics tried to keep a stock of donated clothing on hand to distribute to those in need of a little help.
America seemed to perk up for a while after that conversation, having been reminded of the tangible improvements she and her family were making to the lives of citizens all over Illéa. America’s initiatives were her passion projects, and they made the days full of party coordinating and menu planning, or smiling and waving to the public, all worth it.
“I think that looks good, what do you think, Astra?” Magda asked, looking down at the drizzled bread.
“Yes!”
“Alright, you step back and I’ll pop the pan into the hot oven.”
While the bread was toasting, Kenna and James dished out some banana and apple slices and May sat a glass of cold milk in front of America. “You need to keep your calcium levels up while you’re nursing.”
America cast a withering look at baby Addy, still cradled in James’ free arm. “I see you’ve already converted your Aunt May into a dairy maid.”
“What?” May asked, utterly confused, as Maxon wheezed out a chortle.
“Nothing.” America said, sipping the glass in front of her. She didn’t mind milk, but it no longer had the golden sweet glorious taste it had seemed to have whilst she’d been pregnant. She sometimes missed the burst of gratification she’d felt at satisfying those pregnancy cravings. That little serotonin rush almost made the intensity of the cravings worth it. Almost.
Maxon noticed her lack of enthusiasm for the milk and smiled, “There was a time you’d have gulped that whole glass down without a second’s hesitation.
“That was back when the milk princess was controlling my body.”
Maxon grinned and squeezed America’s hand. “Maybe you’ll cede control of your body to another milk princess, soon.”
“Let’s spend a couple of years making sure we can take care of this one, first.” America reasoned. “God save us if we were to run out of milk in Illéa, with two milk princesses on the loose.”
Maxon laughed, “You’re right about that, Love.”
***
After breakfast, Maxon went in to the office for a couple of hours to check on the kingdom, and America, Adrienne, Astra, and Kenna went down to check the final preparations for the Christmas ball. Adrienne’s little eyes practically glazed over as she took in the glowing fairy lights and bright colored baubles for the first time. America pressed about a dozen kisses to Addy’s forehead, clearly able to see how captivated her baby daughter was by it all.
“See?” America murmured, “It’s not so bad outside of Mommy’s tummy, is it? I know it’s colder, but we have soft blankets. You have to deal with that unfortunate diaper business, but look at the beautiful lights and colors.”
“Aunt Ames?”
“Yeah?” America looked down at Astra, who was gazing up at them.
“That baby cannot understand you.”
“How do you know?”
“That baby does not know words.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I know that she likes to be talked to. She likes it when people look into her eyes and talk to her.”
“Why?”
“It helps her learn all kinds of things, and it makes her feel connected and loved. For example, tell me what’s better:” America said, and then turned away, mumbling at the floor, “Hi Astra, I really love you…” Then America looked back at Astra and bent down a little to meet her gaze and spoke clearly, “Hi Astra, I really love you.”
Astra grinned, nodding her understanding, “I like that one better.” She took advantage of America’s stance to get a good look straight into Adrienne’s wide eyes. “Hello Addy, this is how you talk. When you are bigger and stronger, you will be ready to try it, too. It’s really fun, you will like it, I promise. Plus, I love you.” Then Astra leant back.
“That was perfect, Astra.” Kenna said, taking her daughter’s hand.
“Yes,” America agreed. “I think Addy really liked that.”
“I can do that more later too.” Astra offered.
“Sounds good.” America said. “Addy is a very good listener, I talk to her all the time. Someday she’ll start talking back, and then we can have conversations, but in the mean time, she always pays attention and she loves to hear what you have to say. Even just the sound of your voice makes her feel good, remember how she used to listen to you through my belly before she was born?”
“I remember.” Astra nodded. “Um, Aunt Ames?”
“Yes?”
“There’s candy canes on that tree, we can eat some?”
“If your mommy agrees, you can eat one.”
“I can share with Addy?”
“Not yet, my love.” America said, sympathetically. “Next Christmas you can share a candy cane with your cousin, alright?”
“She’s still too little?”
“Yes.”
“How big will she be next year? Will she be big like Kile?”
“Not that big. She’ll still be fairly small, but she’ll be ready for a candy cane.” America assured her.
Astra sighed dramatically, “Sorry, baby. I cannot share with you the candy cane.”
Addy waved a little arm in the air in defiance and America giggled, “She’s shaking her fist at me, she’s vowing revenge someday because I won’t give her candy.”
“Really??” Astra’s eyes grew wide. She hadn’t understood it all, but it shocked her to think that her baby cousin was angry.
“No! It’s a joke the baby and I have. We pretend she’s going to be a bossy queen someday, and that she’s practicing her bossiness on Uncle Maxon and me.”
“Oh.” Astra was reassured, even if she didn’t entirely understand. She realized, at least, that her baby cousin was just playing a game.
The Great Room was still not quite finished being remodeled after the explosion, but it was structurally complete. It lacked the lavish finishing touches that it would gain in the coming months, but it was more than complete enough to hold the Christmas ball, and with all of the decorations and trees and lights, it was breathtakingly beautiful.
“You did a wonderful job, Ken. You and May.”
“We did our best to help Silvia and Marlee.” Kenna smiled. “You’d have been better, I’m sure.”
“I doubt it, it’s perfect in here.”
“Mommy, when can we put on our dresses? I want to dance!” Astra declared.
Kenna giggled, “Soon, my baby ballerina. Give us a little longer to look around, and then we’ll go take baths and start getting ready.”
“Aunt Ames, you are not going to the ball?” Astra asked, repeating a rumor she’d heard from somewhere. Probably her parents talking.
“Not this time. I’m staying upstairs and napping with Addy.”
“You can come for just a minute if you want.” Astra invited.
“I know, but I’m still healing up from my tummy ache when I had Addy.” America reminded Astra.
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that tummy ache.”
“Addy and I are going to have a fun pajama party and relax upstairs, and you can join us when you’re tired of the ball.”
“I will never be tired of the ball!” Astra twirled excitedly.
“We’re thinking of starting her in dance lessons.” Kenna said to America conspiratorially, with a laugh.
***
Considering it was the anniversary of her father’s death, America really did have a nice day. After all, she got to spend it with her family, her husband, and her brand new baby girl. After lunch, Gerad challenged Maxon to a soccer duel while the girls started getting ready for the ball. America reveled in being able to join them, and not being confined to a chair for waxing, scrubbing, anointing, and all the other polishing she usually had to go through before a major Palace event.
She and Addy cheered the boys on and granted victory snuggles to anyone who managed to score on the other. Usually it was Gerad, who considered kissing Addy his lucky post-goal ritual. If he didn’t kiss the baby, he wouldn’t score again.
As for Maxon, he scored on Gerad a couple of times and was rewarded handsomely with a spectacular kiss from America for each one.
Finally, the boys went in to clean up before the guests started arriving, and America took the opportunity to change into a comfy nightgown and get Addy into a fresh diaper and one of her sleeping onesies.
Maxon fed Addy her dinner from a bottle that America had made during the day, then sent to the kitchen for America’s dinner tray, then spent a few minutes lounging in bed with his girls.
“You look so handsome, Maxon.” America’s heart had skipped a beat earlier as he’d arranged his hair just so, and then pinned the crown on it.
“It’s my first public appearance since we debuted Addy on the Palace steps, I want to look good.” Maxon grinned.
“Worried the people won’t think you’ve lost the baby weight quickly enough?”
Maxon smiled ruefully, fully aware of the betting on his wife’s figure that was going on throughout the Kingdom. “Something like that.”
“You’ll be wonderful.”
“I haven’t done one of these without you in a long time, Ames.” he said, slightly anxious.
“Worried you won’t remember how?”
“Sort of.” Maxon admitted, tickling Addy’s cheek to distract himself. For her part, Addy lay on her back, kicking and punching at the ceiling, trying to learn to use her brain to control her limbs. It was difficult work, if her soft, little baby grunts were any indication.
“Well, you’ll have your date with you, if all else fails.” America grinned.
Astra was Maxon’s official date, they were going to share the opening dance and everything.
“That’s true.” Maxon smiled between his wife and daughter.
“And my family will be there if you need any support.” Then she amended, “Our family, I mean.”
Maxon smiled even wider at that, “Yes.”
There was a knock at the door of the family room, a moment later Astra and Kenna were revealed, and they made their way into Maxon’s room.
“Wow, Astra, you look so beautiful!” Maxon said, sitting upright. Astra had on a white dress with pale blue trim, tied with a large ribbon at her little waist and then flaring out in layers down to her feet. “A winter princess, indeed.”
“Thank you, Mackin.” Astra curtseyed precariously.
“And you look lovely, Kenna.” Maxon added. Kenna’s hair was twisted up elegantly, and she wore a dress that seemed to be woven from pure cream, a gorgeous compliment to her porcelain skin.
“Thank you, Maxon.”
“We are here to tell you that we are ready.” Astra announced.
Kenna explained, “Silvia mentioned that you’d be entering with Astra tonight…”
Maxon consulted the clock next to his bed. “Yes, I will be. I suppose we should head downstairs and get ready for our grand entrance, shouldn’t we? The guests are likely to be nearly all here by now.”
Astra bounced a little in her excitement.
“Have fun tonight.” America bade the others.
“You’ll be alright with Adrienne?” Maxon checked one more time.
“More than alright.”
“Make sure the two of you relax and have a little fun. Addy, allow your mother some quiet time, alright precious birdie? She deserves it.“ Maxon said.
America kissed Maxon on the cheek, then Astra, then Kenna, and finally she was alone.
Her food arrived soon after the others went down to the ball, and America devoured the Christmas Eve feast with her feet kicked up while Addy swung contentedly in her gentle motorized baby swing.
When she’d finished the last bite of pie that she could possibly manage, and was fully satisfied with her meal, America carried Addy into the bathroom for a sink bath, or a baby bird bath as America and Maxon had taken to calling it for their baby bird daughter. There was a special little chair that cushioned and supported Addy’s little body, especially her head and neck, in the sink as America washed her gently with an extra soft cloth and some very gentle baby soap.
Afterwards, America re-diapered Addy and gave her a little baby massage with some lotion to keep her skin nice and soft. Addy cooed and cooed during this part, which made America grin like a fool. The baby had no words, and many of her responses were still automatic rather than social, but Addy still had a way of communicating what she liked.
Now that she was fresh and clean, America returned Addy to her little sleeping onesie and fed her a quick snack before bedtime. It was already dark outside, and America turned down the lights and cradled her baby close as they rocked and rocked, silent and relaxed. After a few minutes, America hummed a quiet tune, trying very hard not to think too much about her father. It was true that she had this time to relax, without the pressures of attending a major Palace event, but now she was alone with her thoughts on the anniversary of her father’s death. It was precarious to say the least.
Just when America was about to nervously request a guard come and keep her company, to stave off any potential sorrow, a soft knock echoed out from the family room door. America stood, Addy soothed into a trance in her arms, and peeked out to see the guard on duty open the door and say, “His Majesty has approved visitors for you, your Majesty.”
“Visitors?” America asked, surprised by the word and the fact that it was plural.
“Yes, ma’am, shall I allow them in?”
“Um… Maxon sent people up to see me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
America blinked and glanced down at Addy, whose heavy eyelids blinked back at her, lazily. “Alright. Send them in.” America looked down at her pajamas, confused about who Maxon could possibly be comfortable sending up to see America under these circumstances.
A moment later, the confusion vanished. Marlee, Elise, Natalie, and Kriss walked in, in full makeup and ballgowns, with enormous smiles on their faces.
America squealed, and Addy grunted in displeasure. “You’re here!”
“Of course we’re here, America!” Elise laughed.
“We had to see her for ourselves, we’ve been dying to get a good look at her.” Kriss added, eyes locked on the little lump that was Adrienne. “She has red hair, just like you!”
“She’s perfect.” Natalie crooned. “She’s so beautiful, America.”
