In Which Florian's Peace is Disturbed

December 3, 1155

No longer able to ignore the distinct sound of a child's cries, Florian pulled himself from his bed with a yawn. Damn kids.

Wait a minute, he thought to himself, the nearest village is a good twenty minute walk from here; why in the blazes would there be small children out here?

Florian had never been particularly fond of children, even as one; he found them to be loud, sloppy, and ignorant, with very few redeeming features at all. But when he really thought about it, most adults were the same way--so he wasn't so much a child-hater as he was purely misanthropic.

Maybe he would have been better off if he was dying like Electra seemed to think he was. That way, he'd no longer have to put up with people, and they'd no longer have to put up with him. However, it wasn't as if he really was dying--hell, he was barely even sick!

No, if anything, Electra was probably just trying to justify their marriage in her own mind. She and Hamrick had been so in love, and he had just been the brother-in-law that had been an unwanted, yet tolerable part of the deal. Electra found Florian about as romantically appealing as a rotting animal corpse, and he honestly didn't give a damn, seeing as he was not particularly attracted to her either.

And yet, he bore her no contempt; in fact, she was probably his favorite person left on the face of the earth. He did love her like the older sister he'd never had, but really, he just felt like he was nothing but a burden on her. If it wasn't for him, she'd be back in Dovia, trying to find a man she could actually love and make a batch of whining little snots with like she never would with him.

Yes, Electra had suffered a lot of miscarriages and had never born a child, but Florian was thoroughly convinced that this was not because of a problem with her. His mother too had lost numerous babies before giving birth to Hamrick, and quite a few more before Florian had come along. The two women, of course, had nothing in common biologically, but their husbands had been father and son. His father had struggled to impregnate his wife, and his brother had failed to impregnate his--doubtlessly, Florian would not be any more successful if Electra ever gave him the chance.

Not that he minded, considering he didn't even like kids.

Speaking of kids, whatever brat had been screaming a moment before seemed to have shut up. Regardless, Florian was curious now that he was awake; maybe Electra knew something about it. He staggered to the door and strained for any sound of her in the kitchen, but he heard nothing.

Maybe she had fallen asleep, or was doing some sewing or something quiet like that. Deciding to go and see for himself, he dressed as quickly as his tired body would allow him, then left the bedroom.

But Electra wasn't in the kitchen.

Good Lord, where in the name of hell is that woman? he demanded inwardly. She must be out in the field, even though I'm perfectly capable of tending it myself.

He really was, he found himself reassured once more as he made his way into the enclosed field. He had started this farm almost nine months ago now, and already his crops were flourishing. Plants sure grew fast in Naroni, he had noticed--he could have sworn all those trees on the property hadn't been there when they'd first arrived.

As many blossoming fruit trees as the small enclosure contained, however, there was not a single woman. Clearly, Electra was not home.

Damn, Florian thought bitterly. Oh well, at least she figures she can leave me alone and not worry about me dying while she's gone now. I wonder where she could be though. I don't think we need anything from the market... maybe she's out looking for a man.

He hoped she was; he didn't want to stand in the way of Electra's quest for a second chance at true love.

Upon reentering the house, Florian froze. For some strange reason, the unused corner of the kitchen had been sectioned off with a pair of old, graying curtains. And speaking of curtains, there were now some on the window that peeked into this new little pseudo-room. Why had Electra made curtains for one window and none of the others?

Actually, the curtain on the window looked too fine to be the work of a farmer's wife, and the material appeared to be much nicer than they could afford anyway--those berry-colored drapes had to have been a gift.

But from who? As far as Florian knew, they had no friends.

"She's waking up," stated an unfamiliar male voice from behind the cloth walls. "We don't need to worry about being quiet any longer. God, I've never come across such a light sleeper as this little girl here!"

Hoping he wouldn't be noticed, Florian edged toward the intersection of the two old sheets and peered through to see a sight he had certainly not been expecting; there in that makeshift bedchamber stood Electra and a tall, dark, handsome stranger, their arms crossed and a certain seriousness about them both, as well as... a cradle? This made no sense. Sure, Florian occasionally slept for days or weeks on end, but surely he had not slumbered long enough for Electra to have carried out an entire pregnancy?

"So you are certain your husband won't mind?" the man inquired of Electra.

She nodded. "Florian probably won't see much of her anyway. He spends most of his time resting, and when he is not, he insists on working."

Slightly offended, Florian felt a scowl curl up on his lips. 'He spends most of his time resting...' well, whose fault is that, Electra?

The stranger sent a warm smile Electra's way. "In that case, Electra, I leave her in your capable hands."

So there was going to be a baby around the house. A whining, sniveling baby who would grow into a bawling little brat, then an excessively chatty girl. Great.

Well, no matter. Like Electra had said, he spent all his time resting and working--he and this little intruder couldn't possibly cross paths too often. With that settled, Florian took a seat at the table, prepared to wait patiently for Electra to serve him breakfast... or was it lunch?

"Good afternoon."

Florian closed his eyes in slight annoyance; the stranger had emerged from the curtain.

"You must be Goodman Tumekrin," the man ventured.

"Florian," he corrected him. "Goodman Tumekrin was my father."

"I see. Do you mind if I join you?"

"I don't think you need an answer," Florian snarled in reply. "You seem the type to do as he pleases regardless of whether I mind or not."

The man laughed as he crossed to the other side of the table and pulled up a chair. "Right you are. Your wife told me you were somewhat disagreeable, but so far, I can agree with every word you've said."

"Then perhaps we are simply both disagreeable."

Once again, the stranger chuckled to himself. This would not do.

"So tell me," Florian began, smiling so widely his face hurt, "are you the man who's been sleeping with my wife?"

This seemed to have done the trick; the other appeared mildly offended. "No. I only met her today, and I am wildly in love with my own wife. Besides, I don't think your wife is the adulterous kind."

"Right then."

Florian stood and began to make his way to the fireplace. "Do you mind if I light a fire? It's a little chilly in here."

"It's your house," answered the man.

So the accusation of adultery hadn't gotten the point across. Florian had to get this pest out of the house before he tried to do something stupid--like try to befriend him.

He lit a hasty fire then began to warm his hands, all the while acutely aware that the stranger had risen from his seat and was now standing fairly closely behind him.

"So I couldn't help but notice you seemed rather cheerful for a man with suspicions of his wife's unfaithfulness," the other man mused.

"She's all I have left," replied Florian truthfully. "My mother's dead, my father's dead, my brother's dead. Electra is the only person in my life, and I'd like to think she can find some happiness."

The guest raised one raven eyebrow. "You don't think she can be happy with you?"

"I know she can't. She was my brother's wife first, before he died. If anything, she sees me as some child she needs to take care of."

A thoughtful expression crossed the man's face. "How old are you, Florian?"

"Twenty. You?"

"Twenty-three."

Florian knew what he was thinking. This tall, lordly man was three years his senior, but looked to be his junior by considerably more. Of course, Florian was not oblivious to the fact that he was no longer the handsome young man he had once been, but some vain part of him would have rather had people not think about his waning appearance while in his presence, or at least not so obviously.

"So why is there a baby behind those curtains?" asked Florian; he figured if he couldn't shake the man off, he could at least get some answers from him.

The stranger sighed. "Her name is Evera Ciramel. She's the daughter of a couple in Naroni, one of a set of twins. The mother is a mere girl of fourteen, and she's currently living with my wife and I, but her abusive husband wants her and her offspring back as soon as possible. However, Thetis--that is, Evera's mother--would prefer that Norwan does not know that she bore him twins, and would like to keep this little girl safe from her father. The other baby is a boy, and the heir, so he should not be in too much danger."

"So then Electra and I aren't the only unhappily married couple in the kingdom," Florian mused aloud.

"No. But then again, luck has not been kind to either you or Thetis. I hope the two of you meet one day--you probably will, since she'll be coming by to visit her daughter every once in a while. Anyway, I'm sure little Evera will good company for both Electra and yourself."

Florian understood perfectly. "You mean for Electra in case I die."

Rolling his eyes, the man shook his head. "Florian?"

"Yes?"

The stranger looked him straight in the eye, then ordered, "Don't die."

And with that, he left. Suddenly, Florian realized he hadn't even learned the man's name.

But it doesn't matter, he assured himself as he held his hands to the fire once more. Clearly, you made a bad impression, as always; chances are, you're free of him for the rest of your life.

"Oh, you're awake," came Electra's voice from behind him.

"You mean you didn't hear?" he muttered gruffly.

"No. I was under the spell of this little angel here."

Damn, the kid already had a pet name! Electra was going to get far too attached to this new little source of noise pollution for her own good.

Florian coughed, then asked, "Who was that man who was just here?"

"That's Lord Severin of Veldora," she answered with a grin. "Charming, isn't he? Very personable for a noble."

"Oh, well that's all fine and well. The one time in my life I ever have a noble in my house, and I accuse him of sleeping with my wife."

"What?"

"Never mind, Electra."

He half expected her to protest, but instead, she just crossed the kitchen and stood next to him, that kid in her arms. "Would you like to hold her?"

Uneasily, Florian looked the baby over; he had to admit, she was a cute little thing, with those wide teal eyes of hers. She was a rather big baby--how on earth had a fourteen-year-old managed to lug this runt plus a twin around?

"Electra, you know I'm not good with kids..."

She laughed; it was the first time he'd heard her laugh in quite a while. "It's because you never give yourself a chance, silly! Just try it!"

He couldn't stop his lips from forming a smile as Electra gently placed the baby in his arms. Evera stared up at him with those big, infinitely blue-green eyes; somehow, he knew she'd gotten them from her mother.

"So," he started awkwardly once Evera was in a seemingly comfortable position, "now what do I do with her?"

"Figure it out for yourself," Electra told him. "I'm going to make you something to eat while I wait for the wet nurse to come up from the village."

Before he could say anything else to her, she was out the door, undoubtedly headed to the crops to gather various ingredients.

Still not entirely sure of himself, Florian held the baby close and began to whisper. "Thanks for making her happy, Evera. You know, I think you and I might get along just fine. You're not bad--for a sniveling, snot-nosed little brat."

NEXT CHAPTER: