take it. It wasn't quite as comforting as the warmth of his mother but at three in the morning he would have to take what he could get. I pulled on a T-shirt and some sweat pants, and went through to his room.
There was a dim red light, placed in one of the electric sockets by the stewards, so I could see he wasn't exactly awake yet. That wouldn't last, though, as he was already restless and would toss and turn until he woke himself up and demanded food. I reached down and picked him up, resting him against my shoulder while I wrapped a blanket round him. He made small noises, but was momentarily appeased by another warm body.
I padded back through our bedroom, grabbing the change bag on the way through, and slipped outside into the hall, closing the door softly behind me. Blackbird turned over, but didn't wake.
Outside it was chillier, but it was too late to go back for something warmer to wear. The temperature in the old house dropped at night — the product of bad insulation and rooms with high ceilings. As a Warder, trained to steel myself against adverse conditions, I could put up with cold feet.
I walked through the house in near silence, punctuated by the occasional hoot of an owl outside. There were no people, no stewards. The whole house was asleep.
As we made our way downstairs, my son nuzzled against me and then started chewing his hand — a sure sign of impending hunger. I navigated through the halls and rooms in darkness to the back kitchen. The light in the fridge came on when I opened the door, and I found that Lesley, bless her, had left a feed made up, saving me the task of making one up and then waiting for it to cool. I ran some warm water into a pan to take the chill off the milk.
My son woke up to the fact that food was imminent and started making a lot of noise. I walked up and down with him a few times, but it wasn't going to distract him. Hungry babies are not easily distracted. They are very focused people.
Carrying my noisy bundle back through the house to one of the abandoned sitting rooms. I dropped the change bag on one side, placed some pillows to support my back and made myself comfortable. I tested the milk on the inside of my arm out of habit, finding it only just warm enough. Still, he would eat it cold if he was hungry enough.
Even though I placed the teat of the bottle against his lips where he could feel it, the yelling continued for a few moments, then ceased, to be replaced by a rhythmic sucking. I breathed a sigh of relief, pushed back into the armchair, and got comfortable. I talked to him as he fed, telling him stories about bears and unicorns in the sort of stream-of-consciousness story that fathers make up at three in the morning, and gradually the slurping slowed as his hunger eased.
Now we had the difficult bit. I smiled at all I'd learned from Alex. It was no good trying to feed a sleepy baby. They ate some, slept for half an hour and then woke you up again for more. You needed to get their attention, and cold nappy cream was the way to do it.
I spread the change mat on the floor and laid my semi-comatose child on the mat. As soon as I started to undress him he woke up with a vengeance, screaming blue murder that I was not only changing his nappy, but using freezing cold nappy cream as well. I endured his protests and ineffectual attempts to fend me off, and in a few moments he was dry and clean, the dirty nappy set aside and his milk waiting for him. That didn't stop him yelling.
By now, though, he was awake again, and placated with some more milk, so I could sit back and let him finish it off. He was comfort eating now that his initial hunger was sated, but I wanted him to last until morning.
'You do that very well.'
'Amber! What are you doing here?' There was a shape across the room which I'd taken for a shrouded chair, but which now resolved itself into a sitting person. My son shifted at the alarm in my voice, and then went back to drinking as I relaxed again.
'I didn't want to disturb you,' she said.
'Hmmph. If I'd dropped him we would have disturbed the whole house.' The shape didn't move. Even though I knew she was there, she was still difficult to see in the dark. 'How long have you been there?'
'Since before you came in.'
'How did you know I was coming in here?' I asked.
'It's where you came before.'
'You've watched me do this before? Without saying anything?'
'Only once. I didn't disturb you then. You seemed content.' She sat up and moved to another chair where I could see her better.
'Well don't creep up on me like that again, It's… creepy.' At three in the morning it was hard to come up with a better description. 'What are you doing up, anyway?'
'Patrolling — renewing the wards.'
'Aren't you supposed to be scouting the grounds?'
'You're the only person awake for miles — you and your son.'
'Ah, well. Glad we could entertain you.' My sarcasm was ignored.
'It brings back memories,' she said.
'Of what?' I asked.
'My daughter.'
I was momentarily taken aback. Amber had never mentioned a daughter. As far as I could tell, none of the Warders had children. I had assumed it was part of the job description and yet another reason I wasn't very good at it.
'No one said you had a daughter,' I said.
'I don't talk about it. It was a long time ago.'
'Where is she now?' I asked.
'She died.'
Now I felt really bad. 'Amber, I'm so sorry. Here I am, being so insensitive. I'm really… I don't know what to say.'
'It's OK. She was old. She had a good life.'
'Old?' The question was out before I realised what I'd said.
'She was human, like her father. Completely and utterly as human as could be. She lived into her eighties — not a bad age. At the end… I'd like to think she knew me, but it was hard to tell. The drugs they gave her in the hospital made her memory bad.' She thought for a moment. 'I think she knew me.'
'But you must have been… you didn't age.'
'I know. It's strange. She started out as my daughter, and by the end I had to play her granddaughter — too young even to be her daughter then. She would touch my face and tell me I had such good skin.'
'Didn't she tell anyone? I mean, it must have been strange. Did she know you were her mother?'
'Yes. It was our secret. She used to laugh at how I never aged a day while she grew older every year — until it wasn't funny any more.'
She paused, thoughtful for a while.
'We tried,' she laughed, but there wasn't much humour in it. 'We tried to bring it out, to activate the magic within her. It didn't work. Nothing did. In the end it just hurt her.'
'That's… terrible.'
'Is it? Yes, I think it might be. You're either fey, or you're not. You don't get to choose.'
'Amber, I'm so sorry. You must miss her very much.'
'I wouldn't change it. If I could swap a year of my life for a year of hers, it would be different, but that's not the way it works. Instead you are given the years that are yours. Her years were wonderful. She was a beautiful girl.'
'I don't know what to say.'
'As I say, it was a long time ago.'
'It's strange, Amber. You've never mentioned her before. I never even knew you had a daughter. Why are you telling me this now?'
'It brings back memories — mostly good ones.' I caught a glimpse of her sad smile in the half-light. 'You're very lucky.'
I looked down at the child in my arms. 'I like to think so.'
