The next morning, Annabella was having breakfast with George in the sunlit dining room.
A plate of sliced fruit sat between them, beside warm bread, eggs, and a pot of tea. George had been pushing the same piece of strawberry around his plate for so long that Annabella finally reached over and turned his plate towards him.
"You'll wear a hole through the porcelain at this rate."
George stopped.
"I'm thinking."
"An alarming habit."
Annabella watched him over the rim of her teacup.
"Are you excited about your naming ceremony?"
George poked his food with his fork again.
"Perplexed, actually."
"Perplexed?" She lowered her cup. "Whatever for?"
"Father said he would be here to practise with me." George's shoulders lifted in a little shrug. "I suppose he must be busy."
There was a small disappointment in his voice, though he seemed determined not to make too much of it.
Annabella set her cup down.
"You know, I could always—"
The doors opened before she could finish.
Harry walked in, removing his sword and shrugging off his coat as he crossed the room. Lyz followed close behind him. Harry handed her his belongings without taking his eyes off the table.
"Absolutely Not my Dear... The honour is mine."
George's head snapped up.
Annabella felt a familiar ache settle behind her ribs. She could correct her son, comfort him, and make sure he never doubted that he was loved. She could not teach him to stop measuring his worth by the scraps of approval his father happened to offer.
while his attention lingered on his son for a moment, his gaze soon returned to Annabella.
He could barely seem to look anywhere else.
Annabella smiled at George, allowing him to enjoy the moment before she turned towards their unexpected guest.
"Welcome home, Your Grace."
The warmth vanished from her expression. Her eyes cooled, her posture remained impeccable, and the smile she had given her son disappeared as though it had never existed.
Harry bowed.
Then he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
"I am delighted to see how much I was missed."
Annabella inclined her head.
"How perceptive of you."
His mouth twitched.
Apparently, he was willing to take that as a compliment.
Harry pulled out a chair beside Annabella and sat down. Without waiting for an invitation, he reached for a strawberry from the serving dish and turned to George.
"I would never miss my son's naming ceremony."
George puffed up with pride.
Annabella returned to her tea.
"Now, George. Tell me what you've learnt so far."
George launched into an explanation of the naming rite, stumbling over one of the longer invocations. Harry corrected him gently, repeating the phrase until the boy managed it properly.
"Better," Harry said.
George's face brightened.
"Was that right?"
"Quite right."
George smiled, and Harry smiled at the sound. He was not unkind to the boy. He asked questions, corrected his mistakes, and even remembered the parts of the ceremony George had struggled with the last time they practised.
But every kindness seemed to arrive in measured portions, and George received each one as though it were a gift he had no right to expect.
Across the table, Harry took in the room. The evidence of yesterday's disagreement between George and Lyz was difficult to miss.
Harry's gaze settled on Lyz.
"I take it this was my son's doing?" He gestured vaguely at the room. "What was it about this time?"
Lyz shifted the coat over her arm.
She seemed uncomfortable, though Annabella suspected it had less to do with the mess than with Harry sitting so close to his wife. Still, Lyz had enough sense to keep her expression neutral.
She cleared her throat.
"The young master caused a little trouble yesterday."
"I just wanted a walk, you jerk," George muttered.
When Harry turned towards him, the change in Harry's expression was slight, but immediate. His eyes sharpened, and the boy's words died on his tongue.
"George."
The child looked up, scratching the back of his head.
"It is time you learned to conduct yourself properly. These tantrums are a disgrace."
George's shoulders sank. He lowered his gaze to his breakfast, his lips pushing into a stubborn pout.
Annabella took another sip of tea.
"No major harm was done," she said mildly. "And George has already learned his lesson."
George let out a breath he had clearly been holding.
Harry glanced at her. Whatever he found in her expression made him leave the matter alone.
Annabella turned to her son, then she reached across the table and straightened the collar of his shirt.
"Now, child, go. You'll be late for your lessons."
George slid out of his chair.
Annabella rose as she hugged George who seemed sad he had to leave his mom's embrace.
Lyz stepped forward. "I'll take him. His instructor is waiting, and I still need to supervise his training."
"Then we won't keep you," Annabella said.
Harry looked at his son. "I'll join you today to prepare for the ceremony further. Have you memorised the binding spell?"
"Yes, Father."
"Good. I expect you to know it perfectly by then."
George bowed with sudden seriousness. "I won't disappoint you."
Something flickered across Harry's face. For a moment, he looked as though he might say more. Instead, he reached out and straightened the boy's shoulder.
"See that you don't."
George practically glowed.
He hurried after Lyz, who was already heading for the door.
"Try not to get us both into trouble today," she said.
"You're the one who gets me into trouble!"
We're doomed if you make it through the naming ceremony," Lyz muttered.
"I'll be your master soon," George shot back. "You should treat me better."
"You fiend!"
"Your future title won't make you any less annoying."
Their argument continued into the corridor.
Their voices faded, leaving the dining room quiet again.
For the first time since entering the room, Harry laughed.
Annabella sat back down.
"He certainly has a talent for arguing."
"He has a talent for many things."
"He has your temper."
Annabella folded her napkin and placed it beside her plate.
"How did it go with Yennifer?"
Harry rested his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his hand, studying her with an expression of shameless admiration.
"You could at least pretend to be pleased to see me."
"I welcomed you home."
"Rather coldly."
"Would you have preferred a procession?"
"I would have settled for a kiss." His smile softened into something more intimate. "Did you miss me even a little, Annabella? I missed you dearly."
She sighed and returned to her tea.
The silence stretched between them.
Harry watched her for another moment, apparently waiting for her to relent. When she didn't, he finally sat back.
"We've come to an understanding about the Butcher. Dvark has agreed to coordinate our operations and make his special forces available to us. We'll hit them from both sides."
Annabella's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is that so ?"
"Their commanders will coordinate with ours, and they'll help secure the routes the Butcher has been using to isolate us. We should be able to reclaim some of the ground we've lost."
"Should be?"
His jaw shifted.
Annabella raised her palm lazily and a map appeared.
"Show me exactly where they vowed deploy their troops."
He pointed out the routes the Butcher had threatened, the positions Dvark's forces could reinforce, and the settlements that would need additional protection.
Annabella asked precise questions. Harry answered them truthfully. When he overlooked a vulnerable crossing, she pointed it out. When she suggested redirecting supplies through a less obvious route, he considered it seriously.
"If the Death Mages can hold the eastern approaches while our forces push from the south, we may finally break the pressure he's putting on the smaller settlements," Annabella said.
"That is the intention."
"Then the coordination must be established before either side moves. I won't have our people trapped between two armies because a messenger arrived late or a commander decided he knew better."
"I'll see to it."
She studied him for another beat, then with a flip of her hand, the map disappeared.
"Very well. It is a start."
Harry then said frowning
"Is there nothing you can say to me without making it sound like a reprimand?"
"Certainly. I could thank you for finally doing the obvious."
"You could."
"Thank you for putting your ego aside and follow my plan through"
Her delivery was so perfectly polite that he let out a disbelieving laugh.
"You are impossible." He chuckled.
"So I've been told."
Annabella stood up ready to leave.
Harry looked at her as though he could see the woman she had been before everything between them had soured. His gaze moved over her face, lingering at her mouth. The humour left his expression, replaced by something more vulnerable and far less easily concealed.
He wanted to touch her again. She could see it in the way his fingers flexed against the edge of the table, in the way he moved closer and then seemed to remember himself.
"George has grown so much," he said at last.
Annabella glanced towards the corridor.
"He has."
"He'll be joining the academy before long."
"And he is looking forward to it."
Harry's eyes returned to her. "And when he does, you'll have more time to yourself."
"I have never lacked for things to occupy me."
"I know. But you won't need to spend every hour here." His voice softened. "You could come and live with me."
Annabella looked at him, waiting.
Harry gave a small, helpless smile.
"I miss you. I miss having you beside me. I miss speaking to you without having to measure every word for fear you'll find another reason to despise me."
He came around the table. There was no mistaking his desire now. He stopped close enough that she could smell the faint trace of cedar and leather on his clothes, close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes.
"Annabella," he said quietly. "I have thought about you every day."
"I remember what we were like together," he continued. "I remember how easily you used to laugh with me." His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth. "I remember our nights together. I have not forgotten any of them."
Annabella finally withdrew her hand.
He looked wounded, though he tried to hide it.
"I am asking you to consider a life with me again. George will be away at the academy soon. We could have a home of our own. We could—"
"Have another child?"
Harry fell silent.
She looked at him for a long moment.
"Is that what this is about?"
"Partly yes." His answer came too quickly. He caught himself and tried again.
She stepped away from him. "If you want more heirs, Harry, you might as well visit your mistress."
His face hardened.
"You know I would never let another woman bear my flesh and blood."
"How reassuring."
"I mean it." He followed her a step, his restraint beginning to fray. "There is only one woman I want to bear my children."
"And you think that should make me feel honoured?"
"I think you know how I feel about you."
Annabella's hands had curled at her sides. She forced them open, one finger at a time, and lifted her chin.
"I will never forget what you took from me."
The room seemed to grow still around them.
Harry's face had gone pale beneath his composure. He opened his mouth, but she did not give him the chance to turn her pain into another argument.
"I would rather die than bear you another child."
He flinched.
For a moment, she saw something like remorse in his expression. It might even have been genuine. But remorse was not the same as understanding, and neither was it enough.
"The only reason I tolerate your presence," she continued, her voice steady despite the tension in her hands, "is that George needs a father."
Harry's brow furrowed.
"A father? I am his father."
She turned and walked towards the door.
"Annabella."
She didn't stop.
"Annabella, what precisely is that supposed to mean?"
She left him with the question unanswered.
The doors closed behind her.