The Kingdom of Naroni

In Which Severin Finds Solace

2012-01-25T23:52:00.003-08:00

August 26, 1177

The fire's dying flicker left the hearth a gloomy grey that was never unwelcome in the late summer heat, but nonetheless Severin prodded the last spark with a stare. The flames shot right back to their former glory as lightning struck the front of his brain.

"A little warm in here, don't you think?" The wardrobe door shut and Nora's slippered footfalls rang artfully out-of-time with the sparking of the fire. On a better night, he might have made some teasing comment about taking off her nightgown if she was so hot, but he just didn't feel up to it. He didn't feel up to much of anything.

And yet--for all he'd rather be doing pretty much anything else--he just kept playing with the goddamn fire. "Sorry."

"I thought you said it gave you headaches."

"It does." He drummed his toe against the floorboard, if only to assure himself of his own mobility. "I don't know. Just looking for answers, I suppose."

Nora sat down beside him and craned her neck toward the ceiling. "I take it you haven't found any."

"You take it right."

She edged a little nearer. All these months later and it was still a relief to wake beside her. Most people would have left a freak of nature. Maybe when the logs were gone, his next batch of kindling would comprise of everyone who was still giving him hell about having married beneath him. In truth it was she who could have done much better. "Severin?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you ever do something like that before you found out about your mother?" The skirt of Nora's nightgown rustled as she crossed her legs. "Not this specifically, but something you couldn't explain?"

Severin closed his eyes. Nora wouldn't have taken his silence as a 'no', but she didn't press. For all she must have been curious, there was solace to be found in her understanding.

"How did Lucien's check-up go?"

"Well enough." At least they'd reach the point where he didn't need Vera to share his whisperings--even if he did still seem to prefer it. "My mother thinks he's regained most of his strength. Strength of body, at least. Not much she can do for his spirits." He fanned the flames with a summoned gust and sighed. That poor boy hadn't asked for this any more than his mother had. Any more than he had. "Do you think Remiel's out there torturing some other child?"

Nora didn't respond right away. Given the question, he might have been unnerved if she had. "They're... supposed to be rare, aren't they? He didn't have anyone between your mother and Lucien."

"Maybe he got lucky." Luck. As if that was a word for a twisted man who'd found some poor placeless youth off whom he could leech. "Son of a bitch. If he ever comes back, I swear to God I'll kill him." She might have expected him to say something like that. He wondered if she knew just how well he meant it.

Maybe she did. "A couple months back I would've asked how you planned on getting around the touching thing, but..."

She trailed off as the fire gave another burst. "Exactly."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Rona Embarks on a New Lifetime

2012-01-25T01:00:00.006-08:00

August 24, 1177

"Maybe it's just late this year?" Electra ventured, half-smiling in an attempt to cheer up Rona. The effort could be appreciated, Rona supposed--even from Aspen's young, barely competent replacement--but it was still in vain. Maybe it was a small, trivial thing, but it had been all Rona had to look forward to all summer and its failure to appear was almost soul-crushing.

The worst part was that she felt stupid for caring. She'd sworn she was done with all that garbage.

"But it's never late! That's half the point!" As if she hadn't told the story half an hour prior! Her past four birthdays, she'd woken to find a rose on her bedside table--a white rose, her favorite, a red ribbon around the stem. There was never a note, nor had anyone ever confessed, but if anything that made her relish it all the more. It might not have meant much to some child servant who probably hadn't even bled yet, but the mysterious birthday roses had been the only romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. Sixteen today and she'd never even been kissed.

"Maybe whoever was bringing them got tied up with something else?"

Oh what a sad day it was if the least painful option was admitting that Electra was right. "May--"

She was spared that humiliation by a knock at the door--and not an unfamiliar knock, at that, even if it had only been in her memory for a month or so. He had made good on his intention to call a few times a week, she'd grant him that.

"Ooooh!" Electra squealed, writhing in excitement that probably should have been Rona's. "It's your sweetheart!"

"He's not my sweetheart." Regardless, if he'd bothered coming all the way out here yet again, she supposed it was only polite to receive him. "You can come in if you want."

The door opened just widely enough for Ashe to slip through, his eyes toward her even as he nudged it shut behind him. He was holding something behind his back, but she was at no angle to see what it was--and didn't care much in any case. "Happy birthday."

He had a twitchy, nervous sort of smile that never failed to remind her of a squirrel. He wasn't a miserable sort, but he was rather shy and a little awkward and she got the impression that he wasn't used to smiling often, or at least not so widely. Maybe he'd get better at it--as silly as a thought that was.

But result aside, the undertaking probably deserved a greater reward than the half-grin Rona flashed in turn. "Thank you."

His smile dampened somewhat. Rona swallowed. Had she hurt his feelings with her lack of enthusiasm? She hadn't meant to... "Um. I got you these."

Front still facing her, he approached her with a sideways shuffle and a few nervous forward steps. Electra caught sight of the present before Rona could and gasped. "No way!"

Ashe took a quick breath and held out the offering. Rona could only blink. "How...?"

"Sorry. I heard someone say they were your favorites." Whatever remained of his grin wavered. She tried to revive it with a smile of her own but the shock wouldn't quite allow it. "Uh... I didn't hear wrong, did I?"

"What? No! I love them!" Rona shot to her feet and held her nose to the bouquet. The flowers smelt just like the one she'd been expecting. How on earth could he have known? Who had he heard it from? "I used to get one every year on my birthday, but it didn't come this year. But you... you brought me a lot of them..."

"It wasn't presumptuous of me, was it?"

Oh the poor, silly boy. "No, of course not. Actually, I was pretty upset until just now." Had that maybe been too much? She wished she could take it back. If only she wasn't too old to ask for help with these things! "Ellie, would you be a dear and put these in a vase with some water? And then you can put them on my bedside table."

Electra giggled. Good to know that she hadn't let the rare kind tone get to her head. "Yes, my lady."

The girl took the roses from Ashe and hurried off, practically skipping out the door. Rona sighed. "Aspen's replacement. She's... well, she's just a kid. Her father got her the job." She half-expected Ashe to say something, but he only shrugged. Just as well; she didn't want to talk about it either. "Uh... would you like to sit down?"

He took up the offer and settled on the far couch cushion. Rona waited the polite number of seconds, then collapsed into Electra's vacant spot. She didn't think she'd sat on that particular couch with anyone since Aspen had been around; the distance between seats was greater than she remembered.

"So... you're sixteen."

It was a weak attempt at conversation and they both knew it--but having finally received her coveted white roses, there wasn't much she wouldn't have let slide. "You remembered." Not that it was much of a feat, remembering ages. Then again... "Um. How old are you, again?"

"Seventeen." Odd. She would have guessed a year or two older. "To be honest, sixteen was... kind of another lifetime ago."

Even odder. "You say the strangest things."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's amusing." He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Maybe a girl with some life in her would have giggled. "I just hope fifteen and prior turns out to be a lifetime ago."

Ashe squinted. Rona supposed she was the odd one now. "Hmm?"

"I don't know. I just feel like the past couple years were a bit of a waste. I did nothing with my life and fretted over silly things that didn't matter." She slumped away from him and pouted. Ashe was far from her initial choice of confidant, but he was all she had right now and it had been months since she'd had a chance to unload. "And now I'm bitter--which I guess is better than being pathetic and stupid, but I'm still not doing anything. I'm sixteen years old and I've never even kissed a boy." Had that been too much? It wasn't exactly something she cared to admit. Still, it was nice to see that he hadn't laughed. "What's kissing like, anyway?"

Ashe sighed. "Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine."

What? "You're kidding!" He shook his head. Rona gaped at him. It wasn't as if he was ugly... or unpleasant... or poor... "Why not?"

He shrugged. "Desire and opportunity never met."

"Oh." She wasn't sure why that hurt, but it did. "So you never met anyone...?"

"I wouldn't say that. There was one girl I really wanted to kiss." His lips twitched in some private, self-deprecating joke. "I don't think I was her type, though."

"Oh." She almost regretted bringing it up. Why was he telling her this, anyway? They'd only known each other a month. Still... there was something a little odd about the way he was around her. Like he'd known her forever. And maybe he wasn't that much of a stranger to her either anymore. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded. She took a quick second to stare at his lips. They looked so much like his cousin's and she wondered why that didn't feel odd. "If I said that you could kiss me, would you?"

His face arranged itself in an expression she couldn't fathom. Her best guess was startlement, but it lacked the accompanying distaste. "Um... are you saying I can?"

Rona shrugged. "I guess so."

A tentative arm reached around her shoulders and pulled her nearer. It felt a little strange, sitting so close to him--strange, and maybe a little good. "I'll warn you again that I don't know what I'm doing."

"It's all right. I won't know the difference."

"And you're sure you want this? You only get one first kiss."

"I'm sure. I've waited long enough." Or was it a matter of waiting at all? It hadn't sounded like he felt that way. "What about you? Are you sure?"

"Very sure." And yet, as he looked at her as if confronted by a daunting puzzle. "Just give me a minute? I've gone over this in my head so many times and I don't want to ruin it."

Had he? She'd forgotten what it was to feel flattered. "Take all the time you need."

He started his approach from one angle, but changed his mind halfway through and tried another. He nearly met her the third time--she could feel his breath on her lips--but he made another retreat and took a minute to study her before trying again. And again... and again...

Oh, to hell with it.

Sixteen years' worth of ladylike sensibilities flew out the window as she sprung herself onto his lap and mashed her mouth against his. She didn't stay long, nor did she use her tongue--she didn't know him that well--but she felt his bottom lip slide between hers, and then back out and in again. He must have had strawberries for breakfast.

"Well," he choked as she pulled away, grinning like she'd never seen anyone grin before, "I... hadn't imagined it happening quite like that."

Rona smiled shyly. The words could go either way, but his eyes... "I hope it wasn't too much worse."

"Actually, it was... rather better." He reached behind her back and took to twirling a lock of her hair. She supposed she'd allow it. "Do you want to go for a walk or something?"

She nodded. There was nothing special about a walk, but she figured she'd had enough excitement for one day. "That might be nice."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Searle Presents the Set to be Observed

2012-01-23T22:41:00.003-08:00

August 22, 1177

"Why the hell would I agree to that anyway?"

Nearly four years of marriage now and Searle had yet to see Lettie angry. He'd feared he might when he asked her--it was enough to anger most people, no doubt, even if there were altruistic intentions behind the idea--but it was just her typical brand of disbelief, that glare she always shot him when he did something stupid. "Er... good Christian charity?"

Lettie snorted. "Well, what else would you call fucking one's husband's lover?"

"Sparron's not my lover anymore."

"Yes, but you wish he still was." Shaking her head, Lettie fiddled with her wedding band. He didn't think he'd seen her do that before. "Look, if you want him back in your bed, that's between you and him. Don't drag me and Camaline and any hypothetical children into it."

Searle sighed. His wife was of the cerebral variety, the sort who could balance equations and reimagine trade routes and debate philosophy all night long but saw emotions mainly as something to be studied--some alien set better observed secondhand. At the same time, she wasn't frigid. He couldn't have asked for a better combination when he'd come up with the idea, or so he'd thought at the time. Maybe she couldn't experience the 'why'. It was made of unsterile things she was unwilling to touch. "It's not about me and Sparron. I just want to help out some friends."

"Quite the favor, don't you think?"

It was. But there wasn't much more rewarding than paying a favor... was there? "Lettie, if you do this one thing for me, I swear to God I'll never ask you for anything else ever."

"You don't even know what you're asking me." The wedding band twirled around her finger once again. A nagging fear in the back of his head warned him not to let it twist right off. "I've already been through two pregnancies, in case you've forgotten. It's awful--and ask any other woman and she'll tell you the same. Why would I go through that again for a baby I don't even get to keep?"

"I don't know." God, she just wouldn't stop with that ring! Not sure how much more he could take, he took her by the hand and pulled her a little nearer. "What about the experimental value?"

Lettie raised an eyebrow. "Experimental value?"

"You know." It was a long shot, but if Lettie had an Achilles heel, it was her curiosity. "Take it as a learning experiment. You can compare and contrast and... you know. Broaden your horizons."

"Broaden my horizons." Eyes rolling--eyes exactly like a few of Sparron's half-siblings, Searle noticed--she grabbed a fistful fabric from her hip and sighed. "Your own two broadened everything quite enough, thank you very much."

What the hell was she talking about? She'd been a thin little thing when they'd met, but since birthing Rennie she had the most God damn perfect body he'd ever seen. Arkon had done little if anything. Maybe a third wouldn't change a bit. "They broadened nothing." A skeptical snicker caught itself in her throat; Searle twirled her about in an effort to coax it forth. "Come on Lettie, please? Don't you feel bad for poor Camaline? And wouldn't it be great if my two favorite people in the world had the most perfect child ever?"

At least she was laughing. "Now you're just being a kiss-ass."

"Say yes and I'll kiss your ass and everything else all night long."

"Oh, you lost your ass-and-everything-else-kissing privileges when you waltzed in here." She gave him a playful smack on the cheek and turned herself back around. "I'll tell you what, though; if you can promise me that certain conditions can be met--"

"You'll do it?" His heart was beating so fast he feared it might fly right out his grinning mouth.

"No. If you can make some absolute guarantees, then..." He didn't quite have a word for what was on her face. She must have meant him to think it a smile, but it lacked the effort required of a grimace. "Then I'll at least think about it."

"Oh." His heart slowed, but it could have been worse. Indeed, it probably couldn't have been much better. "What are the conditions?"

"Well, first of all--" she pulled her hand from his and wrung it with her other "--if we do this, we're doing it for the enjoyment value. And we're only doing it once. If I happen to get pregnant, fine. If not--or if it's a stillbirth, or a miscarriage--too bad."

Searle swallowed. That... certainly lowered the odds. But if she was actually willing to consider this, then he was in no position to argue. "Fair enough. And?"

"And Camaline only wants to relieve the pressure of having an heir; a daughter won't make that go away, so if the theoretical baby is a girl, then Camaline will be the one faking the stillbirth and we'll keep her ourselves. And you'll treat her just like any of your other daughters, because frankly you'll be just as responsible for her birth as you were for Rennie's."

She did have a point. "All right. Anything else?"

"One more." She brushed back a stray orange lock, the gold of her wedding bland glinting all the while. It looked a little more stable now. "If we do this, it won't be until after the baroness's baby is born, for a couple reasons. Firstly, because that family has been through more than enough and should the worst happen, Sparron and Camaline don't need the stress of all this weighing down on them too. And secondly..." She trailed somewhat, eyes to the ceiling as though she might find the words up there. "Well, even if I say yes, I reserve the right to reconsider--and since Holladrin isn't due until October, that would give the me the time to do so."

Of course. Yes, of course she could reconsider. He couldn't think of what he wouldn't give her just for considering at all.

"Lettie, you're the best. You know that, right?"

His wife groaned. "Slow down, Champ. I only said I'd think about it, remember?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Sparron Laughs When It's Not Funny

2012-01-22T20:54:00.005-08:00

August 22, 1177

Friends put up with their friends' children--or so Sparron had to remind himself as Searle's son munched away on the doll's wooden foot. Arkon would grow out of the oral fixation, and it wasn't as if he was at an age where such maturity was expected yet anyway. Besides, it could have been much worse. Lettie was out visiting at her brother's place and she'd taken Rennie with her; if Arkon was all Sparron had to deal with during this visit, then it had been well-timed. He was a shy boy and not yet verbal besides. He wouldn't ask questions or repeat anything he heard if he was even paying attention at all--not at all like his sharp, curious, outgoing sister.

"This'll be the sixth figure to lose his feet since the teething started." A fond sort of smirk on his face, Searle shook his head; Sparron tried not to notice the way his hair bounced about. "At least he's not gnawing on the furniture."

If that was a joke, it wasn't much of one, but Sparron gave a half-hearted chuckle anyway. Friends did that. "The furniture. Maybe that's what I should tell Camaline to make her stop sniffing around the brothels."

"She's still on that, then?"

He sighed. "She's been on it all week. It's ridiculous. She doesn't even like kids. She just wants to get her asshole father off her back."

"Well, as someone who's met Camaline's father, I can't blame her." Searle laughed, even though that one hadn't been funny at all. Sparron compromised with a grimace. "I think you're right, though. Even if she found a girl who was pretty much you with tits and she got herself knocked up and was willing to sell it, there's no accounting for the father."

"Exactly." Now he was smiling for real. He'd forgotten that Searle could be clever if all the feelings were out of the picture. "Thank you for that."

"Don't mention it." Another of his grins taking hold of his lips, Searle lightly kicked at the side of Sparron's boot. Did friends do that? He'd certainly never gotten a kick from Jadin or Isidro, or at least one that hadn't aimed to hurt. Come to think of it, he'd never even gotten one from Camaline. "You know what might work, though?"

Sparron swallowed. There was some odd spark in Searle's eye that told him he was better off not asking. He knew he'd go home later and wish he'd listened. "What?"

"If you have a three-way with me and Lettie."

He'd been wrong. The regret hadn't waited for him to get home. "That might just be the dumbest thing that's ever come out of your mouth."

"No, I'm serious." And for once, he sounded like he was. Sparron found himself suddenly grateful for Arkon's presence; he'd promised himself that he'd never yell at Searle again, but if the baby hadn't been around, he wouldn't have had an excuse not to do so. "Your father is a first cousin to both of Lettie's parents, and Camaline's mother was one to Lettie's father. If you were in our bed one night and you just happened to be a little careless, and Camaline took to stuffing her dresses like she was planning to anyway... well, who's to say that the little red-haired, ice-eyed baby isn't hers?"

If only this had been a joke. This one... this one might have been funny. Only not. "I don't know. All the people wondering about Lettie's baby, maybe?"

Searle shrugged. "So we'll dig an empty grave and fake a stillbirth. That shouldn't be too hard."

Faking a stillbirth wouldn't be hard? Dear God--was he even listening to himself? "Searle, I am not having sex with your wife!" Or you again, if that's what this is really about!

"Oh come on, please?"

Oh dear Lord. Sparron hadn't seen eyes that wide since the whole love thing had still been an issue. Why didn't Searle get it? Any of it? It was over. It was never going to happen again, not ever. And how dare he use Camaline's problems as an excuse to bring it up again.

Besides... "Why the hell would Lettie agree to that anyway?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Camaline Distinguishes the Want and the Need

2012-01-20T21:14:00.004-08:00

August 15, 1177

Camaline's fingers had no reason to linger on the drawer now that her dress had been folded away and her nightgown hugged the curves of her body but as she thought to push, they hesitated. She tried to tell herself that it was because Sparron had just seen her naked, but no--it wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other naked before, or if it was suddenly a big deal for either of them. They were well beyond that awkward newlywed phase, mystified by each other's bodies, a little curious but ultimately unaffected and a bit guilty over the fact. There were no mysteries anymore, and certainly no lingering hope of ever finding each other appealing.

No. She was stalling. She had something to say but it was stupid and she didn't want to, so she stalled.

Back on the bed, Sparron sniffed. "Trying to pick a dress for tomorrow?"

"No." She slid the drawer shut and stared at him. He was dressed for bed, which was fine. He could spend the night if he wanted to; the occasional sleepover was the only reason their coitus was any more frequent than it had to be.

The bed was still made, untouched until Sparron had reclined upon it. It always was. They made love on the floor. Well, that wasn't quite true. She didn't know what they made--tolerance, friendship, parental appeasement, some idiotic hope that they might conceive--but it wasn't love. Still on the floor, though. She didn't want to sleep in sheets drenched with their fluids, even if they never managed much. "Move over. I need to tell you something."

Shrugging, he did as he was told--not to the extent she'd wanted, but he had obeyed. That might have made it even tougher. A nervous lump sat in her throat as she settled beside him, swelling as she met his eyes. "I'll need to borrow some of your clothes in the morning. I'm going to some brothels tomorrow."

"And here I thought you had standards."

Camaline glared at him. "Not for that, you idiot. Girls born to whores are raised in brothels and grow up to be whores themselves; you know that, right?"

Her husband's eyes narrowed. Good Lord, how was it still so odd to think of him as her husband? He was her friend--her friend she fucked on occasion, her friend who needed a son. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, your uncles must have seen every whore in the kingdom's history by now. And let's face it: your mother was frigid as an icicle and your father had to take care of his urges somehow." Sparron shuddered. Camaline understood, but ultimately ignored it. "What if one of them fathered a daughter with a whore? And what if there was an obvious resemblance?"

"Then I pity the poor girl."

Was it that strange a leap? She'd hoped she wouldn't have to come out and say it. "Look, I'm just saying--what if there's a young prostitute around here who looks passably like you? What if we kept an eye on her, bribed her to keep off the herbs, had her tell us if there was any news. I could stuff my dress--"

"No." His stare was not only disbelieving but vexed. In hindsight, she could have expected that. It was a stupid idea, and Sparron was not a stupid man. "Camaline, I can't believe I have to say this to you, but we are not buying a baby off a whore. Fuck--I thought we agreed that we didn't want one."

"We don't, but we need one." They needed one, and she couldn't give it to him. The whore idea left much to be desired, but after long and hard thought it was still the best she could do. It wasn't like she could reach in there and open the front door of her womb. At this point, how could she know she even had a womb? "A whore with your look could produce a child with your look."

"Or it could favor its father--who could be some dark-haired, dark-eyed foreigner for all we know. Or some notorious cad like Jadin. We get enough whispers without accusations of adultery." Even if that was already true on both their parts and neither of them even cared. "I have two little brothers. Maybe I'll have a third come October. I'm fine with them being my heirs."

But oh, that was so easy for him to say. She knew for a fact that it was her if not both of them, but all the same she felt a little bitter. Nobody ever pinned these matters on the man. "Our parents will be displeased."

"My parents have other things to worry about--and yours are too ridiculous to even count." And yet, they did. The king and queen always counted. "If you're tired of listening to your father and stepmother, just stop visiting them."

Camaline sighed. If only it were that easy.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Adonis Is Brought to the Clear

2012-01-17T22:17:00.003-08:00

August 8, 1177

"Good morning, Father."

Finally. Adonis had always thought himself rather lenient as far as fathers went, but after what had happened with Asalaye... well, if he woke up and found one of his other girls missing, it didn't seem to unreasonable to panic, even if he had managed to get a cute little grandson out of the ordeal. "Where were you?"

"Sorry." Nanalie shut the door behind her and flashed him an apologetic smile. He didn't think he'd seen such a look on her before; her sister had always been the one with apologies to make. "Hilla went into labor just before sunrise and Arydath sent a groom to fetch me. I didn't want to wake you."

"Well, if it happens again, don't hesitate to do so." She nodded; satisfied, he gestured for her to sit. "I take it everything went well?"

Her grin changed to something more sincere as she pulled back a chair and sat down. Now this... this was a nice look on her. She'd always been too busy nagging her siblings and pestering him about the animals and compensating for everyone else's lack of cooking ability to just sit back and be happy for once. "Mother and child are both well. She had a little boy. They named him for Sir Bernardo's father. Gualtiero. I'm probably saying it wrong, but Sir Bernardo's accent makes everything sound pretty."

"Mmm." Maybe this was selfish of him. It was good that Nanalie had found a passion and he was happy for her--he really was. And yet... "Anyway, there isn't much chance that you'll be called away during the dinner hour, is there?"

"No, I should be home." She grabbed hold of the chair beneath her and dragged it forward, and as unpleasant as the resulting scraping noise was, he doubted that had anything to do with her frown. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing serious." Though truth be told, he did sort of wish otherwise. He did hope she could keep up her present occupation, but... well, was it horrible of him to want the best for her on all fronts? "We'll just be having company tonight and I want to make sure that you'll be around."

Nanalie raised an eyebrow. "If you're making a fuss about it, then I'm guessing it's not Had and Lyraina or Asalaye and Lonriad."

"No..." Adonis swallowed behind his grimace. She probably couldn't tell he'd spent a good half an hour rehearsing this, not with the way it seemed to be headed. There were thirty minutes he'd never see again. "He's a friend of Ceidrid's. He's the cobbler's apprentice, but the old fellow's finally decided it's time to retire, so he'll be taking over the shop later this month. Nice young man--smart, cordial, maybe a little hands--"

"Father?"

There hadn't been much point in practicing. The mirror had never once interrupted him. "Yes, Nanalie?"

"I see what you're trying to do here." Of course she did. She was too much her mother's daughter to miss it. "And while I appreciate the thought, I enjoy being Arydath's apprentice and I'd rather just focus on my job right now. I'll be nice at supper, of course, and maybe I'll even dress up a little if I'm in a good enough mood, but you have to understand that I'm more than capable of taking care of myself and I don't want a husband just for the sake of having one. Are we clear, Father?"

Good Lord, her eyes had never looked so much like Honora's--soft green and hard blue, stunning in their defiant independence. What could he say to that? "Yes, dear. We're clear."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Searle Expands on What Every Man Wants

2012-01-17T00:51:00.004-08:00

July 25, 1177

"Good book?"

If he was honest with himself, Searle just wanted to talk about Landus, but not at the risk of making his wife uncomfortable. She did know he had a son--and two daughters, one of which had been conceived even more scandalously than the boy--but he wondered at times if she wished she didn't. If he hadn't had any children at all, she might not have resigned herself to thinking that her own lack of them had to be a problem with her.

Poor darling. He didn't care whether or not she ever bore him a child but he couldn't tell her that because she'd take it to mean that he doubted she could. And yet, his silence was read as an expectation--or worse, some sort of endless patience that set a guilty storming brewing in her mind. Almost three years they'd been married and they hadn't discussed it at length, but there were certain problems that thrived despite lack of acknowledgment. Searle knew that all too well.

"Mmm... it's all right." Viridis flipped the page and folded over the corner, then closed the book and let it drop to the floor. "Xeta's books are a little heavy for my taste."

Searle snorted. Viridis wasn't the only one who'd spent this trip at the mercy of Xeta's library. "Mine too. I wonder if she knows that people read for pleasure."

"In terms of 'pleasure' in this household, heavy philosophical drabble is second only to sex." She shifted uncomfortably as the last word dragged from her mouth. She still thought he didn't know about her latest miscarriage. If it helped at all, he would let her go on thinking that. "I spoke with your son at the banquet, you know. I know you said his mother is horrid, but he seems like a nice enough boy."

Searle sighed. She'd only brought it up because she'd sensed he'd wanted to, he was sure of it. What was less certain was how to proceed--if to proceed--now that she had. "His father is decent enough."

"You're his father."

"You know what I mean." It was the one way in which Searle envied Sir Kaldar; a pity for the poor fellow that Landus and Elarys were a package deal. "The man he thinks is his father." And he didn't know how Landus felt about that, but it was a bitter thought for him.

Viridis sighed. "You want to get to know him, don't you?"

Searle grimaced. He loved his wife more than anyone else alive--and over the past years he felt increasingly that he loved her more than anyone gone and buried--but when it came to his children, she turned every question into a trick. "Of course I do, but we both know that's not a possibility. It would be kinder to let him go on thinking that Kaldar is his father. Besides, he's staying here with his brother and we'll be heading back to Carvallon right after your birthday."

"Well, you could call on him while we're still here," Viridis muttered, picking at the lace of her nightgown. If she was trying to sound casual, it wasn't working. "I wouldn't mind, you know. Every man wants a son."

"And every man wants the best for said son." He had three known children and it had been years since he'd seen even the publicly-acknowledged one. Perhaps Elarys was not the most horrible parent a child could have after all. And perhaps Viridis didn't quite know what she was thinking, wanting a child with him. "My distance will give him that."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Rona Makes a Fair Trade

2012-01-15T22:32:00.004-08:00

July 25, 1177

Rona had promised herself that she wouldn't cry in front of everyone at the banquet, but it was a rare lucky break that everyone had been too busy congratulating Ashe to notice her slip away.

She'd sat in the stands during the finals praying that he'd win but now that reality had hit her she almost wished that Neilor had beaten him. It would have been so easy to resent a man like Neilor, to tell herself that he'd only been after her dowry and connections. Ashe seemed so much kinder and that made her hate herself for hating him. He could try so hard and she would never give him an inch because she would never get over this. It was a petty, ill-directed vengeance and she knew it but it was already set in motion. Lorn had launched this attack on Ashe the day he'd agreed to this whole stupid tournament.

Someone tapped at her sitting room door. Rona swallowed. The only person who might have noticed her absence was her mother, but it was a man's knock and she couldn't name a man she cared to see just then. "Who is it?"

"It's... Ashe." His voice had started clear but he'd let his name fall to a resigned murmur. He'd probably guessed she didn't want his company and that made her hate both him and herself all the more. "Can I come in?"

Rona sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress. What did it matter? There was no one to see it and she didn't care besides. "I can't st-stop you."

She choked back a sob as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. It was hard to read his face through the filter of her tears but he looked neither annoyed nor insulted; if anything, he was concerned. And go figure, she only felt worse. "I'm sorry. I saw you run off and, er... it's not presumptuous of me to be here, is it?"

Why would it have been? He could do what he wanted with her and no one would think anything of it. "No..."

"Are you all right?" Rona couldn't even bring herself to shake her head. It should have been obvious that she wasn't, but it had been obvious for months and that hadn't stopped anyone else from not noticing. Frowning, Ashe shut the door and approached her, taking a seat on the nearer end of the couch. "I wanted to apologize to you."

Surprised, Rona let her hands drop to her lap. "But you didn't do anything." It would have been so much easier if he had.

"I did." He leaned slightly forward, eyes fixed on hers. For all she couldn't like him right now she supposed those apple green eyes would be cute on their red-haired, freckled babies. "I can't tell you the whole story, but I thought I entered this tournament with good intentions. I didn't, though. You would have been hurt regardless and I should have realized it."

And why should he have cared? He didn't know her. For all he'd known, she could have been some giggly, empty-headed sap who just wanted a knight in shining armor, with no particular care as to how he came along. "You are so strange."

"That doesn't matter. I just... I wanted you to know that." He reached under his collar and fished out the chain with her mother's key, then pulled it over his head and passed it over. "Thank you for the luck."

Rona looked down at the pile of old metal in her hand and tried to fight back a tear before tucking it away. "Glad it did something for one of us."

"Rona?"

She stiffened, but then it hit her that she had no reason not to let him call her that. That didn't help her relax. "Yes?"

"Look, I... I like you. At least, as much I can like you, given that we just met and all." Of all the odd things to say. "But I'm guessing that after all this, you don't like me all that much."

Rona sighed, her fist clenching around her mother's key, the flesh of her palm numb to the teeth. "If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't have liked anyone."

"I know." Ashe stood, taking a step toward her and offering an outstretched hand. She supposed she was obliged to take it. "Can I ask you something?"

What was there left to ask? Rona swallowed. "If it please you."

A slight smile crossed his mouth as he reached for her other hand. "Your brother said he wanted to see you married before your birthday, but I was thinking... what if I took the time to court you properly?"

"What?" Her mouth fell agape as a shock surged up her spine. It was the most agreeable sensation she'd had in months. "What do you mean, 'court me properly'?"

"You know--I'll call on you a couple times a week, we'll spend some time together, get to know each other a little. And then maybe around Christmas or so--or later, if you feel like you need more time--you can let me know whether or not you care to go through with it."

She stared at him, not sure whether or not she dared believe what he was saying. "And if I don't?"

"Then I'll tell your brother that you're the most wonderful woman I've ever known, but that I can't in good conscience marry you against your wishes."

Rona blinked. It had been so long since she'd been given an option that she'd almost forgotten what to do with it. "You mean it?"

"Of course I do." He let go of her left hand and ran his right along the side of her face, one of her curls between two of his fingers. Had he done so a few minutes prior, she would have minded. "Or if you prefer, I could just tell him right away. But if you're willing..." He wound the lock around his index finger and let it spring back into place. "...I'd appreciate the chance."

As best she could with his fingers on her cheek, Rona nodded. A chance for chance wasn't an unfair trade.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Landus Hears a Not-Impossible Theory

2012-01-14T21:55:00.003-08:00

July 25, 1177

Landus knew he ought to have been helping his brother, but Neilor probably needed the time to himself. Not that he would have taken out his disappointment on Landus--after a decade of being each other's only ally in a quietly hostile household, that wasn't much of a concern--but the moment alone would give him a chance to recompose. After all, Neilor hadn't just lost a little money and a pretty girl. He'd miss the pride a lot more.

But at least Neilor had made the top ten; they would be staying in Naroni, and while Neilor had aspired to more it was all Landus needed. They would leave briefly to take his sister Catherelle back for her wedding and after that Lord only knew when they'd have to see their mother again. He'd miss his father, of course... but then he remembered that his father was most likely not his father and it was probably best for the both of them if Landus was gone before people started talking about where they'd seen his face before.

Sorry, Papa...

"Mind if I sit?"

Landus pried himself up and looked. It was one of the spectators, a tall man who had been seated next to a pretty lady in what even a ten-year-old boy had to a call a princess dress. He must have been her husband. If he could land a woman that beautiful and afford to dress her that well, then Landus couldn't have stopped him from taking the seat if he wanted it. "Go ahead."

The man flashed a grin and strode forward. There was something about his prominent cleft chin that seemed familiar, though Landus couldn't quite place it. "You're Landus del Marinos, right?"

Landus frowned. "How do you know my name?"

"I used to know your mother."

Oh. That wasn't as surprising as it should have been. "A lot of people know my mother."

"She does have her connections." The man reclined against the step and glanced skyward. He must not have wanted to press the subject, which was just as well. "Your brother fought well."

"That's what I told him, but he didn't believe me."

"He will in time." He hoped the stranger was right. Neilor had proven himself a better fighter than fifty-eight other men and he'd only lost because his opponent had noticed his handicap and exploited it. There was no sense in being ashamed. Maybe just a little disappointed.

"Neilor says he doesn't think Ashe noticed it on his own. He thinks that knight with the scar told him when he sent Neilor off to talk to her ladyship." And given the conversation with her ladyship plus the loss of the fight, heaven help Sir Scarface if he ever ran into Neilor again.

"That would be one of my in-laws." The man shook his head, a hint of a smile on his face. "You know... maybe your brother will thank him in the long run. A man can enter a tournament and win a lady's hand, but not her heart. She could very well live the rest of her life resenting her status as her man's prize, and her man by extension. Your brother might not know it, but he may have dodged an arrow here."

Landus stared. He didn't known much about women if he knew anything at all, but it didn't not make sense. Maybe he'd introduce this man to Neilor at the banquet. "You think so?"

"I don't think it's impossible." The man reached over and ruffled Landus's hair, then stood. "Well, I'd better catch up with my wife. And you might want to get yourself cleaned up for the banquet; don't want to meet all the young ladies while you smell like your brother's horse now, do you?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Rona Damns Them All

2012-01-13T22:59:00.005-08:00

July 25, 1177

"So," Searle began as the two finalists readied themselves at opposite ends of the arena, "anyone care to make this fight a little more interesting?"

Rona ground her teeth to keep her tongue from lashing. She'd promised Leara that she'd be pleasant with the spectators--or at least, not unpleasant--but the very idea of someone gambling on her future was hardly a courtesy in turn. Searle had been making bets all day, winning them all. Every time he asked again, her blood boiled just a little more and it couldn't have been much longer until the steam burst through her skin.

A few seats down, her stepfather frowned. "Searle, gambling can be quite a dangerous vice."

An oddly sneer-like breath shot from Searle's direction; Rona's knuckles twitched. "Only if you lose, Uncle--and I never do."

"You might if I pick first."

It was Bernardo's voice, from Bernardo's seat. Annoyed, Rona shot Hilla a pleading pout, but her friend didn't notice. Or maybe she had pretended not to; Hilla did have a taste for fancy things, after all, and if her husband was taking an opportunity to gain the required money...

"I'll put twenty on del Marinos. My father was a knight and my stepfather is a knight and my brother's been training his whole life--and he's damn good at what he does. If del Marinos can beat him, he should have no problem with some scrawny commoner."

The key still chained around Ashe's neck, Rona took to fiddling with the excess length of her belt instead. Little as she'd expected to take sides she hoped he was wrong. She wasn't sure what she thought of Ashe but she knew she didn't care for Neilor, not after his obnoxious visit days after his arrival and certainly not after he'd presumed to approach her before the match, smug and self-important like she'd asked for him. She didn't want to fall asleep beside a man who thought so highly of himself, nor wake before a man she thought so little of, and certainly none of what would happen in between.

She glanced over at Ashe, who seemed to sense it and shot her a small smile in return. She waved, but her heart wasn't in it. He might have been preferable to Neilor and he might have been kin to her dearest friend, but that didn't mean she knew him or wanted him. She hadn't known or wanted any of these men. Why had she been so silly before, always obsessing over who she might marry, clinging to any possibility even if it wasn't such a possibility after all? She didn't want to get married. Not now, at least--not when she wasn't ready, not when it was some stranger who'd won her in a contest. Damn Lorn for forcing her. Damn Ashe and Neilor and all the rest for trying and damn everyone else for not putting a stop to it. And damn herself for being so stupid before.

"Very well. I was going to bet on Torgleid anyway."

Rona stiffened. Searle's voice had become a nail and slate to her ear and she hated to hope he was right but she wanted his logic. She knew to brace herself, but she had to know the extent to which it was necessary. Ask him why, ask him why...

"Why?" Bernardo gave a slight chuckle and Rona hated him for it. "He's a good fighter, for sure... but you have to admit that overall, his opponents weren't as skilled as the men del Marinos faced. And while the talent is there, it's certainly not polished. He doesn't have a chance."

"He may not be the better swordsman, but there's more to it than that." Searle's boot scuffed against the floor. He did that when forced to explain something he thought obvious; Rona wasn't sure what to make of it. "You're a Spaniard; I trust you've heard of the infamous Sir Kaldar and Lady Elarys? Their son's not so different, you know. If the only thing he could win here was a pretty girl, he wouldn't be here. Sure, she's a nice bonus, but he wants the money and the title and the connections. Torgleid, though? If he's not looking at his opponent, he's looking at Rona."

Nice of you to remember that I have a name.

And yet--in spite of all her bitterness--she looked over at Ashe again, just to confirm. His eyes were so damn green she swore she could make out the color from here.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Isidro Sets the Course

2012-01-11T23:32:00.005-08:00

July 25, 1177

"You know, I definitely thought for a second that Pink Tunic had killed that blond guy."

"Oh, that was nothing. What about that first race, when that brute got pissed about finishing second and tied the winner to the fence with his own limbs?"

"Not something you see every day, for sure. But what about the jousting? Did you see the look on Jadin's face when that kid landed on him?"

"Good thing his wife wasn't drinking anything, or it would have shot straight out of her nose." Casimiro tossed back his head and laughed, as if he'd had that much more self-restraint at the time. Isidro hadn't had the best view of the competitors' holding area, but there had been no mistaking his cousin's hearty guffaws from the other end of the arena. Good thing Casimiro hadn't been drinking anything; at least Xeta had a petite nose with proportional nostrils. "God, what a fantastic tournament! So exciting and hilarious and needlessly violent."

"Agreed." And to think--if Casimiro hadn't come to town, he probably would have sat it out. "This is one for the bards, no doubt. I just hope whoever ends up telling the story actually focuses on the fighting and doesn't just use it as a stage for some god-awful human drama."

His cousin groaned. "Oh God, that would be even worse than an account of our crusade that skipped all the bar fights and pillaging in favor of your mounting sexual tension with Riona. How could they possibly make it less digestible? By throwing in some magic?"

"Magic?" Isidro snorted. Where the hell had that come from? "Now that's just ridiculous. Did Neilor hit you on the head during the last fight?"

"He might has well have." And probably would have, had he not thought it would jeopardize his chances--not that these marshals were the most attentive of officials. "I can't believe I got all the way to the semifinals only to lose to that ass."

And 'that ass' was now picking a pre-fight fight with his next and final opponent. Isidro had to wonder about Neilor's motives. That family wasn't exactly known for being friendly, but to their credit they had mastered the art of subtlety--or at least, the rest of them had. And from what he'd heard of Neilor, he didn't sound like a complete idiot. What was his angle here?

Was he just trying to intimidate Ashe? If so, it wasn't working; Ashe looked far less anxious than he did simply vexed. Or maybe he was trying to provoke Ashe into hitting him, disqualifying himself for out-of-ring blows and leaving Neilor the winner by default. That didn't sound unreasonable...

"Looks like the finals will be interesting."

"Hmm?" Casimiro glanced over his shoulder at the pair of them, then shrugged. "Yes, providing they don't kill each other right here. Neilor said something before the jousting started; I wasn't close enough to hear it, but I guess it was enough to put Ashe a little on-edge."

And maybe that had done him a favor. Most of Ashe's fights so far had been quite brilliant. "You don't say."

His cousin gave a sheepish smile. "Ah... oh well. When I get my new castle, you and Riona and the girls will come for supper on the first night, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'm going to see if I can find a spot along the fence for the finals." The grin tensing, Casimiro gave him a quick pat on the shoulder and set off toward the gate. "Should make for a good fight."

"Indeed."

His cousin waved, then hopped the short fence and hurried off toward the holding area. He'd probably get a better view than Isidro would from the seat he'd paid for, but at least Isidro didn't have to stand. And what did it matter how well he could see, really? It wasn't as if he had anything at stake in this match.

Or did he? Riona's face flashed in front of his eyes, furious on her friend's behalf. She wanted a good man for Rona, to the point where even kindly, easy-going--albeit disinterested--Casimiro wasn't nearly enough. If the better man won, then Rona won... and Riona won. And then Isidro won too.

"Excuse me? You're Neilor del Marinos, right?"

Frowning, Neilor turned his head as Isidro approached the finalists. The other man had probably heard of him, but he didn't seem to make the connection. Good. "Who's asking?"

A man who is definitely getting laid tonight, that's who. "Oh, no one in particular if you mean me... but you might be interested to know that her ladyship would like a word with you."

That seemed to do the trick. "You mean her ladyship my future wife?"

...No. "Providing you win the match, yes. She asked for you personally."

As Neilor chanced a glance outside, Isidro shot a wink toward the scowling Ashe. This fat cat had just been presented with the cream all other creams aspired to be--or so he thought. "I can't very well refuse her, can I?"

"It wouldn't be advisable, no."

"Very well, then." His mouth curling into a satisfied smirk, Neilor turned back to Ashe and nodded. "As much as I'd love to stay and chat, my lady beckons. I suppose we'll have to continue in the arena."

And with that, he was off, heading straight into a less-than-pleasant surprise. Poor Rona had been approached by a few of the competitors already--and none had fared well.

Ashe glowered. "Rona didn't ask for him, did she?"

He sounded concerned, almost insulted. Isidro sighed. At least it had come down to two men who actually seemed to want the girl? "I'll apologize to her later. I need to tell you something about your opponent."

The kid sniffed. He couldn't have been much older than Riona, really; he probably still thought fighting was all about the body. "What, that he's an arrogant prick?"

"No, you've clearly picked that up yourself, but I've got something you might not have noticed." Just to be sure, Isidro scanned the room before muttering, "He's left-handed."

Ashe blinked. "But he fights with his right."

"Because he was trained to do so; that's why he hasn't switched hands at all." Ashe's eyes narrowed. He wanted proof, no doubt. That was fine. "He's obviously good enough with his right, but if you catch him at a tricky angle or get him in a corner, his movements become panicky and counter-intuitive. He can only fight if he can think it through. If you can get him under pressure and keep him there, you should be able to win."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Ashe Meets Someone Aspen Knows

2012-01-10T22:49:00.002-08:00

July 25, 1177

There was no shortage of tales in which the hero or heroine underwent an unexpected physical transformation, but many of those characters spent the entire story looking for a way to reverse the process, leaving the young audience to conclude that in the improbable--but apparently not impossible--event of such a thing happening in their own lives, the only logical way to proceed was to find a way to return the previous state.

However, this hadn't been the case so far. Maybe it was the fact that no one would miss Aspen the orphan girl, or maybe there had been even less attachment to the former body than originally thought, but the change hadn't proven inconvenient so far. Had Aspen the orphan girl asked for it? Not explicitly, no. Would she have, had she known it was an option? Good question--or not, as it didn't matter much now.

Some fine motor tasks were a bit more difficult with larger fingers, and people did tend to request more heavy lifting... and while it was embarrassing just thinking about it, Lord knew how alien a feat taking a piss had become. But on the plus side, it was nice to be able to reach high shelves and not having to crane the neck upward when addressed by pretty much anyone. The clothing was much more practical too, and being able to move the arms around without having to compensate for those pesky breasts? That almost made it a done deal in itself.

Really, if she--er, he--thought about it, the most difficult part of the whole ordeal was rearranging the pronouns in her--his--own head. That wasn't too unreasonable, was it? After seventeen years of thinking of oneself female, it wasn't as if one could make the switch by sheer whim. But oh well. It would come, and she--he--wasn't too worried about it, at least not while there were other things to worry about.

Having only placed fourteenth in the preliminary run, for example. Fourteenth might have been enough for a berth in the jousting round, but that didn't make it a great finish by any means. So much for thinking he could fare in this tournament on the basis of speed. Ah, but maybe that was nothing. The running was over, after all, and all that training time with Jadin and them had been much more focused on the jousting and swordplay. Also, given that many of the larger men barely finished the run at all, maybe it was an overall balance of skills that would triumph in the end.

Not that that guaranteed he wouldn't get tossed on his ass in the first charge...

"There you are!" The hairs on the back of his neck stood. "I knew you wouldn't just disappear like that, I knew you wouldn't let Lorn--oh."

He turned his head just in time to see Rona's face fall and her disappointment was a cannonball to the gut. But what had he expected? Recognition, and that somehow without the implicit shock? "I'm sorry, I... well, you kind of looked like someone else from a distance, and with your back turned."

"It's all right." Expectant, Rona's brows rose. Oh right. They didn't know each other. "Er... my lady."

She sniffed--satisfied, though not quite happy. But why should she be? "You do look a lot like her, though... well, aside from the obvious. Is your surname Torgleid?"

She surprised him by smiling as he nodded, her eyes lighting like a pair of amber stars. The kind of eyes they write songs about, Jadin had said--as if mere songs sufficed. "Are you related to Aspen?"

A week earlier, Lonriad had taken one look at him and asked that exact question. It was the only reason he'd kept the surname. "I'm her cousin."

"Her cousin?" Rona's head tilted, artful curls flopping along, rose petal lips pressing into a pout. "Really? I don't think I've ever seen cousins who looked so much alike."

Well. Lonriad hadn't forced him to explain that. "Oh... we're double cousins. Our mothers were sisters and our fathers were brothers. Twins, actually," he added for good measure.

"Who were twins? Your mothers or your fathers?"

Or maybe it hadn't been such a good measure after all. Don't give her a stupid answer, don't give her a stupid answer... "Both?" Idiot!

"Hmm." Rona fiddled with some trinket between her fingers. "I wonder why she never mentioned anything like that. It's fairly remarkable, isn't it?"

"Er... not really. It was a small village. That and her parents moved out here before we were born. She might not even know I exist."

"So the mysterious Aspen grows even moreso." She gave a defeated sigh and glanced up at him, a tear threatening to fall. He ached to wipe it aside but he was supposed to be a stranger. He kind of wanted to tell her but he doubted she'd believe him. And it was a selfish thought, but maybe she'd never want him if she did. "Sorry, what did you say your first name was?"

"Didn't. It's Ashe." Odd how the mind worked under pressure. Seventeen years of hating being named after a tree and the first alias that had come to mind when Jadin had asked was another one. Frankly, he was just relieved he'd thought of something more believable than 'Oak' or 'Cedar'. "One of our grandfathers was quite the gardener."

"I see." Her discomfort held back by only a grimace, Rona stepped to the and nudged him on the arm. "Would you turn around? I have something for you."

"Your brother's not making you distribute favors, is he?"

"No. This is really for Aspen, but I suppose you'll have to do." Her soft hand brushed beneath his ponytail, bringing with it something cold and hard. "She used to be my maid, did you know? She was my best friend too, but I never got a chance to tell her."

Was she? With Rona behind him, Ashe indulged himself with a smile. "I'm sure she knows."

"Maybe." The length of chain looped around his neck, but Rona crossed the ends and fed them forward. "Sorry, I just don't want it to get in your way. But anyway, my brother fired her because Lord Severin's son slighted me and Aspen was the only one who had the guts to tell him off. This probably sounds stupid, but I thought she'd come to the tournament. I thought she'd maybe sign up just to get back at my brother, and then she could have set me free if she won."

Huh. And why hadn't Aspen thought of that weeks ago? "That's not stupid. Stranger things have happened." I'll say.

"Yes, I suppose." After a third loop around, she fastened the chain and stepped back. "That's not uncomfortable, is it?"

"No, it feels fine." He reached for the object around his neck and pulled it forward for a glance. It didn't look like anything special--just a rusty old garden key. "What is...?"

"Just a silly good luck charm of my mother's. You can give it back to me later."

"Of course." Grinning, he turned around. Good luck wasn't so silly if it was coming from Rona. "Thank you."

"You're welcome--though you do understand it's more for Aspen than it is for you, correct?"

And here she was, words away from crying again. He never would have guessed she'd miss Aspen so much. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. I wish I could tell you.

"Yes, you did say that. Regardless, I appreciate the favor."

"Yes, well..." Rona cut herself off with a sniffle. Poor darling. "I should really get back to the stands."

She turned away, but before she could take a step he'd reached for her hand and pulled her back. Why had he done it? He hadn't meant to... "Wait. I..."

I what? Here he was, holding the sweet hand of a woman he'd loved for so long, a woman who had only just met him. If she'd been uncomfortable before then what word could describe this? "Uh... do you mind if I...?" Not sure what else he could do, he raised her hand in the direction of his mouth and prayed to every god he'd ever heard of that he wasn't being too forward.

Rona swallowed. "I don't see the harm in it..."

Nodding, he bowed his head and pressed his lips to her hand. It was hard not to linger but he kept it brief, chaste, courteous. It took all the strength he had just to let go. "It was nice meeting you."

A little doe-eyed, perhaps a little bewildered, Rona blinked. "Likewise."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Rona Learns the Rules

2012-01-09T22:17:00.005-08:00

July 25, 1177

If only because she didn't want to look at the arena before she absolutely had to, Rona followed her mother's gaze to the gates. It would still be a while before the competitors charged through them, no doubt, but the minutes ticked by like seconds and the seconds scarcely registered. She wasn't unfamiliar with waiting, but this wasn't the sort to which she was accustomed. Her patience had always been wasted on day-to-day lapses, like the last few minutes of rain before a ride or the gap between a mediocre supper and a promising dessert. But this? The moment those men burst into that arena would be the turning point of her life.

One of them--and she couldn't guess which, since she had scarcely met any of them--was going to be her husband. Perhaps he'd be a good man and maybe he'd even love her, but since the decision would largely be made on account of brute strength, the possibility seemed a bit too remote for her comfort. One step down would have been the winner of a drinking contest and she almost wished her brother had gone with that instead; at least then people would see this ordeal for what it was.

The old key of her mother's weighed down the fabric between her legs as she tried to make the most of her seat. Not sure how much more of this she could bear, she grabbed the attached chain and coiled it around her finger, not minding of the old metal cut her and almost hoping it would. "How much longer?"

"Maybe twenty minutes?" Lorn glanced over his shoulder at their cousin Searle, who nodded. Rona made a face. She hated Searle. "You look very nice, by the way."

"Thank you, but I'm still not going to forgive you."

"Rona!"

Their mother gasped as their stepfather rubbed her shoulder, but Lorn only sighed. "For what? The tournament, or your friend?"

Idiot. "Both."

Annoyed, her brother scuffed his boot against the boards of the crude stands. He didn't want to be here any more than she did, but that only served to fuel her fury. A respectable man with the power to do so would have called it off he felt so inclined. "I hope you won't be so disagreeable at the banquet. I know you already feel like I'm trying to unload you and no amount of reassurance will change that, but if you continue to act like this, perhaps your champion will assume the same."

"Hmph." For all she cared, he could assume that. It was no less than her brother deserved. "What does he have to do, anyway? A good trophy ought to know how she's about to be won, don't you think?"

"Rona, for the hundredth time, you are not a--oh, forget it!" Was he really just sick of her saying it, or did he actually agree with her? She didn't think she preferred either option. "All right, there are about sixty men competing. They ran a foot race last night, all of them. The top twenty finishers are seeded in the jousting round. The other forty are going to run sprints soon, ten heats with four runners apiece; the winner of each will advance, giving us thirty jousters."

Running and then jousting. Planting a kiss on a sweaty cheek was an unavoidable fate. Lovely. "And then?"

"The top ten each earn a knighthood and advance to the sword fights. Those go on until only two remain and then the winner of the final fight has the honor of being your champion."

"So I get to watch my future husband hack some poor sap's shield to bits. I can't imagine a more pleasurable form of foreplay, really." Lorn glared at her, but it was a pity for him that she didn't care. Her energy was better spent lining the key against her thumb and binding them together with the chain. Probably took a lot less of it too. "Who won a berth in the jousting? Anyone I'd know? Because I should hope whoever I have to sit next to at supper at least had a chance to bathe after running."

"Mainly unknowns--assorted gentlefolk, foreign spare sons, that sort of thing." He slouched back against the step and surveyed the length of the arena, a few eyes on the other side flickering his way. "You might know a few, though. Sir Bernardo's brother Casimiro placed third; you said you liked him."

"I said he was tolerable." Although in all fairness, that was probably the closest to 'like' any of these men were going to get. "Anyone else?"

"Ellona and Catherelle's brother squeaked by, but I know you didn't care for him." Lorn's fingers twitched, as if eager to fiddle with the length of his belt, but they ceased as he seemed to remember something else. "Oh, and get this: some fellow named Torgleid."

"Torgleid?" Rona's head whipped back to the gate with such speed that her neck ached, though in truth she barely noticed. "That's Aspen's surname."

Lorn sniffed. "Would it have stuck out if I hadn't remembered? Must be some distant relation."

"Maybe," she compromised. That was what her head would have believed, at least, but her heart wouldn't have been racing if it hadn't hoped for something better. Aspen had sparred with Rona's brothers on several occasions... what if she'd passed herself off as a boy and had entered the tournament herself? What if she showed all these moneygrubbers and title-chasers what was what and put on some show at the end, revealing herself to the spectators, screaming for all to hear that this had been a terrible idea and Lorn and Searle ought to be ashamed of themselves, demanding that Rona's husband win her notice by means of a proper courtship? Oh, and insisting on her job back, of course. That part was not negotiable.

Then again... what if there really was a distant relative? Oh, but what if there wasn't? "She never mentioned any family..."

Her brother shrugged. "Some people have no mentionable family."

He'd left her quite the opening for a rather cruel insult against him, but she opted to let it go. For the first time in months, her spirits had been lifted. "Mother, would you mind if I went for a cup of water quickly? I'm quite thirsty."

Lorn opened his mouth as she stood, no doubt about to warn her to be back before the first batch of runners came out, but their mother silenced him with a nod. "Go right ahead, dear."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Celina Passes the Luck Along

2012-01-09T00:34:00.003-08:00

July 25, 1177

"There!" Celina brushed a hair off her daughter's shoulder and stepped back to admire the result. People often told her how much Rona resembled her, but she'd never seen it; Rona was far prettier than Celina had ever been, even if she had resolved not to smile until hell froze over. "You look beautiful, darling. I only wish your father could see you now."

"My father wouldn't have to." Rona pouted as she wound a curl around her finger and released, only to bat it to the side as it tried to bounce back into place. "I doubt my father would have seen fit to offer me as a trophy wife in the most literal sense in the term."

Celina swallowed. In all honesty, Rona was likely right, as Dalston probably would have jumped at King Oswald's prior offer and whisked Rona off to Dovia for young Prince Cambrin. All in all, however, he'd been a good man and Rona had been very young when he'd died, so she chose to let her daughter keep her illusions; it wasn't as if Dalston could defend himself from six feet beneath the surface. "Yes, well... maybe don't think of it that way. Think of it as a screening process; any man worthy of a glance from you must prove himself first."

"Yes, and since I clearly don't inspire the usual courtship rituals, my brother has made me part of a prize package alongside a knighthood and a castle and a purse that could probably feed the whole kingdom."

Not once could Celina recall any of her children being so snippy with her, but Rona sounded so hopeless that it was difficult to take offense. Poor thing. She had yet to learn that not everyone was a bold champion and assumed herself undesirable based on sheer lack of grand gesture; in later years, she might look back and consider that careful discretion and frequent little niceties were the admiration of the shy and hopelessly lovestruck. That was a lesson of the sort that just snuck up on you one day, a few years and a couple babies later--or so it had been for Celina herself.

"Can't we just doll up Electra and offer her instead? Then at least I could find a halfway competent maid to help me die alone."

Celina shook her head. She could recall something like that from one of Rona's old bedtime stories; it might have been a cute idea if not for the bitterness in her voice. "You can't ask that of Electra, dear. I doubt she'd go along with such a scheme."

Rona sniffed. "Aspen would have."

Oh dear. Celina untied the old key and chain from her belt and balled her fist around it, the rusty teeth gnawing at the flesh of her palm. When the Good Lord had created adolescents, He ought to have written an instruction manual. "Oh honey, you're not still punishing your brother for that, are you?"

Scowling, Rona tugged at her sleeve so hard that Celina feared it would rip. "I will never stop punishing him for that."

And how did one respond to such a claim? Celina had never had such close friends at Rona's age, but by sixteen, most did find their families tiresome. It was another stance of youthful passion for which there was no answer and all Celina could do was flounder in the finality. "I have something for you."

She gestured for her Rona to hold out her hand and passed along the key. Her daughter only stared at it, somewhat less than impressed. "What's it for?"

"Technically? I believe an old storage cupboard at the castle in Dovia." She finished the joke with a smile, but Rona was unamused. "But that's irrelevant. You see, my mother found that somewhere when she was a girl, and later that day she met my father. Some years later, he was riding in some tournament and she gave it to him as a good luck charm." She had to pause and glance upward, just in case one of them was listening. All these years later and the story still left her wistful. "My Uncle Farilon said he never saw a man joust so well."

"Oh." Rona took to fiddling with the chain, expression bitter and unmoved. So much for her spirits could be lifted with mere sentiment. "Well, I doubt all the luck in the world would serve me well at this point, but thank you anyway."

It was perhaps the least heartfelt bit of gratitude Celina had ever received, but she took it anyway. Given recent days and weeks and months, it was a relief to be told 'thank you' at all. "You could wear it around your neck, but I don't think it will go with that dress."

Her daughter shrugged. "It's fine. I can just hold onto it."

"I'd be honored if you did." Mindful of Rona's meticulous hair, Celina leaned forward for a quick kiss on the brow. People were probably taking their seats right about now and they'd have to hurry down as well, but she did have one last bit of private reassurance that might have been worth the shot. "And remember: no matter who wins, your brother knows better than to marry you off to anyone objectionable."

Rona sighed. "It's not becoming of a duke to break his word."

"Perhaps, but it's also not becoming of a son to disregard his mother." A sly grin tugging at her lips, Celina silenced her daughter with a quick tap on the nose. "And while I hope it can't be guessed by looking at me, Lorn's been a son twice as long as he's been a duke."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Searle Doesn't Mean to Say

2012-01-08T02:50:00.005-08:00

July 22, 1177

Convenient as it might have been to find Sparron already up and about, there was something reassuring about catching him asleep. For once he wasn't troubled and withdrawn, nor was he defensive and agitated; he just was, like a lazy breeze or the waters of a still lake. When Searle had arrived, Holladrin had offered to wake Sparron herself, but he had declined the offer on the basis of her pregnancy--at least, so he'd told her. In truth, it had just been far too long since he'd had Sparron to himself and he wasn't sure he could bear a few extra minutes' wait, even if it couldn't be as it had before. Looking at him now, such impatience was a hard thing to regret.

Searle shut the door and sat down on the bed, grabbing hold of the unused pillow and glancing down at Sparron's sleeping form. How long had it been now since he'd seen Sparron sleeping? It must have been when Lettie had gone to help deliver CeeCee, forever and an age ago now.

And yet--probably due to Searle's own supposed absence, though he hated to admit it--Sparron had never looked so calm and restful. Even in his slumber he'd found time to fret about someone walking in or word getting back to his father, but that didn't seem to be the case now. He was no longer Searle's neurotic, paranoid secret lover. He was just a man enjoying the last minutes of a good night's sleep.

His tranquility was such that Searle was reluctant to wake him, which was just as well now that he thought about it. How did friends go about waking each other? Back in the day he would've stroked Sparron's side or nipped at his ear--not that Sparron had ever reacted well to such carefree displays of affection. Maybe a nudge, or perhaps a loud noise...

Ah, to hell with it. He took the pillow by the corners and flung it across Sparron's face. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!"

Grunting, Sparron rolled over. "Go away."

"No." Unsure how Sparron would react if he touched him, Searle tugged at the blanket. "You're not spending your birthday in bed."

Sparron reclaimed the covers with a quick yank and burrowed further beneath, a retreat with which Searle was not unfamiliar. "I'll spend my birthday how I like--and I like sleep."

"Don't be stupid." He reached to the side and rubbed Sparron's shoulder; defeated, his friend kicked back the sheets and slung his legs over the side of the bed. "I made plans."

Sparron sniffed. "And why the hell would you do that?"

"Because we're friends and we never do anything together."

Yawning, Sparron stretched his arms as he pulled himself to his feet. "What are you talking about? We do things all the time."

Yes, with Jadin or Isidro or Lonriad tagging along as well. Am I a horrible person if I want to get you alone? Then again, knowing Sparron, it probably wasn't wise to voice the thought. "Look, I just thought that with the tournament so close, your birthday might get lost in the hustle and bustle. I was thinking we could maybe go fishing."

Sparron swung himself around the bedpost and raised an eyebrow. "You hate fishing."

Searle shrugged. "You don't."

"No, and I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline." The lips he'd kissed a thousand times twitched into a grimace, apologetic as politeness dictated but not really sorry at all. Searle's stomach looped between his intestines and knotted itself into place. He'd woken that early and ridden all this way for a 'thank you, but no'? "I already made plans with Jeda; it's her birthday too, you know."

"Yes, but--" But what? He sprung from the mattress and stared, smiling in some pathetic hope that Sparron wouldn't see right through it. "But you two spend so much time together anyway..."

"She's my sister, Searle." Sparron's eyes narrowed. He'd never had much patience for pointing out the obvious. "My twin sister. She needs me."

"And I don't?"

Sparron's mouth dropped its charade of a grin in exchange for an honest frown. Shit. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. "I don't see why you would, since we're just friends."

"Uh... yes. Right." Fuck. This whole thing had been stupid, coming here, making plans... the whole being friends thing, really. Friends didn't leave you aching if you didn't see each other for a week. Friends couldn't stop your heart just by walking into a room and friends sure as hell didn't crawl into your mind and refuse to leave while you were making love to your beautiful wife. "Sorry. I... I didn't mean that."

And I'm a terrible liar.

"It's fine." It wasn't. But that was all right. Pretending his problems didn't exist was still an improvement on Sparron's other methods of coping. "Anyway, I don't know if I'll be all day; why don't you go and train with Jadin and them, and maybe I'll join you later?"

Searle swallowed. It was far from what he'd wanted, but he was in no position to refuse. Sparron plus other people beat no Sparron at all. "All right."

"Good." Sparron gave him a pat on the arm, then shot a wayward glance toward the door. "Could you step outside for a second? I should get dressed."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Raia Doesn't Think Things Through

2012-01-07T00:19:00.004-08:00

July 20, 1177

"So. Vera." Riona flopped back onto the mattress, catching herself on her fingertips and tapping the bedpost with her foot. "Now that we know Blind Boy can talk, out with it: what else can he do with his tongue?"

The color in Vera's face drained through her neck and vanished beneath her nightgown. Raia wasn't sure whether to laugh or fight back on her little sister's behalf. Maybe this sleepover hadn't been one of their father's better ideas. "Riona!"

Riona swung her legs toward the edge of the bed and smirked. "What? Is it so horrible for us married old hags to take an interest in our baby sister's love life?"

"Baby sister?" Vera gaped at her, disbelieving. "You're eleven months older than me!"

"And old hags?" Raia snickered, sending a wink Vera's way. Falidor would get a kick out of that comment when she mentioned it later. "Speak for yourself, Ri--right, Viridis?"

"Mmm? Oh, right."

It was quite possibly the first thing out of Viridis's mouth since supper, and only if this definition of 'thing' expanded beyond words to include pieces of cutlery. And already she'd turned away again, reemerged in her own little world, so much like their mother with that sad look of faraway longing. It was unnerving. Viridis had always been the quiet one, but at least she'd been happy. "Viridis..."

Beside her, Vera followed her gaze and flashed their sister a sympathetic smile. "Maybe it's just the pork? Riona spent twenty minutes hurling after that, remember?"

Raia laughed. Trust Vera to hand her the opportunity to make Viridis smile. "That's because Riona's as much of a pig as the meal was!"

Vera nearly choked. Hopeful, Raia shot another glance toward Viridis; the corners of her lips seemed to twitch a little, but it was hardly the reaction she'd wanted. "You did eat more than the rest of us combined."

Pushing the curtain back with her toe, Riona sniffed. "Who says the hurling had anything to do with the food?"

Behind her, Viridis's head sunk further into her pillow. So that was the problem. Poor girl. "You don't mean--?"

"Mm-hmm." She raised one hand and gave her stomach a quick rub while Viridis rolled over to stare at the wall. "Kind of annoying that it had to be so soon--but I guess I can't complain in front of you, right Raia? You with your two kids in the same calendar year. But seriously, I might need some of those herbs you keep talking about."

Viridis shifted again. Uncomfortable, Raia swallowed. "Riona--"

"Oh God... they didn't stop working, did they?"

If only Riona would turn around and take a look at the sister behind her. Then again, what did Riona know? She was Viridis's younger sister; nice as it might have been, maturity and sensitivity weren't expected of her. That was the older sister's job.

"Say, Riona... I heard one of the maids say that Lucien said Vera feels pretty."

Riona's brows perked up and Vera's face scrunched in embarrassment. Sorry, Vera. "Oh really?"

"Really. Have fun with that." Raia pushed herself off the bench and stepped around the bed as Riona readied her taunt. She'd deal with her later, after the more immediate issue had be addressed. "Viridis, honey, can I have a word?"

Nodding, her sister heaved herself off the bed and followed her to a small alcove at the room's far side. They probably didn't have much more than a few minutes before Riona grew bored with the topic Raia had flung at her; if nothing else, she hoped it would be enough time to assure Viridis that there was nothing wrong with her and there was no use worrying.

"I'm sorry if she's upsetting you."

It was an insufficient start and she knew it. Viridis frowned. "Raia..."

"No, I... I hope you don't think she's doing it on purpose. You know Riona. She's not very good at thinking things through." Viridis tugged at the cuff of her sleeve. Shit. This little talk was probably just making it worse. She'd have to think of something better to say. "And you shouldn't give up hope just yet. A lot of women go a few years without having a baby--and then once they start, some of them can't stop."

"Easy for you to say, if you really have to take herbs to space them out."

It was true. She couldn't understand--not really, even if she did believe things would work out for Viridis eventually. But who could she suggest that her sister talk to? Camaline? No, she'd probably be cynical and pessimistic about the whole thing. Jeda? Well, knowing that neither her nor Ellona had many kids considering the length of their relationships, that it was more likely a problem on Ietrin's part. The only face that came to mind was their grandmother's, and that was iffy at best; if their grandmother hadn't wanted to get pregnant before their father had somehow defied her barriers, she would've known how to prevent it.

But she was a herbalist, and a midwife--and she'd had their Aunt Aerina quite late in life. Maybe she had some tricks to the contrary. "Have you thought about asking Grandmother for help?"

Viridis shook her head. "You know Grandmother. She'd just try to figure out what's wrong with me."

"She would not." Grasping at straws, she pulled her sister into a hug. It wasn't much. It was hardly anything. But what else was she supposed to say? Everyone else in our family practically shoves them out holding hands, so it's only a matter of time? Even if she could guarantee it, Viridis wouldn't believe her. "And there's nothing wrong with you, all right? Don't ever let me hear you say that again."

Sighing, Viridis propped her chin up on Raia's shoulder. It might have been nice to be useful as something other than a standing aid, but it had been a doomed cause from the start. Apparently Riona wasn't the only one who couldn't think things through. "Can we just go back to the bed and bring up some of Riona's embarrassing childhood moments?"

For her sister's sake, Raia forced herself to laugh. "I've already got a few in mind."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Jadin Betters Himself

2012-01-05T00:20:00.006-08:00

July 18, 1177

"Uh... you're not going to make a habit of this, are you?"

The other man blinked. Had it been cruel, asking that? Maybe he was hungover after all--a very bizarre kind of hungover, but hungover nonetheless. "Of what?"

"You know. Doing stupid stuff like running off and looking in ponds and whatnot." Good Lord, this fellow was something else. He'd have to introduce him to Searle and Lonriad. They'd get a kick out of him, no doubt. "Actually, now that I think about it, keep it up. It's funny."

"Right." His companion held up hand and stretched the fingers, examining the back of it. Must've been playing some knife game at a bar earlier or something. "That's what's funny."

Damn right it is, pal. Wait... "Huh?"

The man's eyes bulged, like he'd said too much instead of not enough. Odd. "Er... sorry, just forget I said that. It's none of your business."

Oh. Chuckling over his own stupidity, Jadin winked. "This is about how that dress got here, isn't it?"

A small smile broke on the stranger's mouth. Amusing as his neurotic behavior was, it was kind of a relief to see him unruffled. "Yes, actually. But let's just leave it at that."

"Aww, why?"

"Because if you have two brain cells to rub together, you won't believe it."

Damn. Must've been a wild, wild story. "Can I at least wonder about it later? My life's been a little tame ever since I started trying to be more faithful to my wife. Seriously, I haven't even been with a dozen different women yet this month." All right, maybe it had been a dozen. Or maybe a baker's dozen. Did it count if she'd only used her mouth?

The man shrugged. "Guess I can't stop you. Just replace me, all right?"

"Well, that's a given--no offense." There seemed to have been none taken; satisfied, Jadin gestured toward the pond's edge. "Want to sit?"

The stranger obliged. Jadin launched himself backward and sighed as he hit the soft earth. Xeta would take the dirt as proof that he hadn't been to the brothel, and then maybe he'd be rewarded later for his good behavior. It really did pay to be neighborly. "So. You're not from around here, are you?"

"Uh... no." Kind of a slow answer for such a simple question. Then again, the man had spent the night in a pond after what must have been some pretty earth-shattering sex, so... "I'm from Dovia."

"Ah, all right." That made sense. All this business of Lorn and Rona's had attracted quite the international crowd, after all. "You must be here for the tournament. Are you competing?"

The man flushed, a few freckles suddenly obvious even from where Jadin sat. Not that he didn't understand; Lorn's sisters did that to men. "Aww, don't be embarrassed. You'd hardly be the only one after Lady Rona, you know. She's gorgeous. Small, curvy little thing, with pretty gold hair and the kind of eyes they write songs about. And that rack? Damn."

A couple of twitches ceased control of the stranger's brow. Oh dear lord--was he jealous? Over a girl he probably hadn't even met yet? How adorable. He'd have to tell Rona about this if he saw her before the day of the tournament. "Oh, don't be worried about me, if that's what you're thinking. I'm married to her sister, so I won't be competing. And old Izzy who was with me, he'd better not be competing, because he's married to my sister. Save the rage for the arena, friend."

The young man said nothing, the twitches unyielding. Christ, did this one ever fall hard! Ah, but he was just a kid, really. There had to be some way Jadin could apologize... "Say, do you have a place to train? My brother Searle has a nice stretch for jousting at his place."

"Oh?" If nothing else, the look of immediate hostility had vanished.

"Uh-huh." Jadin sprung to his feet, taking a few steps forward as the stranger followed suit. "He probably wouldn't mind if you wanted to train there. Say, maybe we can make a session of it. Mind if I leave you while I fetch my brothers? Izzy will probably be back soon."

All he got was a blank stare. Stunned speechless by the flood of sheer gratitude, no doubt. Jadin gave his new friend a pat on the shoulder and smiled. "Great. When Izzy gets back, the two of you can go and get Sparron, all right? Izzy knows who he is. Then the three of you can meet me and my brothers at Searle's castle. Sound good?"

Still lock-jawed, the young man nodded. God, it felt good to help people. Maybe he'd reward himself tomorrow by seeing if the rumors of the pretty new addition to the pleasure house had any basis. "Excellent. Say... what's your name, anyway?"

Well. At least the response to the question of his homeland didn't sound all that bad now.

"Er..."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Aspen Is Shown the Difference

2012-01-03T14:54:00.007-08:00

July 18, 1177

"If space is an issue, they could always stay with us. I doubt Riona would mind."

"No, Father won't hear of it. It's the first time Viridis has been home in years, so of course she has to stay with us. If you could take Searle off of his hands during the day, though, that would be great."

"Dare I? He sounds like the sort who sucks the life out of everything."

"And this coming from you!" A clear laugh charged through the auditory translucence that clouded Aspen's ears, the sounds preceding and following rushing after it. Did she know that laugh? It didn't sound too unfamiliar... "In all seriousness, though, Viridis has probably whipped him into shape somewhat. Just don't introduce him to Sparron, all right? Their combined vacuums of misery could probably suck the whole kingdom right off the map."

Another laugh, a different laugh--lower, gruffer, a hint of a Western accent lurking in the voice beneath. Aspen blinked. That was Lady Riona's husband. She knew him by sight--a few glimpses when she'd accompanied Rona to her friend's castle, maybe a couple more at the Altharaines' inn--but she doubted he could pick her out of a crowd. Still... why was she just lying here? Not that Aspen was the sort who inspired chivalry, but surely Lady Riona wouldn't have married a man so ungentlemanly as to leave a girl lying unconscious on the banks of a pond?

Then, it dawned on her just who the other man was and she no longer felt the need to answer that question. "Well, what do you know? I think I see some signs of life behind you."

Aspen blinked the world into focus and stiffened at the sight of him. She didn't know Jadin of Veldora, but everyone knew Jadin of Veldora; such was the price of infamy, after all. And here she was, in this out-of-the-way little place, her last memory that of the previous night's dip in the pond. Great. Jadin of Veldora had seen her naked.

Sir Isidro turned his head and nodded toward her. At least he wasn't smirking or leering, but that didn't stop her from shuddering. He might not have had Jadin's reputation, but all the same she had to wonder just how long he'd been here, and just why he'd bothered sticking around. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Uh... thank you?" Her own voice sounded rough and distorted and she fought a slight spell of dizziness as she pulled herself to her feet, but other than that she felt... well, being nude in front of two near-strangers aside, very normal. Too normal, actually. No fresh hope, no sense of contribution... all that wishing must have been for nothing. She should have figured. I'm sorry, Rona.

The men stood and approached, Isidro replying with only a blink but Jadin flashing a full-blown smile. "Don't thank us. We only had to lug you a couple of feet to get your toes out of the water. And I wiped the mud off your legs and Izzy got a few leeches off your chest, but that's pretty much it."

"Jadin, I barely tolerate Riona calling me that and she's sleeping with me."

"Eww, why would anyone want to sleep with Riona?"

...and these two had been wiping mud off her legs and prying leeches off her chest? She wasn't sure whether to vomit or beat the stuffing out of them. Perhaps she'd reach the middle ground by vomiting on them. "Er... you two didn't... do anything to me, did you?"

The pair exchanged a glance that went on for a few seconds more than Aspen found comfortable. Three... four... five...

The tension snapped as two strains of laughter shot forth. Aspen could only gape. How on earth was that funny?

"Relax, kid," Jadin choked between snickers. "We're not, um... that sort of men. Either sort, really."

Aspen raised an eyebrow. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Should she be relieved that they hadn't touched her in any unsavory ways, or insulted that they found the very idea laughable? And what did he mean by 'either' sort? "How many sorts are there?"

"How many sorts?" Jadin let out another laugh. "You're hilarious, you know that? Izzy, let's keep this one."

Isidro sighed. "You really are just like your father."

"What can I say? The men in my family know what we like."

"The men in your family don't know what not to like." He gave her a quick look-over, then paid her a tired smile that she must have somehow won. She wasn't so concerned with his mouth, however, as she was with his height. He wasn't a tall man and she'd known that before, but he seemed even shorter up close. Maybe it was just the slant of the land sloping toward the pond?

No, that couldn't have been it; he was on higher ground than she was. Maybe I'm dreaming.

"Anyway, do you mind if I leave you alone with Jadin for a bit? I know that's not the most appealing prospect, but someone has to go and fetch you some clothes."

"Uh..." Hadn't her own clothes been around here somewhere? Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember where she'd tossed them. "Well, I had some around here, actually..."

"We looked when we found you, but we didn't find any." Isidro sniffed, as if he thought her a liar. She wasn't sure whether or not he liked her--or whether or not she liked him, really. Jadin seemed the friendlier one, as odd a thought that might have been about Lonriad's brother. "None that looked like they'd be yours, at any rate. I'll try to be quick."

He gave Jadin a quick nod and hurried out of the clearing before Aspen could think of any further protest, but maybe there were no protests to be thought. It wasn't as if she'd hidden her clothing, so they would have found it if it had been here. Maybe someone else had come along and stolen it? It was a twisted thought, but surely not an impossible one...

"By the way." A naughty grin on his lips, Jadin gave her a wink. "Nice."

Well. So much for thinking him the friendlier one. "Uh... sorry?"

He chuckled. Good Lord, he did that far too often for her comfort. "Maybe you were drunk. But anyway, there was this girl's dress on the shore when we got here. Looked like the kind of thing old Seoth's tavern girls wear."

Um... what? But he had said--! "That's m--"

"No worries. Not like I don't understand these things." Another wink. One more and she'd punch his lights out, she swore it. "But damn! Those girls are all gorgeous, but most of them are as frigid as a witch's tits at Christmas. I don't know how you got one of them to come here with you, but--"

...WHAT? "Wait, what do you--?"

"Oh come on, it's not like I'm going to rush off and tell your mother now, is it?" As if that was a concern just now. "But seriously--nice."

"Uh... sure. All right, fine. Nice. Excuse me for a second?" Satisfied, Jadin nodded. Aspen brushed past him on the way to the pond's edge and peered through one squinting eye at the reflection on its surface. Well. That... that was...

"That's... different."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Ellona Grants Permission

2012-01-02T01:01:00.003-08:00

July 18, 1177

If nothing else, the little bastard seemed to be good with Ella. But still--if Neilor had the gall to show up at Ellona's castle at the crack of dawn, the least he could have done was come alone. "I can't believe you brought Landus."

"Mother insisted." Obviously. For all she seemed to enjoy making children, their mother didn't much care for having them around. It was probably for the best, though; Elarys was the sort of creature who might have made a snack of her own young if they proved otherwise useless. "Besides, you'll almost never see him. He'll be squiring for me, and I intend to keep him busy."

"So you're confident that you'll place in the top ten."

Her brother yawned. "The top ten? Lona, don't insult me. I wouldn't have come if I didn't have every intention of placing first. I've heard she's quite beautiful."

Ellona sniffed. Neilor probably appreciated beauty as much as the next man, but that didn't make it any less secondary. "And her brother's quite rich."

"Well, he can afford to host a tournament, if that says anything." Neilor's leery eyes flitted to the children. Gaze unmoved, he leaned towards Ellona and opened his mouth just widely enough for a whisper. "But honestly, I don't need his money. I mainly like the idea of Mother and I living in separate countries, and the rich, pretty wife is an agreeable bonus."

"Romantic." And yet, she couldn't blame him. She would've done the same thing. In some ways, she had. "Well, if you have that much faith in your abilities, I'm sure you and her ladyship will have beautiful children."

"I'm certain we will--though not half so beautiful as little Ella here, I'm sure." On the floor, Ella giggled and Landus offered a small smile. Neither reaction went unnoticed, but Ellona's jaw had locked. Beside her, Neilor seemed to be suffering a similar affliction. "Lona, can I ask you something?"

Ellona raised an eyebrow. It was not like her brother to ask for permission. "You just did, genius--and that's a 'yes', by the way."

Neilor swallowed, but nodded. His mouth curved into a grim frown that did not become him, a weakness in his face that he had never let show. "Do you ever worry that you'll wreck your children like Mother wrecked us?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Aspen Finds Comfort in the Surreal

2011-12-31T00:35:00.003-08:00

July 17, 1177

Insecure, unremarkable, small-breasted girls did not receive many invitations to the infamous pond--and on the off-chance they did, girls like Aspen were unlikely to accept--so the awkward process of asking around for directions had been inevitable. But if this was really the only way she could help Rona, then she supposed the stares and gapes and even the one offer of accompaniment were worth it. She just hoped it was the right place. The water's still luminescence did look magical, she supposed--even if the only thing preventing her search for a more logical explanation was sheer will.

No. No; she couldn't think that way. She had to trust that this would work. Magic was supposed to run on faith, after all.

A quick glance at the stars for luck, she pulled off her layers of clothing and flung them to the side, then pulled her hair out of its messy bun and dipped her feet in the glass-like waters; in spite of the July evening heat, it was a refreshing cool.

The water never rippled as she waded toward the center. The rushes were unswayed and the lily-pads, settled. Time and motion had no meaning here. It was eerie, surreal--and that was oddly comforting. Normalcy would have encouraged her skepticism and that was the last thing she needed right now, not if this had any chance of working.

Just a wish, Iata had told her. A good wish. But what constituted 'good'? Earnest? Selfless? Possible? She wasn't sure she could manage that last one. Even the second seemed a stretch, if she really thought about it; as long as Rona was happy, Aspen would at least be content.

Then again... maybe that was what made a good wish. It was a wish that worked for everyone, if only just.

Let her be happy.

Give her someone she can love. Give her someone who will love her. Rona didn't ask for any of this; give her someone who will make her happy.

Now that she'd thought it, she didn't feel so silly anymore.

Give her someone worthy of her. Give her someone who will treat her right. Just let her be happy.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Riona Looks for Keys

2011-12-29T02:12:00.005-08:00

July 17, 1177

"Funny little fellow." Casimiro chuckled as Balin landed a lick on his chin. "Is he part wolf, you think?"

Riona shrugged. The crazy dog had only been an official part of the family for a month or so, but it had been long enough that it was pointless to speculate about Balin's origins. Probably. "No idea. He just showed up one day and refused to leave. But whatever; the girls seem to like him, and he's obsessed with Izzy."

"We're not so sure about the girls yet, but the dog doesn't have much going for him in terms of taste." Isidro flashed one of Riona's least favorite smiles, an awkward grimace of self-deprecation. She tried to look away as an anxious queasiness welled within her, but gazing at the girls instead did little to steady it. She just couldn't understand how a man with so much love could find so little to spare for himself.

Casimiro laughed again as he turned away from the dog and drew toward them, though more halfheartedly this time, a quiver in his tone matching the ones in Riona's gut. He must have understood. He did know her Izzy as well as she did--better, possibly. "He might have better taste than you give him credit for, Is."

"I don't know; your taste was never so great either." Isidro reached behind his head and took to massaging the base of his neck while Riona fiddled with her wedding band. As much as she liked Casimiro and as much as he cared about his cousin, perhaps it would have been better if he stayed with Hilla and Bernardo instead. She doubted Isidro realized just how ill-equipped he was to cope with the remnants of his past life. "Anyway, why are you entering this tournament? You could easily get a knighthood back home, you know."

"I know--but I wanted to be closer to you and 'Nardo."

Isidro snorted in disbelief. "Your mother's been pestering you about getting married, more likely."

"Maybe a little." Smirking, he shot a wink toward Riona before collapsing on Isidro's other side. She wasn't sure whether or not she appreciated it. "But in all seriousness, I do like this place. Riona, you're friends with the duke's sister, right?"

"Rona?" Whatever was in her stomach shot straight up to her throat. If ever she felt some people didn't care for themselves quite enough, Isidro was far from the only one. "Yes..."

"Well... what's she like? Tell me honestly."

Honestly. Funny. If Casimiro wanted to marry Rona, then he didn't want to hear 'honestly'. Too bad she couldn't just tell him that without making her friend sound horrible. "She's a sweetheart. A little anxious at times, maybe, and a bit obsessive, but it grows on you. She's adorable, really."

"Adorable." Odd. He almost sounded disappointed. "Worthy of adoration. You don't want me to win, do you?"

"First place?" Casimiro nodded while Isidro frowned. Riona searched and searched for some way to explain herself but found no place to begin but a sigh. "Well... not really. Not that I think you'd mistreat her or anything, but she's a romantic. And she doesn't know how special she is. She needs someone who will show her."

"So you think I'd lead her on."

"No, just..." Just what?

Balin yipped. Grateful for the interruption, Riona paid him a glance, expecting to find him staring after Isidro as he always did but for once he was focused on someone else.

Her.

The dog made another small sound, then turned his snout toward Isidro. Riona smiled. Balin could sleep on the foot of the bed tonight if he pleased. "Rona's kind of like Izzy."

Isidro choked, a little red around the face as Riona turned back to the men. The silly man had no idea what she was talking about; Casimiro's grin, however, told her the comparison had not gone misunderstood entirely. "All locked up inside herself, you mean?"

Her husband opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped the words with a touch of her finger and shuffled nearer, her head resting on his shoulder as he draped his arm around her own. "All locked up inside herself."

"And I don't have the right set of keys."

"Not at all." If she glanced out the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a smile on Isidro's face--a real smile. She hoped it wouldn't bite her in the ass later if she decided that her own keys were cut to perfection. "But don't let me discourage you. Odds are, I'd rather see her with you than with any of the other jerks in this tournament."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Aspen Is Found

2011-12-28T02:04:00.006-08:00

July 16, 1177

Mistress Altharaine was a tough woman. She endured night after night of drunken leers and shameless ogling and paid it back double in cutthroat wit, her insults scathing and clever and just vulgar enough to keep the men laughing and putting money in the family's purse. But in spite of her own effortless composure, Mistress Altharaine was not so inconsiderate as to believe everyone else could handle the men like she did, and after a particularly obvious slip of a hairy hand, one pleading look was all Aspen had needed to win a sympathetic nod toward the door.

She'd been working dawn and dusk and the light and darkness between all this past week, what with all the champions Rona's tournament had attracted. Champions. What an ill-fitting word. Most of these louts weren't worthy of sharing the air Rona breathed, never mind her bed and heart and soul. One ass in particular hadn't been without a cup all night, eying Aspen's hips and gawking at Mistress Altharaine's chest and winking at her eleven-year-old daughter when he thought all backs were turned. He must've been six and half feet at least, two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle--and a warrior, at that, if his boasts had any credence. What if he was here for the tournament? What if he won the whole damn thing? Would Lorn really let such a monster sleep beside his sister every night so long they both lived? What girl deserved such a fate?

Not Rona. Never, never Rona.

If Aspen had one regret, it was that nothing she could do was likely to be of any help. She had met a few young men of whom she'd approved--if only just--and she'd convinced some of them to enter, but if she was honest with herself... did any of them really stand a chance against knights and seasoned fighters? Hell, chances were that she could unhorse most of them, and some of the other competitors would be twice her size.

I am fast, though... fast, and I have good technique. Maybe some of my men have that too. Maybe that counts for more than brute strength? If only that thought was as hopeful as it might have sounded.

I'm sorry, Rona.

"You a'right?"

Startled, Aspen sprung back in her seat and stared at the girl who'd appeared between blinks. She stood as tall as a man and her tourmaline eyes rendered her tattoos and nakedness nearly unnoticeable. Was she... one of the forest dwellers? "Who are you?"

"Name is Iata." The girl's mouth curved into a smile. Wary, Aspen tried to return it; she doubted she'd even managed a grimace. "You look lost, yes?"

Lost. At least lost left room for possibilities. "Hopeless, more like."

"Hopeless?" Iata's brow furrowed. It must have been more of the language than she could handle. "Hopeless is... give up?"

Aspen cringed. Hopeless she may have been, she would not have it said that she had given up on Rona. "Well... hopeless is when you might as well give up. It's when you've done all you can and nothing is going to help."

Iata looked unconvinced. Aspen didn't think she could have put it more simply, but it must not have been enough. No wonder she couldn't do anything for Rona. She couldn't even define a word. "I know something might help."

Her voice was genuine and hospitable, but in a wishful way, a childlike way, as if she believed all the world's problems could be solved with a hug. If that was how she thought, then Aspen supposed she envied her. Maybe. "Nothing can help."

"No no--this help." The point of tooth peeked out from Iata's grin. "There pond not far from here, yes? Pond with lilies and rushes?"

A pond? She didn't mean... "The sex pond?"

"Yes! Sexy pond!" The girl clapped, her eyes catching the candlelight so as to become almost blinding. The drunks inside didn't know what they were missing. "But sexy pond not just for sexy, yes? Sexy pond is magic pond."

"What?" Magic. Well. Now she'd heard everything.

Iata smirked. "Years and years ago now, Great Mother put spell on pond--make it wish-granting pond. Bathe in sexy pond on right night and make wish. If it good wish, it come true, yes?"

Uh... no. No, that didn't make any sense. "You lost me at 'magic'."

"Magic no lose; magic finds." Her face remained firm and unblinking. Regardless of her nonsense, Iata was no liar. If she said this was so, then she at least believed it. "Tomorrow is wishing night. When dark comes, go to pond and bathe and make good wish. When light come, wish is true."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Ietrin Learns What Siblings Have in Common

2011-12-26T00:15:00.005-08:00

July 16, 1177

Everyone was entitled to a fair trial at Castle Dea, but it seemed that the red countess's had not worked out in her favor. But what had she been expecting? She'd poisoned the duke, after all. Of course it was the gallows for her. Frankly, Ietrin wasn't sure what was wrong with the fairytale worlds of other children's doll sets, but Dea had little interest in anything less political than a loophole-peppered treaty. But no matter. An indelicate taste for the dealings of men didn't seem like the sort of trait to be actively discouraged in a four-year-old princess, not yet at least. She'd likely grow into more ladylike inclinations without any pruning from him. And besides--with any luck, she'd rub off on the new baby brother she'd have any minute now.

"The crown sentences you to be drawn and cornered next Monday!"

A hint of a grin played on her grandfather's mouth, probably the first one since he'd arrived. If anything, Ietrin found his smiling was even more unnerving than his usual arsenal of death glares. "Drawn and quartered, pet--but that's a gruesome execution for a noblewoman. Might I suggest a beheading? That would be a quick, merciful death that would also preserve what remains of her dignity; when one has squandered all other rights, dignity is all one can hope for."

Ietrin swallowed. Why had Octavius's eyes flickered his way as he'd said it?

Dea shrugged. "All right, Grandpapa. Beheaded next Monday."

"That's my girl."

"Just don't actually take her head off," Ietrin warned her. "Your toys are expensive, you know."

"Really?" For the first time in several minutes, Sparron looked up. "Is that what you tell Kaldar and Catherelle when they're a little less than careful with their toys?"

Ietrin swallowed. Dea's doll fell to the castle floor as she turned her head and frowned. "Who're Kaldar and Catherelle?"

"No one, love," Octavius insisted, his glare darting between Sparron and Ietrin. "Isn't that right, Ietrin?"

"Er... right." Well, at least Dea seemed satisfied--even if it was a lie, even if it had broken his heart to say it. "Um. Anyway. You think things are going well in there?"

Octavius tensed. Ietrin sort of regretted asking; it seemed his father-in-law hadn't quite gotten over the near miss of Jeda's last labor. "I told Arydath to alert me if they weren't. Awfully quiet, though."

"Well... maybe that just means they're done?" Not that Ietrin knew much about childbirth, but it seemed to make sense. Why scream if the baby was already out, right? And to think... maybe the heir he'd been dreaming of was just in the next room.

His father-in-law shrugged. "Maybe. I don't hear crying, but Dea was quiet too."

And how would you know? It was a bit hard to hear over all your yelling, remember? This was ridiculous. Ietrin was the crown prince and Octavius was only a baron. Why didn't he have guts to say it out loud? "I guess she and her brother have something in common already."

"Uh... Ietrin?"

Startled, he turned his head to see Camaline at the door--with a beautiful hazel-eyed baby in tow!

"Cammie!" God, he'd never thought he'd be so happy to see his bratty little sister. The stress of his in-laws forgotten, Ietrin sprung to his feet and looked the little fellow over, his smile swelling by the second. Healthy coloring... agreeable temperament... just the size a baby ought to be... "Oh, Cammie! Cammie, he's perfect!"

He was and she knew it. She must have. It was obvious.

And yet, her brow was practically halfway up her forehead. "Um... 'he'?"

...Oh.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lorn's Boots Are an Ill Fit

2011-12-24T02:29:00.007-08:00

July 12, 1177

"So... wanna go play at the tournament grounds?"

It really said something when it fell to the five-year-old boy to break the awkward silence. Then again, five-year-old boys were... well, five-year-old boys. As far as Ricky was concerned, Auntie Rona had every right to refuse to come out of her room. In fact, it probably didn't make sense that Auntie Rona might view having to leave her room as a punishment, considering how many times Ricky's own room had been a place of exile. It meant nothing to him to just let it be and go about his business.

Similarly indifferent, Karlspan shrugged. Searle's son was a little older than Ricky was, maybe a little meaner too, but that didn't make him any less of a kid. "Fine."

The boys gave their parents a quick wave and hurried off. Maybe they had the right idea, not letting Rona's lack of cooperation get in the way of a good visit.

Sighing, Lorn let the doorhandle drop and took the seat next to Leara. Decorum stated that he should have offered it to Searle, but if Searle hadn't seated himself yet, then he probably didn't care. "It seems my sister will not be gracing us with her presence just now."

"It's all right," Ren dismissed, in spite of Leara's lingering frown. "We'll see her at supper."

At her side, Searle sniffed. "Assuming she deems hunger less tolerable than our company."

Was that a hint of offense? Surely it would be from anyone else. Then again, this was Searle. Then again, maybe it was preferable to err on the side of caution. "Sorry. She's usually quite polite. It's me she's angry with, not any of you." Well... maybe you, Searle. It was your idea, after all. Remind me why I went along with it? I told you she'd be upset!

Not that such a thought probably occurred to Searle. No... every thought occurred to Searle. "No matter. Many girls get upset over their betrothals. To hear King Oswald tell it, Ren here was none too pleased to hear that she was stuck spending her life with me."

"Searle!" The back of Ren's hand landed lightly on his arm. "You're three years younger than I am. That was a big deal at the time."

"Well, fortunately for Rona, this tournament has a strict lower age limit of sixteen." He pushed back a lock of hair. Lorn had tried that in front of the mirror a few times and found that the gesture only made him look feminine, but Searle somehow pulled it off. Maybe it was the complete lack of a soul made all the difference. "Speaking of which, how many competitors can we expect? Anyone notable?"

"Uh, well..." More than I was prepared to accommodate, at any rate! Not that he could push the words out of his mouth.

Thankfully, Leara was a bit more coherent. "We have about fifty competitors. Most of them are gentlemen looking to raise their status, but there are a few seasoned fighters with some connections here that have expressed interest. Casimiro de Cervantes has done quite well in some of the Galician tournaments, and Neilor del Marinos has a reputation in Catalonia."

"Del Marinos?" Searle raised an eyebrow. "Any relation to your brother's mistress?"

Lorn nearly choked. He was trying to be civil, and he realized that people's standards of what was and was not acceptable could vary, but bringing up the fact that Leara's brother had a mistress? And with the girls playing in the corner of the room, no less? "Searle--"

"No, it's... it's all right." Leara didn't sound quite 'all right', but Lorn shut up anyway. She was trying to compose herself, and--honorable intentions or not--his causing a scene would be counterproductive. Thank God for Leara. One of them had to know just what the hell they were doing. "But yes. He's Ellona's brother."

"Interesting." And yet, he looked like he was stifling a yawn. "Well, I imagine you can cross off most of the obscure names straight away. These tournaments do tend to go to the regulars." Searle stepped away from his wife's chair and set himself in front of Lorn while Leara exchanged a glance with Ren. "Of course, it's best to wait a few rounds before putting any serious money on the line. Are you a gambling man, Lorn?"

Lorn's toes curled inward, his boots oddly vacant, more like his father's boots whenever his sisters had bullied him into joining their dress-up games than any pair Lorn himself had ever owned. These were a man's boots and he'd never felt more like a boy. "No. Not particularly."

Searle laughed. "A pity. I was hoping you were. I imagine you'd be terrible."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Viridis Considers What Can Move

2011-12-22T00:24:00.004-08:00

July 4, 1177

It was a small cottage, but a pretty one, a homey one. It was well-maintained, strongly built, and situated with a perfect view of the Carvallon coastline. Searle had quite a bit of money saved up from his roaming years, as well as a few key connections in the nearby villages; they had the finest furniture, the finest woodwork and masonry, the finest linens and silks and velvets. As a knight's wife, Viridis had a wider variety of exquisite gowns than she had ever had as a lord's daughter. She'd taken a risk marrying the reputedly wayward Searle and she knew it, but he'd pulled through for her; he never left her side without good reason, neither hid her from the world nor thrust it upon her, never missed a chance to wrap his arms around her waist and whisper how much he loved her. She had everything she'd ever dreamed of.

Well... not quite everything.

Searle had built that crib himself when she'd first given him the news, four months after they'd been married. Two weeks later and they had no need of it. It happened again that next summer, and then again the following Easter. The fourth time, she'd decided there was little point in telling him; it was a month today now since she'd been proven right.

He'd offered to move the crib out and in truth her heart broke every time she looked at the damn thing, but all the same she couldn't bear to let him. As long as she could see the crib, she could see--if she let herself--the possibility. If the crib left, it would take the last of her hope with it.

Luna's tail thudded against the side of her hand. She was a tiny little thing, the runt of an orphaned litter Searle had rescued some months prior. They'd found homes for her brothers and sisters, but Luna was so enamored with Searle that they figured it would be cruel to give her away. Besides, Prince was getting up in years and more than a bit cantankerous; if Viridis couldn't a baby of her own, she supposed even a furry one was better than none at all.

Searle's knock rang from the other side of the door. Viridis tried to smile as she locked eyes with the puppy. Sounds like Papa's home.

God. Even her sane thoughts were starting to sound mad. "Searle?"

"Who else were you expecting?" he teased as he stepped into the bedroom. "The Pirate King of the Grecian Coast?"

Viridis tried to keep a straight face. So much for eventually living down the one time she'd suggested role-playing. "What did the fletcher need?"

"Oh, just someone who could read. He got a letter from his sister-in-law up north. Turns out he's an uncle."

"Oh." This was stupid. She hadn't known this woman existed until mere seconds ago. She could have been an impoverished beggar with scraggly hair and no teeth and Viridis still envied her. She could have been the sweetest, most charming person in the world and Viridis still hated her. Just because she had a baby and Viridis didn't. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

But Searle seemed to sense her jealousy and refrained from comment. Instead, he changed the subject, or at least tried to do so. "Speaking of letters, what did your sister have to say?"

She placed Luna on the floor and let her weave around Searle's ankles. For his sake, she decided to omit the typical family drabble. All right, maybe that was for her own sake as well. "Well... apparently Lorn's holding a tournament near the end of the month."

"A tournament?" Searle crossed his arms and frowned. "I don't know Lorn all that well, but I didn't think he was the sort of man who cared for tournaments."

"He isn't. Apparently our cousin talked him into it."

A twitch of his mouth told her he knew which cousin she was talking about. "Searle of Bandera."

"Searle of Bandera. And get this--the winner gets to marry Rona."

A stony glaze fell over Searle's face. Viridis couldn't say she hadn't seen it coming. If ever there was an expert on how not to go about one's love life, she had to admit that she'd married him. "What are the odds of that ending well?"

"For Rona?" Viridis shrugged. When she thought of Rona she remembered a silly, giggling little blond who'd tagged along but simultaneously kept a safe distance while Riona got up to whatever hi-jinx happened to be on the day's agenda. But that had been years ago. Riona herself was a woman now, at least in theory. Rona would have grown up too, and not in a way Viridis could have predicted. But in all likelihood... "Not great, I'm guessing. Anyway, my father tacked on a note at the end. He... wants to know if we could make it out for the events."

She'd mumbled the last part, perhaps in hope that he wouldn't hear it. But he must have. He wouldn't have laughed otherwise. "If we went, I think that would be the first time I ever turned up at your father's castle with an invitation."

"Well--yes. Yes, it probably would." It would be the first time she'd been home since her wedding too--if they went. It would be the first time she met most of these nieces and nephews that apparently shot forth like cannon-fire from between her sisters' and sister-in-laws' legs. It would be the first time they'd see with their own eyes that she'd been having regular, carefree sex for nearly three years and still had nothing to show for it. With that in mind, home was not such an appealing prospect.

"Might be a nice change of scenery. It's not as if either of us gets out of the house much."

He wanted to go. He wanted to go and she supposed she couldn't blame him. They certainly weren't hermits, but most of their connections here were based on convenience, and it had been far too long since either of them had looked into another's face to see their own features smiling back at them. He missed the family--and she did too, for all she couldn't bear to face them just now.

But that was the problem. She was still mourning a poor, beloved soul whose existence would never be known to anyone else. She had a private loss, a personal sorrow--something she couldn't share with women who needed herbs to prevent the only thing she herself desired, something that could never be understood by men who could carelessly unload into latrines a larger volume of person than she'd ever managed to keep from expelling. No. No, she did not have the strength for that.

And yet... she was so tired of waking up in the morning and going to sleep at night with that damn crib in the room, that damn crib that could only hurt her more by vanishing. The crib couldn't move. She could. "It's not until the twenty-fifth. We still have a few days to consider."

"Fair enough." Searle traced the neckline of her gown with the tip of his finger as Luna pawed at his boot. "I was thinking of going for a swim. Join me?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Arydath's Fears Are Unfounded

2011-12-19T17:17:00.004-08:00

June 28, 1177

Arydath kicked the door shut and took a second to catch her breath. She'd never been so late for a birth before, but in her defense she hadn't anticipated being needed. This was Laveria's territory--not to mention, Laveria's great-grandchild--but it turned out Laveria was down with a bad summer cold. There was Arydath's own mother, but she was getting up in years and her bad hip didn't let her take on many clients outside the direct vicinity. That left Arydath herself, startled when a frenzied groom had shown up at her gates with the news of Asalaye's labor a shire away.

Though in hindsight... well, she would have made it here more quickly had she not tried to convince one of the twins to come with her. She had five daughters, two of whom were grown and two more nearly so now, and she'd always hoped that at least one of them would follow in her footsteps. Celina and Feoda, however, were every bit as uninterested as Lyraina and Hilla before them; it had been stupid of her to press.

"Sir Lonriad?"

The young man stiffened, his gaze never leaving the puppy in his hands. Oh, he was a tall strong lad now... but Arydath had pulled him from Lady Alina's womb with her own two hands, back when he'd been one of the tiniest, sickliest babies she'd ever seen. Frankly, she'd been startled that he'd survived; what if his own progeny was not so lucky? Or what of the young woman birthing it? Four babies before Lonriad and Lady Alina had never looked so faint.

"I... I've only been here about half an hour or so." The puppy pawed toward him as if to cheer him up; the poor thing's efforts were in vain. "I was out fishing with Searle. Stupid of me, wasn't it? I mean, we knew it would be soon..." The puppy yipped. Lonriad lowered it to the floor, then turned around to meet her eye. He had his father's eyes, and his had the same look to them that the other pair had worn ten years prior, for two years on end.

Oh, the guilt. She supposed she could sympathize... not that there was much he could've done anyway. "As a woman who's been married twice, let me assure you that husbands are all quite useless when it comes to childbirth. Now, who's in there with your wife?"

"Nanalie, plus Asalaye's maid and a couple other servant girls." Arydath raised an eyebrow. Despite not having any children herself, Nanalie wasn't completely lacking in delivery experience--she'd helped with Lyraina's last labor, and apparently Avine's last two as well if either Lyraina or Asalaye was in a position to know--but witnessing three births hardly qualified one to take charge of a fourth. Then again, someone had to take charge. And who knew? Maybe one of the other girls was a little more seasoned. "I went in there when I got back, but Asalaye swore at me and Nanalie kicked me out. One of the girls left a while ago and came back with a cup of something, but other than that I..."

He shook his head, the rest of his body responding in kind; in an attempt to steady him, Arydath placed her hand on his shoulder. "I haven't heard her screaming since the girl went back in. That's bad, isn't it? If she's screaming, then at least she's--she's--"

"Oh, she's fine, you dolt. I wouldn't expect sex any time soon if I were you, but she's fine."

Lonriad looked up and Arydath spun to meet the speaker. It was Nanalie, lingering in the bedroom doorway--and not unaccompanied.

"I sent that girl out to get some mint tea. I told Asalaye it would ease the pains."

Arydath frowned. All her years of midwifery and not one had she heard such a thing. "Does it?"

Nanalie shrugged. "Probably not; I just told her it would. I did the same thing with my father when he dislocated his shoulder last fall."

Well. That was... "Clever."

"Thank you." Nanalie landed a tickle on the baby's stomach as she carried him forward. It appeared that Arydath's fears had been unfounded; it was a wide-eyed, curious-looking little thing, complete a good complexion and a not-unhealthy size. "Anyway, Asalaye said you wanted to name the baby after your mother. Personally, I think his future wife will find that hilarious."

"A boy?" Oh, that grin. He wasn't the first man to have told his wife he didn't care what she had, and doubtlessly wouldn't be the last to have lied about it. Or maybe she was being too hard on him. He was probably just happy everyone made it out alive. "Can I hold him?"

"All right, but he might be disappointed that you don't have any cleavage to swat at. We've got ourselves a little breast man here."

As Nanalie transferred her nephew into her brother-in-law's arms, the baby looked up at Arydath with his grandmother's wide blue eyes, like he was telling her everything was going to be just fine. She returned the stare with a smile; at this point, it was always refreshing just to get something that wasn't outright bawling.

"He has my mother's eyes."

"And probably my father's nose, but I guess a little fellow can't win them all." Nanalie gave the baby a quick kiss, then turned back to Arydath. "Asalaye seemed fine to me, but if you wanted to look her over yourself, it probably wouldn't be the worst idea."

"I agree." She gave the girl a quick nod, then started off toward the bedchamber. "Well done, though."

Yes, well done indeed...

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Nanalie Doesn't Discuss Dogs

2011-12-18T15:18:00.003-08:00

June 28, 1177

"Precious little thing, isn't she?" Asalaye cooed as she nuzzled noses with the puppy. Nanalie cringed; clearly the elevation through marriage hadn't come with an increased awareness of personal hygiene, for all her little sister did need it. "I hope she grows up to be just as cute. Lonriad says it's hard to trust the kennel masters around here."

Nanalie raised an eyebrow. Having never been fond of dogs--or animals in general, for that matter--she could agree with the sentiment herself, but it was an odd thought coming from a canine lover like Lonriad. "What do you mean?"

"Apparently they get a kick out of breeding all their dogs to look similar as puppies. It's only when they grow up that you learn what you even bought."

That was quite possibly the dumbest thing she had ever heard. "Is that even possible?"

"I wouldn't have thought so, but it's true. Lonriad says they had a pair of 'twins' once. They had to give them little coats to tell them apart. Green Coat ended up as Viridis's lap dog. Lord Severin uses Red Coat for hunting deer."

"Uh-huh." She didn't think she quite believed it, but she figured she'd let it drop. Not like she'd come all the way up here to spend the afternoon talking about dog breeding. "Well, for your sake, I hope she's cute."

"I likewise." Asalaye lifted the dog to eye level and gave a loving sigh while Nanalie fought the urge to tell her to save it for the baby. "Oh well. No matter how she grows up, I'm sure she'll always be cute to--"

Her voice reached a sudden halt, her eyes wide and startled like she'd just been punched in the gut. She moved her lips as if to say something, but all Nanalie could hear was a stream of fluid colliding with the hardwood. "Nan..."

No, they definitely wouldn't be talking about dogs.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Remiel Gives the Order

2011-12-17T02:27:00.003-08:00

May 7, 1177

It was only the wind and Remiel's brain knew it, but his head jerked around to check anyway. You're being paranoid, he scolded himself as he took a moment to recompose. And he was. Sure enough, this wasn't the deepest thicket in the kingdom, but if anyone wanted to reach it they would first have to wade through a not-insignificant stretch of swamp; even out of necessity Remiel himself had barely brought himself to bother. No one had followed him, not this far at any rate. No one would look for him here even if occurred to them. He could leave his work here and it would remain as it was, safe and untouched until his return.

Still. This was the result of uncountable years of research, decades of trial-and-error and countless revisions and numerous dead-ends that had him running back to the start. After all that time, all that effort, all those cambions he'd drained to keep himself alive long enough to finish...

It would have been foolish, not worrying. Foolish indeed.

A frog croaked and an owl shrieked. A breeze whipped through the trees, the unsettled leaves moaning in distress. Remiel shivered. This clearing had eyes; was that how God claimed omniscience?

"Stay." He wasn't sure there was much use in giving orders, but he was anxious enough to try it on the off-chance it might work. "Don't leave this clearing. I'll be back." Eventually... whenever things quiet down around here.

"Just... stay."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lucien Hears a Different Sound

2011-12-15T00:14:00.003-08:00

May 5, 1177

However shocked Vera might have been, Lucien doubted her surprise came close to his own. Her name had slipped effortlessly between his lips where all other words had failed even when coaxed. It had been so long he didn't recognize his own voice--deeper, hoarser, audibly dusty from lack of use. He tried to say something else, anything else, but it never came. Vera's breathing steadied somewhat; she must have been trying to compose herself. "You can talk?"

Now that she knew it, he doubted she'd take a nod for an answer, not if he knew her at all. He'd have to say something else--anything else. "I... I never said I couldn't..."

"Well, obviously. You never said anything." A tap rang as her slippered foot fell to the floor. Ashamed, Lucien felt around his cuffs for any loose threads in need of picking. "I don't understand."

And she wouldn't if he told her. She'd laugh and dismiss him as a silly goose--if he was lucky. Not that he would be lucky. She had a reason to be angry with him, after all. "I never told your secret, if that's what--"

"What does my stupid secret have to do with anything?" Lucien swallowed. He wasn't the best reader of people in any sense, but she didn't sound sarcastic. Did she have some other stake in this? "Don't you realize how much grief you could've saved yourself if you'd just spoken up? You could've told me when we met and I would've gotten you away from him. Hell, you could've told Lorn and Aldhein when you showed up here."

"I--" He what? He couldn't tell her anything, or at least nothing she'd stand to hear.

"At least let my father and stepmother know, all right?" She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled him closer. He nearly stumbled at the shock of her touch. "They can't do much for you if you won't tell them how they can help."

"Vera--"

"...you." Her voice rang with a note of frustration. "What is your name, anyway?"

"It's Lucien. But Vera--"

"Don't." She raised his hand and pressed it to her face. His fingertips brushed her thick lashes and his thumb found a straight nose. Her lips were soft as he remembered them and the curve of her jawline betrayed a heart-like shape. He brushed his hand to the side, catching a lock of her hair. It felt smooth and silky and--though he wasn't sure how--jet black. "You never had anyone, did you?"

Did she mean...? "I don't--"

"Shh..." It was a sound his mother had often made, but hers had always been urgent, fearful. Vera's was warm and soothing. It was a strange thing how another tongue could make it a different sound entirely.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Vera Falls Frozen

2011-12-14T00:13:00.002-08:00

May 5, 1177

So it was true.

As far as anyone knew, Vera was in bed--and up until about ten minutes prior, she had been. But she'd found sleep stubborn and thought a cup of warm milk might coax it, so she'd hurried down to the kitchens, only to cross paths with a couple of servants whispering about some silent blind boy in Jadin's old room. Some silent blind boy. Who knew, maybe there was more than one of them around... but warm milk or not, Vera doubted she could sleep without knowing for sure.

Well, now she did.

"You'll be staying in this room for now," Nora was telling him. "My stepson's valet will be down soon to get you ready for bed, and one of us will come for you in the morning so we can get everything sorted out. I hope that's not objectionable?"

The boy shook his head. At the foot of the bed, Xeta shifted uncomfortably. Vera felt a bit bad for her--being practical did sometimes cast one as the villain in this household--but after what Remiel had done to her sister and her father and nearly she herself... well, the important thing was that the boy was out of that bastard's clutches. Practicality could wait.

"Do you have any family?" her father asked.

Another shake, but not without a moment's hesitation. There was a story there and they'd probably never know it. Chances were he wouldn't tell it if he could. Her father exchanged a quick glance with Nora and nodded. "Very well."

The boy's head fell to the wall and turned, milky eyes now in her view, almost like he knew she was there. Maybe he'd heard her open the door while her parents and sister-in-law had missed it. She'd heard it said that blind people often had above-average hearing, after all.

But without his sight, he couldn't confirm her presence on his own. Nor did he need to, after Xeta happened to crane her neck just the right way. "Vera?"

Nora turned around, Vera's father following suit. Vera grinned apologetically; at her age, she was too old for an established "bed time" and they knew it, but spies and eavesdroppers were never well-received. "Sorry, just... he's my friend."

The boy twitched. Vera swallowed. Had she been presumptuous? She'd thought he liked her... or maybe he was sore over her not visiting him in months? "Something like that, anyway."

Her father's lips twitched. She couldn't tell if he was amused or annoyed. "Yes, I seem to recall Isidro saying you knew each other."

"Yes, he was there when--" She stopped herself just in time. Her father knew damn well where she'd been going and he didn't want to hear about that again. She didn't care to tell it again either. "Anyway. Could I maybe talk to him? If you're done, of course."

Her father sighed. "I think we're finished for now. Nora, Xeta, do either of you have anything you'd like to add?"

"No," Nora dismissed as Xeta shook her head and hurried out into the corridor. Shooting the younger woman a disapproving glare, Nora gave the boy a kiss on the forehead before following. "Sleep well."

The door still ajar, Vera's father stepped past her and reached for the handle on the outer side. "Good night, kiddo. I trust you'll find my daughter's voice far more soothing than mine."

The boy didn't laugh, so Vera indulged her father with a chuckle. He shot her a quick smile, then shut the door behind him.

Now alone with the boy, Vera stepped around the bed and settled herself on its empty side. He must have heard the rustling, even felt it through the mattress, but he did nothing to acknowledge her. Maybe he was sore. Poor boy. "I'm sorry. I meant to visit you again, but after what Remiel did to my sister, my father banned us from going. Forgive me?"

He nodded. It was probably more complicated than that, but there was only so much a person could say with a vocabulary of head movements. "I can visit you every day now, though--er, if you'd like me too, that is."

Another nod. Still, his face remained stubbornly forward, refusing to follow his ears as it had the times before. She wanted to reach for his hand but didn't. She thought it might sting if he pulled away. "I missed you."

The boy stiffened. She wasn't sure what to make of that. Was he flattered? Surprised? Or maybe he felt guilty for not missing her back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Before he could offer a response, she'd slipped off the side of the mattress and was well on her way toward the door. Out of habit she masked her discomfort with a grimace; it remained even after she remembered it was pointless.

"Well, good night. I'll see you at breakfast, I suppose."

She hurried past the night-table and reached for the doorhandle. The iron was cold and hard as any metal thing, but she hadn't noticed when she'd entered. "Sweet dreams."

"Vera--"

The handle dropped back against the door with a dull thud!. It was hot as flame when she was frozen solid.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lucien Is Promised

2011-12-11T13:57:00.005-08:00

May 5, 1177

Someone was nudging him.

"Hey, uh... you." It was the duke's voice, but he wasn't alone; Lucien could sense four other presences, one of which had his heart skipping for a second. But it wasn't Vera. It was just someone who felt sort of like her, perhaps a little closer to his own energy than she was. "I guess we can't really ask you where Remiel is, can we?"

Lucien shrugged. The last he'd heard from Remiel, the man was packing up some things, saying he had to move his experiment to some place a little safer. That had been two days ago. He'd been alone ever since and he wasn't sure how he felt about it; little though he liked Remiel, no one else ever thought to bring him food.

"I take it he's too cunning to leave any obvious clues," snarled the duke's nearest companion. Lucien recognized that voice too, a low Iberian mutter--Vera's brother-in-law. What was he doing here? And was Vera nearby after all? It had been so long since her last visit...

"From what I can see, you take it right." This one was not so familiar, but there was something in the intonation that reminded Lucien of the steward's wife, only older and male. They might have hailed from the same region or something--not that that told Lucien anything. "Just a bunch of old books and some herbs. And a skull."

A skull? Lucien shuddered. How long had he been sharing a room with a skull?

"Damn." Vera's brother-in-law stepped around the duke as he let the curse fall. His tread was heavy, though if Lucien was correct in pinpointing his mouth he was not a large man. "Here, kid--let me help you up." A calloused hand grabbed hold of Lucien's own and yanked him to his feet. He squirmed out of instinct before it occurred to him that he wasn't being drained.

"Jumpy little thing, aren't you?" The man dropped Lucien's hand and stepped back. "Look, we know what that bastard's been doing to you and no one here would do the same even if they could. Probably not the sort of thing you can believe right away at this point, but that's the truth of it."

They knew? Was that why Remiel had gone? He was on the run. He was on the run, and he'd left Lucien to starve because he'd only slow them down.

"Isidro, give the boy some space." The essence that felt like Vera's approached while the duke's withdrew. Lucien trembled. The man's voice was inviting, but he'd been fooled before. "Lorn, how long has he been down here on his own?"

The duke swallowed. "I suppose it has been a few days since I've seen him. It's... well, to be honest, it's not hard to forget that Remiel has a ward."

"He's my ward now." The man took a few more steps, stopping a few feet short of Lucien. "You don't have to worry about Remiel anymore, kiddo. I promise."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Isidro Makes Use of the Given Right

2011-12-10T02:54:00.003-08:00

May 3, 1177

Falidor's head tilted as he stepped around the table, brows arched in confusion, mouth twitching in annoyance. "I can't say I was expecting you."

I can't say I'm glad to see you, more like. Isidro wasn't exactly sure what he'd done to offend the man, but he got the sense that Falidor had nursed a private dislike for him since the day they'd met. Not that he'd ever been less than civil, but... well, some people weren't made for lying.

But that was fine. Lying had nothing to do with it. Hidden grudges had nothing to do with it. If he could have gone to Jadin or Searle or Lonriad, he would have. "As befits the unexpected, I'll be brief: I need your help."

"Oh?" Another spasm tugged at Falidor's lips. "With what, exactly?"

"Our father-in-law."

That did it. As if speared by some divine prod, Falidor snapped out of his reluctant slouch, rapt as the most devoted of patrols. Maybe Jadin's jokes about some secret struggle for the title of 'Best Son-in-Law' weren't so far from the mark. "What about him?"

"He's meeting with Lorn as we speak. They're having Renolt draw up a warrant for Brother Remiel's arrest." And not a moment too soon, he added to himself. Riona still had her moments of relapse. She still wouldn't go near their castle chapel. She still froze every time his hand brushed her breast. Even the name made her shudder. Even the name made his blood boil. "When they go to bring him in, we're going with them."

"We are?"

Isidro nodded, his tense palms under the heavy assault of his own nails. The attack gained a new fervor when his brother-in-law frowned. "Why would they need us? That's three of them right there; there shouldn't be a problem."

Shouldn't. Didn't change the fact that there was. "Falidor, tell me that Lorn and Renolt are the two men you'd want with you when confronting a dangerous criminal and try to keep a straight face when you say it."

Falidor blinked, smiling slightly. Isidro wondered how he'd managed it. "Point taken. Still, Lord Severin has three grown sons, all of whom are more useful with a sword than I am."

"Yes, but they're vulnerable to Remiel's touch." Why did he have to explain this? It was a miracle his hand wasn't bleeding yet. "We're not. And don't tell me that Lord Severin would ask if he needed the help, because that man never asks a damn thing of either of us and you know it. We're going whether he likes it or not."

"Because you say so."

"Remiel gave me the right to say so when he attacked my wife."

His brother-in-law's eyes dropped to the toes of his boots. There was nothing Falidor could say to that, but it was a hollow victory. In his ideal world, such a statement would have never been needed. It would have never even been the truth. "I should warn you that I'm no soldier."

Some people just weren't made for lying. And some people wouldn't know a lie if it slipped forth from their own lips. "You're a man with a family. That's the same thing."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Severin Is Not Finished

2011-12-07T21:09:00.003-08:00

April 29, 1177

"You mentioned an uncle on occasion." It was an odd way to ask about his grandparents and Severin knew it, but it was the only lead he'd ever gotten. And it did tell him something, even if not quite enough.

His mother hesitated before nodding. She knew what he was really trying to say. "I never met my father. My mother died when I was barely off her breast; her brother took me in and raised me until I was twelve or so."

"And then Remiel happened."

Another reluctant nod. "The family needed money. Remiel's price was right."

So his mother had been bought and paid for like a slave. A sickly fury stirred within his core, though he wasn't sure whether it was for the man who'd sold her or the man who'd bought her. Both, perhaps. "The blind boy must have a similar story."

"Probably. The girl before me did. Same with the boy before her, and so on and so forth."

So on and so forth. He wondered how far back that went. "He used you all to keep himself youthful, then."

"Among other things; he performed some experiments using leftover essence." Plucking a loose thread from the shawl around her waist, his mother sighed. "He never gave me any specifics on those."

"Mmm." As if the thought of a man harboring human vitality like a cook stored spices wasn't specific enough. "But he can't use just anyone."

"No." The closure in her voice and that shielding glaze in her eye said she was finished.

Pity for her that he was not. "Remiel said his field was demonology--incubi, specifically."

His mother's skirts rustled as she kicked in irritation. "I'm not a succubus, if that's what you're asking."

"No." All that bedridden reading had told him that much already, that much and more--even if his questioning nature wouldn't let him fully believe it. Not without hearing it from her. "You're a cambion. You're technically human, but you were conceived through demonic meddling. That must result in some sort of varied vital state, giving you the sort of energy Remiel needs."

He paused, giving her a chance to protest, but she didn't take it. So much for maintaining a hopeful bit of skepticism. "You always were too clever for your own good."

"And you always were too guarded for yours." She was just on the other side of the couch, but she might as well have been across the sea. She even looked faraway. He hardly felt like he was talking to her at all. "If none of this had happened, you would've gone to your grave without telling me."

His mother sighed. "That was the plan, yes."

"I see." Good to know how trusted I am. "So... what do we do now?"

If her hurt look was any indication, something in his tone must have stung. If it had, though, she was beyond comment. "Let's just start with getting you a little more well-rested."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Nora Removes the Other Ears

2011-12-07T03:09:00.003-08:00

April 29, 1177

It was clearly the same illness that had stricken Riona months prior, but whatever it was had affected Severin somewhat differently. He'd been a lot worse at the onset, and that initial phase had lingered longer... but now that it was past, he seemed to be recovering much more quickly than his daughter had.

In fact, Nora suspected that the only thing keeping him from being up and about was the resulting influx of overbearing company.

"You do look a lot better than the letter led us to expect, dear."

"You should have seen him last week."

"Falidor said the same, yes."

"Are we sure the pretty young wife isn't just wearing him out, if you catch my drift?"

Nora groaned. To think, she'd very nearly gone there once. "Your grace, I'm right here!"

Her father-in-law chuckled, earning him a smack on the arm from his wife. Nora half-expected Laveria to say something clever--Lord knew she always did when Lonriad was around--but her whole world seemed to consist of her son. Not that that was any surprise, seeing as that was how it had been since he'd fallen ill. "I thought I told you not to let him touch you."

"You said nothing of the like." Severin shut his eyes, his bare toes twitching in an annoyed wave. However he'd hoped to recover, it obviously hadn't been like this. "Besides, I already told you what happened. It's not as if I went in for a handshake or anything."

"I did tell you to stay away from him. You should have left it to Falidor. Or Nora; he couldn't have done anything to her."

Oy. "Again... right here."

Beside her, Severin sniffed. "So it's the bloodline, then."

"I never said--"

"But it's what you meant," Viridis concluded. "First this Remiel character does this to Riona, and now Severin. And since Lorn's family seems to be safe, it must be something on your side."

Laveria's heavy eyelids dropped, but she said nothing. Instead, it was Lonriad who took the opening. "You never did tell me anything about your family."

"There's nothing to tell."

Severin coughed. Efficient, really--clearing his lungs and calling bullshit with a single sound. But this wasn't going anywhere. Laveria wasn't about to budge. Not around Lonriad and Viridis, at least. Maybe not even around Nora herself. There were some truths meant only for certain ears.

Trying not to squirm beneath her best grimace, Nora peered over at Lonriad and Viridis. Oh the things people did for love. "Say... you two haven't met all of the children yet, have you?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Severin Sees What Remiel Would Dare

2011-12-04T22:05:00.003-08:00

April 16, 1177

Falidor's recurrent lazy eye lolled somewhat. It had been quite some time since Severin had seen it do so--probably not since the days of Ailede. "My lord."

All these years and still with the 'my lord'-ing... not to mention, everything else today. Annoyed, Severin tried to mimic the effect of the eye. Childish, no doubt, but after being kept up all night by a choir of screaming infants, he lacked the energy to be mature. "Mind telling me why you sent a guard to fetch me? And why a maid is doing your job?"

"I didn't want to leave your study door unguarded."

A hook formed in Severin's brow. His study door had stood unguarded day and night for over twenty years and never had Falidor had a problem with the idea. Why was today any different? "Sorry?"

The steward sighed. "Brother Remiel would like a word with you."

...oh. "I see."

"Look, if you don't want to--"

"No. If he wants a word, then he shall have it." Though perhaps not the one he has in mind. "Go back to your own post, Falidor--but before you do that, find a guard to take the spot here. After the incident with my daughters I don't trust the man to leave without an escort."

Falidor nodded. Severin waited until he'd brushed past him to cringe. The monk was a small, sickly-looking man but with everything he'd heard--vague and confusing as it was--he wasn't sure how he felt about meeting Remiel without a sword in hand. At least there was a knife in a sheath nailed to the underside of the desk.

And if someone was to bear the brunt of his frustrations today... well, better Remiel than Severin's own children. "I see you noticed my books."

"Rather controversial material, don't you think?" The monk didn't even bother to turn around. More offended than he'd usually be, Severin shut the door with a moderate slam! that still failed to win him a glance. "Then again, who am I to say? I deal with some unsavory subject matter myself."

You don't say. "Mind if I ask what sort?"

"Demonology." An altogether unsurprising answer, now that it had been said. "Incubi and succubi, specifically. You have heard of such things, correct?"

Though the monk still faced the desk, Severin nodded. "Yes, but I can't say I'm convinced of their existence."

"Really?" At last, Remiel turned around. His eyes were so remorseless and ire-inspiring that Severin regretted awaiting the sight of them. "You might want to ask your mother if she feels the same way."

"Speaking of my mother, you might want to explain why she keeps warning me about you."

The corner of the monk's mouth twitched. He was possibly the first person Severin had ever met who looked uglier while smiling. "Research aids do tend to get anxious when they outlive their usefulness. However, it appears that she's done more for me than she might have imagined. Tell me--apart from the two I met at Armion, have you many other children?"

Judging by the glint in those eerie eyes, there was no point in lying. "Can't say I see the point in asking what you already know."

Remiel sniffed. "Your mother had quite the tongue on her too. As did your girl--Riona, isn't it? Charming little thing. Her mother must have been quite the beauty."

Inside his chest, Severin's heartstrings knotted. How dare this man come in here and parade Alina in front of him. How dare he profane her memory with even the thought of her in his twisted head. He must have been trying to get a rise out of him. He wouldn't have mentioned her otherwise. How dare he use her for that. "Beautiful is not a strong enough word."

"Pity. Nothing quite so tragic as the death of such a woman, is there?"

How dare he. "Why are you here?"

The monk replied with a casual lift of the shoulder. "I haven't seen the girls around lately. I thought it odd; they are friends with the duke's sister, are they not?"

As if that had anything to do with it--whatever it was. "Rona is always welcome to visit them here." And I dare you to ask if the same applies to you.

"Good. She has been hurting, you know; seeing her friends would do her well." He held out his hand, as if he expected a shake.

Like hell he was going to get one. "Don't pretend you were here for Rona's sake. That's bullshit and we both know it."

The monk frowned, whatever trace of an upper lip he had vanishing beneath its own verso. "I can't say I care for the language."

"It's my castle. I'll use all the fucking profanity I want." The other man's eyes bulged. Severin's only regret was that they hadn't popped right out of their sockets. "At least I'm not using one innocent girl to try to get closer to two others."

"Who says it's the girls I want?" Severin's fist clenched. One more mention of his family and his knuckles would introduce themselves to Remiel's nose, he swore it. "I'm curious... have you ever done something you couldn't explain? Something unnatural, perhaps."

"I don't know. I've been told I have an unnatural disrespect for holy men, but that I have no problem explaining."

"You're a damned man, you know that?" Remiel narrowed his eyes, the slit-like pupils flitting to Severin's hand. "There's a cut on your palm, by the way."

What? "There is not."

"Well." Without warning, Remiel's fingers snared themselves around Severin's wrist and yanked it closer. His fist opened as if by divine will, a thin line of seeping blood at the hand's center revealed. "There is now."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Aspen Begins Her Search

2011-12-02T15:48:00.004-08:00

April 13, 1177

Aspen didn't care much for her most recent job, but when it came down to it, she didn't mind working in the kitchens so long as it got her out of the tavern. Her work dress wasn't exactly modest and she didn't care for the drunken leers and slurred innuendos, even if she had little enough to ogle. Not to mention, as far as anyone knew, she was still back in Dovia. She hadn't worked up the courage to visit Rona just yet and she didn't want to risk a run-in with a mutual acquaintance; the last thing she wanted was for Rona to think she was avoiding her.

Of course, if the talk in the tavern was true, that was the last thing on Rona's mind. Aspen tightened her grip on the spoon she was scrubbing. How could he? Yes, she'd known Lorn had been struggling to find Rona a husband... but staging a tournament for her hand like she was a sack of gold coins? Their parents were probably mortified. Poor Rona was probably beside herself.

And why shouldn't she be? She had no control over who would win the tournament. Perhaps it would be some so-called gentleman only after a knighthood who just happened to be better than the rest. Worse, it could have been some social-climbing mama's boy who was more interested in having Lorn as a brother-in-law than having Rona for a wife. Or--God forbid--what if it was some brute chasing wealth and glory, some vile thug who wanted a well-born lady on his arm but wouldn't hesitate to smack her around when all eyes were turned? No. No... she couldn't let that happen. Not to Rona.

If only there was something she could do, some way she could help. As if Lorn would listen to her if she showed up and gave him a piece of her mind, if she could even summon the guts to do so in the first place. Maybe she could appeal to Rona's mother, ask her if Rona could at least have her pick of the top ten or so... no. No, Rona's mother was married to Lonriad's uncle, so there was likely a loyalty issue there.

Hmm. Seemed the only thing to do would be to keep an eye out for any worthy champion and make sure he entered the tournament. Of course, that was nothing when she couldn't guarantee he'd win.

Still, it wasn't as if the inn didn't get the odd well-mannered, unmarried male patron who looked like he could hold his own in battle. And the more competition there was, then the lower the odds of any given brute's triumph were...

"Aspen!" Seoth called from the next room. "Aspen, I'm running out of mugs."

"Just a second!" She let the spoon drop to the bottom of the basin and shook her hands over the scalding water before wiping them on her apron. It was a rowdy night and she didn't care to venture back to the bar, but if Seoth needed more mugs then he had more customers. Maybe one of those customers would be just who she was looking for.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Hilla Would If Only

2011-12-01T01:26:00.004-08:00

April 13, 1177

"Aww, honey... maybe it won't be that bad?"

Probably a stupid thing to say, but it was better than silence--wasn't it? At least... what else was Hilla supposed to say? Bold knights-in-shining-armor sometimes won tournaments. Maybe she could mention that? Then again, maybe that was a bad idea. Thugs sometimes won tournaments too.

"But..." Rona trailed off, shifting her gaze to the ties on her sleeves. She didn't like the way her new maid tied them--not that the difference was apparent to anyone else. "I don't know. Principle of the thing. I don't want to be a trophy."

"Well... better a trophy than a bargaining chip, right?"

The other girl glared at her. Hilla cringed. That had been stupid and she knew it... but how was she supposed to understand? She was a peasant by birth. She'd been allowed to befriend Rona only because her mother had married a knight--and a knight who happened to be Rona's step-uncle, at that. She'd always assumed she'd have some say in regards to her own marriage, as it turned out, she had. Rona was a duke's daughter; she did not have that luxury. A crueler man than Lorn might have sold her to the highest bidder, regardless of where or who or what he was.

"Yes, but what if it's not really me that any of them want?"

Hilla frowned, her baby kicking as she leaned forward. Dear God--how had Riona managed to traipse around the continent during her pregnancy while Hilla could barely change her sitting position? Anyway. Not important. "What do you mean?"

"Well... what if the men competing only want to marry me so they can have Lorn as a brother-in-law? Or what if they just want noble babies?" She shot an envious glance toward Hilla's stomach--as if she could have possibly wanted this. "Or what if Lorn's finally had enough and this is just an elaborate way of getting rid of me?"

What? "Rona, your brother loves you!"

"Then why is he willing to cast me off like this? And why did he chase Aspen away?" Her hands fell to her side as she slumped downward. All these months later and the poor girl was still on about that, even with the new predicament? So much for thinking she'd taken Lonriad's marriage hard. "He's trying to ruin my life, isn't he? Maybe I should just give up. Enter a convent or something--assuming of course they'd actually take me, seeing as no one else will."

Oh God. Hilla had known Rona for several years now, and she knew for a fact that the other girl came from a loving, well-intentioned family. But even the best of relatives could drive a girl half-insane with that sort of pressure, and if there was one thing that came with wealth and connections, it was pressure. If only friendship could be enough to relieve it. "Aww, honey..."

If only. If only she could think of a single damn word that could make everything better. If only the world worked that way.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lorn Has a New Dilemma

2011-11-30T01:07:00.004-08:00

April 12, 1177

"Your letter said you wouldn't be here for a couple of months."

As Lorn could have predicted, Searle dismissed the claim with a sniff. Typical. "My letter said that I would be here within a couple of months, a stretch of time which--unless you somehow received the letter long before it was even drafted--does include today."

Lorn stared for a minute, then grimaced. He wasn't sure whether it was because Searle was here already or because he was apparently supposed to be drafting his letters. "Right. Anyway, why are you here?" And how did the answer to that question not make it onto any of your drafts?

"Paying my respects to my sister, mainly." Searle closed his eyes and sighed. Lorn let him have the moment; he'd lost a sibling once too. "And then leaving before my mother learns I'm here."

"Yes, well... I won't tell her I saw you until you're halfway back?"

"Give me three quarters, at least." Was that a joke? Did Searle joke? Lorn decided not to risk it. "Anyway. I figured I'd better stop by while I'm here, seeing as you no doubt have some decision to make that you've somehow confused with a problem."

Oh dear God. Had someone told him about Remiel? "Thank you, but I've guided the situation to the most stable stalemate while making progress on the permanent solution."

"I somehow doubt that, but I'm not sure I want to waste time arguing." Then for God's sake, leave!

Not that thinking that ever worked. "You must have something else, though. Still short on knights, I take it?"

Lorn groaned. Searle never forgot a damn thing and as always Lorn was damned for forgetting that. "Perpetually."

"And you still haven't found a husband for your sister?"

"Not any she'd be happy about, anyway."

"Oh?" Searle raised an eyebrow. That was both always and never a good sign and Lorn didn't know what to make of it. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but her only real requirement is a local man, correct?"

Lord sighed. "Yes, but--"

...well I'll be damned.

So much for figuring he'd never see Searle laugh if they both lived to be a thousand and twelve. "Uh... mind letting me in on whatever you find so amusing?"

"My apologies." He allowed himself a few more chuckles, then recomposed, though a smug sort of smile remained. It was probably the closest Searle ever came to looking friendly. "I always manage to forget your lack of mental agility. Anyway... I take it it hasn't occurred to you that there's a simple way to solve both these problems at once?"

Leave it to Searle to point that out. "What gave it away?"

"A rather snide tone to take with the man who just solved both your problems, don't you think?" He gave a funny sort of wink, one that was enough to make Lorn consider leaping forward and clawing those cocky blue eyes out. "Just host a tournament."

"...what?"

"A tournament. Late spring, early summer... whenever the weather is optimal over here."

A tournament. Now it was Lorn's turn to raise the eyebrow. "And how will that solve my problems?"

"Simple. Offer a knighthood to the top however many."

He blinked--more than once. That actually sounded like a decent idea. But what about...? "And how would this involve my sister?"

"Well." That smug face was lit with a smirk that put greedy cats everywhere to shame. "There ought to be a nice bonus for the winner, correct?"

...

"You want me to offer my sister as a tournament trophy?"

"What? No!" Searle's hand waved with all the carefree slack of a mispronounced name or slightly strong tea. Lorn had half a mind to rip it right off of him. "You are showing Rona that you refuse to give her anything less than the man who proves his worth."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm offering her as a tournament trophy!"

Searle rolled his eyes. God, that strange blue was going to be haunting his nightmares for weeks. "Look. Lorn. Rona told you her only preference was a man in Naroni, correct? Nothing else? She'll be perfectly fine with whoever you choose as long as she gets to stay in Naroni?"

Well... "Yes..."

"Then you're doing her one better." Searle's mouth twitched, probably unused to holding that smile for so long. At least he was trying, Lorn supposed. "Since the winner will be named a Knight of Naroni, he'll have to live in Naroni, so that fulfills Rona's condition. Additionally, he's enough of a man to win a competitive tournament for the hand of a fair lady, meaning that he's both a worthy knight and that he cared enough about winning--and by extension, obtaining the offer of her hand--to do so. Where exactly do you see a problem here?"

Oh dear God. There was nothing he could say. Where oh where was his mother when he needed her?

"You're welcome. There, now you have both those dilemmas resolved and now you can concentrate on your... 'stalemate', was it?" He snickered, like no one had ever been in a tight spot before. "Now, make sure you save me and mine some of the best seats for the tournament, all right? Lord knows it's been far too long since I've witnessed a good bludgeoning."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Severin Has One More Reason

2011-11-27T23:30:00.004-08:00

April 9, 1177

"Quite bit bigger than the last few, isn't she?" Severin noted, raising the baby to his shoulder and rubbing her back with the tips of his fingers. As little as he'd planned on another child--hell, as little as he'd planned on the last ten of them--it couldn't be too much of an issue, having another little one around the castle. Roddie was now living with Isidro and Riona as a page, and in the interest of fairness that meant that Falidor would be going to Searle and Donnie to Lonriad. It was only a matter of time before Vera was out of here too, as well as his stepchildren. That left CeeCee and the new baby, plus Jadin's children; as crowded as it was, he supposed it would be nice not dying in an empty house.

"You couldn't tell from Nora's screams?" Chuckling to herself, his mother blew a kiss toward her newest little granddaughter. She probably never thought she'd have so many. "Anyway. I gave Nora a mixture of mine. Told her to take it every morning after breakfast; as long as she's diligent about it, you should be able to avoid having another child while still keeping yourselves occupied."

Only now? Oh well. Now that he had them, he wouldn't have given up the kids he already had. Still... "Mother, if my arms weren't so full of baby right now, I'd be twirling you all around the room."

"Well it was damn necessary, considering you apparently have all the self-control of an adolescent rabbit." She smirked, gesturing for him to let her see the baby again; Severin lowered the girl to his mother's eye level, earning the baby a wave a silly face. "Cute little things, though. But for God's sake, you're forty-four years old; most people your age are dead."

"An odd thought, coming from my own mother."

"Oh, just shut your damn mouth and let me get my fill of this little girl while I have the chance." While I have the chance? That was an odd choice of phrasing. "You know, I was hoping she wouldn't be born until that Lorn boy had found another priest, but I suppose she won't be out of your sight for a while anyway."

"And speaking of Lorn's priests, are you ever going to tell me exactly what's going on with Brother Remiel?"

His mother sprung out of her hunch and glared at him, though he nearly missed it in his shock. He probably would have frozen at the sound of his own slip if not for the baby in his arms. It was a happy day and he'd promised himself he wouldn't ruin it by pestering her, but some part of him must have had other ideas. Maybe it was the sensible part. There were some crises even a birth couldn't push aside.

"Well? Are you?"

Her eyes flickered toward the bedroom door, then to the baby--then back to his, a hurt sort of annoyance throughout. "Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you when you say he's bad news." And how could she think he didn't? After what he'd done to Severin's little girl? "But you haven't been clear on the details. How do you know him anyway?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

And how was it not? Especially if she knew Brother Remiel as well as she seemed to. Especially now that Severin had one more reason to get to the bottom of this. "Mother, if my family is in danger, then anything you can tell me is my business."

"Just stay away from him." She tapped her foot, the finality of the beat lingering in a paradoxical echo. "Stay away from him, and keep your children and grandchildren away from him too. That's all you need to know."

"Mother, I'm not satisfied."

She shrugged, then turned around and made her way back toward the bedroom. "Tough."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Aldhein Has to Be Honest

2011-11-25T22:31:00.003-08:00

March 23, 1177

Lorn snapped out of his slouch as if tied to some invisible string Aldhein had triggered. There was an art to feigned surprise and the young duke had yet to master it; if he had intended to appear busy, or at the very least that he wasn't actively waiting, he'd failed. But no matter. Frankly, after those painful few Geneva-medicated years of Roderick, Aldhein preferred his noblemen urgent and no-nonsense. "Your grace."

"Aldhein." Lorn flicked the corner of the letter in front of him. He'd probably finished it twenty minutes prior, but God forbid that a duke appear idle. "I've just received a letter from my cousin in Dovia."

"Oh?" Aldhein inquired, resisting the urge to ask which cousin. "Any news?"

"Apparently he's planning a visit some time within the next few months." Cringing, the duke pulled himself out of the chair and kicked it back into place. Oh--that cousin. "Lucky me. Anyway... you went over all those documents from the monastery."

"I did."

"And?"

Aldhein sighed. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" In spite of his insistence on the investigation, Lorn looked a little shocked. Not that Aldhein could blame him; there was something about that Brother Remiel that just wasn't right. "Nothing? He never even stole quills from the scriptorium or anything?"

"No." Aldhein rested his index finger on his wedding ring and spun it. He was a man who preferred one-word answers when possible. Curse their frequent ambiguity. "By 'nothing' I mean 'there is literally no mention of a Brother Remiel in any of the documents'."

"...what?"

The height of Lorn's eyebrow was almost impressive--as was the depth of his frown. Aldhein didn't think he had any need to be apologetic--he'd only read the damn things, after all--but he bowed his head anyway. "Although you might want to know that the monk who delivered them said they'd had a fire some decades back and a certain percentage of their archive was lost."

"Decades? Recently enough that Remiel might have been there?"

Aldhein shrugged. "How old do you suppose he is?"

"Assuming he wasn't some sort of theological prodigy? Not old enough to have been mentioned in documents destroyed 'decades' ago." His lower lip obscured by the upper, the duke tucked a rebellious lock behind his ear. "Maybe start looking around for possible replacements. For now, I'll station a guard in the chapel and I'll consult Lord Severin as to the logical next move."

For all servants were supposed to keep their mouths shut, Aldhein had to be honest here. "Sir, you had me at 'replacement'."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Raia Sees the Point

2011-11-24T00:33:00.005-08:00

March 20, 1177

"Ha! I can jump higher than you!"

"Nuh-uh! You just think that because you're taller!"

"Prove it!"

"I will!"

The sun had come early this year, but the past week had been plagued by such fierce winds that the children had been confined to the house despite the inviting skies and it went without saying that they were all feeling a little crowded. At least Alina and Sev had another live-in playmate for the time, Raia figured. Her nephew Dalston had come down with some nasty fever near the beginning of the month, so her father had sent the younger children away out of fear they'd catch it as well. Roddie was with Riona, which was just as well considering that Isidro had been meaning to take him as a page anyway. Lyssa and CeeCee were at Searle and Lettie's while Lonriad and Asalaye had taken Donnie. That left Raia with Falidor, which had led to some confusion with her husband of the same name and all... but he was Alina's age almost to the day and they played well together.

Most of the time, anyway.

"Rai-uh! Alina's trying to push me off the couch!"

Maddie giggled. Not really sure how concerned for anyone's welfare she was at the moment--she hadn't had a moment to herself in a good week, after all--Raia turned back to her grandmother. "But you did get your money in the end, right?"

"Raia, honey--I always get my money in the end." She winked, the hilt of a dagger peeking out from her belt. "That husband of yours owes me a couple of coppers, by the way; would you believe he got all the way to the baker's before he realized he'd forgotten his wallet."

That did sound like something Falidor would do. "I believe it."

Her grandmother laughed. "Good thing that man's head is attached, that's for sure. But on a more positive note, I saw little Dalston today. Still a frail little thing, but the worst of the fever's gone now. I'm sure young Falidor here will be going home soon."

"Aww!" moaned Falidor from the couch. "That means I'll have to start eating vegetables again!"

"Ha!" Alina chirped. "Grandpapa and Auntie Nora never make me eat vegetables."

"But my sister does."

"Shut up!"

Raia sighed. Even if they could sort of watch themselves now, she kind of missed the days when they couldn't talk. At least Sev was being nice and quiet, even if he was bothering the puppy. At her side, her grandmother chuckled. "They grow up so fast."

"Too fast," Raia agreed. And not fast enough!

Ah, but they'd been jumping for a good half hour or so; they were due to tire themselves out any minute now. When they did, they knew better than to come crying to her. She had a guest, after all.

"Anyway. I was thinking of riding up to Armion tomorrow to visiting Lear--"

However her grandmother managed to cut people off with the twitch of an eyebrow, she wished she knew. "Oh no. No, you are not going to Armion."

Ack. Remiel. Not that she wasn't suspicious of the man--after what he'd done to her little sisters!--but she couldn't understand why Laveria's forbidden sphere kept growing. First the chapel--fair enough, that was obvious anyway. Then the castle's entire south side--understandably cautious. But the whole shire? Brother Remiel couldn't be everywhere at once. "I wasn't planning on stopping by the chapel."

"I don't care. I don't want any of you within a mile of that man--not even your father, for all he thinks he can take care of himself. Duchess or not, your friend can visit you here."

But there were nannies at Leara's castle. Nannies! It was too much to ask of Maddie, watching four children under six and a puppy just so Raia could catch up with a friend. "But it's much more convenient--"

"More convenient? Ha!" As if she found anything funny. "I'll tell you what's convenient, girl: staying the hell away from that man, that's what. Now, don't you be running off where that son of a bitch might find you. And if you won't think of yourself..." The old lady grabbed the edge of the table and leaned forward, peering into the sitting area. "Think of your children, at least."

Raia glanced down at her son, who was still rubbing his face against the squirming Shadow's back, then up at her daughter and brother--still bouncing but not with the energy of before, thank God. Her babies. Christ, how they drove her up the wall, both of them. And yet, daily life would've been the dullest sort of hell if they didn't.

Defeated--graciously so, almost thankfully so--Raia locked eyes with her grandmother and nodded. "I see your point."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Florian Tries Something New

2011-11-22T23:52:00.003-08:00

March 2, 1177

The baron's daughters were not quiet, solemn girls. They were nothing on Florian's Alyssin, of course--when it came to being loud and obnoxious, who was?--but they'd always been friendly and talkative enough. But now, all Pandora could offer was a mumbled greeting of "Florian" and Thallie paid him only a glance. How were these the same girls who'd been joking with him mere days ago?

But whatever. It wasn't as if he showed up at work just to chat with the baron's daughters--not while they still had some filling out to do, at any rate. "Is your father in?"

Thallie squirmed in her seat; Pandora gestured toward the door. "If you need something, Sparron's in the study."

Sparron? But that meant... "Where's your father, then?"

Thallie took to picking at the embroidery on her sleeve. "Sitting with Mother."

Her sister shot her a glare, but Florian nearly missed it. Was Holladrin that sick? He knew she hadn't been well lately, but ill enough for her husband to drop everything? And during the quarterly taxes, no less? "Is she all right?"

"Well, she's been a lot worse, but..." Pandora trailed off, sharing a quick glance with her sister before looking back up at him. The blue eyes he'd always teased her parents about had never looked more like her father's hazel. "I suppose you'll find out eventually anyway. Mother is with child. Arydath just confirmed it."

Well... that was troubling. "I thought they weren't going to try for any more on account of her health."

"They weren't," Thallie confirmed, her full lips forming a grim line. "But you know how it is."

Amen to that. God, she looked so much like her mother--the heart-shaped face, those soft blue eyes, that silky golden hair. He hoped Holladrin had been so healthy in her youth. He hoped Thallie would not be so unwell in her womanhood. "I see."

Thallie nodded and took to staring blankly in front of her. Beside her, Pandora shook her head, pleading eyes like desperate prayers that had fallen on deaf ears. Poor girl was getting close to fourteen and by the standards of some nobles, she could have been a mother herself. But Florian had been born a peasant; fourteen was not so much an age to be a mother as it was an age to need one.

"Father is furious with himself. He was already worried sick about Mother, plus Sparron and Jeda, and now this happens. I don't know if he'll be able to live with himself if she dies."

Her younger sister squirmed. The feeling shared, Florian bowed his head and sighed. Poor Holladrin. Poor, sweet Holladrin who'd never done anything to deserve the unlucky hand she'd been dealt by her own blood. And to think--she was probably laughing just then, making small talk, trying to distract her beloved from this and everything else. What an unfortunate family they were if the loving mistress couldn't find the time to worry about her own ailing self.

And Florian cared more than he thought he did if he couldn't even think of a well-timed remark.

Maybe it was time to try something new. They were only little girls, after all, of an age with a couple of his own children. Perhaps he could be reassuring. No... he'd never been good at reassuring, not without resorting to cliches at any rate. Still...

"Well... she survived four of you, right?" That didn't sound quite right, Florian had to note as Thallie cringed. There had to be a better way to say this. "Maybe it won't be a problem. At least it gives her an excuse to take it easy, right?"

Pandora indulged him with a weak attempt at a smile. It wasn't convincing, but he supposed he'd give it to her. She was very young, after all. "I hope you're right."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lucien Makes a Rule

2011-11-20T19:48:00.004-08:00

February 21, 1177

"...but they can investigate all they like. They shan't find anything. They have no idea where to even begin." The scratches of Remiel's quill ceased and the parchment ruffled as he filed whatever it was away. "Even if they can connect me to her, she can't say anything without ruining her family's reputation. And you, of course..." A small sniff escaped Remiel's nose and bounced from wall to wall before falling into Lucien's ear. "Well. It's not like you'll be telling them anything.

"Anyway. We should be safe here. And now that we know that she has a family in the area... Well. With the way they seem to breed, I should be set for quite some time after you're gone. I'll occasionally have to duck out of the country for a couple decades or so to avoid rousing suspicion, but I've been through longer droughts. And I suppose I could always take some obscure bastard with me, just in case.

"But the state of the bloodline is troubling, I'll admit. That Riona girl is a quarter and I couldn't get much energy out of her. And her husband? He's nothing special. I can't imagine any of their spouses are; hell, I have enough trouble finding you creatures and I know to look for you. Their children will be eighths, and who knows how little they might be worth. Sixteenths, thirty-seconds...

"Hmm. The younger sister. I didn't see a ring on her finger. Perhaps I'll breed her with you--you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Lucien's fingers curled into a tight fist. Remiel wasn't allowed to talk about Vera. Not that Lucien had any say in what Remiel did or didn't do, but Remiel wasn't allowed to even think about Vera, and especially not like that.

"I think I'd prefer the other myself--always did have an affinity for red hair, you know. Black is a little ordinary for tastes. Then again, not as if you can tell the diff--Boy!"

A splash of water soon turned to sizzling. A sleeve shook, drops hitting the floor like tiny mallets on a solid drum. "How many times must I tell you about the candles? If I want them lit, I'll do so myself; at least I can find the wicks!" The rim of his robe dragged along the hardwood, a few firm, irritated steps drawing nearer. "Now. I believe you owe me an apology. And it so happens I'm feeling a little faint."

He knew what that meant. It was a bit funny, really--how many ways there could be of saying the same thing. Funny, and perhaps a bit frightening how each was an incantation of utmost obedience.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Isidro Gets an Update

2011-11-18T23:11:00.004-08:00

February 20, 1177

"Well, you're not quite as playful as your sister was, are you?" Jadin asked his son as he bounced him up and down--to the boy's slight distaste, at least so far as Isidro could see. "Oh well. Your Uncle Lonriad was a tiny, sickly little thing too--and look how well he turned out!"

The baby wore some primitive look of horror that Isidro might have found funny had he been in a laughing sort of mood. In his own arms, Shahira rested her head on his shoulder and tugged at his hair. It was the only thing keeping him sane. "Are you really that keen on raising a boy like Lonriad?"

"In this family, it's pretty much inevitable." Jadin lifted Dalston to his face and tried to nuzzle noses; Dalston only wailed. "And if not this one, it'll be the next--which could be pretty soon, come to think of it. I swear to God, Xeta's trying to ride me to an early grave."

"Ride?" Alya dropped one of Lyssa's dolls, allowing her cousin to reclaim it. "Uncle Jadin, are you a horse?"

Lyssa giggled and Shahira gave an inquisitive glance. Isidro returned it with a strained grimace as Jadin snickered. "Yes, Alya. Uncle Jadin is a very happy horse."

That was a mental image that wasn't going anywhere any time soon. "So we're sharing adult anecdotes in front of the children now, are we?"

"I am," Jadin corrected him, not taking his eyes off of little Dalston. "You can't, because you're married to my sister and if you say anything about her, I'll box you. And if you say anything about some other woman, I'll box you even harder. Oh, and speaking of sisters--and Brothers--I saw Lorn yesterday."

"Oh?" About damn time. Isidro had been over there every morning that week, only to be sent away at the door by an irate Aldhein on the grounds that 'the investigation was still in progress'. He'd tried sending a few other people on his behalf--Sparron, Raia, Had--but none of them had fared any better. Frankly, he didn't know how Lorn couldn't see it. Well, unless this Remiel character was a much better actor than he'd bothered to let Isidro know.

Jadin nodded. "He sent a letter off to Brother Remiel's old monastery. Apparently the man keeps to himself and the only person around who seems to really know him is that kid--who can't talk. The letter's his best chance; it'll probably take another week or so, but at least he's doing something."

Isidro frowned while Shahira squirmed, trying to climb up onto his shoulder. Another week or so. Who knew how many women a priest could see in a week? Far too many. At least Riona had the sense to stay away, and at least Severin had told Vera to keep her distance. Still. Not everyone was lucky enough to know better. "I hope he's at least keeping an eye on the man while he waits."

"I'll say." After a loving look for the girls on the floor, Jadin lowered Dalston into his crib and sighed. "So... what if nothing comes up? Are you just going to drop it, or...?" He trailed off, leaving Isidro to fill it in for himself.

A tiny fist clenched the fabric of Isidro's tunic. Shahira pawed herself to the level of his cheek and endowed it with a sloppy kiss. He returned it with a squeeze, then locked eyes with Jadin and shook his head. "I don't care if he has a cleaner record than Christ himself; I'm not raising my daughters in a country where men like that don't get what's coming to them."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Leara Persists After a Minute's Rest

2011-11-16T23:46:00.003-08:00

February 13, 1177

If it wasn't one thing around these parts, then it was another. Leara had been up half the night as a result of her daughter's nightmares, only to wake to find that her son had stolen an entire cake from the kitchens and was sick as a result. Ricky had been asking for Papa, so she'd set off to find Lorn--only to realize that he was in conference with a stubborn Sir Isidro, calling for an investigation of that bizarre Brother Remiel. She'd had to turn around and assure her son that Papa would be with him as soon as he could before she finally had a minute to sit down and breathe.

A minute. Literally one minute and Aydelle was there, Rona's new maid in tow, tears streaming down the girl's face. Something about the sloppy state of the ties on Rona's sleeves. If the poor child's shuddering state had been any indication, her fingers must have been shaky--not that Leara could blame her, considering that Rona had done nothing but criticize Electra since she'd started.

Really. It was about time someone had a chat with that girl, but it figured that it would have to be today. "Mind if I join you?"

Her sister-in-law shrugged. "You're the duchess."

An exasperated 'Fine!' if there ever was one. Sighing, Leara shut the door and dragged her tired form to the empty side of the bed, easing herself down beside Rona. "Your sleeves don't look that bad."

"They're too loose." Rona waved her arm up and down as if to prove her point. "And before that, they were too tight. And before that, they were too loose--again. That stupid girl has no concept of moderation."

Really--they looked about the same as they always did. Leara bit her lip. "Well, I suppose you're the one who can feel it. But don't you think you're being a little hard on her? She's quite young, you know." Too young. Indeed, Lorn probably wouldn't have hired her if her father hadn't been so damn persistent, but she knew better than to say it aloud; if Rona knew that she'd only gotten the job by virtue of being Florian's daughter, her poor maid would never hear the end of it.

Rona sniffed. "Lady Leonora wasn't much older when she went to work for Lady Alina. I doubt she was so incompetent."

Incompetence. As if this had anything to do with it. Eleven-year-old steward's daughter or experienced, highly-skilled lady's maid extraordinaire, Rona had resolved to be unsatisfied and it wasn't that hard to figure out why. "Honey, I know you and Aspen were friends, but--"

"But what? She stood up for me and lost her job because of it?"

Leara hesitated. It was true... but then again so was everything else. Standing up for her lady or not, a servant couldn't chew out a knight--much less spit on him--and get away with it. Surely Rona understood that? "It's more complicated than that. If Lorn hadn't let her go, we would have risked offending Sir Lonriad--and by extension, his family. And considering how great of a mentor Lord Severin was to Lorn after your father died..."

"Leara, I doubt Lord Severin would have wanted her fired." Rona picked at the ribbon beneath her bust. That did look a little snug, Leara supposed; maybe Electra's exaggerated shortcomings weren't without basis. "Besides, didn't Lonriad insult our family first? He passed me over for a farm girl!"

But you didn't even love him, Leara wanted to remind her. You just wanted to marry someone in the area. "Rona, we'll find someone--"

"This isn't about that." All semblance of good posture abandoned, Rona slumped toward the foot of the bed, her golden head sinking into the pillow. "I just never knew you could miss someone so much."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Vera Makes an Introduction

2011-11-15T16:15:00.003-08:00

February 12, 1177

Oddly conscious of her brother-in-law's eyes drilling into the back of her skull, Vera's toes twitched against the lining of her boot. She hadn't meant to bring the entourage, but she'd made the apparently stupid mistake of mentioning to Riona that she was planning on visiting the mysterious blind boy at Lorn's chapel. At the mention of the place, Riona's face had flushed a sickly white, an alien sort of panic in her eyes as she insisted on accompanying her--which would have been bad enough if Isidro hadn't been in the room to decide that anything Riona found worrisome was worth the extra supervision of his own self.

Figuring she couldn't be less comfortable anyway, Vera slouched against the hard back of the pew. As much as she loved them both, it was difficult to have a conversation amidst Riona's frequent interruptions and Isidro's unyielding surveillance. She didn't think she'd said two words since arriving. The boy must have thought her an awful bore. "Sorry about this."

The boy shrugged. Riona's response was a bit more verbal. "What? Was he hoping you two would have some time alone?"

"Riona!" Vera shot her sister a glare, then turned back to the boy. "Really. My sister knows better than... that."

The boy gave a sheepish little half-smile. Funny how he could manage it without having seen one... or had he? She supposed she could ask, but there wouldn't be much point in it when he couldn't answer.

"Look, were you planning on doing anything other than just sitting there?" Behind her, Riona's foot tapped against the floorboards, the sound echoing slightly off the chapel's stone walls. "I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."

Vera rolled her eyes. "Then go. No one's stopping you."

Riona said nothing, but neither did she move. What was her issue with this place anyway? It wasn't all that long ago when she'd been a regular visitor. Had she and Rona had a falling out? They weren't fighting over the whole Lonriad-and-Aspen thing, were they?

More than a little annoyed, she glanced back at the boy, who was looking back at her--or at least, had his head turned somewhat in her direction. His smile was gone, a concerned frown in its place. "You all right?"

He swallowed. Not like he could tell her anything more than that. Why had she even asked? Stupid!

"I wish you could answer me."

"I'm surprised to see you back so soon."

The voice was alarming enough to drive Vera out of her seat--and Riona too, it seemed. Then again, it was the parish priest. Vera had only ever seen him among crowds, but somehow she wasn't surprised to learn he had that power.

"We were just leaving." Riona reached for Vera's arm and guided her around the pew, then started toward the door and gestured for her to follow. As she passed him, Vera exchanged a look with a suspicious Isidro, who drew himself to his feet and shuffled warily after them.

Brother Remiel's strange eyes glinted. "Were you, now?"

"Yes." Riona's response was quick--too quick.

A twisted sort of smile played on Remiel's lips. Vera fell queasy at the sight of the thing; for all the way it curved, it didn't feel like a smile at all. "Surely not without a kiss on her ladyship's hand?"

Riona then did something Vera had never seen her do--quiver. The motion unyielding, she took a stunted half-step backward as Brother Remiel drew nearer; Isidro took her in his arms and did his best to steady her. "It is a privilege to kiss her ladyship's hand, not an entitlement--and judging by her body language, I take it you haven't been granted the honor."

Vera's heart beat a little faster as her brother-in-law's grip on her sister tightened. It was a new level of tension even for Isidro and she couldn't blame him at all; if a man could set Riona trembling, then a little tension was nothing.

Unimpressed, Remiel crossed his arms. "I take it you're the husband."

"That's right--and clergyman or not, I won't have you so much as looking at my wife without her leave."

A bored sniff escaping him, Remiel obliged--not out of defeat, Vera knew acutely, but disregard. "Very well. Now who is this one?" Those eerie golden eyes left Riona and landed instead on Vera. Some icy chain wrapped itself around her spine and choked. "Your sister, I take it?"

"Don't even think about it," Isidro snarled.

Remiel chuckled under his breath. If Vera had ever heard a less inviting laugh, she'd made a point to forget it. "Sir, I believe you gravely misjudge my motives. I am simply making a point to introduce myself to a patron of my chapel--nothing more."

He held out his hand for her to shake it, an impatient twitch hinting that he might grab for hers if she refused to offer it. She tried to raise it if only to chase him off, but found she couldn't; the ice around her spine had spread throughout her arm.

"You're being quite rude, you know." His hand drew a little nearer, needling downward in a dive for her own. Riona cringed. Isidro scowled, easing his hold on Riona as if preparing to charge on Remiel. Unable to even step back, Vera closed her eyes and braced herself.

But he never touched her. There was something--someone--blocking the way.

In spite of it all, she had to smile.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Jeda Knows She Shouldn't

2011-11-14T00:15:00.003-08:00

January 31, 1177

Somehow almost forgetting her own girth, Jeda launched herself into her brother's arms and squealed. "You're back!"

"So it seems." Sparron lifted her a few inches off the floor and spun her once around, then set her back down and stepped back, looking her over. "I see someone can't fit into her old gowns."

Giggling, Jeda landed a light swat on his shoulder. How she'd missed his teasing! No one else dared tease the Crown Princess. Ah, who was she kidding? No one else cared enough. "How are things in Dovia?"

"Same old--wedding this, pregnancy that, someone's dead and everywhere you look there's a kid with the duke's face. It was nice to get away, though." He reached for a stray lock of her hair and tucked it back. After all these awful years, it was good to see him smile again. "Nice, but a bit lonely. Come with me next time?"

It did sound tempting. Unrealistic, but tempting. Shaking her head, Jeda gave her swollen belly a half-hearted pat and sighed. "I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a while."

"You could always come home."

Jeda sighed. She hated to wipe the grin off his face now that its long absence had finally ended, but someone had to be practical here. Ietrin was her husband--and her husband was the Crown Prince of Naroni. For all she didn't love him and he didn't love her, she was his lawful wife and he needed a legitimate heir. For all her father could intimidate him with threats and death glares, it wasn't as if he could actually lay a hand on him. For all Sparron could smile, she couldn't go home. God, she wished she could.

But that wasn't going to happen and everybody knew it. "The baby--"

"--can come with you. Dea too." With a spontaneity she never would've guessed he had, he took her by the hand and twirled her beneath the arch of their arms. She'd seen such maneuvers before--Lorn and Leara, Jadin and Xeta, her father and stepmother--but never before had anyone tried such a thing on her. She supposed it was rather thrilling, at least compared to what she was used to... even if he was only her brother. "You know what? I hope you have another girl--just to spite that son of a bitch."

She knew she shouldn't. But she had to.

Had to laugh. "And I'll name her Geneva--so I can spite the king too!"

A clear, impressed chuckle rang from Sparron's mouth. Jeda nearly stumbled backward in the rush of her own daring. She shouldn't have said it and she knew it, but like the laughter before, she'd just had to let it out. And for the first time in a long time, she felt... good.

At least, until reality came back to bite her in the fat, pregnant ass.

"But if I have another girl, Ietrin won't leave me alone. He'll probably bother me twice as much." And try to make me feel twice as guilty about it, too.

Nodding, her briefly-vibrant twin faded back to his usual grim. She hated to see him so miserable, but she knew that feeling went both ways. The world was a snarling bitch and she'd made chew toys of the both of them. "I hope you have a boy, then. And who knows? Maybe if you have a boy, Ietrin will let you take the children and come back home."

It wasn't something she could guarantee. He knew it, she knew it, their father knew it... they all did. But it was always nice to have a new hope, or at least it was before one remembered the sting it left when it died. "With any luck."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Aspen Can't Do Much

2011-11-11T18:30:00.005-08:00

January 5, 1177

"There you are!" Rona placed her hands on the arms of her chair and propelled herself to her feet, a wide grin on her face. She must not have heard; regardless, it was a little heartening to still be in someone's good books, especially those of the person who mattered most. "I haven't seen you since this morning. Where have you been?"

Aspen swallowed. It was hard to hurt someone with such a smile. It was equally tough to lie to such eyes. But knowing her luck, it was either one or the other. "Your brother just fired me."

Rona blinked in recoil as if stunned by a sudden slap to the face--tawny eyes wide, pouty bottom lip falling agape. "He didn't."

What could she say to her? He had--and as much as she wished otherwise, it wasn't as if she could argue. He was a duke, after all. "I'm sorry."

Shaking her head, Rona scuttled forward, golden curls bouncing about as they always did, though the effect was not what it was on happier days. A pang of guilt shot through Aspen's gut. Whatever had occurred to her when she'd done what she did, this had somehow never crossed her mind--Rona getting hurt. She supposed it would have been vain to think she might, but now it seemed insensitive to assume otherwise. Not that such musings were worth much now. "There must have been some mistake. Maybe he--"

"He didn't do anything. I did something stupid and I have to face the consequences."

You have to face the consequences. It was the same line her father had given her every time she'd needed to be punished. Builds discipline, he'd claimed. That's an important thing, discipline. It's what turns boys into men. I don't know much about girls, but I'm sure it's what turns them into women too, at least a part of it. You can't expect to get far in this world without it. Can't do much for yourself or your loved ones if you never grow up. If only he could see her now--his only child, stripped of a post she'd held for years on account of a juvenile outburst. For his sake, she hoped the dead had no window to the living.

"What did you do?"

Aspen shook her head. It was selfish and she knew it--and pointless, as someone was bound to tell her soon--but she didn't think she could bear to leave if she didn't at least have Rona's respect. "It doesn't matter now."

"But it can't have been anything too bad!" Rona rocked forward, her hands clasped together and a glimmer of hope in her eyes. If nothing else, Aspen supposed she could appreciate the faith. "I know--I'll talk to my mother. She can talk some sense into Lorn, I'm sure of it. If she could make him--"

"Rona, I don't know if your mother will take my side in this." The sparks of hope flickered. Aspen couldn't decide if it was crueler to snuff them or let them burn out on their own. "I wouldn't blame her if she didn't, really. I already told you I deserve it."

Hurt, Rona turned away. She took a few steps toward the hearth, a sigh inaudible yet evident in the shrug of her shoulders. "You can't go.

"I always thought that if Lorn sent me away, at least I'd have you with me."

Aspen stared down at the floor and shuffled after her. What to say? She couldn't tell her it was all a misunderstanding. She couldn't promise that Lorn wouldn't send Rona away. She couldn't do much of anything--not anything that could help. "I'm sorry."

"You'll at least visit, right?" Rona turned back and pulled Aspen into a tight hug, the curve of her chin digging into the base of Aspen's neck. "Once everything blows over, I mean. Promise me?"

She didn't know if she could even do that. She wasn't sure where she'd go once she'd packed her bags, how long she'd be, if she'd even last the month. But it was important enough that--if nothing else--it at least merited a try. "I promise."

NEXT CHAPTER: