In Which Geneva Is Twice Interrupted

January 15, 1157

Geneva was pleased to discover that Cambrin had left the old guest suite as it had always been, for all those long years. The tapestries shone as brightly as ever, and the wooden furniture still bore the distinct gleam of newly-polished lumber. Time may have cast its spell over everyone she knew, but this room had managed to remain untouched.

Oh, how they had spent countless hours in this room as girls! She could just see little ghosts of the past--young Medea and Eudocia and Athalia pretending they were princesses, while she herself had been perfectly content to act as their lady-in-waiting. Interestingly enough, she outranked them all now; yes, Athalia would be queen one day, but Eudocia would only ever be a duchess, and Medea, a baroness. It certainly was ironic how the one who'd always cared the least had achieved the most, and achieved it the soonest.

And her friends were so much duller now, she realized as she sat down and stared at the empty fireplace. Her sister, of course, had always been boring if not balanced by someone more fun, but it seemed that when Medea and Athalia saw each other nowadays, all they could do was argue bitterly.

Naturally, everyone else was already occupied, and had no time for her; she almost missed Roderick.

At least Roderick would have been easily persuaded to stay by her side throughout the entire affair, if nothing else. Perhaps she could have even bullied him into stealing away to this room and exchanging bodily fluids; Geneva had always had a rather strong desire to have sex on the lovely canopy bed the room housed. Perhaps it was something about how sturdy it looked. Maybe she just wanted to see if she could make it rock...

"Correct me if I'm wrong," began a strong, masculine voice from the archway, "but from my experience, a pretty young woman sitting alone in a bedroom while a party is going on elsewhere in the castle could only possibly want one thing. Would you agree... your majesty?"

It was him. She had forgotten that he would be at this wedding--but how could she have? The one man--the one person--who had ever understood her! The only one she knew who shared her dreams, her wants, her needs...

He was fifty-five, and still as handsome as ever. She still remembered that night... she had been all of seventeen... and he had been her first!

Uh... second. Or maybe third. Oh, wait... forty-sixth. Ish.

"Why, your grace!" she greeted him flirtatiously as he swaggered toward her. "Are you the bride's guest, or the bridegroom's?"

"Bride's, I would imagine," he answered promptly, "seeing as she's my wife's niece. How about yourself?"

"Groom's, unfortunately, seeing as he's my best friend's brother."

He chuckled. "Well, if we can't sit together, then we'll just have to spend a little time together now instead. What say you?"

Geneva gave a mock sigh. "If you insist..."

He laughed appreciatively, his silky, seductive laugh that put harps everywhere to shame. "Indeed I do. Now... where did we leave off the last time?"

"Oh, I'd imagine it will take a little effort to get to that point!" giggled Geneva.

She squealed in delight as he pulled her toward him. "Making jokes about my age now, are we?" he demanded.

"Well, I couldn't help but notice the gray hairs in your beard," Geneva told him. "Now, I'm curious as to whether or not you have gray hairs in other regions."

"Would it matter?"

"No; I don't imagine they have much of an effect on any sort of performative action."

He turned her around and drew nearer; any second, their lips would touch. Three inches apart... two... one...

"Get your disgusting hands off your nephew's wife!"

Startled, Lonriad turned around, allowing Geneva to see Severin approaching, positively livid. Never before in her memory had he been so angry. The last time she'd seen him, they had been enjoying a pleasant conversation as their daughters played together on the floor; now, he would not even look at her.

Lonriad tremored slightly. "Severin..."

"Viridis is looking for you, you know!" he spat, failing to acknowledge his father's muttered greeting. "Remember Viridis? Your wife? She's off looking around the courtyard for you--lucky for her that I found you first, isn't it?"

"Severin, please don't shout," requested Lonriad in an uncharacteristically meek tone.

Severin, apparently, was not about to pay him any regard. "And with her, too! How can you do this to your sister's son? Don't you have any respect for her memory at all?"

Sighing, Lonriad straightened his back and looked his son in the eye. "Severin, calm yourself. Please, just allow me to explain--"

"Don't you think Viridis has suffered enough?" demanded Severin. "How can you keep doing this to her?"

"Severin--"

"First the maid, then your steward's wife, my mother, the cook, Alina's nurse... shall I continue? No doubt I missed several! How can you live with yourself, treating that poor, sweet lady as you do?"

And he still would not look at her! Sure, she understood that he was angry, but it wasn't as if she had worn her tightest corset and lowest neckline for no reason.

Lonriad cocked his head slightly. "Severin, please, just listen to me. You don't understand--"

"Understand?" hissed Severin in reply. "What exactly is it that I'm supposed to understand? How you can be unfaithful to your wife without damaging your conscience at all? How you can sneak off to have a little romantic liaison during someone else's wedding? How it is nothing for you to occupy yourself with another man's wife?"

"Son--"

"Don't call me your son!" he snapped. "What proof do you have that I'm your son? My mother is nothing but a disposable whore, isn't she? Wasn't it you who said that? If my mother is a whore, then I could be anyone's son for all you know!"

"Please don't tell anyone," Geneva begged softly as Severin began to storm away.

"Don't talk to me, your majesty!" Severin snarled back at her. "You're just as bad as he is, and I hope you never forget it!"

Lonriad fidgeted uncomfortably. "Please, Severin... can this at least be our little secret?"

He growled a word that sounded a lot like "Fine!", then turned into the corridor and hurried off, leaving nothing but a tense silence.

Not more than a second had passed since Severin's departure when Lonriad had slumped himself down on the bench, his head in his hand, his eyes on the floor. "Oh, my son..."

"Lonriad?" Geneva addressed him gently.

"Go away," he muttered under his breath.

She reached out to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but not before he had pulled away.

"Leave me, woman!" he yelled; she jumped backward slightly in shock.

Clearly, he was in no mood for that they had been about to do. It was a waste of Geneva's time to stay now; perhaps she would be better served if she sought out any of Alina's five bachelor brothers. As far as she knew, none of them had sons who would so rudely interrupt them, and even if they did, none of the five of them would interrupt her himself afterwards.

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