April 29, 2017

In Which Holladrin Is Inconvenienced

December 24, 1203

"I wouldn't blame you, you know--if you didn't want to do this any more."

Of course Holladrin knew. How could she not know, when Farilon offered her that out every time they were alone? He always gave her an exit.

And, as always, she didn't care to take it. "I know it's not what either of us really wants, but I'd rather a few stolen kisses than nothing."

"But you could have so much more."

"More, perhaps--but not better. No marriage in the world is as convenient to me as all the inconveniences with you." An inconvenience, she'd learned all too well these past months, did not have to be unpleasant. "Don't worry about my needs. As for my wants, there's only one you need to worry about: you."

Farilon's blush found itself lost in the glow of the nearby fire, but Holladrin didn't need to see it to know it was there. By this point, she knew how it dilated his eyes, opened his lips. She knew even the cheek's tug of a smile before he stopped it from forming. "I don't... I mean, I'm not sure--"

A soft knock on the door cut him off. Holladrin pulled back in a practiced step while Farilon watched over her shoulder. Farilon had excused himself from the party on account of a headache. Holladrin hadn't been in need of a story, but if caught, she'd say her mother had sent her to check up on him. Her mother had seen just how 'ill' Farilon's wife was, after all, to the point of admitting upon arrival that this may not have been one of Danthia's usual ruses. Surely there would have been a chance of Farilon catching that ailment?

"Uncle Farilon? Are you in there?"

"Celina?" His niece, daughter-in-law to the hosting earl and countess. He breathed relief into her name, glad to not have to explain anything to Searle of Bandera himself.

"Yes, he's here," Holladrin answered, announcing herself before Celina could enter. "If you've come to offer him a cup of water or a cold cloth, he's just refused both from me."

"Oh. Sorry that the headache persists." In spite of believing that, Celina did slip herself through the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Uncle."

"It's all right. Talking with Holladrin did ease it somewhat." Farilon grimaced. "Did you need something?"

"Actually, you're needed in the entrance hall." Celina's finger caught the end of one moon-blond curl, eyes fluttered shut in a half-informed messenger's unease. "My mother-in-law asked me to fetch you. She said that your wife's maid just arrived. I didn't see her myself, but it seems she's in something of a state."



Van said...

Seems about as good a time as ever to call it a year for 1203.

And, with any luck, 1204 should bring a somewhat less sporadic output. I'm still dealing with a bit more crap than I'd prefer to be dealing with IRL, but I'm hoping to be able to post at least twice a week from this point forward: once on Saturday, and once on either Wednesday or Thursday, with the possibility of posts on other days if they happen (and with a necessary level of self-forgiveness if for whatever reason a planned post doesn't happen).

Ann said...

"A state" ... interesting way to put this. :) Well, I guess the inconveniences will only last another few months or so. ^^

Van said...

I kind of doubt either Farilon or Holladrin wants to sneak around for any longer than the need to avoid arousing murder suspicions dictates. ;)