In Which Sparron Feels the Sinister Thing

July 9, 1173

Under normal circumstances, Sparron did not feel comfortable in Searle's bedroom. Really, he didn't feel comfortable being anywhere with Searle, but he was past the point where he could help himself--and at home, at least, he knew what to expect. He knew where each of his family members would be at approximately what time, which servants were on duty and were most likely to come to the door. He know how much force the bed could take without creaking and where to find replacement sheets in the event of any careless stains. At Searle's father's castle, he did not have those necessities.

But today was different. Xeta had gone into labor that morning and if anyone had noticed that Searle was missing, it wasn't as if they cared. Besides, Searle didn't seem to want to do anything more than talk; for once, he wasn't even trying to cuddle. It was the easiest half hour or so they'd shared since Searle had been nothing but Jadin's annoying kid brother.

Or, so it would have been if Searle hadn't chosen such an excruciating topic of conversation. "So... you're planning on asking your father to find you a wife?"

Searle nodded, not even so much as a twinkle in the eye to hint that he was joking. "Like I said, I've been thinking about it for a while. We can still do what we--"

"Not if you have a wife, you can't." Sparron shook his hand to pull back a bulging vein, the blood bold as it throbbed within. He knew Searle well enough to know that Searle wouldn't want a marriage of convenience. He would want that elusive connection, the sort that shared thoughts via glances and secret emotions with the brush of a hand. He would want to wife to whom he could tell everything.

But as always, Searle didn't seem to be thinking things through. "Why not? I'd just sneak around her like I do with the rest of my family. I just feel like I need to be with someone publicly, you know?"

Publicly? That did sound like something Searle would want. It fit well with the idea of the love match wife. A strange, unfamiliar feeling nagged from somewhere by Sparron's lung; he couldn't guess what it was, but he knew to be ashamed of it. "Uh... sorry?"

"Oh, don't think it's because I don't love you." As always, Sparron cringed at the sound of that word--but if Searle noticed, he didn't let it show. "It's just... well, you know how it is. And I've been rather unhappy lately, and I figured out that it's because I've got all these feelings that I want to show the world. So, I figure that if I had a wife, I could--"

"Use her?"

"Well... no," Searle insisted as Sparron pulled himself to his feet, though he seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "I mean, I'd hope to feel something for her some day. Not what I feel for you, but it wouldn't be just for show."

Not for show... Why did that make his blood boil? He wanted to say it was because Searle was lying, but Searle wasn't a liar; Searle was just a naive little boy who lived in a world where unicorns pranced about and men walked hand-in-hand without earning the bat of an eye and a person could fall in love by sheer force of will. Sparron didn't understand, nor did he want to. There was only so much understanding one could feel before it became something else, something more sinister--something like caring.

"You know what? Fine." He grabbed hold of his own left forearm and squeezed, his nails like razor blades to the stitching of his sleeves. "I don't want to argue with you. Tell your father you want a wife. Either way, I don't give a--"

"Searle!"

A red-haired, blue-clad ball of euphoria burst through the door and rammed into Searle with a force that would have sent him flying had he not been caught in the newcomer's own embrace. "Searle! I have a daughter!"

Thank God for Jadin. It was a strange thought, but if Sparron was in any position to be thanking any god for anything, it was for the interruption. "She's so beautiful. She's got brown hair and more freckles than you and she always looks like she's smiling and you have to come and meet her right now."

"That's great!" Searle pushed off another attempted hug from his brother and laughed. "I'll be down to meet her in a minute, all right? Just let me finish off my convers--"

"No!" Jadin looped his arm through Searle's and dragged him toward the door. Searle struggled for moment, but his brother was stronger than he was. "Lyssa wants to meet her Uncle Searle!"

Pretty blue eyes flickered Sparron's way, but he felt disinclined to help. In truth, he didn't feel inclined to do much. A betrayed face gaped back at him until it had been pulled out of sight, the scuffle of boots against the hardwood now the music of another corridor.

Sparron sank back into the chair and dug his teeth into the flesh of his tongue. At least the pinching and stinging had a source. At least the taste of blood was not a surprise. He tried to focus on his mouth, but that ache in his chest never did fade away.

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