In Which Evaleith Cannot Tell

June 11, 1164

As Had wrapped up his tale, Evaleith found that she could only stare; it was fortunate that Ceidrid, however, seemed more than willing to speak on her behalf. "So... you overheard that conversation Evaleith had with your mother, and you've been keeping it to yourself this whole time?"

The boy nodded. Ceidrid sighed. "Why didn't you tell someone about this sooner?"

"Hey, she's my mother too!" Had protested, his eyes wide. "I didn't want to get her in trouble! I don't know why she was so mean, but she's not a bad person!"

Beside Evaleith, Ceidrid bounced up and down indignantly. "I never said she was! I just... well..."

"Ceidrid," Evaleith addressed him, finding her voice at last, "shut up."

She did not want to hear what Ceidrid thought of this. He was her best friend--her only friend--but in this instance, he was still an outsider. As far as Evaleith was concerned, he was not entitled to an opinion. There was no way he could possibly understand well enough to have any valid input.

He did as he was told. Satisfied--or, at least, as satisfied as she could be given the circumstances--she turned back to her half-brother. "Does your father know about that conversation?"

Had shook his head; Evaleith frowned. "Thought so."

"You're not going to tell him, are you?" asked the little boy suddenly, a distinct note of alarm in his voice.

Evaleith rolled her eyes. "Why would I? Why should he believe me? As far as he's concerned, I'm just some lunatic claiming to be his wife's long-lost bastard. Anything I tell him will be taken with a grain of salt, at best--and for the sake of your illusion of a family, you should be grateful for that."

The child rocked back and forth in his father's chair. "I believe you, you know--I know you're my sister. I just... don't want any trouble. I love my parents. I don't want them to fight."

She could understand his logic--regardless, she was thoroughly unmoved. "Maybe it's better if they do. My father says he never fought with her, and that gave him even more of a shock when he woke up to find that she was gone."

Ceidrid sent a worried glance Had's way. "Evaleith..."

Evaleith turned to face him, but quickly jerked her gaze to the door as the hinges creaked open and Had's father stepped inside.

Adonis reacted to the sight of the three of them with only a mere twitch of his brow, but Evaleith could tell that he was not particularly happy to see her and Ceidrid--not that she could really blame him. "Hello," he greeted them curtly before shifting his gaze to his son. "Had, I hope you didn't ride back from the castle unescorted. You know what's been happening to lone travelers lately."

"They brought me back here," Had promised, nodding toward Ceidrid and Evaleith.

His father's lips curled into a brief smile. "Well, in that case, you both have my gratitude. But... why are you here, exactly?"

Ceidrid's mouth opened, but Evaleith cut him off with a shake of her head. She stood, then slipped through the gap between the couch and Had's chair and strode toward Adonis; in his position, the man deserved to be informed, and to hear the news from someone on the inside.

And yet, as she met his sparkling brown eyes, she found she could not tell him. This was a man who loved her mother, who had dedicated a decade of his life to making her happy. She did not care how he saw her, but she would be damned if she caused him to see his beloved as a liar and a coward, even if that was all Honora truly was. Adonis was a good man; could she really inflict upon him the same pain that had been thrust upon her father all those years before?

"Actually..." she began, searching desperately for any words that seemed even vaguely appropriate, "we were just leaving."

Adonis raised an eyebrow. "All right..."

"Papa?"

Evaleith turned around to see Had standing behind her, staring up at his father with unblinking eyes. She was worldly enough to detect the sadness in his young features, but even more than that, she saw determination, resolution; no matter what happened, he would not back away. He would not break down. "Papa, I have to tell you something."

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