“Morning,” Spike murmured, returning the embrace. He buried his face in her neck, unwilling to rise just yet.

“Hmm,” Del said in response, agreeing that it wasn’t quite time to get up yet. “You do know I love you, Laio?” Del asked. She had meant to tell him the night before, but had fallen asleep.

Spike’s hold on Del tightened, but she received no other response. It was enough for now.

A knock on the door forced them to full awareness. “Maybe they’ll just go away,” Spike muttered, glaring at the door.

Del sighed. “That only works once. You’ve got negotiations to do.”

Spike swore. He’d rather hoped that those negotiations would just disappear. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that they just forget about negotiations for a few days?”

“Answer the door, Laio,” Del said, waving him toward the door. When Spike got up, Del pulled a blanket over her and went back to resting.

As Spike had suspected, the official from yesterday’s botched negotiations was on the other side of his door, as was Gaha. “What?”

The official puffed herself up. “You are expected to show up for negotiations on time and prepared to participate. Do you have any idea how much inconvenience you have caused by abandoning your negotiations yesterday?”

Spike narrowed his eyes and scowled at the official. “Do you have any idea how much you inconvenienced both the weavers and the farmers by not paying attention when you assigned negotiators?”

“That’s not the point! We have found another negotiator, and could have started yesterday! I demand that you accompany me at once!” The official’s face was turning a lurid shade of green, making Spike slightly nauseous.

Spike turned to Gaha. Apparently, the official felt she needed some additional weight behind her when she came to confront Spike. “Elder, did this…official explain to you the circumstances surrounding the delay?”

“She told me that due to complications in paperwork, a member of one of the negotiators’ clans was the advisor, and that a new one would have to be found,” Gaha said calmly. It was obvious that the official was bothering her as well.

“She assigned Del,” Spike said flatly.

Gaha’s eyes widened. “Oh. I see.” And indeed she did. Perhaps that was why they were discussing this in the hallway instead of inside Spike’s quarters. Making a quick decision, she turned to the official. “I believe the conflict of interest is great enough in this situation that the weaver's guild has no problem in assigning a different negotiator. Will this interfere with your scheduling?”

The official squinted. She didn’t want to have to reschedule the negotiation again, but she also didn’t want to have to work with Spike. “That is acceptable. Have the new negotiator come to the forges at midday tomorrow. That should be enough time to renew the contracts, don’t you think?”

Actually, it would be tight, but in all likelihood, the guild would send someone with more experience than Spike at this point. Gaha and Spike both nodded, and the official trotted off, muttering about the troublemaking, difficult Disiaron.

Gaha gave Spike a serious look. “How are you?”

Spike quirked his mouth to one side. “Fine.” At the look on her face, he reiterated. “Really. We…talked a lot. We’ll be talking a lot more.”

“Del didn’t visit us when she arrived in town,” Gaha said. It was customary for dalhari of Del’s position to announce their presence to the elders.

“She was busy,” Spike evaded.

Gaha hummed tunelessly. “I see. If you happen to see her, please let her know that we would love to entertain a visit from her at her earliest convenience.”

Spike grinned as Gaha walked away. She was a canny old bird.

When Spike returned to his quarters, he found Del still nested in the pillows. She wasn’t asleep, however, but instead was watching him move around the room. “Everything ok?”

“Just peachy. I’m off the negotiations and Gaha wants to see you,” Spike relayed. He brought a bowl of raw vegetables and a pitcher of water over to Del. Settling in beside her, he offered her some breakfast.

“I never thought I’d see you eat verdrin willingly,” Del said, watching Spike easily consume the fiery vegetable.

“My theories on dalhari taste buds were right. They’re not so hot now,” Spike said lightly. “Can’t complain, though.”

Breakfast continued silently as each dalhari mulled over the last day’s events. It was a lot to think about, on all fronts. Del was both ecstatic and afraid—happy beyond belief that Spike didn’t hate her, and afraid of how she felt for him. Spike, on the other hand, was in heaven. Del was back in his life, and this time, she wasn’t going anywhere. He knew a lot more about the dalhari now, and as of this morning he knew just what he wanted to do.

