In Which Searle Is Graced by the Presence of an Angel

WARNING: This post is, um... not for everyone. You'll see what I mean. I'm not trying to be political or anything, I've just had this idea in my head for God knows how long, and there's been plenty of (probably forgotten) build-up, so... yeah. Proceed with discretion.

December 14, 1163

"She's beautiful, Searle," breathed his older sister from the couch, her husband's arm slung over her shoulder. "Just... beautiful."

Cambrin nodded in agreement, but there was something in his eye that differed from Lileina's. Perhaps he had sensed Searle's discomfort; Searle himself hoped this wasn't the case. "Searle? Are you all right?"

Damn. He had.

Searle gently lifted his daughter to his shoulder, careful to support her head. She had his father's own violet eyes, as he had been secretly praying against since the day Danthia had announced her pregnancy; he did not think he could bear to live in the same castle as those eyes again. It was difficult enough living in the same castle as his mother's eyes, set upon his own face, reminiscent enough of both of his parents to bestow in him an almost religious aversion to reflective surfaces. "I'm fine," he lied, "just... a little tired, that's all."

Lileina frowned. "I can take her for a while, if you want."

"Oh, no. Really, I'm all right," insisted Searle. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Thank you for your concern, though."

He had barely finished acknowledging her before she had planted herself upon Cambrin's lap, allowing him to run his hands up and down her back as she inhaled a nose-full of whatever spice he wore in his hair. Searle rolled his eyes; as much as he loved both of them separately, he hated to see them together. He had half a mind to ban all happy couples from his castle henceforth. It was too painful to see others with what he had once had and lost.

Or no... he hadn't lost it. It had been taken from him.

He hated to see them as they were, with all their touching and kissing and snuggling. He could never decide if it made him want to cry or vomit--perhaps it did both. It just wasn't fair. How had their father managed to choose for Lileina someone she would grow to love, while he got stuck with a girl with whom he could only be friends, and that at best. He supposed he did pity Danthia somewhat--he did like her as a person, and felt rather guilty about depriving her of the only love she could attain without becoming an adulteress--but she couldn't understand. He hoped for her sake that she never would.

Cambrin and Lileina did not look as though they would relent with their display any time soon; defeated, Searle resigned himself to counting the floor tiles, starting from the far wall. One... two... three...

"Searle?"

He knew that voice.

Mindful of the baby, Searle turned around to come face-to-face with his twin sister. He had not seen her since her wedding; he was rather shocked that their father, who had stationed himself in the front room, had allowed her entrance. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

That she was. He took a moment to memorize her, as he did not know when he would see her again; though Riona had haunted his thoughts and dreams since he was a child, he marveled that he had forgotten her magnificence. Or maybe he hadn't--maybe she had simply grown even more radiant in their time apart. If that was the case, he would not have believed it had he not seen it for himself. Their mother's eyes sparkled as she gazed upon him and shyly smiled. Hers was the only face upon which those eyes were not a blasphemy.

"This is Tivalia?" she cooed, leaning toward the baby, exposing the bare flesh of her swan-like neck. Was she taunting him? How he longed to run his fingers against the curve of her shoulder, press tender kisses under her ear; surely she knew that.

"Oh, Searle!" swooned Riona, her sacred eyes still resting upon the baby. "She's lovely! She has Father's eyes!"

How could she say that with such a smile? How could she look into those eyes and not want to hang herself? Did she not remember anything?

She seemed to shield her breasts with her arms as she reached to stroke the infant's face. Silly girl. He was not other men, who stared shamelessly at such a perfect bosom as though it were a separate entity; to him, it was only a part of the whole, no greater or lesser than any of her other features. Whether he saw all of her or not, she was nothing short of pure divinity. His father had pushed an angel from the heavens, and he had caught her before she hit the ground. It was not right that she had been so ruthlessly sold to her husband.

She looked away; he looked at her. He would not let pass an opportunity to engrave the sight of her upon his mind's eye, to absorb this new beauty and splendor even vaster than that which he remembered. As was their fate, she would not be with him long.

And as was his fate, at least she would be with him in his dreams.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lonriad Wrecks Cambrin's Furniture

January 28, 1157

Not wanting to risk another run-in with Geneva, Lonriad had stolen away to Cambrin's mother's old sitting room while everyone else socialized in the hall. Ordinarily, he'd have been eager to finish what he'd started with that woman--hell, why not? She was pretty, willing, and wildfire between the sheets--but he'd noticed at breakfast the Severin seemed to be keeping a close, loathing eye on her, so he figured it wasn't the best idea.

