In Which Laralita Receives a Not-Quite Apology

February 3, 1171

"Well, I had to see it to believe it." The very notion had been so absurd that Laralita had first thought Elhina might have been playing some practical joke, but sure enough, here he was, the spitting image of his father with her own silky hair.

Searle acknowledged her with the briefest of glances. "Mother." He delivered the word with neither fondness or repulsion but a chilling, almost resigned neutrality; he might as well have said the word 'chair' or 'apple' or 'sky'.

Laralita pursed her lips and looked him over. The resemblance to her late husband was uncanny, really--down to the last heavy bag beneath his drooping eye. "Are you all right? You look ill."

"I'm fine." He pressed his hands to the cushions and propelled himself to his feet, a scowl curling on his thin mouth. "Forgive me if I seem curt, but you can't honestly believe that I came all the way from Dovia for a mere social call. When do you expect the king to return?"

"Not for another couple of hours." It was odd that he'd referred to Roderick by his title, now that she thought about it. Might he not have asked about his stepfather, or even just her husband? Ah, but perhaps Searle was of the variety who valued formalities--if that was the case, she could relate. "Come here and let me look at you."

Searle frowned. "You can see me from here."

"Yes, but not so well as I should like."

Sighing, her son crossed his arms and stepped toward her. Up close he appeared even paler and thinner than she might have guessed. It was unnerving--almost like seeing a ghost. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes," he insisted. "I had a bit of a chill, but I'm over the worst of it now."

"Well, that's good to hear!" Laralita clasped her hands together and smiled. "So, how are things back in Bandera? How is old Wilcade doing--did he ever marry that girl?"

Karlspan's eyes--Searle's eyes, she corrected herself--narrowed. "You haven't seen me in twelve years and you're asking about the steward?"

"Oh, but I never did find out; after all, you never reply to my letters."

For some inexplicable reason, he laughed. Laralita raised an eyebrow; personally, she didn't see how that was funny. "Well, I'm sure Ietrin would have mentioned it at some point. He does return your letters, does he not? Seeing as he hasn't seen you since he was half a year old, I daresay they're the only source of parental memories the kid has."

Laralita nodded. "Yes, your brother is quite diligent with his correspondence, isn't he? But what about you? Is it just my letters you ignore, or do you make a point of alienating everyone you know?"

"Alienating?" He snorted. Where on earth had he picked up such a bizarre sense of humor? His Aunt Eldona, may she rest in peace, must have been a very strange woman. "Frankly, I'm a busy man and I don't have time to reply to every letter that finds its way to my desk; if that means that I have to alienate some people, then so be it."

"Oh, really?" She tried to restrain the furrow of her brow--she was getting to the age where wrinkles were becoming a concern, after all. "Well, if you're so busy, then why are you here?"

"King Oswald sent me here." Searle brushed a fallen hair off of his tunic; his clothing was a bit loose on him, Laralita noted. "Lord Severin wrote to him and told him about your problem with the forest dwellers, and he figured it couldn't hurt to send me to help sort things out--seeing as I do happen to be the most renowned diplomatic mind in Dovia, that is."

What? Laralita sniffed. "You can't be the most renowned diplomatic mind in Dovia. You're--how old are you, again? Thirteen?"

"Yes, Mother," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm thirteen--and, for the record, this isn't the first time the king has sent me to deal with conflicting powers."

"He trusts you, then?" Had she been Oswald, she wouldn't have been sending children on such errands, that was for sure--then again, Oswald had always been a bit odd.

Searle shrugged. "Well, he did let me marry his daughter, if that counts for anything. Thank you for bothering to show up at the wedding, by the way."

He was married? When had that happened? How did she possibly have a son who was old enough to be married? "You have a wife? What are you going to be telling me next? I can't be old enough to be a grandmother already!"

"Don't worry, you're not a grandmother." He leaned back a couple degrees and smirked. "At least, not for another three months or so, you're not. Anyway, we were thinking of naming the baby for Father if it's a boy, or for Ren's mother if it's a girl; after all, I'm sure both of them would have been actively involved in the kid's life had they been given the chance."

Laralita cocked her head to one side, the rim of her crown slipping somewhat against her scalp. "Are you trying to guilt me, Searle?"

"Oh, but whatever gave you that impression?" That caustic tone was back again. For the life of her, she couldn't remember him ever being so snarky; she shuddered to think of how Koradril and Eldona's own kids must have turned out thus far. "Really, Mother, I'm quite insulted."

Dear Lord! "Where did you get that tongue?"

"I believe I was simply born with it, Mother."

She sighed. There was no end to this, was there? "Is this really how your aunt and uncle raised you to act?"

"Oh, so you admit that they did raise me?" The words twisted into a rope and wrapped themselves around her neck, pulling tightly in both directions. She could not look at him without suffocating further, yet it seemed impossible to do otherwise. "You know what, never mind. Perhaps I was a bit out of line."

It was not quite an apology, but it would have to do for now. She doubted she could get anything more sincere out of him, this hollow shell of a young man; no doubt that she would have to send Koradril one long, scathing letter about this. For now, however, she would just have to live with her brother's mistakes--at least, the ones she couldn't fix herself. "Before your stepfather returns, should I send for the valet? You could use a little trim off the split ends, Piglet."

Searle stepped back and stared at her, his hands firmly on his hips and a foreign emotion in his eyes for which she had no name. "Never call me that again."

She opened her mouth to inquire as to why not, but it was to late. He'd already strode past her and into the corridor, the door shut tight with a deliberate thud!

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