Schism: Part One of Triad by Catherine Asaro

nightdress, her nipples poking the cloth. He sighed and pulled her into his arms. “You are impossible,” he grumbled against her neck.
    She put her arms around him. “We will deal with this.”
    He spoke against her hair, his cheek pressed to hers. “I don’t know how to deal with it. The ground is crumbling.”
    “Don’t push them away.”
    He knew what she wanted to hear, that he would rescind his decree. He couldn’t. It was hard enough with Althor, but at least his son had grown into a man strong and trained for war. Eldrinson knew, logically, that the skills a soldier needed for interstellar warfare were far different than what Althor had learned here. He even realized Soz could be well suited for them, that physical strength made little difference when they could augment their bodies, and machines did the fighting. But his heart couldn’t acknowledge that truth.
    “I can’t bear to think of Soz out there,” he said. “It’s killing me.”
    Roca leaned back to look at him. “She’s stronger than you know.”
    “She’s my little girl.”
    “Not anymore.”
    He spoke softly. “The rest of the universe may see the formidable woman, but I can never forget how I held her in my arms when she was a baby.”
    “Althor, too.”
    “But he is a warrior! A man of power.” He hesitated, confused. “I think.”
    “You think?”
    “I don’t know what to think,” he grumbled. “My children don’t seem to know whether they are men or women. Soz acts like a man. And Althor, well. Althor.”
    He had a failure of imagination when it came to Althor’s personal life.
    Roca took his hands and held them in front of her body. “I ask only this, Eldri, that you think on what I’ve said. When you are ready, talk more with me.”
    He looked at their clasped hands. She hadn’t asked for promises or retractions. Just that he talk to her. “Very well.”
    “Good.”
    He gave her a rueful look. “We should probably get out of bed, too.”
    She dimpled. “For now.”
    Eldrinson laughed, soothed by her presence. “For now.”
    Her smile faded. “You must talk to Shannon. He was upset last night, especially after you had the seizure.”
    “I will.” The boy had grown more and more distant this last year, until Eldrinson no longer knew how to talk to him. But he would do his best.
    After they dressed, they went down to the dining room where the cook put out breakfast every morning. Eldrinson didn’t know what to expect when he faced his other children. He needed to reassure them, tell them he loved them, but he didn’t want to upset them, either. He felt as if Soz and Althor had died, but they thought their brother and sister had only gone away.
    The breakfast room wasn’t large. A long table filled most of it, made from amber glasswood, warm and luminous. Glasswood paneled the walls in gold, with red accents. The counter along the far wall was set with blue dishes, cups, and utensils. Tanna, a young woman on the housekeeping staff, was setting several platters of food on the counter. She moved with efficiency, and her bright dress, blue and white with rosy ties, swirled around her knees.
    Del and Chaniece were sitting at one end of the table picking at their breakfast, yellow bubbles in syrup. Aniece sat near them, her dark hair tousled, her gold eyes sleepy. She wasn’t eating. Across the table, Denric slouched in a chair, staring at his plate of yellow bubbles. Next to him, Kelric devoured his meal with gusto, oblivious to the silence.
    The children rose to their feet as Eldrinson and Roca entered through an archway in the long side of the room. Eldrinson nodded to them and they settled into their places again. Kelric went back to eating.
    “Where is Shannon?” Eldrinson asked.
    “I guess he overslept,” Denric said.
    Tanna looked up from her work. “I aired out his room earlier, Bard Eldrinson. I don’t think he slept mere last night.”
    Foreboding stirred in Eldrinson. He looked around at his