In Which Severin Ponders the Standards of Luck

September 17, 1184

"So today I have to take my brother to the doctor after school, but I could come over and help you with history tomorrow." History was probably Severin's least favorite subject, but it was also Rina's worst. He'd helped her with her other subjects some months prior, to the point where she was mostly caught up, but her grandfather's death had hit before they could get to history, and she hadn't felt up to it since. Even now, he felt bad about pushing her.

But his obsession was getting to an unhealthy point. She'd had a week off from classes earlier in the month and on Wednesday, the agitation of her absence had mounted to the point where Hamrick had caught him sulking and sent him off to the brothel with a full purse. There had been a brown-haired, blue-eyed girl with freckles. He'd called her Rina as he climaxed and while women of the night may have been used to such instances, he still felt bad about it. He'd tipped her handsomely.

He doubted she wanted to court anyone--and if she did, she probably wouldn't have settled for him. But he didn't want to be one of those assholes who were only friends with a girl if they wanted to get her into bed, and in truth he liked spending time with her so much that a platonic relationship was infinitely preferable to nothing at all.

"I guess that's fine." She shrugged. Probably all the enthusiasm he could expect from her about history. "I mean, my family would leave us alone if we're studying."

...eh? "Alone?"

"Yes, well... I don't know. My uncle keeps asking all these questions." She plucked a blade of grass from the ground and tossed it aside. "I think he's planning a birthday party for me."

Spoken like she'd uncovered a murder plot. "Your birthday?"

"The fourth. Like I really care. The last thing I want is a big party." A couple more blades suffered the same fate as the first. Severin couldn't blame her. His parents had thrown a large surprise party for his and Alina's tenth birthday, and he'd spent most of it hiding in the attic. At least Alina had enjoyed it. "There's nothing I want anyway--or nothing he can do, at least. The only thing that might make life any better right now is having Kevin back."

Severin swallowed. If Kevin was a boy's name, then Kevin was a boy's name. He didn't want to be jealous. He'd force himself out of it. "Who's Kevin?"

"My horse."

Huh. Perhaps he'd rethink his blase attitude toward the animals. "Your horse?"

"Yes. My father, he, uh... he wouldn't let me take Kevin." Why was that not a surprise? That prick. "He's back in Dovia. My grandmother says he's being used for work now; I guess I'm just lucky that my father didn't have him slaughtered."

God, she had low standards of luck. Even by his reckoning. "That's rough. But couldn't you get a new one?" I mean, it's hardly as if your uncle or your grandmother is strapped for cash...

"I don't want a new one. I want Kevin."

Well, fuck. Now she sounded like Teodrin when their last cat died. A week later and a new cat had cheered him right up.

But Rina wasn't much like Teodrin. She wasn't much like anyone.

Who knew? Maybe that horse was just as different.

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