In Which Tivie Is Not the Worst

March 7, 1180

"Has he been asleep for long?"

Tivie glanced over her shoulder to see Neilor enter the room, shutting the door behind him, eyeing his brother with an almost paternal concern. It wasn't anything unusual, or so she figured--her own brothers were too young to be fatherly, but she'd seen older male cousins cast such looks on their younger siblings--but nonetheless it summoned a sharp, jealous pang in the pit of her gut. She had received such glances, she supposed. She had a stepfather, two grandfathers, and a not insignificant handful of uncles and cousins, none of whom she suspected of not caring enough and any of whom might have shot her such a glance when she hadn't been looking, but the thought wasn't the comfort it ought to have been.

When she recalled her father, she did so with the flash memories of a child young enough to occupy herself with toys on a rug. She remembered his legs as he walked past, on those few occasions he'd been home, maybe his arms resting if he sat or the back of his head as he walked away. When she strained to picture his face, it was a blank, flesh-colored oval. Her mother said he'd had eyes like hers, but not once could Tivie remember them ever falling on her.

But it was the sort of thing that could wait for when she actually saw him. However deep her bitterness ran, Neilor was hardly an appropriate target. "Not long. Twenty minutes, maybe. How did your search go?"

He'd been out for the past few hours or so on a quest for information. It was a small village, but it was near several crossroads and did well as a trading post and rest stop; there was bound to be someone around with a better idea of how to get to Carvallon than they did.

And if Neilor's grin meant anything, there had been. "Several people agree that we should cross the bridge and continue along that road. It might take us a day or so longer than staying on this side of the river, but the inns along the way are more comfortable and there's less chance of running into any rogues."

"That's fine." And it was, really. She'd waited her entire life already. What was one more day, in the long run? "Thank you, by the way. I know I already said it, but this means a lot."

"Don't mention it. I know what it's like to have unresolved issues with parents." He tossed back his head with a light laugh, though she didn't miss the acid dripping off of it. Given what she'd heard about his mother, she wasn't surprised. "But never mind that. Can I ask you something?"

"I think you just did."

He laughed again, without the edge this time. In its stead, though, lurked more than a little nervousness, which was odd. She didn't know him well, but she wouldn't have guessed he was prone to such feelings. "If I told you your father slept with my mother, would that make things strange between us?"

She supposed she could see his concern there. Regardless, Tivie shook her head. "I already figured as much to be honest. But it's not like we're related."

"No, but..." His eyes flickered over to Landus again. She thought she knew why, and she thought he knew she knew. But Neilor didn't want to talk about it, and that was fine. They would have to talk about it at some point, but it didn't have to be now. "I don't know. I've just been thinking that it should feel strange, but it doesn't, and I wanted to know what you thought."

Tivie shrugged. "That sounds about right."

"Good." He leaned in for a kiss--just a quick brush of the lips, but enough to set a tingle running through her as he pulled away. There was something almost magical about the way his eyes sparkled in the firelight, the rich amber brightening to an almost starry hue, that left the floor beneath her feet more or less non-existent. It was so easy to forget everything else when looking into such eyes. "It's nice to know I'm not crazy."

"Or maybe we're both crazy." It was hardly a sane world, after all. "But there are worse things we could be."

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