In Which Sparron Considers the Living

November 22, 1178

Thetis and Evera had volunteered to watch the children, and Sparron's father had retired to his study with only Pandora and Thallie for company. There was no one in the room but himself and Jeda, yet still she felt the need to keep herself collected. She'd been their rock these past few days--comforting the older kids, trying to maintain some routine with the younger ones, always ready to cover if Sparron or their father needed a moment alone. The only time she'd had to grieve had been in her dreams.

But she had time now, and she wasn't taking it. Sparron wasn't sure why he found that surprising. Life with the royals must have been a life of brave faces. "Are you all right?"

"As all right as I can be." So 'No', then. Poor girl. "What about you? I'm sorry, I've been focused on Father and the children..."

"It's all right." He wished she wasn't so quick to apologize for such a selfless existence. "And I don't know. Same, I guess."

He left it at that and let the unsaid hang in the balance. The only mother they'd ever known, gone--just when they'd both needed a mother most, if he was honest with himself. But they'd had many good years with Holladrin, more than any of the healers had predicted. She'd fought long and hard, a smile on her face all the while, keeping them grounded through the rough marriages and the problems with the king and Sparron's decline. It must have been struggle, keeping up those spirits while the body withered away. If she'd reached the point where she could no longer manage... well, how could he blame her for letting go?

But for all he should have been thinking of his stepmother on the day of her funeral, Holladrin herself was not one for drawn-out misery. 'It's never a crime to honor the dead,' she'd once whispered to Sparron on one of the many occasions they'd feared would be the end, 'but life is for the living.'

The living. Like Jeda.

"Why don't you spend the night?"

His sister gaped. Sure enough, he'd just blurted it out, but was it such a surprising suggestion? "Sparron, I can't. Ietrin, he..."

"Still won't leave you alone?"

She nodded. "He'll be angry."

And what of it? Didn't that self-important prick realize that his wife was in mourning? And why wasn't he, for that matter? Holladrin had been Ietrin's own aunt! "To hell with him. You and the girls stay here tonight, and let Father deal with Ietrin if he gives you any trouble."

"Father?" Her hazel eyes bulged, lips contracting to an inaudible gasp. "Oh, I couldn't ask that of--"

"You could. He would." Kicking Ietrin's ass might be the best way for Father to relax anyway. "Or I'll deal with him if Father can't. We should all be together tonight and Ietrin ought to know it. Please. For me." For you.

Jeda sighed, the curls framing her face falling back toward her ears. Holladrin had always loved Jeda's curls. "Thank you."

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