In Which Evaleith Dispels a Musing

December 2, 1164

"...and that should just about do it," declared Nora as she tucked the last of Evaleith's curls into place. "God, you have such lovely hair. Our mother had nice curly hair too, but you can see that none of us got it."

Evaleith closed her eyes. "It can be such a bother, though..."

Nora laughed. "Mother always said so too--of course, that never stopped me from envying her."

Curious, Evaleith turned around; she had just been given a glimpse of a side of her soon-to-be sister-in-law that she would have never guessed existed. "I had no idea you were a woman who cared so much about her hair."

"I'm not," Nora agreed with a grin. "I gave up on it years ago."

"How practical of you."

"Indeed."

Senseless banter aside, Evaleith had gained a healthy respect for Ceidrid's older sister over the past few months. The woman was a widow of not even a quarter of a year, a widow of a man with whom she had shared a deep love, a widow left with two young children and another on the way... and yet, she had not approached anyone for charity, nor had she burst into tears in the company of any second party. There was an undeniable strength about someone who did not allow their own suffering to compromise anyone else's happiness, a strength that one couldn't help but admire.

Of course, this was not the only reason Evaleith had come to enjoy Nora's company. She had a quick, witty tongue, as well as the rare ability to be blunt without being cruel. With Evaleith's own tight funds and refusal to allow Ceidrid to pay for her wedding dress, Nora had been kind enough to let her use one of her outgrown gowns--quite economical, seeing as it was old, borrowed, and blue--and she had just spent more time on Evaleith's hair than she had likely ever given to her own. She was generous, reassuring, and helpful, all while still being clever, humorous, and to-the-point. If Evaleith had ever had a sister--or at least, one she'd actually grown up with--she might have hoped she would have been rather like Nora.

Well, she supposed she had two new sisters now, one of which actually was Nora. And Alsina... well, she would be a good sister too, in her own way.

"You're so beautiful!" she cooed, quickly looking Evaleith up and down. "Just wait until Ceidrid sees you in that--hell, just wait until he sees you out of it!"

Evaleith and Nora shared a quick laugh. In truth, Alsina was close to a year older than she was, but Evaleith had been shocked to learn this; she did seem quite immature at times. Oh well--for the most part, Evaleith liked Alsina well enough, but she was still somewhat glad that the girl and her younger brother had moved out of Ceidrid's house and into Nora's instead.

Her eyes narrowing slightly, Nora gave a sly smile. "She is rather stunning--in fact, I'd say she's almost glowing. Do you have a little secret, honey?"

She could not remember ever blushing and laughing at the same time before then. "Oh--no! At least, not that I know of," she added with a wink, for their benefit.

Alsina gave an appreciative laugh. "I'm sure we'll see soon enough. Anyway, I'm glad Ceidrid's marrying someone pretty--can you imagine the children he'd produce without her?"

Nora snickered. "On his own? Alsina, I thought I already gave you this talk--he wouldn't be having any children at all."

The younger sister rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Anyway... when's the ceremony starting? I want to get to the dancing already."

"Fairly soon, I imagine," answered the elder. "Maybe we'd better go take our places. Evaleith, your stepfather is giving you away, right?"

Evaleith nodded; Nora planted a quick kiss to her forehead, then made her way toward the door. "He'll be here shortly, then. We'll see you outside, sister."

Sister. No one had ever addressed her as such--not even her brother. The most he had ever said was 'my sister'--not simply 'sister'. Of course, she supposed one couldn't blame a nine-year-old boy for such a thing, especially considering he was really only her half-brother. Her sisters were worse for it. Little Asalaye was all smiles, but she only ever called her 'Leithie'; Nanalie rarely saw fit to waste words on her at all.

After trailing out of the room behind her sister, Alsina closed the door, leaving Evaleith to herself. She was not a girl who was overly concerned about her appearance, but she was drawn to the mirror regardless--it was her wedding day, after all.

Nora had done a splendid job with her hair; indeed, she would have never believed hair could be made into such art if she had not seen it for herself, having grown up surrounded by pirates and peasants and wenches. She felt almost like a princess, if only princesses waited to be walked down the aisle in the bedrooms of their sister-in-laws' houses, wearing second-hand dresses of a color other than the purest of white.

"Evaleith?" came a voice from the corridor, accompanied with a light knock on the door. "Evaleith, are you ready?"

It was not her stepfather's voice. It was her mother's.

She didn't answer, but her mother entered regardless. She was as queenly and beautiful as ever, her cinnamon hair hanging gracefully over her shoulder and her skin putting the smoothness of her silken, lacy gown to shame. Indeed, even her large, pregnant belly seemed becoming. A smile on her full lips, she surveyed Evaleith with her teal eyes, then spoke. "You look beautiful."

>At the very least, Evaleith had to be polite. "Thank you. I could say the same of you."

"Adonis will be here in a minute," she promised, "I just wanted to see you one last time before the ceremony."

"I see." Evaleith had seen her mother a few times over the course of the past few months, and while she had grown civil--perhaps even kind at times--there was still the lingering awkwardness of everything that lay between them. Her father, for one. Her stepfather and his children, for another. And Evaleith didn't even want to think about Honora's earlier denial.

Honora tossed back her head and glanced toward the ceiling. "If only your father could see you now. Where is he, exactly? Is he still alive?"

"So far as I'm aware," Evaleith replied as best she could; it hurt to be reminded that her own father could not attend her wedding, nor even had any idea that she was getting married in the first place. "He's been in prison for four years, and I doubt he'll be out any time soon."

Her mother stiffened. "I see. Nevertheless, I'm sure he's thinking about you today."

"I don't doubt it."

It was obvious to Evaleith that Honora was just as eager to change the subject as she was; fortunately, the other woman was quick to do so. "Anyway, I just wanted to come in and tell you I'm proud of you--and that I'm sorry about everything. Not that it makes much of a difference, I suppose, but..."

"It's the thought," Evaleith finished for her, offering a quick embrace--it occurred to her that she hadn't hugged her mother since she could scarcely talk, and she did not want to go into her marriage with such a musing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm supposed to go get married or something."

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