skip to main |
skip to sidebar
October 30, 1204
"You know, it's funny: before I had any babies of my own, I didn't think they were that cute. They were just... red and fat and squishy. But from Rennie onward, they were adorable. Granted, I still think they're odd--what with the whole 'perpetually confused and afraid of everything' attitude--but they're cute, and so is that oddness."
As he tended to do whenever Lettie blurted out some ridiculous thought out of sheer discomfort, Abrich just smiled and nodded. She didn't think he did it to be patronizing, but she did sometimes wonder what exactly he would have said to things like that had he been a less tactful man. "I suppose confusion and fear are natural when everything is brand new."
"Maybe. Still strange to think about what must be going on in their heads, though." She gave her new little son a pat on the back. Whatever she thought of babies, she hadn't expected to still be producing them as a grandmother of eight. When she'd married Abrich, the idea for both of them had been convenience and companionship, not reproduction--they'd already had six apiece, after all. But Ramona had been born anyway, and not even a year later, this new baby was around too.
Though, she supposed that did technically fall under possible consequences of 'companionship'...
As did disclosure. Now that she knew her boy was indeed a boy, there was no sense putting off that conversation any longer. She kissed the baby before returning him to his crib, then turned back to her husband.
"So, given our culture's general hatred of bringing new names into the mix, I'd like to name him for my stepfather."
There. Start with the intent. If Abrich had questions, she'd deal with them as they went. Why couldn't her mother have married a man named practically anything else?
"Octavius?" Abrich pursed his lips--probably tallying off Lettie's children in his head. She didn't blame him for that. Everyone they knew had so many children it was impossible to remember who had just what number. "Well, I know he is my eighth, but wouldn't you feel odd about that?"
She shrugged. "Not particularly, no."
She hadn't told Abrich about Prior. Part of her wanted to--she didn't think he'd judge her for it, not when she already had a son out of wedlock that he did know about--and her own parts of that secret were inconsequential. But he'd want the whole story. That would require divulging Searle's secrets, Sparron's secrets, Camaline's secrets... no. What she could say would be insufficient, and the rest was not hers to tell.
"Really? Or is this one of your jokes--naming your seventh kid 'Eighth'?"
"It's not a joke. Like you said, he's your eighth child." But it was her suggestion. Damn. He'd want more than that. "And, Abrich, uh..."
His brows rose, eyes dilated, concerned, alarmed. She thought she could guess what he was thinking, or at least the line of thinking. It was wrong to take advantage, but she could use that.
"Alina... had a twin."
It wasn't a lie. Alina did have a twin. Abrich, from the look on his face, assumed that said twin was a stillborn--and he was sensitive enough that he wouldn't press her for more. Lettie, meanwhile, had never said that Alina's twin wasn't still alive and well and the heir to the Barony of Tetran.
It was a shitty compromise--but unlike the full truth, at least it was hers.
"So... Octavius."
She nodded. "Unless you hate it, of course."
"I don't hate it, no. It's... acknowledgment, isn't it? Of his sibling. Of your child."
"It is, yes." And, she supposed, there was one more piece of the truth she could share. "I think I need that."
And one day, perhaps--if Searle and Camaline were gone, if Prior and Alina were safe from any repercussions--she would tell him more. If she could figure out how.
But for now, the baby had his name. The name had its justification. Lettie had stated some claim to Prior, even if it wasn't complete, even if it would forever be private between herself and Abrich.
For now, that was enough.
"Thank you."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 16, 1202
"I'll have to admit to not expecting another wedding night at my age," Lettie mused as Abrich ushered her into the bedroom, finally free of all the guests and commotion. She had forgotten just how big the master bedroom of a knight's castle was in comparison to her old room at the house on campus, and it would take some number of nights to readjust. But, now that Severin had finished his studies and would likely be married by this time next year, it had only made sense for Lettie and Sparron to relocate to Abrich's castle and to leave the house to him. Abrich's eldest was a daughter, and she wouldn't be back in the house for long after she graduated--and the rest of his children hadn't yet started at the university. None of Abrich's children needed a place to call their own quite yet, but it hadn't made sense to move the lot of them, especially given that he had the larger home in the first place.
Aside from the increased commute, though, Lettie didn't mind too much. A person could get lost in the splendor and solitude of a large castle like the one she'd grown up it, new secrets waiting to be uncovered even after living there for years. Her house had been fine for just her and whichever two or three kids she'd had at any time, but the prospect of sharing it with a large family would have had her pulling out her own hair in emotional claustrophobia.
"I don't see why; forty-four isn't so old, you know." Abrich, as it figured, was only forty-one. But, Lettie was both old enough and naughty enough that she could take a devilish pleasure in the thought of a man a few years her junior. "Perhaps that might be obvious come nine months from now, depending on how tonight goes."
"Ha! I suppose it's not impossible, but I wouldn't expect it if I were you. Granted, champ--I don't know just how confident you are in your own seed."
"Oh, confident enough that I didn't mind bringing it up." Abrich winked. "But I agree that anything on that front ought to be left to chance at this point. That wasn't why we decided to do this, after all."
"Agreed. I'm a grandmother of four with two more on the way, and you knew that going into this."
"I did--but if all grandmothers of four-going-on-six are anything like you, then the term 'grandmotherly' will have to be redefined."
She smirked. "I can tell you meant that as a compliment, but for the record, I would have taken it as one either way. Not that there's any wrong with typically grandmotherliness, mind you." Abrich's own mother was an excellent example of that fact. Lettie's too, in a different way. "There's many a good way to be a grandmother."
"And many a good way to be a husband." He swept up her right hand with his left and brushed it with a kiss. His wedding band made for the barest of noticeable irregularities in his touch. "Whatever we may or may not come to feel for each other in the years to come, I hope I can find a suitable way to be yours."
A very grown-up approach.
A distinct advantage to marrying older. "I suspect you may be on the right path already."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 19, 1201
"So--mind telling me what brings you here today, cousin? Because I can't say I had much reason to expect you."
Lettie watched as Abrich's nervous grin twitched. She didn't think Xeta's brother had anything against her, nor did she have anything against him--hell, once he'd finally grown up and gotten over his hopeless pining for Riona, pretty much any time she'd thought of him had been to compare him favorably to Searle. But, the fact was that she didn't think of him much, nor did she think he wasted spare thoughts on her. They were cousins, and they were cordial, but that was it.
Abrich's fingers fidgeted against the arm of the bench. "It might have been stupid of me to hope you'd let me warm myself up with small talk."
"Indeed, I've never been one for it." Lettie smirked. In truth, she doubted Abrich cared for idle chitchat either, but his distaste had sprouted from a different source. She had a lightning-fast tongue led by a brain that sent forth its thoughts unfiltered, and obligatory pleasantries didn't suit that. Abrich, though, was a man of few words. If he wished to speak, there had to be reason. "Spit it out."
"All right. Um... I've been thinking."
What of, he must have been at a loss as to the phrasing. Lettie snorted. "I should hope most people have."
"Yes, well--I don't know, maybe this is a stupid idea. I'd understand if you said no." He pulled back his left hand and let it fall to his side, palm upright with an awkward turn of the wrist. "I thought I'd ask you if you'd be willing to marry me."
"Hmm. Well, to your credit, that's a much more diplomatic approach than that of the last man who proposed to me." One of his eyes squinted somewhat; for now, she'd let him go on thinking she meant Searle, even if an arranged marriage ought to have been diplomatic by definition. "I didn't know you were looking to remarry."
"I wasn't, really--but it would be nice if my children could have a mother again, especially Mia. And I thought that maybe Sparron..."
"Could use a father?" She tossed back her hair with a small laugh. Some would have seen--or meant--offense with that mention. Abrich, however, wasn't much capable of intentional offense, and Lettie wouldn't take it if there were other options. "Well, only if said father is of optimal quality. But, to be fair, I've heard nothing said against your parenting."
