In Which Sparron Needs No Further Convincing

December 14, 1168

Sparron's father and Jadin's father rambled on about some incident on the border, the details of which Sparron had already forgotten. He was supposed to be paying attention--hell, the only reason he was even sitting in was to learn--but whatever they were discussing was just too tedious for his twelve-year-old brain to register as important. He wasn't even sure that the men themselves were all that interested; Lord Severin had spent the last ten minutes sending frequent glances the way of the door, and Sparron's father kept looking to the ceiling and impatiently tapping his foot against the floorboards. He didn't think there was a soul in the study who actually wanted to be there.

Well, except maybe Jadin, who had greeted Sparron with the briefest of "Hello!"s and proceeded directly to Jeda--some best friend. He'd been flirting with her ever since, and showed no indication of a willingness to stop. He wondered why the men weren't forcing the two of them to pay attention. Lord Severin just didn't seem to care, and Sparron's father must have been allowing Jeda this little exchange to compensate for a lack of notice from her own betrothed. Sparron didn't see why he bothered indulging her. Maybe it was just because everyone with ears knew that Jadin was a self-proclaimed ladies' man and would lose interest the minute he walked out the door. Figured.

And to think, Jeda was only here because Sparron's father had no second son, though his stepmother's firming middle hinted that there may be one to come around springtime. If this and all subsequent babies his father sired before his death were girls, and if Sparron himself died sonless, then Jeda's husband would be baron, in theory. It didn't really work too well, since her betrothed was the crown prince and would therefore be king, but Sparron guessed that a regent would rule the shire until Jeda and Ietrin's second son was old enough to claim the title. But it wasn't as if he would be there in that case, so he wasn't sure why he cared.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp elbow to the arm. "Do you know what they're talking about?"

Sparron shook his head as Lord Severin's second son waited for an answer. "No idea." With Jadin occupied, he wondered if Searle might be of any use for amusement. It seemed odd that he would pin such a hope on one of Jadin's little brothers, whom he had always thought a bouncing, intrusive grievance as younger siblings often were, but it seemed he had no other choice. Searle was eleven now; that seemed like a decent age at which to stop being annoying. "God, I'm bored."

"Me too," Searle agreed. "I don't know why my father dragged me here--or why my sister pushed all three of us here, more like."

Sparron shuddered. "Well, I wouldn't argue with Raia. She scares the hell out of me."

"You and Falidor should start a club, then." Searle shrugged, then offered a quick smile; he and Jadin both resembled their father in the face, but Searle seemed to have inherited their mother's fuller, more malleable mouth. "But I see what you mean. Did you know that she once tore the king a new one?"

The image only too vivid in his head, Sparron nodded. "Jadin told me. Why do you think she's not banned from the castle, though?"

"Probably because banning her would be like admitting it happened," the younger boy answered with a smirk. Sparron snickered; that did sound like the king's logic.

"Searle!" Startled, Sparron's head snapped in the direction of Lord Severin, who was sending an annoyed glower the way of his younger son. "Can you try to keep it down?"

"I don't know," Searle replied with more than a note of sarcasm. "Can you try to keep it interesting?" Most of Lord Severin's children had no qualms about talking back to him, and such behaviors--so far as Sparron could notice--had increased sharply over the course of the past few months. As someone who rarely took that tone with his own father, Sparron was both impressed and appalled. He was mostly appalled when Jadin did it, but for some reason, Searle's defiance leaned further to the side of impressive.

Lord Severin, however, seemed to think otherwise. "There's nothing stopping you from leaving, you do realize."

"Then maybe I'll leave!" Searle cast a hard glare in his own father's direction, then turned to Sparron's. "If I go, can Sparron come too? He's not paying attention either."

Sparron's father shrugged. "I don't see why not; from what I can tell, none of you kids seem to be doing a great job of observing anyway."

"Thank you, Father," Sparron acknowledged him before turning back to Searle. "What do you want to do? Go for a ride or something?"

Searle raised an eyebrow. "Are you mad? It's too cold for just a recreational ride. There must be something we can do indoors."

"Like what?" He didn't particularly care to spend the afternoon playing dolls with his little sisters, but that was all that came to mind when it came to indoor group activities. Dear Lord, he really did need a brother.

"We could steal pastries from the kitchen," the other boy suggested with a grin that on anyone else might have made Sparron's jaw ache with the mere sight of it. "Your cook makes the best pastries."

Sparron frowned. "They're for my stepmother, though, and you know how pregnant women are about food."

"Well, we could bring some to her, and maybe she'll share." Searle's voice was a little too hopeful for Sparron's liking, but it wasn't as if he himself had any better ideas. "After that, we can figure out something else to do."

That didn't sound necessarily promising; nevertheless, one last glance at the sickening sight that was Jadin and Jeda was all the convincing Sparron needed. "Let's just get out of here."

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