In Which Celina Uses the Word

April 17, 1180

If Celina knew Severin, he'd thought to send any surpluss guards, especially given Ovrean's dispatch. Not that her husband had left her and the children unguarded in the first place, but Severin's supplements couldn't have possibly arrived the second Ovrean departed, nor did it seem that Celina's own guards had been sufficient.

"What do you want?" When the question left her mouth, it nearly pulled a wad of spit behind it.

She doubted he would have flinched even if it had. "I believe we both know the answer to that question."

Celina clenched a fist, to the point where had her nails been sharper she might have feared breaking the skin. How dare he. How dare he intrude in her home. How dare he resort to whatever schemes or sorcery that had let him pass the guards. How dare he return her long-lost child with every intention of taking him back. "You shan't have him."

Remiel snorted. "And who are you to tell me this? I created him."

"You created him?" Celina scowled; it had been so long since she'd last needed to that she'd forgotten her mouth could curve that way. "In case it didn't occur to you, I happened to be there the night he was 'created'--and you, most assuredly, were not."

"That is hardly creation." You chose the word--not I. "I found him a body. I called forth his soul. I fixed the two parts together and made him whole again. You spread your legs like a common harlot and something happened to come of it."

"That is not how it was!"

"Oh, but how could it have been any other way?" His seeming near-amusement was enough to distract him as Celina's ten-year-old daughter slipped through the door, stopping in her tracks at the sight of him, scowling as if to mirror her mother. Celina didn't know what Riona had come for, but she made a point not to acknowledge her; she did not care to tip off Remiel in regards to her presence. "Your husband already had an heir, and a spare, plus a pair of daughters he could marry off as he pleased--both of which, I'm sure he'd say, could have done much better. You couldn't have wanted a fifth; it was for the fun of it, wasn't it? Disgusting.

"Perhaps that is why the Lord deemed it right to take the boy. He was extraneous, unnecessary. He was a leisure."

"And who are you to make that call?" She struggled to keep her eyes on Remiel as Riona grabbed a candlestick from her father's desk and held approached at a silent crawl, the blunt base pointing upward then falling as she wound back her arm. "Who are you to say such things on behalf of the Lord you supposedly serve? Don't you dare use any god as an excuse for any of the horrible things you've done, you vile, hypocritical fucker!"

She'd never used that word in her life and for all Remiel had convinced himself of her depravity, the bulge in his eye said he knew it. Or maybe it was just the split-second of alarm right after the candlestick struck the back of his head and right before his irises rolled out of sight as his body crumpled to the floor.

Almost as shocked as Remiel by the looks of her, Riona dropped the candlestick. It would leave a dent on the floor; Celina didn't care. "Mother?"

"It's all right." Celina stepped over the unconscious monster and embraced her daughter. Never again would Riona be denied a request for an extra helping of dessert. "Run and fetch some of the guards, all right? There's a knife in one of your father's books; I'll hold it to his throat until you get back."

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