In Which Severin Adds to the List

January 9, 1175

Throughout the course of his life, Severin's sleep habits had changed little. He'd been born in the late hours of the night and had slept through most of the day, only to wake again as the sun set. As a child, he'd been a struggle to put to bed and a pain to get up in the morning, and that trend had continued throughout his youth. Even as an adult, his rhythms were forced, practiced--and that did nothing to make sleep a simpler task.

But whenever he finally did drift away for the night, he didn't care to be woken. The unsuspecting guard had not gotten off easily and if it hadn't been for Nora's steadying hand wrapped around Severin's own, the intruders would have met a similar fate. "You wanted a word?"

There were five of them in total, an older man and four who couldn't have been much older than Severin's own children. Two of them sat on the couch, obscured by the elder and the largest of them, who must have been the right-hand man. The fourth youngster, smaller and scrawnier than his fellows, quietly tended to the fire in the hearth. He had the icy-yet-insecure posture of a man who wanted little more than to disappear from the room; so far as Severin could tell, he was almost succeeding.

"You are lord here?" Severin nodded. The older man's voice was thick with a Spanish accent--thank God the languages were so similar. "I am Sir Domingo de Cervantes, Knight of Galicia. Perhaps you've heard of me."

Severin frowned. In another instance he might have played along, but if the man insisted on being arrogant after having barged in at this hour, then perhaps he deserved to be taken down a peg or two. "Doesn't ring a bell."

The young man beside him raised an eyebrow; the slouching figure by the fire sighed. As for Sir Domingo himself, his eyes bulged as if Severin had uttered some unforgivable blasphemy--which, considering the company, was beginning to seem tempting. "Well... I suppose you might not have heard of me in such a backwater place. Really, I never knew Naroni existed until we stumbled across it. Anyway, my nephews and my son and I are crusaders, and we need a place to stay for the night."

"Good thing there's an inn in the village, then."

He knew it hadn't been what the visitor had wanted to hear, but this castle had known its fair share of unfortunate guests and Severin did not particularly care to add to that list. And yet, Domingo's face said it all. "I don't think you understand me, sir. We are crusaders--on a holy quest."

Nora sniffed. "A few years behind schedule, aren't you?"

The knight sent a quick glare in her direction, but turned back to Severin. "Kind of you to bring us a wench, my lord, but did you have to choose such a mouthy one?"

The figure by the fire tensed. Nora's expression morphed into one that was usually reserved for Roderick--the one she always got when she was trying to mind her manners but really wanted nothing more than to punch the offending party square in the jaw. Severin wished she would. "My wife, good sir, is not here for your pleasure and has every right to be as mouthy as she pleases."

He'd thought that would be warning enough, but Domingo's face was as smug as ever. If Nora didn't punch him, then maybe he'd do it himself. "And why, pray tell, would you ever allow your wife to walk freely throughout the castle in her nightgown?"

Severin's fingers clenched into a firm, shaking fist. He might have put it to use had the man by the fire not looked up and caught him off-guard. He was only about the age of Raia or Jadin, but his eyes were cold and bitter and Severin had seen scars less severe on the faces of grizzled warriors. The young man's gaze flickered from Nora to Domingo to Severin, then back to Nora. "My apologies, my lady. He needn't speak of you as though you weren't here."

"Shut up and mind the fire, boy." Domingo made a swat for the younger man's head, but the boy managed to duck to the side. Regardless, his attentions returned to the fire. "Don't mind him. He's every bit as useless as his Muslim slut of a mother."

The young man's grip on the poker tightened. Domingo took no notice, but the short-haired boy on the couch paid a sympathetic glance to his... brother? cousin? Dear Lord, which of these boys was the son? Probably the one to Domingo's right--yes, that must have been it. As if to assert himself as such, the tall man cleared his throat. "So, might we stay the night? Not only are we crusaders, but my uncle is a hero in our country."

...or not. Domingo gave his nephew a pat on the shoulder, then turned his gray eyes on Severin once again. That gaze was beginning to make him feel nauseous. "Surely you would not refuse the servants of the Lord, if only in the name of good Christian charity? Err... you are a good Christian, right?"

"Of course I'm a good Christian." Severin crossed his arms and shrugged. "I'll have you know that three of my ten children were conceived on an alter."

The pony-tailed man on the couch guffawed appreciatively. Domingo himself was not so impressed. "In that case, I must request rooms as far from your defiled chapel as possible. We'll need three of them--one for myself, and then the boys can double up. Is this possible?"

"If you're willing to take the rooms as-is." And that only to shut him up! Domingo would be getting the filthiest room in the castle--not to mention, a guard stationed in the adjoining corridor. So far he'd been all talk and no action, but if there was any reason to trust this man, Severin had yet to find it.

Domingo frowned. "I suppose they shall have to do. We are quite tired, aren't we, boys?"

"Perhaps we wouldn't be if you hadn't kept us up last night with your drunken antics," snarled the young man by the fire.

"No one asked you." The boy edged a little nearer to the fire; meanwhile, Domingo stiffened. "Would you believe my luck? I sire fifteen children, and the only one who lives to a reasonable age is the deformed little half-breed."

Scowling, Nora locked eyes with Domingo's son. "My apologies. He needn't speak of you as if you weren't here."

The young man only grunted and turned away, but his father laughed. "Where on earth did you get this one?"

Severin's fingers twitched. "You're doing it again."

His stupid mouth dropped open--probably to ask what exactly he was doing, the damned fool--but the voice Severin heard next was both a welcome change from Domingo's and an alarm in itself. "Father, what the hell is going on?"

Severin's palm hit his face as Riona strolled into the firelit room. Why was she up at this hour? And why oh why--on this night of all nights--was she wearing that translucent summer nightdress? "Riona, where is your woolen nightgown?"

"The cat ripped it up." God damn. How many times had he told her not to take the cat to bed? Why didn't she ever listen? "Anyway, what are these people doing here?" She set herself down on the couch's empty spot. The boy on the far end was respectful enough to look away, but the one between them looked as though he was struggling to keep himself in check. Domingo and his standing nephew looked her over with scrutiny; his son barely paid her a glance. "I'm Riona, by the way. Who are you?"

The boys on the couch introduced themselves, but Severin was too busy with his own silent rage to listen for their names--especially now that Domingo's eyes were back upon him. "Interesting daughter you have there."

"One more word out of you and you'll be staying the dungeon."

At last, Domingo seemed to heed the warning--thank God. Free at last, Severin turned his attentions to Riona. She seemed to be enjoying herself with the two boys on the couch--a pity that the pony-tailed one's eyes had to keep falling to her breasts. "Riona, I believe you should be in bed."

If she'd heard him over the chatter, she ignored him. Domingo's standing nephew smirked; Severin toyed with the idea of taking both him and his uncle by the hair and bashing their heads together. "Riona, it's late."

"I'm still awake, aren't I?" She hadn't even bothered to look at him when she'd said it. Why was that not a surprise? "Anyway, you say you're going crusading? That sounds--"

"Excuse me."

Domingo's son dropped the fire poker and crossed the floor to the couch, placing himself at the feet of his cousins. Silenced, Riona looked away--probably because of the scars. "Look, while I get that there's nothing in this world you enjoy more than gawking at girls like some sort of lecherous monkey, we have to be up early. Now that his lordship and her ladyship have so generously offered us lodging, we might as well turn in now and spare them the trouble of putting up with us in the morning."

The young man beside Riona--probably the middle brother, a little younger than the standing one and a little older than the short-haired one--opened his mouth to protest, but his cousin cut him off with a shake of his head. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

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