Del watched as Spike disappeared into his bedroom. A few minutes later, he emerged with a folded up piece of fabric. He resumed his seat next to Del with a serious expression on his face. Without explaining, he handed the item to her.

“What’s this?” She asked, peering down at the blood red fabric. It was…bright, but intriguing. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was made from the downy wool of prhang young. Unfolding the item, she discovered that it was a garment—a shirt, to be exact. It was made in the typical dalhari fashion of a loose torso and wide, flowing sleeves gathered at the wrists. The neckline, cuffs, and hem were embroidered in the same color. It was, in all, a fine garment.

She shot him a questioning look. “That’s the dye I made to win my apprenticeship with Paven,” Spike answered, watching as things began to click into place for Del.

She looked back down at the garment, eyes opened with realization. It wasn’t just a shirt after all. The fabric had been colored with what had probably become Spike’s signature dye. In fact, he had in all likelihood sheared, carded, spun, and woven the wool as well. A lot of Spike’s time and energy had been poured into this single item of clothing. But then, Del would expect no less, considering its use.

It announced Spike’s intention to court Del.

A fluttery panic began to overtake her. Courting wasn’t something Del relished. She hated it, in fact. Besides, what need did Spike have for courting her? They’d already come together, already expressed their feelings for each other. “Spike…”

Spike stood up. “It isn’t proper for you to be here alone with me, Del. Perhaps you should leave.”

Del also got up, shaking her head. “I’m not doing this, Spike. There is no way you’re courting me.” When Spike just grinned, she continued. “I mean absolutely no way! This is insane. You have no need to court me, and you should know that.”

Spike decided that Del was overreacting. “You really should go, Del. Don’t forget your shirt.” He bent down and picked up the shirt, handing it to her. She took it absently.

“This isn’t funny, Spike.”

Instead of answering her, Spike went to the door. “If you’re not leaving, then I am. Good day, Del.”

Del stood slack-jawed, staring at the door. Well.

•••

The courting proved to be the source of some of the most interesting experiences Spike had ever had in his more than 145 years of existence. True to his intentions, Spike was courting Del—following each and every tradition dalhari had for the ritual. He took counsel from Fain, Vaishi, Quergam and Hopfe, getting several good ideas and a lot of bad ones. Once his friends realized he was serious, the jokes stopped, by and large, and the serious discussions ensued.

They had a great deal of insight into courting. Fain had pursued Vaishi quite relentlessly while they were courting. It seemed that Spike had underestimated Fain—the teacher could be quite aggressive when he felt like it. Vaishi had a great many stories about Fain’s efforts to win him over. Quergam and Hopfe, both a bit younger than the other two, were more sources of anecdotes about other couples’ courtings, since neither had done any courting themselves.

Since Spike was determined to follow the courting from start to end in the traditional manner, he found himself constrained by a great many rules. The most important one looming in the foreground was permission from Del’s parents. While Del didn’t answer to her parents, they still held positions of power in the family. Any suitor who didn’t meet her parents’ standards wouldn’t be given permission to court Del.

Unfortunately, Del’s father lived in Na’alha. He assumed her mother lived there also, although Del never mentioned her at all. Perhaps she had died, or something else had happened to her. Anyway, it would be difficult to proceed until such permission had been granted. And until then, he was limited to public visitations and gifts connected to his trade.

It had been perhaps a week after announcing his intentions to Del that Spike, frustrated beyond belief at his inability to think up a good way to get permission from Del’s parents, sought out the advice of Gaha. She had become a surrogate parent to him during his stay in La’iv.

He found Gaha in a common room, reading a book by the fireplace. “Gaha?”

The elder looked up from her book. “Yes, Laio?” Spike stared at his boots for a moment.

“I need some advice.”

Gaha smiled. “Sit down then, Laio, and stop staring at your boots.” Spike sat obediently. “Now, what is it you need?”

“Who is Del’s mother?” Spike asked before he could change his mind. Perhaps she would tell him without asking why he wanted to know.

Gaha looked surprised at the question. “Del’s mother? Why do you want to know?”

Spike shifted around a bit. “She never talks about her mother, and I was curious.”

“Oh,” Gaha said softly. “Perhaps you should ask Del about that.”

Spike looked up. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Gaha asked, frowning.

“Because if I ask her now, she’ll never tell me,” Spike replied.

Gaha grew more confused. “Why not?”

“Because I’m courting her, but I need permission from her parents. Her father’s in Na’alha. I wanted to know if her mother was too, or if she was somewhere else,” Spike said angrily. “But she’s being a contrary little twit, so if I ask her she won’t tell me, because she’ll know why I want to know.”

Gaha stared at Spike. He was courting Del? How had she not known about this? “Courting?” She whispered. “Del?” She knew they felt deeply for each other, but this was far more than she could have ever hoped for…

Spike looked up at the elder. Gaha had paled slightly and looked as though she was about to cry. “What? Is it such a bad thing?” He certainly hadn’t expected this reaction.

Gaha looked up, realizing that she’d left Spike hanging. “I’m sure that Del’s mother would give you her permission to court her daughter.”

Spike frowned. “How do you know that? You know her mother?”

Gaha smiled sadly. “You could say that,” she replied. “I am her mother.”

“What?” Spike shrieked. Gaha was Del’s mother? How had that escaped him for six years? “Gaha…” How much had the elder been hiding from him?

Gaha saw the questions and rising anger warring for dominance in Spike’s eyes. “Why don’t I live with Del’s father? Why does Del act like she doesn’t know me?” Spike nodded, still staring at the Mirh elder. “The answer to the first question is rather simple, really. Duty. Waei, Del’s father, is a Saydhe elder in Na’alha. I am a Mirh elder here. We aren’t always apart, though. There are others to be elder here, and I do spend most of my time in Na’alha.” Spike looked a bit disbelieving.

“I haven’t seen you not here since I got here,” he said suspiciously.

Gaha laughed. “So? We live longer than humans. After more than eight hundred years of bonded life, we can tolerate a few years apart. It isn’t that uncommon, really.” That did make sense to Spike, sort of.

“The other question?” Spike asked warily.

Gaha sighed. “That is mostly my fault. I handled her and Gaihi poorly, almost from the beginning. I lived here at the time, and knew some of what he was like. She didn’t listen, I didn’t explain things well, and when it fell apart, I chose to lord myself over her instead of giving comfort. You know as well as I do just how good Del is at holding a grudge.”

“So she’s still mad at you after more than a hundred years?” Spike asked. That did sound like Del. And to think that he’d started to think of Del’s mother as his own, without even knowing…

“Apparently so. You never found out because matters like that aren’t really discussed in the open,” Gaha added.

“I can see why not,” Spike remarked, smiling. “So, I have your permission to court Del? What about her father?”

Gaha grinned. “I think Waei will approve of you. You have my permission, though, which is more than enough.” She thought for a moment. “This is going to be a lot of fun to watch, you know. Gaihi didn’t follow all the traditions—for all our vaunted love of ritual, courting is perhaps the one that is most often disregarded. Perhaps being courted will help Del get over the last of that debacle.”

“Perhaps,” Spike echoed.

•••

Del was just pulling a sword from the forge when an assistant caught her eye. Nodding for him to wait, she finished shaping the weapon before giving him her attention. “What is it?” She said shortly. Del was in the midst of a large order of weaponry for another house and didn’t feel like being interrupted.

The assistant handed her a basket, a smirk gracing his face. She took the basket warily, waving him away. Where had it come from? Opening the basket, she found her answer.

Spike.

The container was filled to the brim with ush’infal, regu’infal, po’infal, and e’infal. The significance of the fruits did not escape her. They were all the varieties of the berry-like fruit that she had fed him at his first meal in her world. Unlike that meal, these were fresh, mouthwateringly so.

A thought occurred to Del. It had become apparent that Spike was following courting traditions to the letter—for the past week she had received a new gift made of fabric each morning. She now had two shirts, three blankets, a nightshirt, and a tapestry. But this gift was fruit—not a product of his craft.

That could only mean one of two things. Spike could have abandoned the formal courting traditions. Del, however, doubted that. He seemed to be enjoying them far too much. The only other option was that he’d gotten her parents’ permission. However, her father was still in Na’alha, and it was impossible for Spike to have shown up in person there and gotten back with permission without her missing him.

Which mean that her mother had gotten involved. The thought angered her mightily. Grabbing up the basket of berries, she marched out of the forge, throwing a command to finish the weapons order over her shoulder.

After three hours, two things filled Del’s mind. The first was that the berries Spike had given her were excellent—and half gone. She’d snacked on them while searching for her mother. The other thing was that her dearly beloved mother was hiding from her. This suspicion was confirmed when she finally did find her mother—in a remote meditation room that Del knew her mother hated.

“Gaha.”

The elder turned away from the window to look at her daughter. “Del-syralia, it is always a pleasure to see you.”

Del held up the basket. “Do you know what this is?”

Gaha sniffed. “Po’infal? Or ush’infal? Or is that—“

“You know what I mean, mother! You told Spike he could court me! That means you told him you were my mother!” Del screamed, shooting daggers at Gaha.

Gaha cringed. “He asked who your mother was, so that he could gain permission to court you. Your father would have done the same thing, Del.”

“That’s not the point, Gaha. I don’t want you involved in my life!” Del shot back, still furious.

“Then you shouldn’t have left Laio-kael in my care,” Gaha said softly, turning back toward the window.

“What?” Del whispered.

“You left him here, in the care of the elders, wearing your mark. What did you think would happen? Saydhe or no, he bore my daughter’s mark. He has been under my protection from the moment you gave it to him. Between the Mirh who know that you’re my daughter, and the ones who consider him kin through the weavers, Laio is cherished by both that clan and the Saydhe,” Gaha explained.

“You gave him permission because of Gaihi,” Del accused, changing tactics.

Gaha spun around, but refrained from attacking. “No! Laio and Gaihi are separate issues, regardless of the pain one has caused the other. Had Laio been here to pursue you back then, I would have gladly given permission.”

That shot down Del’s attack rather spectacularly. Her mother wasn’t operating out of guilt after all.

“He loves you, Del, with an intensity few ever feel. Why should he suffer because of your stubbornness?”

Del frowned. “It’s not that, Gaha. We don’t need to court—we know how we feel, and we aren’t children!”

Gaha shook her head. “Perhaps you feel that you don’t need the courting, but he does. Think, Del, about who Laio has been in his life.” Del’s stony expression remained. Taking a firmer tone, Gaha ordered her daughter to sit. Del scowled even harder, but complied.

“Did Laio tell you about his life?” Gaha asked.

Del nodded. “Of course he did, Gaha.”

“Then he told you about his marvelous failures in love as well.”

A look of confusion passed over Del’s face. “I believe he did, yes.”

Gaha sighed. “Perhaps he told me more than he told you. See, Laio has never been loved before. He has pined for an ideal woman that looked down upon him, served a madwoman, and lusted for his most dread enemy. Never, though, has someone expressed true affection for him in return. Until you, that is. This courting is very important to him, I daresay more important than anything else in his life right now.”

Del remained silent for a long time. Her mother’s words had opened her mind to the possibility that there was even more about Spike that she didn’t really understand. She still didn’t want to be courted. However, if it was what he needed, so be it.

Gaha watched as her daughter concluded whatever she’d been thinking about and took her leave. She knew that Del didn’t want to be courted. What Del didn’t know was that she probably needed to be courted quite desperately.

The elder owed Spike a great debt. It was through his actions that she’d had the first real conversation with her daughter in more than a century. For that alone she would gladly accept him into the family—if she hadn’t already done so.