"That's... good?" He would make that sound like he needed an answer. But, now that the subject had been breached, he at least had the sense to realize what little his insecurities brought to his position. "But, I also kind of thought... well, Severin's back in this house now, and it's only a matter of time before he marries and has his own children, and this house might feel a little small and a little loud. And, I don't know about you, but I miss having someone around my own age to talk to."
"Old age loves company, is that it?" It was a good point, though. A house could be full of people, but with a lack of common ground, the crowd did little for the loneliness. She loved her children, her grandchildren, her future grandchildren--but, there were a few things that didn't mean much to other generations.
If Tarien Andronei had brought that up way back when, the circumstances of Sparron's conception might have been rather different. Or maybe not. Would have been nice, though. "I'll think about it."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 8, 1201
"Brother."
"Sister." Abrich leaned in for an exchange of pecks to the cheek. Among the three siblings alongside whom he'd mostly grown up, he'd always had himself pegged as the least remarkable, with Lorn being the heir and late the duke, Xeta being the clever one with the auburn curls who'd been poised to become Lady Veldora, and Rona being... well, Rona. He'd suspected that Lorn and Rona, at least, agreed with him there; they'd never disregarded him, exactly, but their wants had always taken precedence in their relationship with him, feeling it wasn't much in his nature to be passionate about anything other than girls he couldn't have.
Xeta, though, had never asked a thing of him. It may just have been that she could get whatever she wanted for herself, but she just gave and gave and gave some more. Even now, when she was in the not-exactly-respected position of 'widow with three bastards living with another widow with whom she may or may not be engaging in sapphism', much of any conversation he had with her ended up focusing on how he was, because she kept drawing him out of her shell in that earnest, gentle way she always had. If she had any grievances of her own, she made no show of it to him.
He wished she would. She may have been the best sibling to him, but he'd been a better brother to Lorn and Rona. Abrich could give, but he had to be prompted--and Xeta was too kind to do so.
And not just to him, if the woman he'd crossed paths with just outside the door had been any indication. "I didn't know you and Lettie still visited, what with Jadin gone and her divorce from Searle."
"Well, we didn't used to visit much, to be honest. We always got along, but I already had an established group of friends by the time she arrived in Naroni, and she's something of a loner anyway." She shook her head--as if Camaline hadn't already proven Xeta's soft spot for 'loners'. "But after she had Sparron, Raia pointed out to me that she might need someone to talk to--who understood somewhat."
"Oh." He'd forgotten that Lettie too had a fatherless child. But... "You at least have Camaline, though."
"Hence the 'somewhat'. But I know enough about getting curious looks from strangers and hearing hushed whispers that you just know would be said to your face if it weren't for the fact that you have powerful relatives." She rolled her eyes--blue eyes, like their father's. Abrich remembered little of his father, apart from Xeta's blue eyes. She'd been the only one to inherit them. "Anyway, we bonded over that, then we started discussing politics and sciences and other things we both find interesting, and we ended up becoming quite good friends--even if I doubt she'll ever be as much of a social butterfly as Lyssie or Rona."
Abrich shrugged. Not being one himself, there was a self-preservative urge to add to that. "That's not necessarily a bad thing, though."
"It's not, no. In fact, she's sometimes a refreshing contrast. I just wish I could do more to help her, for all she'd insist she didn't need it."
Abrich frowned. His sister--giving, and giving, and giving some more. "I'm sure you do what you can."
"Well, I can empathize to an extent, and I know that's better than nothing." And yet, that sigh suggested she didn't. "It's her living situation that worries me, mainly. She only has Sparron and Severin, and then when Severin marries, there will be his family. She has no one her own age there--no one with comparable life experience, no one who's lost people like she has."
"Hmm. I suppose." But even then, not many lost people like Lettie had lost Searle--and that had made her a pariah long before her mystery child existed. A pity, though. It shouldn't have been frowned upon, cutting ties with someone who made you miserable.
Lord knew he wouldn't have blamed Meraleene if she'd ever wanted to cut ties with him.