America motioned for them to move into the family room and sat down in a cushy armchair. The girls took up twice the usual amount of space because of their dresses, but they truly were gorgeous. Addy was mesmerized by the glittery, colorful women; America could tell because she had that glazed look in her round eyes again.
Kriss couldn’t stop herself from kneeling before America, even in her puffy dark purple gown, to gaze more closely at the baby. It was as if she’d been brought to her knees.
“Congratulations, America.” Kriss said, awe in her voice.
“Thank you, Kriss.” America peered closely at her friend. “Are you alright?”
Kriss lifted her eyes to America’s, and blinked back tears. She licked her lips and nodded, “I don’t know how…” she looked back to Adrienne, who was staring at the diamonds along Kriss’ necklace. Kriss cleared her throat and tore her eyes away to look at America again. “Even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined anything so wonderful.”
There was a significant look in her eyes, and America gulped and nodded her understanding. Kriss was talking about the children she’d once dreamed of having with Maxon. Kriss wasn’t in love with Maxon anymore, the same way America wasn’t in love with Aspen, but that didn’t mean that all of the dreams that Kriss had attached to Maxon during his Selection were dead. She’d once dreamed of having Maxon’s children, she’d really only ever confessed that to America, and now Kriss was saying that Adrienne was more wonderful than those dream children had been.
“It’s because she’s real, Kriss.” America said, soothingly. “Yours will be this wonderful, too. I promise.”
Kriss nodded and sniffled. “Can I hold her?”
“Of course!” America laughed and pecked Kriss’ cheek. “You’re her Aunt Kriss, you should definitely hold her.”
Kriss smiled, tension broken, and precariously rose before slipping onto the end of the couch nearest America. “Okay, I’m ready.”
America handed Adrienne over, and then watched in delight as each of the girls introduced themselves to the baby. Adrienne was going to learn so much from these strong, powerful women through the years. It was amazing to get to see their first meetings like this.
Natalie was the only newcomer brave enough to kiss Adrienne’s cheek, and she was an absolute natural with that baby. She’d make an excellent mother, when the time came.
“I can’t wait until you all start having babies.” America realized, and Marlee cleared her throat pointedly. “And until Marlee has more babies.”
Marlee laughed, “Carter and I certainly haven’t ruled it out.”
“I just mean… all of you, bringing your children here to the Palace to play… they could grow up friends, you know what I mean? It’s a really nice thought. I just… I can’t wait until I’m having this moment with your children…”
Natalie grinned, “My children are going to get birthday presents from the Queen. There’s a thought.”
“They certainly are.” America laughed.
Addy scrunched up her face and fussed unhappily in Natalie’s arms.
“She’s exhausted.” America explained. “Hang on, I know what will calm her.” America hurried into Adrienne’s nursery and pushed out the rocking chair so that it faced the sofas where the girls sat. “Would you like to rock her, Natalie?”
Natalie blinked between the rocking chair and America, “Are you sure? I mean… Isn’t that Queen Amberly’s?” The room fell heavy with mourning. They’d all lost someone special when they’d lost Amberly, it was yet another thing that America shared with them.
“Go ahead. Addy will love it.” America promised Natalie, softly.
Natalie gently rose, careful not to jostle the baby, and then slowly sank into Amberly’s chair, taking a moment to adjust the skirt of her dress. Then, finally, she gave an easy little kick and the chair started rocking. “Wow.” She breathed, gazing down into Addy’s sleepy eyes. Already, Adrienne was settling. “So this is where Amberly rocked Maxon?”
“Yes, it is.” America smiled. “And it’s where Maxon and I rock Addy. Hopefully, one day, she’ll rock her babies in that chair, too.”
Natalie giggled quietly, “I feel royal.”
America grinned and collapsed into the space where Natalie had been sitting on the sofa. “Just go ahead and tell me when she’s asleep and Kriss can run her in there to the crib or something. I’m taking the night off.” the girls laughed.
“The nursery looked beautiful on the Report, America.” Elise said.
