In Which Ellona Gives Due Credit

February 16, 1180

"And that," Kaldar finished, grinning a little widely to be taking his own 'spooky' story seriously, "is why no one ever returns from the swamp--at least, alive."

Ellona snorted. On the floor, Ella reacted similarly. Good to know that she wasn't the type to believe anything she heard. "I think you have to work on your storytelling, kiddo."

Her son sighed--not the sort of world-weary sound she expected of a seven-year-old, but it was reassuring nonetheless. If Kaldar could admit to fault, could admit that he could be better, could admit that he could be wrong, then he would let himself learn. He would grow up. He was not his father.

"I don't get it. I'm not good at telling stories, but that's really just lying, isn't it?"

"Cynical way of looking at it, but I suppose you have a point." Did he? Ellona wasn't sure. She wasn't much of a storyteller herself. She'd always thought herself too pragmatic. Then, she'd finally ditched Ietrin and in hindsight, it seemed more likely that she'd always been too stupid. "You're not so good at lying either, though."

A little devious, Kaldar beamed. "Or so I let you think."

"Oh, really?"

He nodded, confident smile still in place. Ellona returned it with one of her own, unconcerned. Her boy had no problems with his self-esteem so far as she knew, but a truly skilled deceiver wouldn't have put her on high alert had he not been downright arrogant. She did not think Kaldar was arrogant. She did not want to.

"Well, keep practicing with the stories, but I'd think twice about lying to me if I were you; I let you think certain things too."

For safe measure, she added a wink. Kaldar opened his mouth, no doubt some clever-for-a-kid quip on his tongue, but whatever he had to say was overridden by the knock at the door. "Ellona, seriously, Neilor needs a new steward."

She knew that voice. Ella, apparently, did too. "Uncle Cas!"

"He's not our uncle," Kaldar corrected her--thank God he'd taken to leaving the word 'stupid' off the end of such sentences. "...is he?"

Ellona shook her head as Casimiro stepped in, someone else at his side, a young girl Ellona couldn't place for the life of her. Frankly, Ellona was more interested in Casimiro's reaction; to her relief, he'd taken it in stride as he always did, never mind that her children hadn't known him nearly long enough to dub him 'uncle'. "You're welcome to call me what you like, both of you."

"Oh, really?" That mischievous twinkle returned to Kaldar's eye. "Can we call you 'Sir Buttscratcher McFartbreath'?"

Ella fought back a giggle while the older girl snorted. Ellona couldn't say she saw what was so funny. "Kaldar!"

But Casimiro just shrugged, a hint of a grin on his lips and his eyes hardly void themselves. "If it please you--although it might be a bit of a mouthful."

"I guess. I'll just keep calling you 'Cas'--or maybe 'Gas', because that rhymes." Casimiro gave a nod of approval before taking a seat. Kaldar's attention shifted instead to the girl. "Hello. I'm Kaldar del Marinos. You're very pretty, but I'm contractually obliged to inform every beautiful woman I meet that I already have a girlfriend."

Ella rolled her eyes. "You do not!"

"I do so! We even signed a paper. And we got a witness. And he signed it too, because witnesses do that." As if it proved his own point, he nodded matter-of-factually. "And as long as I tell other lovely ladies about us, she can't tickle me."

"Fair enough. My father has plans for me anyway." She held out her hand as if for a shake; Kaldar kissed it instead, but if she minded, she didn't say. "Meeraleene of Hoprine--but please, call me Meera."

"Meera's father is paying suit to my sister," Casimiro explained. "Things seemed to be going well, so we figured we'd give them some privacy."

Ellona let her eyelids droop, his face obscured through the veil of her lashes. "Another stellar chaperoning accomplishment under your belt."

Casimiro chortled. Lacking the context and deciding he wasn't bothered, Kaldar glanced back at Ella before looking up at Meera once more. "I promised my sister that we'd build a snowman today. Would you like to help?"

"Sure." Meera let Kaldar take her by the arm and lead her back to the front room. Half-forgotten, Ella hurried behind as quickly as her stubby little legs would allow.

The sounds of the children scrounging around for their cloaks a little more audible than Ellona had hoped, Casimiro gave a fond shake of his head. "Oh, your kids never fail to amuse."

"Try living with them for a week and see if you still believe that." Ellona flipped a stray curl back over her shoulder. Lucky Kaldar had manageable locks like his Uncle Neilor, but poor Ella was doomed to the same unruly mess that plagued her mother, only in blond. It wasn't quite Ietrin's blond--more like Ellona's sister's--but nonetheless sometimes Ellona wondered if Ella would consent to dying it. Then again, Ellona's color wasn't without its unfortunate family connections either.

But she supposed it was impractical to dwell on that just now. If Casimiro had come, then he must have wanted to visiting--and for all Ellona had never been fond of such activities, visiting was supposed to be pleasant. "So, how is this new suitor? Do you think he might ask for Catalina's hand?"

"Things are looking hopeful. The poor man's a widower twice over and I think he wants a mother for his children more than anything else, but I think that could work for her. After her own little girl's death, I think she just wants to be a mother again anyway." Oh. He hadn't told her that and her face must have shown it. He made the customary awkward glance toward his boots before saying anything more. "That and he's heir to a baron; she could do a lot worse, at least given that she doesn't seem to be after romance."

"Indeed." Ellona rose to her feet, only to relieve them once more when she took the seat next to Casimiro. She wasn't quite sure why she'd bothered with the move. "Romance is overrated anyway."

She'd figured he would have agreed, given his attitude toward Searle. But the look he shot her was almost hurt. "There's no need to give up, you know. You could find another man."

"Hardly. I'm a disgraced ex-mistress with two bastards, a scheming bitch of a mother, and a brother whose only notability around here came from being a favorite in that tournament and losing to some nobody." Not that she didn't hope that her brother would accomplish more--but for now, the point stood. "But as long as I've got the kids, I'll be all right."

"It's because you're strong." He slung his arm around her and pulled her nearer, the way her brother sometimes did on the off-chance neither of them were opposed to unecessary touching. Just this once, she supposed she would indulge him. "You're lucky that way."

Perhaps she was. And perhaps he didn't give himself all due credit either. "You're stronger than you think you are."

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