Not one day had passed since his wife's death that he prayed he'd done right by her for at least a little while before the end. He'd made progress--even loved her eventually--but it might not have been enough. She might have wanted more. She'd certainly deserved more.
What a cruel thought it was, that denying something so clearly inadequate yielded such a hopeless chance of ever attaining better.
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 26, 1199
"Aww, she's lovely," Abrich's sister-in-law mused as she bowed down to meet little Mia. "She looks just like you."
Most seemed to be of that same opinion. His poor girl. "I should hope she resembles her mother more when she's older."
"She might or might not, but she does have her mother's name; I think that says more than a random assortment of features ever could." It was quite possibly the first time Abrich had ever heard the phrase 'random assortment of features' applied to an infant. But, Renata could be... odd. And she was enough of a homebody that Abrich hadn't had too many occasions to get used to her, usually leaving it to Meraleene to visit her in Dovia while Abrich stayed behind. She'd only come now because King Oswald had sent her husband on some errand or another in Naroni.
And even then, she probably wouldn't have tagged along had she not felt duty-bound to call on her late twin's children.
"I mean... you can choose the name. You can't choose what their faces will look like, otherwise half of our relations wouldn't have those same boring grey eyes--and I would have hoped my parents would have opted to give me my mother's red hair."
"I don't see a problem with blond," Abrich muttered, more out of guilt for wasting a good chunk of his marriage lusting after a redhead than any genuine compliment to Renata.
"Easy for you to say, what with that auburn mane of yours. But some people do wear blond well." Renata sighed. "Meraleene certainly did, even if she always felt the need to keep it bound in that braid. She thought her hair too wild, you know--thought it made her look unkempt. Not that she ever looked unkempt a day in our lives, but I suppose some people have impossible standards."
"Mmm." Standards, or preference. Abrich wondered how often Renata's own maid had to remind her in the mornings not to go about her day in her nightgown. How reserved Meraleene and this unfiltered, chaotic woman could have been twins...
But they were. And--given what Meraleene had sometimes said about twins--perhaps the disorganized mind of Renata Tamrion was the only source of the answer he needed. "Can I asked you something?"
"I believe you just did." Renata flashed a smirk at Mia, then returned her eyes to him with a tilt of the head. "What is it?"
"Was Meraleene happy? Before she went, I mean--her last few years."
"You mean after you pulled your head out of your ass."
Abrich blinked. Perhaps Renata was more aware than he gave her credit for. "I don't know if I would have phrased it exactly like that, but yes."
"Well, perhaps you ought to phrase it like that, because the 'after' is key there--because in order to be an 'after', there must first be a 'before'. Things change. People change. She did, you did, whatever the hell it was that kept you apart did. I think even Mia understands that concept, what with the way she keeps fighting that swaddling."
He wouldn't ask what that had to do with anything.
He doubted he'd understand the answer anyway. "Yes, I think she was happy. I'll tell you that she was more forgiving than I when it came to how damn long it took you to make her so, but she was happy by the end--and if the end isn't what counts, then I don't know why we all care to stick around for too long."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 23, 1199
When Hilla had died, Rona recalled Riona saying something about God playing dice--who lived, who died, completely random, no consideration of character or potential or anything else. Rona didn't doubt the existence of God, but as she'd grown older, she'd become increasingly unconvinced of his interest in the lesser beings he allegedly loved. Surely it wouldn't have taken much effort on the part of an all-knowing, all-powerful deity to direct chance happenings with justice and merit in mind? A god who played dice was either too lazy or too apathetic to be much of a god at all.
Her gentle, soft-hearted sister-in-law who'd never done anyone wrong in her life--who'd suffered in patient silence as Rona's brother had learned to love her--deserved a better roll.
Abrich, at least, hadn't blamed it on the baby. Some men did--men who ought to have gone in place of their wives, frankly. Rona thought her brother no more perfect than any sister thought her brother, but Abrich was at least good enough to realize that Meraleene's death was no one's earthly fault. He was good enough to love Meraleene's baby, as Meraleene had to her last breath.
"Cladelia took the children back to Mother's place," Rona muttered as Abrich rubbed his daughter's tiny back. "I'll stay here tonight. Ashe will bring Rilla over; I'll nurse her and your baby both."
Her brother sighed. He hadn't spoken much since he'd said his goodbyes to his wife. There hadn't been much to say. "Are you sure? I can find someone else if you'd rather not."
"It's no trouble. I'm here now, and I can stay as long as you need me." Her own youngest was only a few weeks old. That was the only part of all of this that could be fairly called fortunate.
"Thank you, then." Prompted by a small yawn, Abrich lowered the baby into her crib, eyes on her even after he'd pulled away. "I know I should probably name her for Meraleene's mother, but I'd rather name her for Meraleene herself. I... I think she ought to have some piece of her mother with her always, and the name would be something."
That, and it wouldn't have been right--naming Meraleene's last child for the woman Abrich had struggled for so long to let go of. Riona, who shared her name with Meraleene's mother. Another lousy roll of the cosmic dice. "I think you're right, though she'll have more than just the name."
"If the dead live on in any form, yes." He turned away from the crib as Rona stepped toward him, but his neck moved stiffly, as if it ached to look away. "Rona, do you think Meraleene forgave me? For wasting all those years before we finally fell in love?"
Rona closed her eyes. She'd liked Meraleene, but they hadn't been each other's closest friend. She certainly hadn't been Meraleene's confidante. But, if she listened to her gut, she didn't think Meraleene the type to hold a grudge. "I don't know if 'forgiveness' would be the right word in that situation, but I don't think she bore you any ill will."
"I wouldn't blame her if she did." Abrich glanced back down at the baby--little Meraleene--before pulling Rona in for a hug. "No one deserves to go like that--giving their life bringing someone else into the world, when it ought to be a happy occasion."
"No," Rona agreed. "I'm so sorry, Abrich."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 12, 1193
There was a distinct, almost supernatural connection between twins--Meraleene knew this for a fact. Not all twins felt it, likely because not all twins believed in it, but Meraleene did and did, both because of the other and yet independently all at once.
She knew when Renata was happy, when Renata was angry. When she was jealous, relieved, crushed. Based on her sister's good timing over the years, Meraleene got the sense that the unspoken intimacy was mutual--but she'd never asked, because she'd never had to.
She ought to have this time, though. She should have written Renata months ago, asked if she wanted her to come to Dovia, just to be by her side. But, she hadn't wanted to upset her.
It was too late now. Meraleene knew, but the soul-sucking emptiness she sensed in her twin a kingdom away, that her sickly niece had finally succumbed. A letter would arrive any day now, but Meraleene didn't need it.
"I'm sorry." Her husband, at the foot of the bed. She'd scarcely noticed him. She doubted he was the type to believe in her and Renata's bond, but he hadn't said anything in the four days since the passing had occurred. Now that his beloved Riona was a grandmother, he seemed to have finally resolved to get over her. That, to Abrich, had meant an attempt at ideal husbandhood, or what he saw as that.
Meraleene didn't not appreciate it, she supposed.
"Can I sit with you?"
She shrugged. He took the invitation tentatively, but joined her nonetheless.
"I... I don't know what it is to lose a niece or nephew, but I do know loss." He did. His stepfather and his sister, mere months apart. "If there's anything I can do, just let me know."
"Thank you." Meraleene closed her eyes, trying to picture how her niece might have looked in her final months. She'd last seen Cladelia when she was four; the girl was nine now, or would have been. She'd taken more after Jadin than Renata, which was a blessing and a curse all at once.
"Would you like me to hold you?"
It was the first time he'd asked her that. Obviously, in thirteen years and three children later, they'd had some physical contact, but it had been of the dutiful, obligatory variety, more of a chore than any pleasurable pursuit on either of their parts. Neither of them had 'liked' any of it.
But, right now, an arm around her would have been nice. "If you wouldn't mind."
"Of course I don't." He may have been trying to convince himself just as much as her. But, today, she supposed she appreciated the effort. "You're my wife. You're the mother of my children. I don't mind at all."
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 29, 1182
Not being an heir--and, therefore, not needing his own--Abrich hadn't thought he'd be one of those men who spent every minute of their wives' pregnancies hoping for a son. He'd never even liked those men. It was obvious to anyone who'd paid a shred of attention to any pregnancy that a woman had no control over whether she had a boy or a girl. And the world needed women just as much as it needed men, didn't it?
But logic be damned, Abrich had wanted a boy since Meraleene had told him she'd missed a course, and not because he didn't want a daughter.
He didn't want the name.
His mother had already insisted on him holding off naming a daughter for her--"Can't have too many Celinas so close together!" she'd told him and Rona both after Xeta's little girl had been born, though Rona had her other plans anyway--and had his wife not been Meraleene, it likely wouldn't have been a problem. But with his mother's name out of the question, then the default choice was... her mother's.
Riona.
The woman he loved who was not his wife. What dreadful curse was upon his head, Riona sharing her name with his long-dead mother-in-law?
"She seems to like you." But as usual, Meraleene was shy to even look at him. He didn't dislike her--he supposed he even liked her, maybe--but the poor woman got the sense she wasn't loved. Maybe one day he'd get there, but not any time soon. What was wrong with him? He'd never had a chance with Riona, yet still, he yearned.
He couldn't name his firstborn after a woman he yearned for, not if that woman wasn't her mother.
"She kind of looks like a..." He stopped, trading a look with the baby. There wasn't a next word. He'd hoped to find some resemblance to some common-yet-adorable object, something they could call her instead of her official name, but nothing came to mind. She just looked like a baby.
"She looks tired. Maybe put her in the basket."
He owed it to Meraleene, so he did as he was told and put their daughter to bed. "Night... sweetie." Perhaps he could make someone up for a namesake? A beloved aunt? No, if Meraleene didn't know that he had no aunts, surely his mother would set her straight...
"Abrich? Can we talk about her name?"
Shit. Here it was. "All right."
She beckoned him to the bed with a finger and he answered with the slow shuffling of a prisoner en route to the gallows. Here it was. Riona, Riona, Riona. Poor Meraleene would never even know.
"So," she started, waiting just long enough for him to join her on the bed--but not long enough for him to get comfortable. That would have been about another decade. "Arydath guessed that the baby would be a girl, and I've heard how accurate she is, so... well, I've kind of been calling her something in my head a while now."
No surprise. Abrich had been calling his son 'Dalston'. "All right..."
"You don't mind?"
Did he have the right to? Surely he couldn't give his reasons? "It's fine. Whatever it is, I..." He swallowed. God, he was going straight to hell. "...I already love it."
"Great. Danthia it is, then."
...WHAT? Had she just said--? "...Danthia?"
"Yes, for my stepmother." He knew that. What he didn't know was why. Not that he cared. "I know, I know, it would be more conventional to start with my mother, but I never knew her. Danthia is the only mother I've ever known, and I've always wanted to name my first daughter for her."
Huh. If the second daughter was Celina, then... and if there were a few sons in there as well... then that made Riona the third daughter. If Meraleene even wanted Riona. Would the third daughter give him enough time? More so than the first, at least. "Danthia..."
"And I know that Tivie named her baby Danthia, but they've been calling her Dani since she was born; I was thinking we could use Thia as a shortened name for ours?"
"Thia." His little Thia. He would have been happy with any name but Riona, but even with all those hundreds of names to choose from, he couldn't think of one he liked more. "Thia it is."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 7, 1180
"Abrich!" It was difficult to surprise a friend with a hug when one had six months' worth of baby sticking out of her, but luckily for Riona, Abrich clearly hadn't been paying much attention. Not that he was obliged to, of course. It was, after all, his wedding day. "Congratulations!"
"Er, thanks." He didn't sound quite sincere, but she'd let it slide. He barely knew his new bride; she'd grow on him in time, Riona was sure of it, but for now she was an unfamiliar stranger. Besides, Abrich was dead gone on somebody else.
Silly boy probably thought it was a secret, but it was obvious to anyone who'd been paying a shred of attention all those years. Back when Riona had still lived at her father's castle, she'd often rush to the courtyard to greet the visiting Rona or Xeta or sometimes both, and nearly as often, they'd be accompanied by their brother. And every time she asked him why he'd tag along, he'd blush and look at the ground and put on a goofy grin and ask--not without a moment's hesitation--if Vera was around.
Given that, of course it would be that the only guests who had yet to filter into the dining hall were Vera and her husband! Riona tried not to glare. Not that love was obliged to go both ways, of course, but she would have hoped her sister at least had the tact not to rub her and Lucien's happiness in Abrich's face. Or had that stupid girl never figured it out?
No matter! Now that Riona was here, she supposed she could distract him, or at least make a reasonable attempt.
"Sorry I didn't catch you before the ceremony, but Izzy and I didn't exactly leave on time. God, Alina's impossible to hand over to the nannies! She always puts up such a fuss when we try to leave her with anyone else. I never had that problem with Alya or Shahira, but that's kids for you. They're all different. And perhaps you'll know that soon enough, hmm?"
She winked. He chuckled, forced yet polite. "Maybe?"
"Lord willing. But don't expect Meraleene to be too happy with you at that point. Pregnancy isn't exactly fun." As if to agree, the baby kicked. Riona sighed and rubbed her belly in an attempt to sooth him... or her, she supposed. But she already had three girls! And was she absolutely horrible if she didn't want Isidro to be right? "The making of, however..." Well, he probably knew that. But Meraleene didn't, so for her sake, Riona hoped she didn't conceive immediately.
Well... unless she wanted to? Some women did actually seem to plan it.
"Right. I don't know if we should be talking about that. Might... be a bit disrespectful to my wife."
It couldn't have been the first excuse that came to his mind--what with Vera sitting right there and all--but she'd give him credit for coming up with it second. "You're right. It's a little--hmm?"
A tap on her shoulder. Abrich's hands were visibly at his sides, and neither Vera nor Lucien appeared to have moved...
Well, he'd spun her around before he could do so herself, but the tongue in her throat was probably a solid clue. Riona's husband was not by nature a spontaneous person, but when he did care to surprise her, he didn't go at things halfway--she would give him that.
"I see somebody missed me."
"Yes, that's why Rona sent me to find you." Isidro smirked, the scar on his lip stretching slightly as it always did. Was she strange if she found that precious? "Besides, they're bringing in the food, and I know you've been craving ham all week."
"Longer, even!" Good thing she was naturally skinny, else she'd be looking like a ham herself, food and fetus both taken into account. "I'm not even going to be able to look at a pig after this baby is out."
"No more bacon with breakfast? I don't know if I can bear the thought."
Ah, who was she kidding? She couldn't either. So she just tapped him on the nose and stepped back just in time to see young Meraleene step through the door.
"Abrich?" Ack! Riona cursed herself. She'd almost forgotten the poor man was in the room. "Your mother wants to give a toast."
"Ah, right." Sheepish, Abrich rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flying about and landing anywhere they could except on his wife. Hopefully it wouldn't be too long before the awkwardness between them dissipated? "Sorry. I just needed some air. Not big on crowds... but I'm all right now, I think."
Meraleene blinked, her pause more than long enough to process hurt. But if she took offense, she had the dignity to restrain herself to a quick "Glad to hear it."
Poor kid. Riona patted Abrich on the arm, then left him to receive Isidro's congratulations as she waddled toward the bride. No doubt that behind her back, Abrich was staring at Vera; it was only common courtesy to present Meraleene with a more obvious spectacle.
"Congratulations, honey." She paid Abrich's wife a quick hug, complete with a friendly pat on the back. "And if the sight of me is frightening, don't you worry. A pretty girl like you would still look cute carrying triplets."
NEXT CHAPTER:
