In Which Riona States the Need

April 6, 1175

Having finally finished what must have been the slowest change of clothing in the history of sleepwear, Isidro shut the wardrobe door and sent Riona a glance from over his shoulder--casual as ever, as if she hadn't just watched him disrobe to full nudity and pull on a pair of loose slacks for bed. Was this how men dressed in front of each other? Sure, she'd spent plenty of nights at friends' homes and dressing in front of Hilla or Rona had never been an issue, but somehow she'd figured it would have been different for men. Clearly, though, that wasn't the case--or at least not for Isidro. She wished it had been. If he'd asked her to turn away--or if he'd given her any warning at all--then she wouldn't have gotten caught in a stare she hadn't been able to break.

"Well? Are you going to get changed, or are you planning on wearing leather and chain mail to bed?"

That was a good question. "Err... the latter?"

"I think not." He prowled along the foot of the bed and curved around the her side, his eyes shut in pained contemplation. "It's a warm room and the last thing I want to wake to is the stench of a sweaty bedfellow."

Annoyed, Riona slung herself off the bed and stared him in the eye. He was by no means a tall man, but she still had to tilt her head upward a slight degree to meet the dark orbs on either side of that hideous scar. "Funny--the last thing I want to wake to is the sight of your ugly face."

He just rolled his eyes, like he did every other time she called him ugly or disfigured or marred. He probably heard all that so frequently it barely even registered as anything more than a redundancy. "Damn it, Riona, just get changed already."

...what had he just called her? "You--"

He nodded. "Yes, I know. I knew from the start--and don't ask me how the others haven't recognized you yet because frankly, I don't know. Your disguise isn't very good."

Hmph. It had everyone else she'd encountered fooled. "Fuck you."

"Just get changed."

Asshole! Riona made a point to shove him as she passed. "So that's why you keep getting me into all this shit? You've been trying to expose me?"

"Not really. I just wanted you to admit to me privately." He reached back and caught her by the arm; as she usually did when he touched her, Riona froze. "You're welcome, by the way--for not telling the others. And for the room. And for looking out for your best interests."

"My best interests?" Sniffing in disbelief, Riona opened the wardrobe and began to liberate herself from Lonriad's clothes. She didn't really care if Isidro looked. She had her shift on underneath anyway. "What the hell are you talking about? You've been trying to ruin me."

"Ruin you? I've been trying to protect you." She heard the covers rustle as he climbed onto the bed behind her; for such a self-conscious, shuffling presence, he made quick work of it. "I needed you to know that someone was onto you because you needed to get away from here. It's only a matter of time before my father finds out and you don't want to know what happens to pretty little girls who get on his bad side."

Riona scowled. "Good thing I'm not pretty or little, then."

"Don't be stupid." He scuffled down the mattress and nudged the footboard with his toe. Given his height or lack of therefore, it must have been a stretch. "Beats me why a lord's daughter on the cusp of womanhood would care to follow us unlovable rogues around the continent anyway."

Sighing, Riona shut the wardrobe door and started on her way back to her side of the bed. "I needed to get away."

A snicker from the mattress told her he didn't believe her--idiot. "And what could you have possibly needed to get away from?"

"Mainly my father."

Well, now he understood--or at least, so she guessed when she turned her head and caught him frowning. "Oh? Does he belittle you?"

Well... "No, not exactly."

"Beat you?"

"No."

"Molest you?"

"No!"

Setting herself down, she cast him a quick glare, which he returned with a raised brow. "Then what?"

How to put it...? Not really sure, Riona pushed herself upright against the scratchy pillow. "He--he doesn't let me do anything!"

There--surely he could relate. He wasn't that much older than she was--maybe between Raia and Jadin age-wise--so it wasn't as if he'd already forgotten the toils of countless scoldings and needless rules. Or had he? No... no, no one could have. Could they?

Isidro snarled. All right, maybe he had. "And what sort of things won't he let you do? Stunts of the variety that would lead to harebrained ideas such as this, I take it?" His eyes refused to look in her direction. Vexed, almost offended, Isidro kicked aside the blankets and buried his lower body beneath. "I'm taking you home tomorrow."

What? "You are not!"

"I am so." His face unreadable, he stared forward for a second, trance-like. He had a certain almost-beauty that somehow struck her speechless, but then he moved--licked his fingers, snuffed out the candle, only the moonlight from the half-obscured window falling upon him now. All she could see was the scar. "Don't kid yourself. You live a charmed life if all you can complain about is a father who actually gives a damn."

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