“Thank you.” America smiled. “We love it. We wouldn’t have even had it built if it wasn’t for an awful attack, but now I can’t imagine not having Addy right there. Maxon’s room, the nursery, and my room are like spokes off of this family room, and I hope we always treat this like the hub of our personal lives. I hope, as we have more children and they move out of the nursery to other places on the third floor, that they always come back here, to this room, to be with us. I hope they are as familiar with our rooms, and especially this family room, as they are with their own spaces. That’s the great hope Maxon and I have pinned on this new architecture; that a new kind of royal family might spring up around it.”
The girls looked around the room and nodded, able to envision the future America was aiming for.
“You can do it, America.” Kriss smiled. “If anyone can do it, you can. It’s going to be hard to keep your family grounded and supported through all of this royal insanity, but I know that you can do it. And you’ll let us know if you ever need any help.”
America laughed, “Like if Adrienne gets to be too big a handful, I can send her to live with one of you for a summer and you can whip her into shape?”
The general consensus was eager yeses, though Marlee just laughed. “Poor Addy would probably be more confused than anything else if you sent her to live in the guards quarters for a summer.”
“Probably.” America giggled.
“Alright, alright.” Kriss said, “I need the gossip. How has Maxon been coping with fatherhood?”
“He’s perfect, of course. Was there ever any doubt?”
“Never.” Elise agreed.
“He’s done everything possible to keep himself connected to this baby.” America said, pride shining in her voice.
Marlee grinned, “Like fetching all of your snack cravings personally?”
“Just at night.” America nodded. “And he put together the new nursery furniture himself.”
“Did he really?” Kriss laughed. “That must have been a sight.”
“You have no idea.” America laughed. She regaled them with every hilarious detail of Maxon’s struggles with nursery furniture, including the moment he declared war on mahogany and threatened to send troops in to chop down all the remaining mahogany trees in Illéa.
By the time she was done with the story, Addy was fast asleep in Natalie’s embrace. They all took a moment to admire the sleeping baby.
“Were you serious about letting me tuck her in?” Kriss asked, breathlessly.
“Of course. Please.” America grinned, standing up to lead the way.
Kriss stood and slipped her arms under Natalie’s, and they gently, slowly slid the sleeping princess into Kriss’ warm embrace.
Kriss bit her lip nervously, took a steadying breath, and then followed America into the nursery, as seen on TV.
“Wow.” Kriss looked up at the stars May had painted on the ceiling. “Those are gorgeous.”
“And they glow.” America smiled, clicking off the light to demonstrate.
“The television cameras didn’t quite capture their… breathtaking quality.”
“My sister is amazing. She did those, herself.” America said, then she looked around the room. “It’s all messier in real life, I’ll bet.”
Kriss laughed in a whisper. “I’ve heard children always are.”
“Yeah.” America smiled. “Are… you and George—“
Kriss shrugged. “Maybe. In a few more years.”
“There’s no hurry. You can always come and cuddle this one, in the mean time.”
“I might take you up on that.” Kriss said, grinning, moving over to the crib and gently lowering Addy down.
“Well, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, anyway, as we start planning our public schools.” America reminded her. “Speaking of which, you and I need a meeting as soon as I’m back to work. I’ve gotten permission from Jepsen to claim a quarter of a penny from every tax dollar collected for public works, for our schools.”
Kriss laughed and stood upright, after pulling Maxon’s baby blanket up to Addy’s chest. “Wow. A whole quarter of every public works penny. What will we do with all of those fourths of cents?”
“They’ll make quite the nest egg four and a half years from now, when we’re ready to open the very first public school campuses.” America reminded Kriss and Kriss nodded, catching on.
“Between that and fundraising—“
“And that sneaky little private school tax that I devised—“
“Oh, America.” Kriss grinned. “We’re going to do it this time, aren’t we? We’re really going to get these schools built and running.”
“Absolutely. It’s my next great crusade, now that my daughter is free from the burden of a diplomatic marriage, and Illéan laws no longer differentiate between genders.”
Kriss nodded and folded her arms. “You really did some amazing work this past year.”
