"Ta na shay, mi de cerrico," he whispered, his voice cracking, and he took a deeper breath. "Ta na shay, mi de cerrico day folena," he sang, his voice becoming stronger as she frowned, her fitful arm movements hesitating. "Rovolin de mero, de sono, de vine. Esta ta na shay, me de cerrico."
Jenks's wings clattered as he landed on Trent's shoulder, and together they watched as Lucy's eyes opened. They were green as an angry ocean as she fastened them upon him, and Trent smiled, delighted at her fierce rebellion. "Hi," he breathed, and his daughter kicked her legs and cooed as if saying "Where have you been?"
Only now did he reach in and pick her up, holding her high so her blanket slipped away and he could see all of her at once in her little pink dressing gown. "Lucy!" he said, feeling as if the world could end right now and he would be happy. "Look how perfect you are!"
The little girl laughed, kicking at him at delight of the sensation of air around her until she saw her bottle on the table. Expression clouding, she leaned to it, her happy-baby sounds turning desperate.
Alarmed, Trent pulled Lucy to him, his eyes down and avoiding Ellie's pensive quiet as he tucked Lucy against him, feeling awkward and uncomfortable as he managed the bottle. Lucy grabbed it with a fierce determination, sucking hard as she studied Trent's face, comparing it to Ellie, now standing next to them.
"I'm not leaving here without her," Trent said, not sure what was going to happen next.
Ellie's face hardened. "Then you will die here."
"Then so be it," he said, turning his back on the woman and heading for the outer chamber. Excitement tingled through him, and he thought of the sleeping potion gun in his pocket. It would be difficult to carry Lucy and fire it at the same time, but he'd manage. Jenks's wings clattered at his shoulder, the pixy clearly uncertain at Trent's calm.
"You cannot escape this room!" Ellie exclaimed in a hushed whisper, and Lucy sucked harder on her bottle, her hand clenching on the glass with a fierce determination. "Those butchers are instructed to cut you down on sight! Even if Lucy is with you!"
The woman sounded desperate, and a quiver of anticipation ran through him. She didn't want her granddaughter in danger. She wanted him to take her, but needed a little shove. "If we're to be shot on sight, I'll need your help, Jenks. Will you do me the honor of protecting my child while I take care of the guards?"
Jenks hovered close, and Lucy went cross-eyed, her sucking hesitating when he landed on the end of the bottle. "To my last breath," he said, his dust shifting to a deep black.
Nodding his agreement, Trent brushed past Ellie.
"Trenton, no!" she cried out as he reached for the handle. "They might kill her!"
"Then help me," Trent said, his back to her as he waited, counting to three. There was silence, and his grip tightened on the knob.
"Wait," she whispered, and Trent's heart pounded, his eyes closing in thanks to the Goddess. He'd been bluffing. There was no way he would walk out of this room with his child and risk her life. But it wasn't over yet, and he cradled Lucy in his arm as she finished her bottle, making his expression a hard mask for both her and Ellie to study as he turned.
The older woman glanced at the door behind him, fear in her eyes. "The guards won't listen to me. You can't go that way. Pixy dust is an explosive accelerant, yes?" she said softly.
"Hey!" Jenks said belligerently. "Who told you that?"
Ellie shrugged. "Trent isn't the only one with an old library. Most of his mother's books came from me." Her eyebrows high and saucy, she turned to Trent, making him wonder if this had been her intent all along and she'd only been seeing the length of his resolve. "The westernmost wall in the nursery is an outer wall. You can go through it."
"It's three feet thick!" Trent exclaimed, and Lucy kicked out, responding to his voice. "My explosives are designed to break locks, not masonry walls."
"There's a window." Ellie turned, striding into the nursery. "It's not three feet of rock. It's three feet of insulation," she said loudly from the second room, and Trent looked at Jenks. The pixy was hovering uncertainly.
"Why do I feel like I've been had?" Trent said softly.
Jenks snickered. "Because I think we have."
Holding Lucy close, Trent strode into the nursery, seeing Ellie tapping at the wall, her ear bent toward it. Lucy fussed, and he snatched up the blanket in the crib. "Why?" he almost barked at Ellie as he inexpertly tried to wrap the blanket around Lucy, who kept kicking it off.
Ellie turned, looking crafty as she leaned toward the wall, listening as she tapped it with a knuckle. "I liked what I saw when you woke her."
Trent came closer, lifting his hand in a gesture of disbelief. "She cried for her bottle."
The echo behind the wall changed, and she straightened. "I wasn't looking at Lucy. I was looking at you. Go. Before I change my mind." Her fond smile faltered, and she reached out, tucking Lucy's blanket in properly around her. "I'm going to miss you, sweet pea," she said, giving the fussing baby a kiss on the forehead. Lucy clamped a fist on her bangs, and blinking fast, Ellie disentangled her fingers, placed her tiny hand on her middle, and then turned away, her head low.
Guilt hit him, and he took out his tiny explosives he had to pick locks. Jenks oooed and ahhed over them, taking his sword and punching through the wallboard to place them properly.
"Ellie, why?" he asked again.
"I've been following your progress," she said softly, still not turning around. "Not today, but since your father died. I thought that you were misguided, easily led. I was wrong-you were keeping your enemies close. I thought that you were too timid, unable to think flexibly-yet you got in here with very little effort and against changing odds. You have been too careless with life-but something in you has shifted and I'm willing to chance you raising my granddaughter better than I have raised my daughter." She turned, her tears obvious. "We need Lucy, but we need her with the strength that I know you can give her." She dropped her head, tears falling from her unremarked upon and untouched. "You have made sacrifices," she said, turning Trent's hand over and tracing a finger upon his palm and the twin life lines that had bothered his mother and made his father frown. "Not just in the past, but the future as well. Besides, Ellasbeth has lots of dolls already."
It was bitter, and Trent swallowed hard, her grief washing over him like a bright wave, sun sparkling on top, harsh and cold below. He took a breath to say something, anything, but nothing was to be said, nothing that he could give her. Ellie was making the largest sacrifice of them all. Give me strength today, and I will strive to find within me the person that can be both.