In Which Severin Is Reminded

August 18, 1169

"Well?" Roderick inquired, pulling himself from his chair and stepping around his desk as Severin approached the room's center. "Yesterday went rather well, don't you think?"

Severin indulged him with a grimace. He'd known Roderick long enough to know that the man was completely lacking of a sense of humor, but in spite of its source, the comment was too absurd to be anything but a jest.

Satisfied, the king returned the grin. "So... did any particular lady catch your eye? Or are you perhaps torn between several of the lovely specimens?"

That seemed a little long-winded for conversational comedy; so much for hoping that Roderick had decided to try his hand at the art of sarcasm. Severin swallowed. "This is where you're supposed to assure me that you're joking."

All traces of comfort fled Roderick's face. His brow arched and the corners of his mouth fell into a frown. "Sorry?"

"Well, for one, the only two who actually got along with my children were children themselves." He shook his head, still not quite over the shock of some of those girls' ages. "I don't care how well-connected or blue-blooded or whatnot; a fourteen-year-old is still a fourteen-year-old, and I am not marrying a fourteen-year-old."

Roderick sighed. "There are advantages to young brides, you know. They have many fertile years ahead of them; you could get several children out of a girl you marry at fourteen."

"Roderick, I already have several children."

"Then marry one of the others," the king insisted. "Some of those women are older."

"Oh, that they are," Severin agreed. "In fact, some of them have children my age and up. Roderick, I don't want a wife who's older than my own parents!"

Clearly vexed, Roderick sniffed. "Well, that still leaves four women."

"Yes, one of which firmly believed that she could walk through walls despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, one of which had no qualms about smacking my son across the face, and one of which I didn't care to blink around out of fear that she might tell me it was a sin." They were no less exasperating in hindsight; Severin ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Really, have you considered that there might be a reason as to why these women are still available?"

"What about the Pope's niece?" Roderick demanded, practically jumping up and down in has anxiety. "At least tell me you liked the Pope's niece!"

Severin frowned. "Which one was she?"

"Antonina di Siena! The one with the crispinette! You liked her, at least, didn't you? I think she liked you--and she's the Pope's niece!"

Oh dear God! Severin closed his eyes and shuddered. "Roderick, she could have been the Virgin Mary herself for all I care--I am not marrying a woman who has a more impressive beard than I do! Besides, she's a grouchy old hag."

"She's twenty-eight!"

"Fine--grouchy young hag," Severin caustically corrected himself. "She still has a beard, though."

Roderick placed his hand to his brow and sighed. "Severin, you're going to have to stop being so particular; you're not going to find anyone as attractive as Alina, so you might as well marry a woman of status. Besides, do you know how many strings I had to pull to give you such a wide selection of brides? Do you have any idea what I'm going to have to do to make this up to the ones you don't choose?"

Severin channeled his frustration through his teeth and took it out on his lower lip. If nothing else, he wished Roderick would at least stopping speaking as if he'd asked to be bombarded with a hoard of desperate noblewomen. "Look, I'm sorry for the trouble, but I can't see myself being happy with any of these women. More importantly, I can't see my children being happy with any of these women. The only two with moderately pleasant personalities would be more suitable matches for my sons than for myself--and don't let that give you any ideas," he added as a dangerous spark flashed in Roderick's eyes.

Seemingly at the end of his rope, Roderick inhaled sharply. "Severin, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I am your king, and you will do as I say--and I say that if you haven't chosen a bride by the end of the month, then I shan't hesitate to pick one for you!"

Severin jerked forward as his spine became as limp and brittle as the crudest of pottery. He caught himself at the last minute with the toe of his boot, then gasped. He wouldn't... would he?

"What? Roderick, you can't be serious!"

The king scowled. "I am serious."

"You're giving me twelve days to choose a wife!"

"Twelve and a half, if you get on it straight-away."

Severin clenched his teeth as a slight feeling of nausea overtook him. "You can't force me to marry any of those women! I'm not your child!"

"But you are my subject," Roderick reminded him, his gray eyes as stubborn and stupidly unyielding as ever. "You will do as I say, and it is within my rights to make sure of it."

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