“I know. I’m proud of it. I wish I hadn’t had to shuffle around my other priorities—“
Kriss held up a hand, thinking of how angry she’d been all those months ago, when America had first said that they’d have to wait five years for their schools. “I couldn’t see the big picture. You could. I should have trusted you. I will next time, I promise.”
America smiled and hugged Kriss closely. They rejoined the others in the family room after clicking on the little speaker on Addy’s crib.
“We’re getting ready to head back down and do some more dancing.” Marlee said. “Are you ready, Kriss?”
“Yeah, of course.” Kriss smiled.
America hugged each of them goodbye and thanked them for coming upstairs for the visit. She promised to see each of them again soon, and begged them to drop by anytime to play with Adrienne.
America had a huge smile on her face for the rest of the evening.
She was still feeling warm and glow-y an hour later, curled up in bed, reading, when Astra and Kenna stopped by to wish her a goodnight. Astra said she’d danced so much that her feet were sore, and she couldn’t wait to show America the pictures of her first dance with Maxon, and that there had been delicious pies and hot chocolate, and that her mommy and daddy said there would be presents in the morning so she needed to go to sleep fast, to get to the presents faster. She said all of this in about four breaths, which made America think that maybe she’d sipped a little too hard on the hot chocolate, and now she was wired, but Kenna didn’t look worried. After a soothing chamomile bath, Astra would likely drop like a fly.
“I love you, Ames.” Kenna waved as she followed Astra out the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“I love you, too, Kenna. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, baby sister.” Kenna grinned and closed the door behind her.
***
America was almost asleep when she heard Maxon come in. First the door to the family room audibly opened and closed, then the door to his room creaked open. Light spilled on America’s face, she could tell through her closed eyes, and she heard Maxon stand in the doorway for a moment, looking at her. Another long moment, and the door closed again, leading to perfect silence in the bedroom. No movement. No Maxon.
Then America heard a crackle on the nightstand radio.
“You’re awake little one?” Maxon’s hoarse voice asked, through the speaker. “What are you blinking at, Princess?” There was a shuffle, Maxon was probably picking Addy up. “It’s Aunt May’s stars, isn’t it? They are beautiful. Forgive me if I’d rather look at you, though. You and your mother are the most beautiful sights in all the universe, for me. Not even those stars compare.”
There was a creak. America had moved the rocking chair back into Addy’s nursery, and now America assumed Maxon was sitting on it. She could hear the telltale rocking sound through the speaker.
“So you were just lying here, awake, Adrienne? You didn’t wake up your mother for company? You were being a good girl and doing as Daddy asked, weren’t you? You were allowing your mother some quiet time, weren’t you? That was very good of you.”
A smacking sound. Perhaps kisses.
“This is a hard holiday for your mommy, but I think she did alright today. You certainly helped, little love. You make her so happy.”
A yawn. Maxon’s.
“Anyway, we’ll see if we can’t keep her spirits up tomorrow, too. Lots of cuddles and family time, and staying busy. That’s the trick. We must sweep Mommy off her feet tomorrow so that the day will pass more easily. We can do that, can’t we? We’re up to that task. And it will be your first ever Christmas, little love, I can’t wait to show you all of the wonderful things that happen on Christmas. We must also pay attention to your cousin, Astra, she’s going to be a little ray of beaming light tomorrow. More so than usual, I mean. That will be fun for all of us to see.”
A pause. Creaking. Steady breaths.
“Are you asleep, my darling? Alright, then. Have the merriest of dreams, my littlest love, and I promise lots of fun tomorrow.” A shift, a shuffle, a rustle, footsteps, and a click. The door closed.
America lifted her head onto her hand and smiled as the door to Maxon’s room opened.
Maxon took in her adoring expression and frowned, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Please wake me every time that happens. That was exquisite. I don’t want to miss a single one of those.”
Maxon smiled, exhaustion in his features, and he tossed aside his jacket and bowtie, kicked off his shoes, and fell into bed. “Merry Christmas, love.”
“Merry Christmas, Maxon.”
