In Which Celina Gives a Weak Reassurance

March 26, 1167

"So, have you settled on the colors for the wedding yet?" pried Laralita while Holladrin rolled her eyes behind her sister-in-law's back. Celina privately shared the younger woman's sentiments--ever since she had accepted Ovrean's proposal, it seemed that the upcoming wedding was the only topic Laralita was capable of discussing--but she was too polite to say this aloud. Besides, there was really no sense in arguing with the queen in any case.

"You know... we haven't." In truth, Celina and Ovrean would have both preferred a small, private wedding, but somehow, Roderick and Laralita had managed to inflate it into an affair almost as large and prestigious as their own. Larger than Celina's first wedding, and certainly larger than Alina's--even larger than Holladrin's! If it hadn't been for her age, she doubted anyone who didn't know her would have guessed it to be a second marriage.

Laralita sighed in disapproval; Celina glanced quickly to Alina for support, but found only a resigned roll of her blue eyes. "Wait for it..."

"Well, our family's traditional color is teal, and yours is red," Laralita chattered, right on cue, "but I imagine they'd make too bold of a contrast, don't you?"

Alina flashed a hint of a mischievous smile. "You could always blend the two."

Celina giggled as Laralita's jaw dropped to a level that shouldn't have been possible for so small a face. Alina seemed in better spirits since Celina had seen her last. She had taken the loss of Honora hard, but perhaps the distraction of her brother's wedding was doing her well. It could have only been healthy for her--or, Celina suspected, for Severin to to have suggested for her--to have invited the others over for a planning session.

Recovering from her moment of shock, Laralita shook her head, then locked eyes with Celina. "I do hope you don't take her seriously--you must realize that even my little sister would never suggest an ugly sort of gray-mauve for a wedding."

"I know," Celina assured her, hoping she didn't sound too indulgent.

Laralita smiled. "Good. Dear Lord, Alina, with such color choices, it's probably a blessing that you never actually had a proper wedding yourself."

"Agreed--I doubt a proper wedding would have eventually resulted in the formation of a completely separate kingdom, and therefore your own crown, Laralita."

Severin chuckled to himself as the four pairs of eyes registered the sight of him. "Ladies."

Alina shot him a glance of false annoyance. "No boys allowed!"

"Oh, I'll be out of your hair in a minute, Princess," he promised with a wink. "I just need to borrow Celina for a second, if she doesn't mind."

Visibly irritated, Laralita scowled. "You mean to steal the bride-to-be from her own wedding planning session?"

"If that's all right with her, then yes."

The queen was less than impressed. Amused, Celina nodded and drew herself upward. "We won't be long, Laralita."

If anything, Celina figured as she followed Severin out of the sitting room, her absence would result in a well-needed rest for the other two. Holladrin had been rather ill lately, and while she was recovering, there was only a certain amount of Laralita's brand of enthusiasm that even a healthy individual could handle, and while Alina did need the distraction... well, there was a fine line between distraction and over-exertion.

Severin waited for Celina to step into the small room on the other side of the wall, then closed the door firmly behind them. He waited a few seconds for the conversation behind it to resume, then gently steered Celina toward the center of the room, following close.

"First of all, I must say I'm glad that the three of you could make it today," he began in a low mutter. "I sometimes worry that my wife spends too much time alone with her thoughts, and there's a point where such a practice becomes toxic. I believe the company will do her well."

Celina nodded. "I believe it has. She seems to be in as good of spirits as can be expected today."

"That she does," Severin agreed, "but all the same, I can't help but wonder if there's more going on than she's inclined to reveal."

This didn't seem quite right--Alina was by no means a deceptive person, and if anyone knew that, it was Severin. "What do you mean?"

He glanced quickly toward the door, then turned back to Celina, a hint of melancholy lingering in his dark eyes. "I must ask you not to breath a word of this to Holladrin or Laralita. Poor Holladrin has enough on her plate with her illness, and... well, you know Laralita. Anyway, you're aware that Alina is supposedly pregnant, correct?"

Celina raised an eyebrow. "'Supposedly'? You don't mean--"

"Oh, no, I don't think she's faking it," he hastily reassured her. "She'd never do anything like that, and it isn't as if I've seen any blood on our sheets."

She crossed her arms and frowned; what exactly was he getting at? "Severin, if that's not what you suspect, then what is?"

He sighed, massaging the side of his neck as he glanced toward the ceiling. "Well... I'm wondering if she was never really pregnant to begin with. Maybe her body is just giving her the impression that she is. That does happen from time to time, correct?"

Celina frowned as she did the mental arithmetic. If she supposed that Alina had been pregnant for about a month or so before making it common knowledge, then it still wasn't quite time for her to be showing; what sort of basis did Severin have for this suspicion? "Yes, but I can't say I'm sure as to why you would think that might be the case here."

Severin closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "You see, sometimes when I'm holding her, I'll rest a hand on her abdomen, you know? Whenever she's pregnant; I trust Dalston did the same with you?"

She pursed her lips as the memory of Dalston's soft hand on her bare stomach flitted across her mind. "Yes..."

"Well, it normally feels firmer when she's pregnant, even as early as this, but not this time. I realize that they start out small, but somehow I just know that whatever it's supposed to be at this point, it just isn't there."

"Oh." He just knew. It wasn't rational, but sometimes it happened--sometimes people 'just knew'. Were they wrong on occasion? Of course.

But not always.

"Maybe I'm just over-thinking it," he offered as if sensing her discomfort, though he didn't seem to believe in the possibility himself. "Maybe this one's something of a runt. Or maybe I'm just getting old and can't remember exactly how she felt the last seven times."

Maybe. "I don't know, Severin. Perhaps it's just too early to tell; I wouldn't worry about it unless there's no change when it gets to the point when she should be showing."

He glanced toward the floor, rubbing his wedding band with the side of the adjacent finger. Celina doubted he took much comfort in her weak reassurance, but nonetheless, he nodded; the conversation had probably reached a point where he felt he could no longer bear for it to continue. "Perhaps. Anyway, sorry for inconveniencing you; I doubt Laralita's shut up since you left, and I'm sure you'd like to have some say in regards to your own wedding."

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