In Which Alsina Stalls the Inevitable Tears

July 29, 1164

Alsina smiled politely as Florian rounded the corner, squinting as he caught sight of her. "Well, look who's here," he teased whoever was following him. "It's your friend, Falidor's sister."

Behind him, Aldhein stepped into view and sent a wary glance in her direction; Alsina felt her grin swelling. "Oh, uh... good day."

"Good day yourself," she replied, her voice a few fifths higher than usual.

Aldhein shrugged, then hastily turned to face Alsina's brother. "So... are you ready to go?"

"Almost," answered Falidor, abandoning his desk in favor of his friends. "I just have one little thing left to do here, and then I have to take Alsina home, and then we can go."

His emerald eyes sending a cautious flicker Alsina's way, Aldhein frowned. "What's this 'one little thing' you speak of?"

Falidor laughed, rocking back and forth as though trying too hard to be casual. "Oh, that. Well... I just have to move a couch up a flight of stairs, that's all."

Florian raised an eyebrow. "Little indeed. I thought her ladyship wanted that done earlier this week?"

"Well... yes," admitted Falidor sheepishly, "but it's not my fault! I can't move a damn couch up the stairs by myself, and his lordship threw his back out."

"Threw his back out?" Aldhein repeated with a laugh. "I'm apt to believe that her ladyship deserves at least some of the blame for that injury."

A sly grin playing on his mouth, Florian snickered. "Why would you think that? Did the queen ever do that to your back?"

"Twice."

There was something odd about the ease with which he had replied to the jab, or at least to Alsina, who had come to know him as mumbling and reserved and rather adorably awkward. Falidor and Florian exchanged a confused glance; they too seemed to find this unusual, but neither chose to comment.

Instead, Falidor merely chuckled. "Well, I suppose that's one advantage to having a wife who won't even give me the time of day."

Florian snorted. "Give me sex with my wife over a good back any day. It's not like the back is a particularly useful region of the anatomy anyway."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The two continued their banter for quite some time. Alsina found herself drifting in and out of their rather redundant conversation--"your mother" this, "that's what she said" that--but for the most part, it didn't grab much of her attention. While her brother and his friend bickered like couple of ten-year-olds, she took the opportunity to send sidelong glances the way of the third man in the room. She'd only ever been around him while drunk before, and his presence now had an entirely different strength. Before, he had been magnetic, pulling her toward him like a moth to a lone dancing candlelight; now, he inspired a rapid skip in her heart and a thousand butterflies trying to burst from her gut. Was he looking at her? Did he find her rather boring when she was sober? Could he somehow tell what she and that boy from the farm over hill had done in his hayloft last October? She prayed he could not.

"Alsina?"

For that matter, she prayed that her brother could not either--but his smile seemed to indicate that there was no need to worry. "Yes, Falidor?"

"It won't be much longer," he promised her. "I'll just go move that couch, and then we'll take you home before we head to the inn."

Alsina nodded. Satisfied, Falidor then turned to Aldhein. "I need some help."

The other man tossed his auburn mane back as he sighed; he sounded suspiciously relieved. "All right, let's just--"

"Wait."

Both men looked at Florian. Alsina could not see his face from where she was sitting, but if she could tell anything from his back, he had found that somehow, this simple, meaningless situation could be manipulated to better suit his needs. "Falidor, if Aldhein helps you with the couch, then guess who your young, innocent sister will be stuck talking to until the two of you return?"

Falidor's eyes bulged. "Oh God!"

"That's right--me." He then cackled wickedly; Alsina didn't understand exactly why, considering he wasn't even drunk yet.

"That'll never do," mused Falidor, his face falling to the ground. "Florian, you'd better help me. Aldhein, stay here with my sister."

Someone in the courtyard dropped a heavy object, all sounds within the room shattering as if by the sheer force of it. Falidor shifted his weight back and forth between his toes and his heels; Florian stood with the stance of a man slyly, deviously satisfied. Aldhein scarcely moved at all. "Uh... what?"

"You heard the man," Florian told him, a snide, triumphant note in his voice. "Stay here and entertain his pretty sister while we move the couch. I'm sure you won't find her company too disagreeable."

Aldhein squirmed; Alsina had to admit that she was rather hurt. "Falidor..."

"Come on, Florian--let's just move the couch and get out of here."

>With one last laugh, Florian shot Aldhein a quick whisper of "You're welcome". In response, Aldhein growled, quickly confirming Alsina's fears; she would have to find a way to make herself more interesting, and fast.

"We'll be right back," Falidor called as Florian shut the door behind them.

"Yes, don't get too comfortable," added Florian, the last sliver of him disappearing as the opening narrowed to a slit.

Aldhein stared at the door in defeat, the footsteps of the other two growing gradually faint. "When they get back, remind me to kill that bastard."

Wishing he would turn around so she could read his expression, Alsina forced herself to smile. "Is it really such a big deal?"

He maneuvered himself with a prompt about-face. "Would I really be acting like this if it wasn't?"

Shaking her head, she leapt to her feet, drawing as near as she could without making him cringe. She quickly scanned his face for any emotion other than his annoyed exasperation--much to her surprise, she found a trace of fear. Was she frightening him in some way? What reason did he have to be afraid of her? "Aldhein... what the hell is your problem?"

Whatever he had of an upper lip curled inward. "Look, you're a nice kid, but... that's all you are, all right? Hell, I have a daughter who's closer to your age than I am--and the bottom line is, I'm not exactly a good person, so if you know what's good for you, you should stay away. What do you even find appealing about me, anyway? I don't understand."

Alsina took a moment to consider this. "I don't know. I feel a little different around you, I guess. Maybe I just happen to like you a lot?"

"Well, that's a shame, because I really don't happen to like you all that much."

His words stung like the kiss of a serpent; she almost wished he had simply hit her. "I... I see."

"Good."

Good? Was that all he could say? No 'sorry', no 'maybe I was a little blunt', nothing? Just... good?

"Anyway, I think it would be in both of our best interests if I just left," he decided, curtly and without any further explanation. "Tell your brother and Florian to meet me at the inn. Have a nice life, Alsina."

"But--"

"I said 'have a nice life'!"

His words rang through the room as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Alsina dared not blink. A long time ago, her father had suffered through a long, fatal illness; some years later, her mother had faced the same. Her eldest brother had been forced into a horrific marriage, and one night, her grandfather had gone to bed, never knowing he would not wake the next morning. She would ride home with Falidor and Florian; she would then endure dinner with Ceidrid and Rifden and Evaleith, do her chores, and retire. After that, she would cry into her pillow, quietly and privately, just as she had with every other tragedy in her life. If there was one thing Alsina knew, it was how to stall the inevitable tears.

NEXT CHAPTER: