In Which Severin Tells Danthia Something About Men

January 1, 1163

"Thank you again for your hospitality, my lord," Danthia acknowledged with a slight smile; it seemed that her husband preferred that she do the talking for both of them, though he did look to be in somewhat better spirits than at any point over the course of his stay. "Christmas here was lovely. You have the most wonderful children, and I'm sorry for imposing."

"Believe me, you didn't impose," Severin assured her, the memory of Laralita still firmly rooted in his mind. "It was our pleasure. Thank you for coming; I'm glad to hear that your stay was comfortable."

These stiff salutations were not the sort he would have preferred, though he felt it rude to say so aloud. Severin was the sort of man who bade friends farewell with jokes and embraces; however, despite Searle's relatively elevated mood, it still seemed necessary to weigh each and every word and gesture while in the boy's presence.

Even Raia seemed to sense it, he was acutely aware. His other children, as well as their mother, had given their farewells to the guests as they had left the breakfast table, but his eldest had chosen to accompany them to the front room. Perhaps he should have objected in the best interests of her innocence, but now that he thought about it, he saw little point in sheltering the girl; no matter what he did, she would eventually have to know how to deal with situations such as these anyway, and there was no sense in postponing the inevitable. At the very least, it relieved him to know that his ordinarily boisterous daughter did have the sensitivity to realize that this was a delicate atmosphere.

"Are you sure you don't wish to stay for New Year's?" inquired Severin, though admittedly more out of politeness than anything else; he wouldn't have minded keeping Danthia there for a while longer, but Searle had been staying with them for months and had yet to make an effort to be anything more than melancholy. The boy permeated gloom as though it were a strong, foul aroma, and it had the whole household rather on edge--for the children's sake, it was best if he left.

Fortunately, Danthia seemed to sense this--and understand it. "Your offer is tempting, but unfortunately, there are probably people in Dovia wondering where we are. We really do need to get home soon, and who knows how long the weather will stay this agreeable? We should get leaving while it's calm."

"Fair enough," he agreed. "I do feel guilty that you won't be enjoying any feasts tonight, however."

"We'll have our own feast when we get home," she assured him. "Won't we, Searle?"

For a moment, Searle didn't say anything--not that Severin had expected he would by this point. His eyes fell to his wife briefly, then--

"Goodbye, Uncle Severin. Goodbye, Raia."

Severin sighed. "Farewell, Searle."

"Goodbye Searle," Raia bade him, but by the time she had finished, he had already turned and started off toward the door.

Shaking his head, Severin gently patted Raia on the shoulder, then approached Danthia. It was true torture to see such a young, amiable girl so resigned; there was life in her, but she had yet to find an opportunity to release it.

"Danthia, before you go, let me tell you something about men," he muttered under his breath, though he doubted Searle would bother listening even if he could hear them. "You've probably figured it out by now, but I shall admit it on Searle's behalf--we're all idiots."

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