(Holy crap, I didn’t realize I hadn’t published this, sorry if anyone was waiting on it!)
ONE YEAR LATER
“The name is a calculated risk,” Charles said, taking the vial of powdered cinnamon from Erik’s hand and applying it to the orange slice before him. “Like so many things involving the school, we must constantly walk a balance between getting the word to the right people and keeping it from the wrong ones.”
“I, for one, still think you are too concerned with secrecy.” Raven scarcely looked up from her novel, one hand absently stroking Irene’s hair where she lay sleeping beside her on the sofa, head in Raven’s lap.
“Yes, Raven, I’m aware of your opinion,” Charles said with fond weariness. “Yet our discreet situation is serving you and Irene well enough at present, is it not?”
“It is, at that,” Raven admitted, and her teeth flashed white-against-blue in a dreamy smile, her hand drifting from Irene’s hair down her shoulder to her rounded belly. Irene had not foreseen any particular problems with the birth of their son, but Charles knew they were both happy nevertheless to be in a more stable and comfortable environment for the event.
Charles was, of course, thrilled at the thought of being an uncle. He had to admit, though, that he was still laboring to adjust himself to the idea of his sister having fathered the child in question.