In Which Geneva Is Given the Saddest of Smiles

March 30, 1168

Now that the innkeeper had retired, Geneva had not expected to find anyone downstairs, but indeed, a lone barfly remained--and not just any barfly, it seemed. She knew this man. She hadn't spoken to him since he'd been a child, but she had caught a glimpse of him as she'd observed her father-in-law's funeral through the gaps between the old floorboards of the church attic. Such impossibly red hair could only belong to a descendant of the dying House Callcevern, and even from behind Geneva knew exactly which one this was.

"Searle Andronei--I don't think we've spoken since your sister Lileina's wedding."

Unfazed, he turned around and looked her over. "I thought you were dead."

"In that case, you don't seem too surprised to find that I am not." She grinned; he looked as if he was struggling to return it. At last, he settled on a shrug.

Geneva stepped toward the counter and took a seat on the stool beside his. "So, what brings you to Naroni?"

"A favor for a friend." He paused, then took a drink from the pint in front of him. "Well... for lack of a better word, I suppose. Her daughters are ladies-in-waiting at the castle, and I was just sent to check up on them."

"Her," Geneva repeated, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. "Not that it's any of my business, but just between us wanderers... does your wife know about this woman?"

His lip curving into a small frown, Searle's eyes narrowed. "You're one to talk, now, aren't you?"

Indifferent, Geneva flicked the heel of her slipper against the rung of the barstool. "Just between us adulterers, then."

"Fair enough." He drummed his fingers against the counter and sighed. "I'm not sure, though; I think she knows there's a woman."

Geneva nodded. "Women always do."

"Women," parroted Searle, as if to emphasize the plural. "She knows there's a woman; she probably doesn't know there are women."

He lifted the pint once more, taking another quick slug of ale before setting it down without the barest hint of a thud! "I wonder if she knows that there was only really ever one woman, though."

Only ever one... what was that like? "Well, I suppose I can't help you with that one; I never did have only one man."

"Not once?" He sounded shocked, as if she'd just told him that she'd never plucked a fresh apple off of a tree and eaten it right there in the orchard. Was she really missing something? She'd never thought she was; she'd always been happy enough, even if she didn't have the most shining of reputations. Perhaps even fellow adulterers could be of two different minds.

Geneva shook her head. "Not to say I never will, I suppose... but I am getting older, you know. There might not be much time left for me."

She was caught somewhat off-guard as the melancholy young man gave a small sniff that might have been a ghost of a snicker. "You're not old."

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that one of us thinks so," she laughed, hardly believing that a man who had to be at least fifteen years her junior had just complimented her so. "Thank you, Searle; I needed that."

Searle's mouth twitched into the saddest of smiles. "Just telling the truth, Geneva."

Returning the grin, she slipped off the stool and stood; she doubted the innkeeper would appreciate them being down here too late. "Douse the candles before you head upstairs."

Nodding, Searle followed suit and pulled himself to his feet. "I was just about to go to bed as well. It was nice seeing you again."

"Likewise."

Before she could turn away, she found herself in the midst of an unexpected embrace. Not that she minded, she supposed; he was certainly a lot bigger and stronger than the kid she remembered. "You really have grown up, haven't you?"

"I suppose it's an unavoidable fate."

Geneva winked as he released his hold on her. "Now that you've told me I'm not so old, I'm starting to think it might be an option." She watched as an appreciative half-smirk graced his mouth, then turned around to head upstairs; she hadn't gotten very far, however, when she felt his calloused hand on her bare shoulder.

"Care to hear about another option?"

Geneva didn't need too long to consider; even if she was still young in spirit, she supposed it was only a matter of time before her body wasted away to nothing. What sense was there in passing up such opportunities? "Indeed, I would; perhaps you could tell me more after I slip out of this most uncomfortable dress."

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