In Which Abrich Is Not Inconveniened Enough

August 23, 1180

"Meraleene!" Abrich's mother greeted his betrothed with a hand to the arm and a cordial kiss on the cheek. "It's lovely to see you again, dear. I trust the journey was pleasant enough?" She didn't openly acknowledge Abrich, but he thought he saw one eye flicker his way. It was the same eye she'd sometimes flashed him as a child, whenever she suspected someone of covering for some misdeed of his. Not that Abrich had been too horrible of a child--he lacked the sheer personality to be horrible, he feared--but his mother knew him better than anyone else, well enough to know when, for once, he'd done something wrong.

Now that he was an adult, of course, there wasn't a minute gone by when he didn't do something wrong. If poor Meraleene suspected that, though, she dared not tell his mother--though he couldn't imagine why. "It was. We only stayed at the most comfortable inns, and Abrich and Sir Casimiro were fine company."

Abrich gulped. He had made a point to be pleasant with her--she'd done nothing to deserve otherwise--but he feared now he might have been compensating. That might have been inevitable, what with his heart beating itself to an early grave over someone else's wife and all, but it might have been fairer to Meraleene to just be his usual quiet, standoffish self. He could have at least avoided getting her hopes up.

Of course, his mother never would have stood for such behavior with his own betrothed.

"Glad to hear it. And is that a new dress? You look lovely, dear." Meraleene's back was to him, but Abrich nodded for his mother's sake. He couldn't complain about Meraleene's looks anyway. He supposed he couldn't complain about her anything, really, or at least not to any serious extent.

The only thing 'wrong' with her was that she wasn't Riona.

"Good to know the trip went well. I trust the wedding was lovely?"

"Oh, yes." Casimiro flashed a small smile, giving Abrich a quick break from his mother's eye. Good timing, really; if Casimiro's sister hadn't been marrying a Dovian within the time frame of Abrich's journey, it would have just been him and Meraleene's escort from home. That would have been all the more agonizing. "It wasn't anything two fancy, since they've both been married before, but it was nice all the same. Tarien's daughters made some of the arrangements themselves; they're quite taken with Catalina."

Just like Abrich's mother and sisters were quite taken with Meraleene, or at least they had been when she'd been here for her sister's wedding. But his family liked all of the in-laws; surely that wasn't normal? Meraleene's father and brothers didn't seem to think much of him. Not that he blamed them, really.

"Well, let's sit, shall we?" Abrich's mother took Meraleene by the arm and gestured to the couches. "Meraleene, why don't you sit over there with Abrich? Casimiro, dear, you sit with me."

Meraleene nodded and took a seat by the window, begging Abrich with wide green eyes to join here; he supposed it would be rude not to oblige. Satisfied, his mother sat down beside his friend, true to her word.

"So. The wedding date's just sneaking up on us, isn't it?" His mother tossed back a dark curl and laughed. "Most of the preparations have are done, though. Abrich's older sisters have done a wonderful job. Poor Xeta hasn't been in the best spirits of late, unfortunately, so the wedding has been a welcome distraction for her. And Rona hasn't been nearly as ill as she was the last time--she's expecting again, wouldn't you know it?--so she's been busying herself too. I've been feeling rather useless myself there, but they insist that everything's under control."

Abrich shuffled. Of course it was all under control, and it was a guilty feeling, wishing that perhaps it wasn't. But what difference did it make? Whether he married Meraleene or not, it wasn't as if Riona's husband was about to disappear. Even if he did, why on earth would she drop everything and run into Abrich's open arms? Riona wasn't the sort of woman who needed a man, and Abrich wasn't the sort of man a woman needed.

Meraleene nodded, a content smile on her lips. Did she like to be content? He could possibly make her content. Contentment required nothing in terms of passion. "I'm glad to hear it."

"I hope most of it will be to your taste. Your sister Cladelia has been rather involved as well, so I'm sure you were kept in mind." His mother folded her hands in her lap, then looked over at him again. He tried to keep a calm head, or as calm as he ever managed. "Abrich, I hope you'll play a few songs on your lute at the reception. Did he tell you, Meraleene? He's quite the musician."

"No, he never mentioned it." She glanced over at him, as if to ask why. But what had he told her about himself, really? And what had she told him about herself, even? "My father plays as well. I'm surprised you two never spoke of it."

He swallowed. He'd managed to get so far without speaking, but that had been too convenient--or just not inconvenient enough, at least--to last. "I... guess it never came up."

His mother sighed. "That's a shame. I wish you'd be more open about your talents, dear. You have so many, but you're never keen to share them."

"Mother--"

Whatever he'd been about to say--he hadn't quite thought it through--he was spared the trouble by a knock at the door. Thank God.

"Odd," Abrich's mother muttered. "Does anyone else know you're back? It seems a little early for word to have gotten out."

Casimiro shrugged. "Well, we did stop at my castle to leave my things with my steward, but that was..."

"Casimiro? Casimiro, is that you? It's an emergency!"

It was Sir Neilor's voice--not a friend of Casimiro or Abrich or really anyone in particular if it got down to it. Abrich shared a puzzled glance with his mother while Casimiro stood. "Neilor?"

Neilor pushed through the door, panting, easily the least composed Abrich had seen him since Ashe had defeated him in that tournament. His usually-hard eyes paid an obligatory glimpse around the rest of the room before they locked with Casimiro's. "Sorry about this. I went to your castle in hopes that you might have gotten back, and your steward said you would be here--"

"Calm down." Casimiro scuffed the floor with the tip of his boot, but nothing more. Little though he liked Neilor... well, Casimiro was a better reader of situations than Abrich was, and if Casimiro was willing to hear out a frantic, emotional Neilor, then something had to have been wrong. "What's the matter?"

Neilor needed a couple breaths before he could answer. "It's Ellona..."

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