Damn, what had he done to that kid? He'd been a good father... hadn't he? Sure, he'd always been a little gruff with him, but he was gruff with everyone; besides, the boy had adored him before he hit ten or eleven. Plus, Severin had two kids of his own now--and, if Lonriad's observations of a flushed Alina frequently running out of the breakfast hall meant anything, a third on the way--so surely he understood how difficult it was to be a father. Why couldn't things just be the way they had been before?

Oh, but it never would! His boys were men now, no matter how often he half-expected to see eight-year-old Rudolphus leaving a trail of muddy footprints down a corridor, or five-year-old Severin sprinting toward him with a turtle he'd found by the pond, begging him to let him keep it. Lonriad couldn't deny that he probably had an army of bastards running around, but as he'd never seen hide nor hair of any of them, they could possibly not fill this void.

No, he would never know the joys of being a father to a young child again. And really, why should he? He was fifty-five years old. Fifty-fucking-five. Really, it wasn't entirely impossible for him to have some great-grandchildren somewhere. He would have to visit Severin in Naroni to see children again, providing he was even welcome there, or pester Rudolphus and Eudocia into finally starting on their brood.

Ah, too much thinking never did him any good! He had to clear his mind somehow... but what could he do? He could go maid-chasing, he supposed, but knowing his luck, his wife or one of his sons would walk in on them. No, he needed something more innocent than sex... something he could do on his own...

And so it was that the Duke of Luperia proceeded to jump on the couch.

And oh, what fun it was! He felt like a boy again, only without a nagging parent or tutor to barge in and scold him. Why had he allowed so many years to pass since the last time he'd done this; he vowed to take advantage of such solitude in the future.

"Well, I must say," came a surprisingly amused voice from the doorway, "this is the first time I've ever seen you so happily jump on something that wasn't visibly female."

"So you think this couch must be a boy, son?" Lonriad laughed. "It can't be--it's got pretty pink pillows."

Severin chuckled appreciatively. "I can't help but wonder what the old countess would do if she could see you now."

"Surenica? She'd skin me alive, the crazy old bat! Er, may she rest in peace," he added hastily.

"I take it you two didn't get along very well?" mused Severin.

Lonriad smiled, but he wasn't sure exactly why. Maybe his vindictive feelings towards Cambrin's mother ran deeper than he would have thought. Maybe he was just happy that he was having a civil conversation with his estranged son. Or maybe he was just really having fun jumping on this couch. "To put it lightly--not unlike yourself and her shrew of a daughter. My God, that bitter banshee is just like old Surenica. No wonder you can't stand her; I sure as hell wouldn't be able to. You know, sometimes it really surprises me, just how much you take after your doting father."

For some reason, Severin fell silent, restoring the usual air of awkwardness between them. What had he done now? Was it something he'd said?

"Perhaps you should stop jumping on Cambrin's furniture," he muttered, only just audible. "You're his guest, after all."

"Oh, Severin!" exclaimed Lonriad. "Don't you remember how much you used to love doing this, you silly boy? Or have you filtered out all your memories from that time when you didn't hate your old man so much?"

Severin sighed. "I wouldn't say I hate you..."

"You did when you were thirteen," he reminded him.

"Who doesn't when they're thirteen?"

"Point taken. Now, get up here, brat!"

Reluctantly, Severin trudged over to the couch and stepped onto the far cushion. "You never used to join me when I asked you to."

"I was waiting for you to get big enough so that I wouldn't bounce you straight through the ceiling," Lonriad explained. "Basic physics, boy."

For the first time in a decade, Lonriad heard his son laugh. "My God! I'd forgotten how much fun this is!"

"Just you wait; Raia and Jadin and whatever parasite's currently lodged in your wife's uterus will remind you in a few years!" Lonriad assured him.

"Kindly refrain from discussing my wife's uterus."

"What? Am I supposed to be unaware of its existence? Anyway, son, how's Naroni?"

"It's all right," Severin replied. "A little on the quiet side, but not a bad place to settle down and raise a family."

Lonriad raised an eyebrow. "Quiet, you say?"

"Are you surprised?"

He nodded--or at least, as best he could while jumping. "I've heard stories about that place that are anything but quiet."

"Such as...?" pried Severin. "As a lord and a citizen and a man with a family, I have the right to know what sort of kingdom I'm living in."

"True," Lonriad agreed. "Severin... has anyone gone mad since you've been there?"

Severin frowned. "Not to my knowledge; as far as I know, the only mad people in Naroni were already mad when they got there. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe don't share this story with anyone except for your cousin Roderick, all right?"

"All right..."

"Good lad!" Lonriad chuckled as he continued to bounce up and down, higher with each successive jump. "Anyway, about six years ago now, I was out hunting with King Farilon, and suddenly, this young naked lady stumbled out of the forest, starving, dehydrated, dog-tired... practically dead. So we gave her some water and asked her what had happened."

Severin nodded. "And...?"

"Raving mad she was before she passed. Thought she was a man, transformed into a woman by some enchantment."

"Enchantment?" repeated his son skeptically.

"Her words, not mine," Lonriad insisted. "Anyway, she died within the hour, but not before she could tell us her nonsense. Long story short, she claimed that she and a friend had been hunting in the Naroni area when they were attacked by these glowing, naked creatures that turned them into women, impregnated them, and held them hostage for six months. At the end of that time, both gave birth to a set of twins--twins with strange eyes, and odd markings on their faces. The other girl's babies came first, and she died. Then, this girl had hers, took a day or so to recover, and then just ran until she found us. Madness--people go mad there."

The younger man didn't seem convinced. "You're making this up."

"I am not--you can ask the king yourself," he argued. "Now, watch me do this flip."

"You idiot geezer!" scolded Severin teasingly. "You'll throw your back out, you crazy old man!"

Lonriad grinned deviously. "That's the idea; everyone knows that the best way to get a man's spine back in place is to have a woman pound it there!"

"OH MY GOD!"

Cambrin kicked the door shut behind him as he cringed, horrified. "Lileina's new couch! Why are you two jumping on our furniture?"

"Why not?" Lonriad demanded. The silly boy, worried about the couch! He'd forgotten what it was to be a newlywed, concerned with such petty things as furniture--worried about what his wife might say, no doubt! "And, more importantly, what are you going to do about it?"

The earl took a moment to consider.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Alina's Niece is Given a Choice

January 15, 1157

"Brings on quite a few mixed emotions, does it not?" Alina's mother asked of the oldest of her five daughters, who was seated in an ornately-carved chair by the dressing screen. "Your baby getting married, leaving home, off to become a countess in some distant shire... are you sure she's ready, Cladelia?"

Cladelia laughed. "Of course she is, Mother! She's only a year younger than I was when I was married."

"Oh, but I was never sure whether or not you were old enough," Riona pressed. "I never did share your father's urgency, you know. Fortunately, I managed to convince him to wait a little longer with your sisters."

"Oh, never mind that, Mother! Meraleene, how does she look?" demanded Cladelia of the second sister.

"As lovely as her mother," Meraleene assured her from the other side of the dressing screen.

"Oh, I don't know about that..." muttered young Lileina meekly.

"Nonsense!" Cladelia snapped, her barely-pregnant bulge somewhat visible despite her tight gold dress. "Lileina, I'm sure you look just fine. Renata, can you see her? I'm not sure I trust Meraleene."

"Are you calling me a liar?" hissed Meraleene; Alina could perfectly picture her face, her eyes narrowed and her teeth clenched.

Cladelia rolled her eyes. "Of course not, dear. I'm just taking into consideration the fact that you aren't particularly bright, and therefore might not have the most trustworthy opinion. Renata has always been the sharpest of us, you must admit."

"Don't be an idiot, Claddie," Renata scolded her. "You don't have to be a genius to see how beautiful your daughter is. I can see her just fine from here, and I can assure you that if the twins grow up to be half as radiant as your Lileina, I shall be the proudest mother in Dovia."

Cladelia's eyebrows arched dangerously. "Well, you never know; perhaps come June, that enlarged stomach of yours will reveal itself to be a much prettier daughter for you and Arkon."

Suddenly, Renata looked as though she was about to leap from her chair, four-month belly and all, and squeeze her older sister's neck until her head shot straight to the ceiling. "And just what do you think you're saying about my girls?"

"Girls, please!" screamed their mother before Cladelia had a chance to reply. "Meraleene, you're not dim, Cladelia, you're not an idiot, and Renata, your daughters are beautiful! Now, we can't ruin Lileina's wedding with our petty fights, so if none of you have anything pleasant to say, I suggest you just shut up."

"Shut--up?" Laralita repeated in raptured shock. "Mother, you're so... vulgar."

Riona bit her lip, likely in an attempt to keep herself from belting out every obscenity that Alina knew--and likely every one that she didn't. "Never mind my vulgarity. Lileina, did your Aunt Meraleene do a decent enough job with the sewing?"

"Oh, I do think so, Grandmother," answered Lileina. "It's lovely, and very comfortable."

"Hmm. I think I'll go take a look at it anyway," Riona insisted, making her way to the side of her eldest granddaughter.

Meraleene's jaw dropped, Alina was sure of it. "Mother, she just said--"

"Meraleene, I hate to admit it, but Cladelia's right; you aren't exactly the sharpest nail in the fence. I'd feel much better knowing I'd examined the dress myself."

"So, Alina," Laralita addressed her as their mother began to carefully study the seams of the wedding dress. "I hear you had a son in November?"

Alina nodded. "I did. His name is Jadin, for Viridis's father."

"Lovely. It's such a weight off your chest, isn't it? Now you never have to bother sleeping with your husband again."

"Are you kidding?" she laughed. "I jumped Severin five minutes after the midwife cut the cord! It was the best sex we ever had."

Laralita's eyes bulged; she always had been a terrible prude. "You... you like it?"

"Try 'love'," Alina corrected her with a grin. Tormenting Laralita had always been a favorite pastime of hers.

Her older sister continued to stare, her mouth wide open. "Why?"

"Because I love him, maybe?" she replied. "It isn't my fault you don't give poor Karlspan a chance--might as well, seeing as the poor man probably won't last many more years anyway. Renata, back me up here."

"Lita, it is rather fun when it's with a man you love," agreed Renata, "although I suppose that might not be the case with a man you don't. But maybe Alina's right; it's the least you can do for a dying man. And don't you pull a Medea on us and say he's beneath you, because he's not--he's an earl, and you're the daughter of a count."

Laralita sighed. "I do take pity on him occasionally, I assure you. I just keep a careful eye on my monthly and make sure I only sleep with him right after I stop bleeding--no sense going through another nine months of horrid discomfort when I already gave him a son, after all. Now, if you'll excuse us, Meraleene and I have to go and oversee the flower arranging."

"We do?" asked Meraleene.

"You certainly aren't on top of your game today, are you? Come along, no sense keeping the florist waiting any longer."

Meraleene was quick to leave, shortly followed by Laralita. Quite frankly, Alina was not sad to be rid of either of them; in fact, she only wished they had taken Cladelia with them. With the exception of her darling Renata, she had always been much closer to her brothers than her sisters, especially now that they were older and all married women. Cladelia and Laralita were much too political for her tastes, she found, and there was just no spark in Meraleene. Her stupid, playful brothers were much more tolerable.

"Perfect," muttered Riona at last, finishing her inspection and stepping back from the young bride. "I'll have you know that the dress you're wearing is older than your mother; not only did she wear it to her wedding, but I wore it to mine. It cost a pretty penny back in the day, but it seems to be one of those dresses that just looks lovely on anyone... mind you, some brides are perfectly content to be married wearing only a nightgown under a man's traveling cloak, isn't that right, Alina?"

"It turned out not too badly; I wouldn't have had him tearing an expensive dress right off me," Alina laughed, remembering the elegant, but somewhat pretentious-looking dress that had been made for her wedding to Rudolphus.

"Well, when a man undresses his bride himself, of course," agreed Cladelia as she approached her mother and daughter, "but most women have their ladies. Lileina certainly won't have to worry about Cambrin... tearing her dress right off her, as you put it?"

Lileina shifted uncomfortably. "Could we... not talk about that, please?"

Cladelia chuckled. "We've scared her, ladies! Lileina, don't worry about it--even if you don't love him, it's not the most horrible thing that will ever happen to you."

"No, that comes nine months later," added Riona, earning her a sharp glare from her oldest daughter.

"Anyway, you look absolutely ravishing, baby," declared the mother of the bride, "and I think your grandmother and aunts can all agree. Now, I'm going to leave you for a few minutes while I track down Father Quartus. Mother, are you coming?"

"As long as Septimus isn't with him," Riona answered as the two of them made their way toward the door. "The gall of that boy! Would you believe that he told me he'd like to anoint me with his holy water?"

Renata glanced upwards at Alina, a smile on her glowing face. "So, how are your babies? I do hope to meet them one day."

"Oh, they're wonderful," Alina assured her. "I'm thinking it's about time to have another one, though."

Her older sister sent her a quizzical look. "Already? Alina, Jadin's not even two months old yet."

"I got pregnant with Jadin when Raia was four months old. Two months isn't that much of a difference. Besides, it's nice to have siblings close in age, isn't it?"

"I'm closer in age to Meraleene and Laralita, but I always got along better with you," Renata insisted. "Besides, everyone in your household so far has a birthday in the last three months of the year, and so will your next if you get pregnant now; don't you want some occasions to celebrate from January through September?"

Alina couldn't help but grin. "Renata, that is the silliest argument I've ever heard from you."

"Well, I'm in the middle of very silly pregnancy. I daresay this one will be the clown of the family."

"Aunt Alina?"

"Yes, Lileina?" she addressed her niece as the girl approached her.

"I'm sorry if I'm prying, but I just have to know," Lileina began hastily. "Why did you marry Severin instead of Rudolphus? My mother spoke of nothing else for months, you know--how you must've been out of your mind, I mean. She says she would've married Rudolphus in a heartbeat, even if he's rather dull, since he'll be duke one day. You were supposed to marry him, but you didn't. Why?"

Alina wasn't sure whether or not she should be amused; regardless, that she was. "Lileina, understand that I love your mother dearly, but we will never fully understand each other. I didn't marry Rudolphus simply because I didn't want to, and I didn't want to marry him because I don't love him and never did."

"So love is more important than politics, then?" the girl surmised, her teal eyes widening sorrowfully.

Suddenly, Alina understood--or at least, she thought she might. "You have a Severin of your own, Lileina?"

"Oh, no!" she protested. "I mean... I'm only thirteen. I haven't had time to find one, and if I ever do... well, I guess it'll be too late for me. I guess I just don't want to be a pawn for Cambrin and my father."

Alina knew what she was talking about. She had felt the exact same way during her betrothal to Rudolphus--like some disposable playing piece, being strategically moved from square to square doomed to be used in setups to conquer castles and bishops until being taken by the queen or checking the king--or, in her case, being liberated by her rogue knight. Her children would not know that fate, her husband had decided; she couldn't believe it had not occurred to her how thankful she should be for that before now.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" called Renata.

"It's Cambrin," the young earl replied from the corridor. "May I come in please?"

Lileina quickly ducked behind the screen while Alina made her way to the door and opened it, revealing the bridegroom.

"Hello, Cambrin," she greeted him stiffly, unsure of what to think of him after her little talk with Lileina.

"Hello, Alina," he replied politely enough. "If you don't mind, could I please speak to Lileina?"

Alina's eyes narrowed. "You aren't supposed to see the bride before the wedding, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh, yes, of course," mumbled Cambrin under his breath. "Lileina, can you hear me?"

There was a quick squeak of "Yes" from the other side of the room. Cambrin took a deep breath, then began, "Look, Lileina, I've been thinking and... you're only a girl. This wedding isn't fair to you. If you don't want to marry me, all you have to do is say so and I'll call it off. My mother died when I was born, so I don't remember her at all, but my sister tells me she was an unhappy woman trapped in a marriage she never wanted and went half mad near the end, and I don't wish that same fate for you. So if this isn't what you want, then please, just..."

He trailed off, his eyes widening as Lileina emerged.

"Cambrin..." she addressed her betrothed, "thank you. Of everyone involved, you're the first to give me a choice about any of this. You're a better man than most, and... well, thank you."

Alina stepped to the side as Cambrin made his way into the room. "I'm sorry you had to go through all this. I'll tell your father--"

"Don't tell him anything," Lileina cut him off promptly.

Cambrin raised an eyebrow. "...Sorry?"

"I didn't have a choice until you gave me one just now," she explained with a smile, "so I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to marry you. But now you gave a choice, and I know that I do want to, so don't tell my father anything."

"You want to marry me," Cambrin mouthed breathlessly. "I'm sorry, I just... never thought anyone would ever say that to me."

Lileina beamed up at him. "Oh, but why? You're so considerate, and very kind; you'll make a wonderful husband, and a great father."

"Lileina, can I... hold your hand?" he asked her, as if shocked by his own daring.

She giggled. "Go ahead."

Gentle yet determined, he proceeded to do so.

A wave of sweet relief washed over Alina. The secret of life, she knew, was an elusive thing that was often not obtained by those of high birth. Through her and Severin's own initiative, they had acquired it--through Renata and Arkon's persuasive natures, they had as well. Cladelia, Meraleene, Laralita... they had either never been given the chance to find it, or simply never bothered to look.

