In Which Searle Is Taunted and Offered

February 5, 1179

It had been a long enough day. Mass, wake, awkward small talk with estranged relatives, trying to get a word with his daughter but failing to get past her mother--Searle had never been so relieved to return to his own castle. Viridis was already in bed and he'd been about to join her, but so much for that now.

"What do you want, Celina?"

Why was she here? His sister and her family were staying with their father and it wasn't much of a ride, but it was late and cold and she'd come alone. He and Viridis wouldn't be leaving for a few days yet; surely whatever it was could have waited until morning?

Celina sniffed. She'd styled her hair not unlike the way Viridis wore hers, but for all it was his own garish orange and not that rich red, he was reminded more strikingly of Riona. She must have meant to taunt him. He wasn't sure how, but she must have. "You left a bit suddenly. Tivalia wanted a word."

"She could have mentioned that to Danthia."

"Or you could have. Look, I still think she's justified in her eternal hatred of you, but if there's one time she might cut you a break, your mother's funeral doesn't seem like the least likely occasion." And this was why they had never gotten along. Celina saw, at the root of everything, logic. She expected everyone else to see it too.

Logic for Searle had always been secondary. "Yes, well--she didn't. And I wasn't about to ask, because I wasn't about to raise a scene at a wake. And why do you care anyway?"

"Just looking out for my niece's interests." Hmph. If that was true, why hadn't she been distracting Danthia for him instead of standing cross-armed in the corner like some glowering statue? "Speaking of which, I noticed you did get a chance to speak with Cladelia. Just a pity that Nythran was never far, was it? But I suppose he could use a break. Poor fool's going to go to the grave unaware of his own horns, isn't he?"

Well. Shit. "How the hell--?"

She shrugged. "I heard Mother and Father talking about not talking about it and filled in the blanks for myself. Honestly, it's the only aspect of you I ever found halfway interesting."

Oh God. Tarien knew--he'd known that--but now Celina? Did Jadin know? What about their late sisters? "If you ever tell anyone--"

"What are you going to do? Fuck me?" She swatted aside his pointing finger and took a half step backward. "But what reason have I to tell? Cladelia's happy. Nythran's happy. What sort of horrible aunt would I be if I ruined all that?"

So she had come to taunt him. How dare she. "Celina--"

"Relax. I'm here to help you." ...eh? "Let me handle Danthia. I can't promise anything immediate, but let me handle her."

Of all the offers he'd ever expected to receive, and from all the people he'd ever expected to offer. Maybe he was in bed after all. It was just as easily a dream. "This isn't like you."

"Brother, you've hardly been around since I was a child. You don't know me well enough to make that call." You don't say. "But I know Danthia, and I know Tivalia. Let me handle this."

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