In Which Ellona Finds It Isn't Analogous

December 8, 1179

"...so I suppose I'll have to help out with that, unfortunately." Lettie fiddled with the loose cloth of her sleeve. That dusty blue suited her, but other than her dress, she wasn't looking too well. Her hair had been pinned expertly, but the elaborate ties and curls didn't serve to make her any prettier so much as the made her seem older; she was a few years younger than Ellona herself was, but with her hair up and the bags under her eyes and that tired half-smile she'd been wearing most of the evening, she might have passed for closer to Mistress Tumekrin's or Lady Leonora's. Maybe things would improve for Lettie once the baby arrived... but going by the barely-noticeable bulge and the fact that she was due in not-far-off February, that seemed a little much to hope for. Why Searle had brought her along given all that, Ellona couldn't guess.

But as selfish as a thought it was, she supposed she was glad that Lettie was here. Neilor had only been invited by the grace of some olive branch from Isidro, and Ellona only because Riona was Raia's sister--and if she'd known that Raia herself wasn't going to be there, she probably wouldn't have gone. But she liked Lettie well enough, and Lettie seemed more or less tolerant of her, and neither of them cared much for large gatherings. When she'd fled to the quiet oasis of the not-yet-ready dining hall, it had been nice to have a companion.

"I don't envy you. Weddings are enough of an ordeal when it's not an immediate family member."

Lettie nodded--agreeing, but unenthused. But while it was difficult enough to find fellow wedding grouches, it seemed unfair to expect passion out of a party guest who ought to have been back home instead, eating soup in bed.

"You know, maybe you should lie down."

"Maybe." A lock of red hair drooped in front of her eyes. She blew it aside with a well-aimed breath, only to have it flop stubbornly back. How frustrating life must have been when even her hair conspired against her. "Do you think Riona would mind if I used her room? I don't want to mess up any of the guest rooms."

"You're not staying the night?" She shook her head and Ellona gaped. What had Searle been thinking, dragging his sick, pregnant wife to and from a party in the same night? He hadn't, rang Raia's voice in her head, exasperated. "Well, I won't hear of it, and I doubt Riona will either. I'll go see if I can have a room prepared for you."

"No, it's all right." Brows furrowed, Lettie gave an unconvincing grimace. She must have saved the better fake grins for her husband. "It's not very far, and we were planning on leaving after dinner..."

"Really, I insist." Ellona pushed back her chair and rose to her feet, a quick smile Lettie's way. She wasn't the type to waste smiles, but she got the sense that Lettie could use one. "I'm sure they have a few rooms to spare. And if not, you can have my brother's room; I know he's not seven months pregnant."

The other woman sniffed out a half-hearted chuckle. "No, I'd guess not. Thank you."

"No problem. Just stay here and take it easy, all right?" Another nod. Ellona returned it, then strode toward the doors and pushed her way into the corridor.

Oddly enough given that there was a party taking place, she didn't see any servants, even though the pantries and kitchens were near here if this castle was at all analogous to Neilor's. It must have been close enough to supper that the ingredients would have been gathered, but not quite so close that anyone had been sent out with place settings. Just as well; the kitchen staff might not have been much use anyway. She'd have to find a chamber maid.

She ventured past the stairs and a large cabinet, then stopped to study a nearby door. Not that doors varied much in Dovian architecture... but in Neilor's castle as well as her old one, there was a door in a similar spot that led to a stairway to the maids' quarters. Surely at least one or two would be resting up there having prepared several chambers already? And surely they wouldn't mind quickly readying one more for the sake of their mistress's tired, pregnant sister-in-law?

It seemed like a reasonable guess. Shrugging, Ellona made her way to the door and grasped the handle.

Well. This wasn't a stairway. And it wasn't unoccupied. And the occupants weren't maids at all. "Uh... sorry?"

NEXT CHAPTER: