In Which Aspen Doesn't Answer Aloud

December 27, 1175

Eldaron Torgleid's last sentence had been indistinguishable babbling for the most part, but those few who witnessed his death all claimed to have heard two distinct words: 'My son'.

Maybe he'd been half-mad in those last minutes, or maybe the onlookers had been strangers in search of a romanticized hero, but the fact remained that the claim made no damn sense. Eldaron Torgleid had no son. Just a daughter--a scrawny, freckle-faced little spit of a girl too gawky and graceless to even look him in the eye.

If she thought about it, Aspen couldn't even blame him for forgetting her; after all, who could begrudge a dying hero one last bit of wishful thinking? But sometimes, usually in those hazy late minutes when the eye drooped and the room swirled, she wondered if maybe he'd always wanted a son, or even if he should have had a son instead. He'd been a man of action, after all, a leader and a warrior and not the sort of man who could have been expected to raise a daughter on his own.

But his wife had born him only one child before she'd died--and now here she sat, suffering in silence through an afternoon of mindless gossip. Aspen hated gossiping, even more than she hated shrieks over mice or leers from depraved stableboys or that awful Lonriad. These silly afternoon chats quite possibly the second-worst part of being a girl; just her luck that Lady Rona preferred she never missed a single one. Then again, all things considered, what harm could one or two or a hundred more sessions do? There weren't any levels of discomfort left to achieve.

"...but on the other hand, how great will it be to see Riona again tomorrow?" Hilla babbled on while Rona clung to every word and Aspen tried to keep up an air of polite interest. "It's true that she's back, you know; my mother called at Veldora just yesterday. She's in the family way, didn't you hear? Brought back a man and plans on marrying him next month."

"Oh." In spite of her previous hopes for her friend, Rona sounded a little disappointed. It wasn't difficult to figure out why--naughty Riona takes off for a year and comes back with a new family while good little Rona stays and obeys and can't even get a cad like Lonriad to drop his little farmer's daughter--but it was unsettling nonetheless. The room just wasn't the same when Rona wasn't smiling. "Tall, dark and handsome, I take it?"

Hilla shook her head. "Just dark. But better one out of three than none, right? Oh, and speaking of tall, dark and handsome, how's Lonriad?"

Oh, she would ask that. Aspen cringed; Rona swallowed. "Uh, well..."

"Oh! Oh, honey, don't worry. I have news for you." Hilla squirmed in her seat, grinning so widely that Aspen's jaw was beginning to ache in its stead. "In the spring, Cord's going to ask Asalaye's father for her hand!"

Well. The chain reaction was easy enough to figure out: if Cord married Asalaye, then that left Lonriad for Rona. For Rona's sake, Aspen tried to smile. Odd how such a thing could be so difficult. "That's certainly... convenient."

"But what if her father doesn't agree to it?"

Poor girl. It was not like Rona to be pessimistic, but she seemed to have convinced herself that Lonriad was her only chance to avoid being shipped off to Dovia or beyond and that must have stung. Aspen wished it could have been someone else--anyone else--even if Cord did take Asalaye out of the equation. Rona deserved better than to live out the rest of her days as someone's second choice.

But if Hilla had any qualms about her friend and Lonriad, then she had a funny way of showing it. "Don't worry, he won't. Asalaye could do a lot worse than Cord, you know, especially after my mother married Sir Tarien."

"I hope you're right." Lazily elegant, Rona tossed back her curls and gave a theatrical sigh; Aspen took to fiddling with a loose thread from her skirt. "It will be nice to live so close to Riona. You should marry someone from Veldorashire too, Hilla; that way, we could all see each other all the time."

Hilla laughed. "Oh please! I'm still having too much fun to think about getting married just yet. Aspen, help me out here."

"Aspen is a lady, unlike you," Rona teased before turning her honey eyes on Aspen. "Besides, aren't you still courting that man from the village?"

"What? Oh, uh... yes." Cursing herself, Aspen tried to keep a straight face. It was just too damn easy to lose track of made-up people. "Things are going very well with Gil."

Hilla raised an eyebrow. "I thought his name was Gray."

...shit. "Err, it is. His surname, I mean--Gil Gray."

Hilla's brow remained arch, but Rona slowed Aspen's racing heart with a dreamy exhale. "Don't you love the alliteration? Gil Gray. Aspen, you'll have to introduce us."

"Umm..." Oy. This was getting so uncomfortable so quickly that she was beginning to regret her invention of the man. Yes, he'd been successful in stopping Rona's every musing of 'Ooh, he'd be good for you!', but now that she thought there was something going on, she had to have every detail. Aspen wasn't sure which was worse. "He's actually out of the country right now. He's a traveling merchant."

Hilla frowned. "I thought you said he was a miller's apprentice."

...damn you, Hilla. Damn you. "He was... but he wanted to earn some more money."

"For the wedding, no doubt!" Wriggling in her seat, Rona reached for Aspen's hand and squeezed. She only held on for a couple seconds, but the soft warmth lingered past the duration of her grasp. "Oooh, imagine he comes back and the first thing he does is seek you out and get down on one knee? Exciting and romantic, don't you think?"

"I guess?"

"So modest." Rona kicked at her own heel and pouted, her full lips every bit as sweet as her wide eyes. "I envy you, Aspen. It must be wonderful to be in love."

And with the look in her eyes as she'd said it, it would have been cruel to shatter that illusion; Aspen didn't dare answer aloud.

But nor did she care to lie.

Wonderful as agony can be, my lady.

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