In Which Severin Sees What Remiel Would Dare

April 16, 1177

Falidor's recurrent lazy eye lolled somewhat. It had been quite some time since Severin had seen it do so--probably not since the days of Ailede. "My lord."

All these years and still with the 'my lord'-ing... not to mention, everything else today. Annoyed, Severin tried to mimic the effect of the eye. Childish, no doubt, but after being kept up all night by a choir of screaming infants, he lacked the energy to be mature. "Mind telling me why you sent a guard to fetch me? And why a maid is doing your job?"

"I didn't want to leave your study door unguarded."

A hook formed in Severin's brow. His study door had stood unguarded day and night for over twenty years and never had Falidor had a problem with the idea. Why was today any different? "Sorry?"

The steward sighed. "Brother Remiel would like a word with you."

...oh. "I see."

"Look, if you don't want to--"

"No. If he wants a word, then he shall have it." Though perhaps not the one he has in mind. "Go back to your own post, Falidor--but before you do that, find a guard to take the spot here. After the incident with my daughters I don't trust the man to leave without an escort."

Falidor nodded. Severin waited until he'd brushed past him to cringe. The monk was a small, sickly-looking man but with everything he'd heard--vague and confusing as it was--he wasn't sure how he felt about meeting Remiel without a sword in hand. At least there was a knife in a sheath nailed to the underside of the desk.

And if someone was to bear the brunt of his frustrations today... well, better Remiel than Severin's own children. "I see you noticed my books."

"Rather controversial material, don't you think?" The monk didn't even bother to turn around. More offended than he'd usually be, Severin shut the door with a moderate slam! that still failed to win him a glance. "Then again, who am I to say? I deal with some unsavory subject matter myself."

You don't say. "Mind if I ask what sort?"

"Demonology." An altogether unsurprising answer, now that it had been said. "Incubi and succubi, specifically. You have heard of such things, correct?"

Though the monk still faced the desk, Severin nodded. "Yes, but I can't say I'm convinced of their existence."

"Really?" At last, Remiel turned around. His eyes were so remorseless and ire-inspiring that Severin regretted awaiting the sight of them. "You might want to ask your mother if she feels the same way."

"Speaking of my mother, you might want to explain why she keeps warning me about you."

The corner of the monk's mouth twitched. He was possibly the first person Severin had ever met who looked uglier while smiling. "Research aids do tend to get anxious when they outlive their usefulness. However, it appears that she's done more for me than she might have imagined. Tell me--apart from the two I met at Armion, have you many other children?"

Judging by the glint in those eerie eyes, there was no point in lying. "Can't say I see the point in asking what you already know."

Remiel sniffed. "Your mother had quite the tongue on her too. As did your girl--Riona, isn't it? Charming little thing. Her mother must have been quite the beauty."

Inside his chest, Severin's heartstrings knotted. How dare this man come in here and parade Alina in front of him. How dare he profane her memory with even the thought of her in his twisted head. He must have been trying to get a rise out of him. He wouldn't have mentioned her otherwise. How dare he use her for that. "Beautiful is not a strong enough word."

"Pity. Nothing quite so tragic as the death of such a woman, is there?"

How dare he. "Why are you here?"

The monk replied with a casual lift of the shoulder. "I haven't seen the girls around lately. I thought it odd; they are friends with the duke's sister, are they not?"

As if that had anything to do with it--whatever it was. "Rona is always welcome to visit them here." And I dare you to ask if the same applies to you.

"Good. She has been hurting, you know; seeing her friends would do her well." He held out his hand, as if he expected a shake.

Like hell he was going to get one. "Don't pretend you were here for Rona's sake. That's bullshit and we both know it."

The monk frowned, whatever trace of an upper lip he had vanishing beneath its own verso. "I can't say I care for the language."

"It's my castle. I'll use all the fucking profanity I want." The other man's eyes bulged. Severin's only regret was that they hadn't popped right out of their sockets. "At least I'm not using one innocent girl to try to get closer to two others."

"Who says it's the girls I want?" Severin's fist clenched. One more mention of his family and his knuckles would introduce themselves to Remiel's nose, he swore it. "I'm curious... have you ever done something you couldn't explain? Something unnatural, perhaps."

"I don't know. I've been told I have an unnatural disrespect for holy men, but that I have no problem explaining."

"You're a damned man, you know that?" Remiel narrowed his eyes, the slit-like pupils flitting to Severin's hand. "There's a cut on your palm, by the way."

What? "There is not."

"Well." Without warning, Remiel's fingers snared themselves around Severin's wrist and yanked it closer. His fist opened as if by divine will, a thin line of seeping blood at the hand's center revealed. "There is now."

NEXT CHAPTER: