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November 2, 1204
While they had made arrangements for most of their children, neither Leara nor Lorn would have hesitated to break off any of those betrothals had the other party proven unsuitable: violent, ill-tempered, manipulative, neglectful, or otherwise a risk to a spouse's well-being. A dreadful marriage, indeed, did not a strong alliance make--nor would any alliance have been worth the cost of any hope for one of their children's happiness.
So far, however, their children's betrothals had proven to be, more or less, functional matches. Celina had been wary of Karlspan at first, but by the time they'd married, they'd grown quite fond of each other. Neva had grown up with Prior, and their relationship had eventually moved from friendly to affectionate. Privately, Leara didn't quite like Eliana as much as a mother-in-law ought, but it wasn't as if she was outright wicked, and she seemed to make Dalston happy enough. And of course, she couldn't have picked a better woman for Ricky than Hollie.
But if their streak of good fortune there was bound to end eventually, she was relieved to see that Koradril wasn't the one to break it. Farilon's early death had caused Camaline enough grief over her parents' political games, enough anxiety over an uncertain future. Koradril, for all Leara wouldn't have thought Camaline too keen on a widower nineteen years her senior, had both his Aunt Holladrin's steadfast goodness and his father Oswald's unfailing health. It hadn't been her chance at romance that Camaline had mourned with Farilon, after all, but her settled future.
Not that, Leara mused as she caught Camaline glancing Koradril's way yet again as he and Lorn carried on with talk of some trade route or another, romance was out of the question.
"You're rather quiet today, darling."
"Oh?" Camaline blinked, as though she herself hadn't realized this--or hadn't been overly aware of her mother's presence. "My apologies, Mother. I may have talked myself out for the day on that morning walk I took with Koradril."
"That's quite all right--though I didn't know you'd taken a morning walk."
"I didn't tell you?"
"No. I suppose that does support your theory of having talked yourself out, though." Leara smiled, as much to herself as to her daughter. The men's conversation, from what she could hear, did seem to skew in favor of Lorn's voice; perhaps Koradril had found himself in a similar condition. "That, or the theory of how little there can be to say in front of one's parents; I somehow doubt you and Koradril spoke much of trade routes."
"But why shouldn't we have spoken of trade routes, Mother?" Camaline looked over at Koradril quickly before turning back to Leara with a pink tinge to her cheeks. "A princess ought to know something of trade routes, after all."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 12, 1204
"Oh! My apologies. The steward said that the queen was in here."
The speaker was a man Camaline didn't recognize, but the grey eyes and the firm chin betrayed him as one of the Dovian royals. He had to have been at least in his thirties, but he was still handsome enough for most expectations of a prince. She wondered if her Farilon would have aged so well, had he been allowed to do so.
Farilon's relation or not, however, it would have been horribly impolite not to respond. "She was, and she should be right back. Might I be of service in the meantime, your highness?"
"No need for such formalities from the daughter of a princess herself--at least, judging by your much prettier version of Duke Lornian's face?" The prince ventured to the center of the room and pulled her from the bench with a kiss to her hand. "I'm Koradril, King Oswald's youngest."
"Charmed. I'm Camaline--and yes, my parents are the duke and duchess."
"Ah." His eyes sparked in recognition at the sound of her name. Had they met before, in fact? Or... "Ah, yes. You were the one who was betrothed to my late nephew."
"Yes, well... why marry a prince when you can spend your summers recording the minutes of your cousin's less important appointments? Er, not that you would have come all the way from Dovia yourself for anything like that, of course. If Dea knew to expect you, she must be off fetching a proper secretary. Not sure why should would have lied to me about going to the privy, but--
"Oh. I'm just babbling now, aren't I?"
"Perhaps--but I suspect more than one brilliant observation first stemmed from a stream of babble. And now I'm even more sorry about Farilon, as we could always use more chances for brilliant observation in the Dovian court."
"Alas, if I know my own babble, I wouldn't be holding my breath." Come to think of it, she wasn't quite sure how she was breathing now. Had her body somehow missed the fact that she was making an ass of herself in front of a visiting prince?
Her mind, at least, kept up just well enough to make an escape. "Allow me to find my cousin for you. I'm sure you have something important to discuss, if you came all this way yourself."
"Actually, it was more a matter of my itching for a bit of a trip--one that I'm increasingly glad I opted to take." But, as tact dictated before a lady took her leave, he kissed her hand once more. "That said, I suppose I should talk to the queen sooner rather than later."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 6, 1203
"Good Lord, this kingdom is even more boring now that I've graduated." The perfect Eliana Andronei sniffed in perfect distaste, her perfect hair bouncing perfectly against the perfect skin on her perfect shoulder as her perfect nose pointed to the not-so-perfect, apparently boring ceiling. "Not that Dovia is any less dull on even its best days--and knowing how twisted and deviant every other civilized country seems to think this one is, they've got to be even less interesting. It's enough to make one question the point of it all."
Camaline gritted her teeth. She'd spent enough time with her soon-to-be sister-in-law now to guess that Eliana's standards of excitement were too impossibly high for her to deem much even mildly interesting. That in itself wasn't Camaline's problem. Part of her problem was that she herself--even though she had yet to graduate--had little to do when she wasn't studying, so why shouldn't she keep Eliana occupied and out of everyone else's hair? The answer to that was that Eliana had everything going for her and everything Camaline wanted and no appreciation for any of it. She was beautiful, she was clever, she was betrothed and her future was settled, and all of that was just as much of a nuisance to her as everything else.
And Camaline, with her dead betrothed and no other suitable prospects on the horizon, and an education for the sake of filling her time with a focus chosen mostly because her uncle taught in the subject, had just about resigned herself to the fate of wasting at least a few of her prime years as a maiden aunt. Maiden aunts, unless everyone else in their families were useless beyond belief, truly did lead lives in which excitement was scarce and often second-hand, moreso than any others of Camaline's standing who hadn't felt called (or, as she suspected in at least some cases, were either forced or had given up hope for anything better than) to join the church. Eliana was an exaggerated and childish representation of what she feared would be her own misery without any cause for the same.
But oh! Didn't a good maiden aunt exist for the use of her relations? Wasn't it her duty to entertain the listless yet lovely sister-in-law so none of her effectual family members had to waste their time on her? In that sense, Eliana was double the grievance.
Triple, if Camaline considered that a person who could bring herself to refuse such tasks would be more capable of forging a better future--and that she was not that person. "Oh... surely there's something we could do. It's nice outside. We could go for a ride--"
"Boring." Eliana yawned. "I ride when I need to go somewhere. Why should I bother if I'm not? It's utilitarian. What brilliant idea are you going to suggest next? Sewing? Cooking?"
"No..." Well, not cooking, at least. Camaline certainly would have rather been sewing than attending to Eliana, though she shuddered to think that sewing may well be the most pleasant activity of her next however many years. "Do you paint?"
"No."
"Um... play the harp? Or any other--"
"No."
"Uh..." What had Eliana majored in, again? History? "We could go to the library, or stop in at the archives--"
"You know, I didn't choose to study history because I enjoyed it; it was purely for lack of anything better."
That was no surprise--and given Camaline's own choice in studies, it irked her to think they might have had such discontent in common already. "Surely you must have done something to entertain yourself before you came here."
"Don't be stupid. If I'd had anything better to do back in Dovia, why would I have consented to marrying a man who lived elsewhere? I won't pander to any illusions you have about your brother being any more than the husband equivalent of studying history."
A vein in Camaline's brow throbbed, and not for the insult to her brother. She loved Dalston, but he probably was the husband equivalent of studying history. But studying history was, at least, studying something. "Be grateful that you'll have a husband at all."
Eliana could have gone for another barb, but she took the more irritating route of an indifferent shrug. "I'd say you could have him, but he is your brother."
"Does he know you dislike him so?"
Another shrug. "I don't dislike him. On the contrary, I find him about as tolerable a person as might possibly exist. At least he sees fit to leave me alone."
"Well, I'm pleased to hear you say that." Camaline rose from her seat, the numbness of her needling legs about the best sensation she'd felt all day. "If what you find most tolerable is being left alone, then I'll have no guilt about going to my room to sew in peace."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 24, 1201
So much for a nice, quiet day with Ricky.
Just when Hollie had finally had a day to spare, she'd made the ride out to Armion only to find that Ricky had and his father had left to survey some construction projects in the area, and that his mother was calling on her sister in Tetran.
But, Aldhein had told her she might as well stay, because Camaline had just received a letter from the woman who would have been her mother-in-law, informing her that her betrothed had died. He'd said she was in need of a suitable comforter.
Hollie didn't think she had been a 'suitable comforter' at any point in her existence. But, Camaline was her little cousin and would one day be her sister-in-law, so she'd resolved to do what she could--which was, apparently, nothing.
"I mean, I-- I-- I'm practically a widow!"
Had Camaline even met Farilon? Hollie didn't recall any instance in which she might have. Then again, what did she know about long, pre-arranged betrothals? Unlike herself at that age, Camaline had likely held a clear picture in her head of how the rest of her life would play out. Someone had taken a dagger to that canvas and slashed it to shreds. "Don't say that..."
"But I am! And what's to become of me now? Who's to say if Father can find anyone else for me?"
That couldn't have been much of an issue for a pretty, generally charming daughter of a duke and a princess, but it felt insensitive to point that out. "You're younger than I was when your brother proposed to me. Someone will come along."
"Will he? You know how early most of us are betrothed; every young man worth having is spoken for." Camaline took a minute to wipe her eyes while Hollie pondered the meaning of 'worth having'. Surely the existence of marriage hold-outs such as her brother hadn't been lost on her? "Now I'll probably end up as some old man's third wife, or I'll be promised to some little boy and I won't be married until I'm past thirty--and I'll be stuck here until then as a maiden aunt!"
Again--Hollie didn't think that would be the case. But, it did sound like a drag. "If it helps, I can cover for you if you decide to... you know, not be a maiden."
"That's not the point! I just don't want to be... extraneous. Purposeless." Camaline sniffed, a sob caught on her throat. "Well, and I don't want to be a maiden for that long either. And even if I technically wasn't, I don't want people to look at me when I'm that old and consider me as some woman-shaped child who knows nothing of the world and ought to be kept that way."
"Aww, you know Ricky and I will punch the lights out of anyone who treats you like that." But she just collapsed into tears again--because that didn't erase the possibility that people would. "I'm sorry. I'm... not good at this whole 'comforting' thing."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 10, 1199
"...and it turns out, she copied off of me in mathematics. But I copied off of her in history, so I suppose that's fair." Camaline's curls bounced with a dismissive toss of her head, as satisfied with a twelve-year-old's definition of 'fair' as any other twelve-year-old was likely to be. "But you don't have a school in Carvallon, do you? You just have tutors. That must be dreadfully lonely!"
"Not really." In truth, Lara suspected that Camaline's idea of loneliness was approximately her own idea of peace and quiet, and she'd yet to have a problem with any of her tutors--none that she hadn't been able to spin in her favor, at any rate. But she'd be back in Naroni the year after next to attend the university, and perhaps the Naronian classrooms would have been better preparation for that. Then again, a university class was surely a more focused experience than run-of-the-mill childhood education. "I usually finish up with my lessons fairly quickly, since I don't have to wait for anyone else to catch up. Then I'm free to do as I please."
"Don't you study with Naeva, though?"
"Naeva's four years younger than me--closer to five, even. We study more side-by-side than together."
"So she's closer to my age," Camaline mused. "Why didn't she come along, then? I don't doubt we'd have fun together."
"I don't know. Naeva doesn't really have much fun with anyone." And neither did Lara, really--but at least Lara had learned to be polite about it. Polite enough, at least, that she hadn't vehemently opposed leaving her comfortable room at the castle for the day to meet her cousins by the duchess.
"Oh." Camaline batted her eyes toward their other cousin--who, really, hadn't had much reason for dropping by as far as Lara could tell. "Sounds rather like Hollie."
"You realize I'm right here," Hollie muttered under her breath, the first she'd said since a half-grunted 'hello' to Lara as if it hadn't been only the second time they'd met.
"Yes, dear cousin--but I'm never sure if you do!" Camaline laughed. Lara failed to see just what was so funny. "You'll have to excuse her, Lara. Hollie never has anything to say, except maybe to my brother Ricky."
Hollie shifted, the fabric of her skirts rustling against that of the couch cushion. Camaline was twelve years old, with twelve-year-old definitions: 'loneliness', 'anything'. Camaline herself didn't have anything to say, but she insisted on saying it anyway.
Hollie, from what much-yet-little Lara knew about her, must have had a lot to say.
But having something to say didn't always mean having a way to say it.
NEXT CHAPTER:
