In Which Isidro Notes the Constant

April 3, 1175

"Fuck." Isidro stormed into the room and slammed the door behind him. "Just--fuck!"

He kicked off his boots and hucked a wad of spit into the fire; on the bed, Casimiro stirred. "Fuck what? I was almost asleep--fuck you."

Rolling his eyes, Isidro yanked open one of the drawers and hoisted his tunic over his head. "Oh poor baby." Christ, this was getting frustrating. He supposed he couldn't blame Casimiro if only because of his cousin's abysmal eyesight, but... really? How had the rest of them not figured it out by now? Maybe Bernardo was the most clueless ass who'd ever walked the planet, but Augustin had no excuse. Augustin was shrewd, clever--how the hell had an impulsive little brat like Riona managed to sneak around right under his nose?

But oh well. It was for the best that he didn't know. If Augustin knew, he would tell Domingo, and that knowledge in those hands was the last thing anyone needed. Riona would be dropped like a rock without even a guide to take her home, and that would be if the man didn't feel the need to punish her. Isidro would be chastised for knowing beforehand and not telling, and that would probably be the last straw in regards to the question of his inheritance.

No... if only she could just admit it to him...

He finished disrobing, then fished around for a pair of slacks. Ignoring the tingle in his bad leg, he pulled them on and shut the drawer with a hard thud!. "Don't you hate it when people just won't work with you?"

"The hell are you talking about?" God damn. The worst part of this whole damn thing was that he couldn't talk about it. He could have trusted Casimiro, but his cousin seemed to have taken a liking to 'Searle' and it might have been a little cruel to shatter the illusion--even if it would have been the smart thing to do. Then again, the smart thing would have been to take Riona aside that very first day and tell her to scram.

But he hadn't--it had been a moronic lapse of judgment that he would regret for fuck all only knew how long, but he hadn't. And now he was stuck pulling stunts like trying to 'accidentally' walk in on her in the bath. The universe was a bitch that way.

"Never mind." Dizzy in the heat of his own anger, Isidro stumbled toward the bed and kicked back the covers. He'd have to confront her. He was out of options--he had to tell her that he knew. It would be ugly, it would be painful, but it had to be done. He'd even drag her back to her father's castle himself if he had to. Damned if he even cared about this crusade anyway, even if everyone thought he should. It's in the name of God, his father always said. God. If his father could only pull his head out of his own ass for five minutes, he might have figured out that worthless, disfigured half-breeds abhorred by Christians and Muslims alike didn't have much patience for 'God'.

Yawning, Casimiro rolled onto his side. "Well, I hope you feel better in the morning."

Isidro grunted as he settled under the blankets. Good old dependable Casimiro; if nothing else, at least he had that one constant. "Noted."

He flattened his back against the mattress and stared at the ceiling blanks above him. Maybe it was just his imagination, or maybe he was even more obsessed than he'd thought, but he could have sworn he saw Riona's face in the grain. "Stupid..."

"Hmm?" A hint of Casimiro's blue irises peeked out from between his lashes. "Who do you mean, Is? Who's stupid? You, or this other person?"

Subtlety had never been Isidro's cousin's strong point, but it didn't matter just then. In its own sick way, that good-natured bluntness was almost refreshing. At least he said it like it was. At least he wasn't a manipulative bastard or an outright liar. Couldn't help but appreciate someone like that. "Honestly? Both."

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