It was a tricky thing to find, that she knew, and oftentimes it was mimicked by more fleeting, impermanent things--but for Lileina, Alina was pleased to see, it was starting to seem real enough.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Medea Subjects Herself to Nonsense

January 15, 1157

Medea's perfect sister could not have possibly married any better than she had. Oswald was the Crown Prince of Dovia. He was a man of high station and good breeding, and one day, he would be a king. Athalia would then be a queen.

But Medea was the older sister. Why had Athalia married before her, and made such a match that she herself had been unable to surpass? Love, Oswald and Athalia claimed. They were in love, and therefore, he had married her instead of Medea.

Rubbish. Love was nothing, if it existed at all. By birthright, Oswald should have been Medea's, and not Athalia's. Athalia should have been the one stuck with humble Octavius, eighth son of a mere lord.

Of course, this 'love' thing had not stopped Athalia from doing her duty; she had resolved to bear him a son. Unfortunately for her, their first child had been a daughter, which meant she would have to produce a second--but as luck would have it, that next baby was a son, named Farilon for the king. With his birth, Athalia would never have to go through the dreadful task of sleeping with her husband again, and could avoid the toils of birthing another screaming brat.

Of course, Athalia had never been particularly sensible, Medea remembered as she observed her sister's swollen stomach. Needless to say, Medea didn't approve; what sort of example was she setting for her young daughter? Was Athalia actually trying to tell young Surenica that it was perfectly fine to enjoy sex with one's husband? This was not the way to raise a girl; she would have to make sure that Jedaline never got that impression.

Shaking her head, Medea decided instead to focus on her brother--the bridegroom. There was a distinct, faraway look in his eyes, as if his mind was not fully present; it must not have been, for him to take no notice of their sister's scandalous condition. Regardless, he was being terribly rude.

"Oh, for God's sake, Cambrin!" she snapped. "Can't you see that you have company here?"

Cambrin shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, Medea. I was just... thinking," he finished lamely.

"About your bride?" giggled Athalia--typical of her, really, to assume that everyone else had this 'love' that she claimed was so wonderful and invaluable.

He sighed. "It's not like that, Thallie. Lileina's barely thirteen; what if she doesn't want me?"

"How could she not?" Medea dismissed the notion; Cambrin had always been rather dim. "She is only a baron's daughter, and you are an earl."

"But I can't make her love me!" he insisted. "I can love her--I will love her--but what if she doesn't feel the same way? I don't want her to be miserable for the rest of her days; perhaps I should call it off."

Five-year-old Surenica stared up at her mother. "Mama, if Uncle Cambrin calls off the wedding, do we still get cake?"

Disgusting girl; Athalia should have told her long ago that cake was not for children! It gave them far too much energy, therefore draining the adults of theirs... no, any person with any sense of decency at all would separate children from cake at all costs.

"Well, that would be up to Uncle Cambrin, dear..." sighed Athalia, exchanging a quick glance with her husband.

"Athalia! Cambrin will not call off this wedding!" Medea shouted at her. "Matches are not made for love! Love is for peasants and servants--it means nothing to people of our station!"

"Medea..." muttered Cambrin softly, but one sharp glare sufficed to silence him.

"Medea, all Cambrin is doing is considering the comfort of the young lady," argued Athalia in her usual passive aggressive manner. "That is certainly not an unreasonable thing for a man to do for his betrothed--in fact, I think Cambrin is being very kind and sensitive to even consider it."

Medea groaned in exasperation. "Athalia, don't be an idiot! This marriage is not for the sake of Lileina's comfort! It is for the sake of solidifying the ties between Sarona and Hoprine. If Cambrin does not marry Lileina today, then whatever will Haldred think? Calling it off would not only be very stupid, but downright suicidal!"

Athalia rolled her eyes. "Medea, are you even listening to yourself? I hope you realize how ridiculous you sound."

Meanwhile, behind her, Oswald met Cambrin's gaze. "What did I marry into?" he demanded. Cambrin replied with a mere shrug.

"Well, perhaps what I will do is speak to Lileina before the ceremony. If she would rather not marry me, then I will give her the chance to tell me that in such a way that would not disgrace the both of us in front of our families."

Medea sniffed. "You can't do that! You know it's horrible luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding!"

Her idiot sister shook her head. "Medea, it sounds like this time, it could be very good luck indeed."

NEXT CHAPTER: