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June 23, 1185
What the fuck did I do?
Or perhaps the better question was who the fuck did he just do. Or who the fuck had he just... fucked, for all it had felt like more than mere fucking. Of course, he already knew the answer to that.
I just had sex with a priest. Some stupid part of him hoping he'd imagined it, Casimiro cast a sidelong glance to the other half of the bed. Sure enough, there was the back of Sieron's pretty blond head, resting peacefully as if he hadn't just thrown his vows to the wind. Well, he's technically a monk, I guess... but still! A man of the cloth!
If he hadn't been hell-bound before, surely that fate was sealed now.
Casimiro slung his legs off the bed and fished up his braises with his toes. He stood up as he pulled them on, unable to shake the feeling that somewhere, someone was watching him. Must've been God.
Forgive me, Father--like I forgave you for making me this way. Though, fat lot of help that did him.
"Cas?" Behind him, Sieron rustled the sheets. "Are you all right?"
Poor man. Perhaps Sieron's error had been in joining the church too young, before he'd known if that was what he truly wanted. That didn't make him any less a Man of God. "I'm sorry, Sieron. We--I shouldn't have done that."
"Why just you? I wasn't exactly an unwilling participant."
"Yes, but... what if I...?" How to put it? Ruined him? He hadn't asked before, but as the sex had occurred, he'd been left with the distinct impression that Sieron hadn't done that before. But 'ruined' just sounded twisted, dehumanizing. "Made God mad at you?"
"You think God has no more pressing concern than people making love? We oughtn't flatter ourselves like that, Cas--not when there are people starving and dying all over the world."
"The Bible seems to take issue with it, though."
"If the Bible was meant to be set in stone, God would have carved it Himself on the mountainside." Sieron's feet fell to the floorboards, the mattress settling back to form as his perfect ass rose from it. "The world is complex, Cas. Humanity is complex--and we know this because complex beings are capable of change. Those who believe God to be rigid do Him grave insult, assuming Him to be simple."
"Then why doesn't God commission an updated Holy Book?"
"Because God wants us to figure these things out for ourselves." A smiling face looped around the bedpost, a gentle hand landed on his shoulder. Silky soft lips pressed to his own, parting with a widened grin. "For what better way is there to truly know God than to talk to him, question him? To inquire and to reason with the minds with which He blessed us?"
"But--"
"But what? God gave us sex. He created us with the capacity to enjoy sex, to want sex--almost all of us. Not just fertile men who marry fertile women, or vice versa. If sex was solely for the sake of future generations, why should it be pleasurable for the present?" One corner of his mouth tugged, eyelids flickering and widening upon open. Such a lovely blue. "Besides, God also gave us math--and math tells us that if every one of us could have children with our chosen partners, then it's only a matter of time before the earth is filled to capacity. Not all of us are meant to continue the species, but that doesn't mean we're not entitled to enjoy the physical act of love if we so choose."
That sounded... logical. Priests and monks were not often logical. Casimiro wasn't sure what to do with that.
"You may just be the strangest man of the cloth I ever met." As he said it, it became all too clear in his mind that 'strange' was not an inherent insult. "Strangest, and most endearing."
NEXT CHAPTER:
November 27, 1184
Casimiro was not any more religious than the average young man of his age--the church was hardly welcoming to those like him, after all, so why should he have paid them any more mind than social obligation demanded?--so he hadn't bothered to make much use of the small chapel in his own castle. Hadn't been much point, really. Neither he nor Ellona were the epitome of so-called good Christians, and having a chapel in their own home would have only served as a reminder of that, like some nagging elderly relation they lacked the heart to evict.
But his little daughter had been sick the week before, sick enough that he'd feared the worst in the darkest hour, but she'd made a turn for the better and was now well on her way to a full recovery, or so Widow Fedurin and Aerina Frey agreed, and that was why he'd ridden over to the chapel at the duke's keep. If God had a hand in that, Casimiro supposed it was only polite to thank him.
But the scratch of paws against the hardwood and the thud of a tail against the pews and the wet nose just in view did little for his concern over whether or not it was the right time. "Um... hi, Jadin."
Jadin yipped. At first, Casimiro had been baffled by Lorn's decision to name his dog after his brother-in-law, but the last time he'd seen the mutt, he'd been attempting to hump a barrel. The resemblance had been more obvious since then.
"Oh, don't mind him."
Huh. How had he missed the holy man? "He likes to keep me company during the quiet hours."
"Right." In his pocket, Casimiro fiddled with his wedding band. The clergyman was young for a parish priest--he couldn't have been more than twenty--but he had a calm air of wisdom about him that Casimiro had yet to see in any other priest in the country. Old beyond his age, maybe. "Uh... I don't think we've met."
"No, I don't think we have. I'm Brother Sieron." He stepped around the altar and approached with a whimsical smile. Old beyond his age, but still young in spirit? "I've only been here a few months."
"And I haven't been here... um, probably since the duke's brother got married." And yet, there was no hint of disapproval or condemnation in the priest's eye. "Casimiro de Cervantes. I live in one of the castles close to the border of the royal shire."
"You're a knight, then?" Casimiro nodded. "I thought so. Strong of body, noble of face."
"Well, my brother Bernardo was always the good-looking one, but thank you."
"Men of God are not called to lie to their flocks, Sir Casimiro." One hand flew to Brother Sieron's chest, maybe in search of a cross hanging beneath his robe. "But surely you didn't come here for flattery. How may I help you?"
He asked of his own accord? That was quite an improvement on the other priests. "Just a prayer, I suppose."
"Of course. What sort of prayer?" Another crooked smile broke out across his face. If Casimiro took in his features, only his eyes were remarkable on their own, but in combination, they somehow sang.
"A prayer of thanks. My daughter was sick, but she's recovering now."
Brother Sieron nodded. "A worthy prayer indeed. Shall I add her health to my list of prayers for tonight, or would you like to pray together now?"
Huh. Half-decent priest or not, Casimiro wasn't sure that anyone had ever asked him that. Certainly no one had made it sound appealing. "I've got time."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 6, 1181
"You're going to read us a story, right?" That had been Neilor's job when Ellona and her children had been living with him, but there had been a shortage in bedtime stories lately as Ella found neither Ellona nor Casimiro's readings satisfactory ("You're not doing the voices!"). But Casimiro's mother could have been a master of the craft for all Ella knew, and it had apparently been long enough that the little girl was willing to take a chance with a new reader. "Right?"
"Of course!" Eliana smiled. Ellona's mother-in-law hadn't made much of an impression on her personally, but she had to admit that the woman seemed to have a way with anyone under twelve or so. Even Roddie, apparently too stylishly independent to have much to do with grown-ups, seemed to have gotten a kick out of her.
"Do you do voices?"
"Is there any storyteller worth listening to who doesn't?"
Ella giggled. Kaldar proved a little more difficult. "I'm too old for stories. Can't I stay up a while longer?"
"Not if you want to go for that sleigh ride with Alina and Sev, you can't." Her son turned around and pouted, but she wouldn't let that sway her. She knew she'd be in for a lot worse if he missed an outing with his friends. "Just listen to Grandma Eliana's bedtime story with your sister. Who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky and it'll be a story about dragons."
"Oh, there will definitely be dragons," confirmed Eliana with a wink. That seemed to perk him up a little. "Now, both of you go and get dressed for bed. I'll meet you in Ella's room after I get us a few little cakes from the kitchens."
Cakes? Hadn't they had enough desert at Isidro's? "No cakes!"
"Did I say 'cakes'? My mistake. Of course I meant 'carrots'." Eliana shot her a wink before heading through the door, the children trailing, leaving Ellona and Casimiro alone for what seemed like the first time that day.
Just in case the walls weren't as soundproof as she believed, Ellona waited a minute or so before speaking. "Well, she's... she's very good with the children."
"She is. It's only once you're old enough to start producing children of your own that she starts to get annoying." Casimiro shuddered slightly, probably in the throws of some rogue memory he'd been struggling to suppress. Ellona opted to grant him his privacy. "Sorry about supper, by the way. She's normally not that bad, but that's the first time she's ever been around two of her daughters-in-law at once. The wine didn't help either." He sighed. "She means well. She really does. She just..."
"Expresses everything in the most egocentric way possible?"
Casimiro laughed, possibly the first true smile of the evening breaking from his mouth. "Exactly. What better way to say 'Who will mourn you when you're gone?' than 'I want grandchildren'?"
"It is admittedly less morbid."
"That and she actually does want hoards of grandchildren. Every birthday since thirteen, she's scolded me for wasting yet another year of valuable baby-making time."
Ellona sniffed. "Well, I still think I prefer her to my own mother. Not that that takes much." Casimiro's mouth twitched again, though not with the same sureness. She could understand, though. Mothers were an awkward topic, and she doubted anything else that could come from this conversation would be any less. "So... I guess I should ask for the formality of it: where do you stand on the children front?"
"Children?" Stray locks fell away from his eyes as he tipped his head back in thought. He had kind of a comical face--must have come from his father--but she supposed there were worse things kids could be than strange-looking. "Well, I don't feel like I'd die unfulfilled if I never had any. It might be nice to have two or three, but I won't force it if you don't think you want any more."
"Hmm. Well, I don't think I'd outright object to one or two more, as long as you don't want a whole army of them." She didn't, really, especially now that both of her children with Ietrin were big enough that she didn't need to cater to their every beck and call. Still, she'd had enough stress in her life in recent months. "I don't want to start trying immediately, though."
"Neither. I think there would be too much pressure if we tried while my mother was still here--plus apparently Bernardo and Hilla are thinking about trying again, so she might appreciate it if they were spaced out somewhat. Less of a baby drought."
"Plus you'd probably need some time to brace yourself for the idea of sex with me again."
He grinned apologetically. "Maybe just a little. Do you think we should maybe postpone the rest of this talk until spring? See how we're both feeling then?"
Spring. A good few months away, far enough into the future that their opinions could change, not so far that they couldn't predict most major obstacles. It was as reasonable a suggestion as any. "All right. Spring."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 6, 1181
Apparently only hosting by proxy, Riona and Isidro had been relegated to the center seats of their own table. Not having met Eliana before--despite Hilla riding over to warn her the second Casimiro had dropped by with the invitation--Riona had laid the foundation for a protest, and some part of Hilla wished she had gone through with it. But she hadn't forgotten the one time her mother-in-law had dropped by for a couple weeks to stay with her and Bernardo, so whatever it was she secretly craved she knew it was a bad idea. And Isidro had known too, not so much as glancing at his usual seat as they'd entered the dining hall. As far as Eliana was concerned, Casimiro was the host; he was simply borrowing Isidro's finished, useable dining room, a luxury he lacked and that Isidro ought to have been grateful to have.
Then again, perhaps all of that was merely excuse to ensure Ellona's assignment to the far end of the table. Eliana tolerated her children-in-law, of course--how on earth would she get her coveted grandchildren without them?--but truly to her they were little more than a means to an end, or she might have protested Hilla's own marriage with a blunter force than her passive-aggressive barbs.
Ah, but she did have to admit that the evening had passed more smoothly than she'd expected. Between Ellona's side and Casimiro's, there were enough people present to excuse her from any Eliana-dominated conversation longer than a cordial hello, and many were children besides--and there was little on the earth Eliana liked more than children.
Of course, the table had been cleared and the children had scattered. Well, unless the two older boys counted as children, though Ellona's youngest brother probably didn't. Roddie probably did, though. If he didn't, then Lord only knew how old Hilla was. Regardless, it was time for the post-meal chat, and Hilla had taken a seat on the wrong side of the table.
"But my God, I just can't believe that sister of yours!" Eliana's hand hit the edge of the table as her sons shared glances. "Silvia took my advice, of course, good girl that she is. So did Catalina, for all she must have been doing something wrong there. As for Nieves--I'll grant you, her husband's face isn't much to look at and I doubt any other part of him is more impressive. But heaven forbid I even suggest the idea to Lorenza!"
Bernardo shot Hilla some strained, long-suffering gaze, not unlike Gualtiero's when he wanted cake. Casimiro took the braver, more foolish route of trying to respond. "Mother, I know you want lots of grandkids... but you know, not every bride wants to walk down the aisle with a baby already in her."
"Why not? It never hurts to get a head-start on things! Why, if your father hadn't been such an old prude--" Bernardo begged her to stop with a panicked shake of his head. Thankfully, Eliana indulged him. "Anyway. Can't say I know what to do with the girl. Her man would have her in a heartbeat, but apparently she'd rather listen to the Bible than me. Reyes thinks we ought to have let her join that convent. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous in your life? There are no men in a convent! Granted they're a largely useless tribe--my boys excluded, of course--but facts are facts, and the fact is that she can't give me any grandchildren without a cock in her."
Roddie, a little tipsy off a few ill-advised cups of wine apparently having heard despite being a reasonable distance away, waved his arm in an attempt to but in--not that Hilla could understand his wanting to be a part of the conversation, but she'd known enough ten-year-old boys to figure they weren't creatures of logic. "You know, the church people do mingle sometimes, you know. My brother Jadin sometimes goes to the convent to 'confess'. With his penis."
That did it--Hilla had to turn her head and catch a glimpse at Riona's face. "Roddie! We just ate!"
"What? It's true. Also, my grandfather wanted my father to be a priest, so Father went to a monastery for a while before he ran off with my big siblings' mother. At my sister Vera's wedding, Father and the baron got really drunk and they were sharing old stories, and there was this lady who used to sell flowers in the village by the monastery, and she and my father had sex in the confessional."
"Roddie! Eww! What is wrong with you?"
"And there's more! She came back a week later with her friend, who--"
"We get it, Roddie." Hilla sighed and turned to face Eliana, who was now looking at her too. Oh, how she'd appreciated her invisibility! If only she'd had the stomach to let Riona vomit on the table. "So... when is Lorenza's wedding?"
"March. So I suppose the earliest I'll get to hold that baby in my arms is December." She slumped, resigned, as if no greater tragedy had struck anyone ever. "On a more positive note, Silvia's is in April, and she was a week late when I left."
Roddie yawned. "You know, sometimes women are just late for no reason."
"No one asked you!" Riona snapped.
"Alas, it's true." Eliana shook her head. "It's God's idea of cruel humor. We people are made in God's image after all--and most people turn out horrid. Why, I have this nephew--"
Isidro cleared his throat. "Um, Aunt Eliana? I'm your only nephew."
"Right, right. As I was saying, I have this nephew..."
Oy. There were worse mothers-in-law out there, Hilla reminded herself. Worse still, there were worse mother-in-laws who actually lived with their children. Eliana lived in a whole other country. And she wasn't even staying with Hilla and Bernardo this time. They'd only see her when everyone else did, when there were plenty of other people around to speak with instead. This dinner was the most they'd see of her while she was here.
And for this moment, well, there were worse topics of discussion that could have...
"So. Roddie." Eliana leaned forward and stared past Isidro to Riona's still annoying, still slightly inebriated little brother. "Since you know so much about female reproduction, any tips on how to keep the Good Lord from getting his good laugh? Really, it's about time Hilla gave me another grandchild."
Or not.
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 6, 1181
"Mother!" Casimiro hoped that the theatricality of his voice wasn't as evident as he feared. It wasn't as if he wasn't happy to see her--at least, so he told himself--but her letter had only preceded her by a couple days and preparation for her impeccable standards couldn't have been met in less than a month. And that was assuming that she had in fact already met all of the hosting parties, and no one was under any implied obligation to impress her. "You certainly made good time."
"What can I say? After I sent that courier on his way, I couldn't bear to postpone my departure any longer. Not when my little baby finally made it down the aisle--and with such an... interesting woman, no less." She rocked him from side by side, her arms tightening around his chest. It had been a while since he'd last required such discretion in a gasp for air. "So, when do I get to meet her? More importantly, is she pregnant yet?"
How had he known she would ask? "Um... not so far as I'm aware?"
"Oh." His mother's arms dropped. At least he could breathe freely now. "Well, don't put off remedying that. Really, seven of eleven children grown now, five wed and two betrothed, and only two living grandchildren to show for it! Lucky my idiot brother doesn't count girls, or he'd be ahead of me there--and with only the scar-faced half-breed around for production, at that! Er, no offense to your cousin, of course. Say, how is he doing?"
"Isidro? He's--"
"Yes, yes, of course he is. But here I am, blathering on about my idiot brother and his half-breed son when there's family in the room!" She peered over Casimiro's shoulder, finally bothering to acknowledge Ellona's presence. Her smile seemed indulgent, but to her credit, at least the disapproval was only obvious in one eye. "My apologies, dear. You're so skinny I didn't even see you there."
"Yes, I get that all the time." Casimiro could guess at her expression, but he turned around anyway. Sure enough--her forced politeness face, half-blinking eyes and twitching smile in all their glory. If he'd had his way, his wife and his mother would have never met. "Shall I have someone take your robe?"
"Thank you, but no. I daresay I'll need it all week in a drafty old place like this." Knowing Ellona, she was probably dying to ask why Casimiro's mother couldn't keep herself warm with her own stuffiness, but tactful restraint wasn't beyond her. By Casimiro's reckoning, she was winning the conversation; of course, his mother had a different way of keeping score. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come a little closer and let me take a look at you."
Ellona bit her lip and came forward, arms crossing as she drew to a halt. His mother paid her an obligatory sweep of the eyes, but if Casimiro knew her at all, her opinion had been fully formed the minute she'd received the news. "Hmm. You're prettier than your sister--not that that takes much, that poor plain darling.
"Ah, but what is beauty in the long run? She did give me a grandchild just recently, after all--though it was about damn time, what with the wedding being three years ago now. I'm sure you won't spend so much time dilly-dallying?"
Ellona's lashes fluttered shut and opened, the eyes behind them now fixed on Casimiro. "I take it you don't mean 'dilly-dallying' as a euphemism."
"Oh, I have no use for euphemisms. I call a spade a spade." The falsely cheery grin she'd been wearing fell to a smug smirk. "And I call lovemaking 'fucking'."
Ellona didn't so much as blink. Casimiro wondered if his mother called that a pass or a fail. "As we all might as well."
"Indeed. What a place the world could be if everyone could just get to the point! And no, dear, when I say 'point', I make no reference to a man's phallus." Casimiro cringed on both of their behalf. But his mother didn't notice, instead opting to eye Ellona's hips. "Honey, perhaps you ought to fetch me these children of yours. I'm sorry, but with your figure, I won't believe that they exist unless I see them for myself."
"Of course you won't." The same sarcasm oozed from her words, but it reeked of self-deprecation. He'd have to console her when he got the chance. His mother tended to bring that out in people. "They're probably off bothering the page, as usual. Wait here."
Ellona wasted no time in leaving, walking a little briskly for Casimiro's comfort--though a little slowly for what he'd imagined. She still seemed to be holding up better than Hilla had when his mother had paid Bernardo a visit.
"Well..." Now that Ellona was out of earshot, he supposed he might as well get to the decidedly non-phallic point. "What do you think?"
His mother shrugged as she brushed around him and made an oversized throne of one of the couches. "What do I think? I think she's freakishly tall. But Bernardo married a peasant and Augustin married a woman who took two years to get pregnant, so I suppose I can't complain."
Huh. That was... better than he'd expected. He sat down on the other couch and searched her for any other critiques hiding behind that more or less resigned expression. "So, her children don't bother you...?"
"Why should they? It's not as if she's a prostitute. If a prince wants you to fuck him, you fuck him good and hard." God. He doubted she was speaking from experience, but sure enough, the disturbing image turned up anyway. "Besides, they're proof that she's fertile. And they double my grandchildren count--even if they are bastards."
Casimiro grimaced. "Right."
"Though if my friends back home ask, she was a widow. Anyway, I take it you have a nice supper planned for tonight?"
Supper. Of course they'd picked the wrong month to renovate the dining hall. "Um, well... yes. But it'll be at Isidro's place. He, uh... he has the better cook."
"Hmm. Well, given that boy's inferiority in every other aspect of life, at least he has that." His mother shook her head, a sigh of half-assed pity breezing out of her mouth. "Be a dear and compliment the food every chance you get? I'd hate to see my only nephew miss out on one of his rare chances for a shred of self-esteem."
"Uh-huh."
Well, hopefully Ellona would be back with the children any minute. Someone had to ride over to Isidro's and tell him he was hosting a big supper that night.
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 23, 1180
Casimiro found Ellona in her bedroom, just as Neilor had said he would. The children weren't there, which first struck him as odd--wouldn't she have wanted every last minute with them, if she thought there were no minutes to spare?--but then again she might have wanted them to live out their last days of freedom as usual, or she might still have been contemplating just how to tell them.
Not being a parent, he supposed it wasn't his place to guess. He was here as what he was--her friend. "Ellona?"
Her head barely tilted, her eyes still set firmly on the folded hands in her lap. She looked somehow younger, stripped of her tough exterior and apparently several years as well, small and hopeless and exposed. Casimiro stiffened. Some men--though none he'd ever cared for--liked their women stripped of all adult agency, but he'd never understood it. There was nothing beautiful or ideal about breaking someone's spirits, taming another human being like some animal. Such was the work of those who found pleasure in cruelty. "I can't believe they did that to you."
He sat down next to her and she held back what he guessed to be a whimper, what he guessed he never would have heard out of her. At least he could help, if she'd take it. "Marry me."
She looked up, an amber eye peeking out between strands of black hair. Her face was half-hidden more often than it wasn't and he'd never thought much of it. He didn't like to think she styled herself out of fear or shame or any such bitter emotion. "I couldn't ask that of you."
"You would be asking nothing." She knew he'd planned on marrying someday. She was more than clever enough to figure out that he wouldn't have come to Naroni if he hadn't had a shot at Lady Rona's hand, for all it wasn't Lady Rona himself that he wanted. It was a horrible thought, that Rona or Ellona or any woman would have done just as well as any other, but perhaps it wasn't quite true. He didn't want romance, but he did want a friend. Ellona already was one. "If anything, it would inconvenience you after this is taken care of."
She sniffed. "I don't care about being inconvenienced."
"Then marry me."
Ellona dragged her foot back across the floorboards. "I don't want to be the person who ruins your life."
"And you won't be. What, did you think I was planning on marrying Searle?" He'd meant that as a joke, but she didn't laugh and neither did he. It wasn't funny anyway. "You won't be the person who ruins my life, Ellona. I don't want to be the person who could have stopped yours from being ruined and didn't."
"Casimiro--"
"Please. I'll be a good father to Kaldar and Ella." And after what Ietrin had done, it was all too apparent that they needed one. "And maybe we'll have some more of our own, if you like. And if you meet a man who makes you happy, you can have him too--sauce for the gander and all that." He bridged the gap between them with a hand atop hers, the same insignificant comfort he'd once offered his sister as her little baby fought over every last breath. "We'd be an odd sort of family, and I know that. But we'll work, somehow. I promise."
Her eyes fell briefly to the site of his touch, following as he stroked her fingers. A half-minute of that and she wilted to the side, her body light against his side, her hair soft against his neck.
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 23, 1180
"Meraleene!" Abrich's mother greeted his betrothed with a hand to the arm and a cordial kiss on the cheek. "It's lovely to see you again, dear. I trust the journey was pleasant enough?" She didn't openly acknowledge Abrich, but he thought he saw one eye flicker his way. It was the same eye she'd sometimes flashed him as a child, whenever she suspected someone of covering for some misdeed of his. Not that Abrich had been too horrible of a child--he lacked the sheer personality to be horrible, he feared--but his mother knew him better than anyone else, well enough to know when, for once, he'd done something wrong.
Now that he was an adult, of course, there wasn't a minute gone by when he didn't do something wrong. If poor Meraleene suspected that, though, she dared not tell his mother--though he couldn't imagine why. "It was. We only stayed at the most comfortable inns, and Abrich and Sir Casimiro were fine company."
Abrich gulped. He had made a point to be pleasant with her--she'd done nothing to deserve otherwise--but he feared now he might have been compensating. That might have been inevitable, what with his heart beating itself to an early grave over someone else's wife and all, but it might have been fairer to Meraleene to just be his usual quiet, standoffish self. He could have at least avoided getting her hopes up.
Of course, his mother never would have stood for such behavior with his own betrothed.
"Glad to hear it. And is that a new dress? You look lovely, dear." Meraleene's back was to him, but Abrich nodded for his mother's sake. He couldn't complain about Meraleene's looks anyway. He supposed he couldn't complain about her anything, really, or at least not to any serious extent.
The only thing 'wrong' with her was that she wasn't Riona.
"Good to know the trip went well. I trust the wedding was lovely?"
"Oh, yes." Casimiro flashed a small smile, giving Abrich a quick break from his mother's eye. Good timing, really; if Casimiro's sister hadn't been marrying a Dovian within the time frame of Abrich's journey, it would have just been him and Meraleene's escort from home. That would have been all the more agonizing. "It wasn't anything two fancy, since they've both been married before, but it was nice all the same. Tarien's daughters made some of the arrangements themselves; they're quite taken with Catalina."
Just like Abrich's mother and sisters were quite taken with Meraleene, or at least they had been when she'd been here for her sister's wedding. But his family liked all of the in-laws; surely that wasn't normal? Meraleene's father and brothers didn't seem to think much of him. Not that he blamed them, really.
"Well, let's sit, shall we?" Abrich's mother took Meraleene by the arm and gestured to the couches. "Meraleene, why don't you sit over there with Abrich? Casimiro, dear, you sit with me."
Meraleene nodded and took a seat by the window, begging Abrich with wide green eyes to join here; he supposed it would be rude not to oblige. Satisfied, his mother sat down beside his friend, true to her word.
"So. The wedding date's just sneaking up on us, isn't it?" His mother tossed back a dark curl and laughed. "Most of the preparations have are done, though. Abrich's older sisters have done a wonderful job. Poor Xeta hasn't been in the best spirits of late, unfortunately, so the wedding has been a welcome distraction for her. And Rona hasn't been nearly as ill as she was the last time--she's expecting again, wouldn't you know it?--so she's been busying herself too. I've been feeling rather useless myself there, but they insist that everything's under control."
Abrich shuffled. Of course it was all under control, and it was a guilty feeling, wishing that perhaps it wasn't. But what difference did it make? Whether he married Meraleene or not, it wasn't as if Riona's husband was about to disappear. Even if he did, why on earth would she drop everything and run into Abrich's open arms? Riona wasn't the sort of woman who needed a man, and Abrich wasn't the sort of man a woman needed.
Meraleene nodded, a content smile on her lips. Did she like to be content? He could possibly make her content. Contentment required nothing in terms of passion. "I'm glad to hear it."
"I hope most of it will be to your taste. Your sister Cladelia has been rather involved as well, so I'm sure you were kept in mind." His mother folded her hands in her lap, then looked over at him again. He tried to keep a calm head, or as calm as he ever managed. "Abrich, I hope you'll play a few songs on your lute at the reception. Did he tell you, Meraleene? He's quite the musician."
"No, he never mentioned it." She glanced over at him, as if to ask why. But what had he told her about himself, really? And what had she told him about herself, even? "My father plays as well. I'm surprised you two never spoke of it."
He swallowed. He'd managed to get so far without speaking, but that had been too convenient--or just not inconvenient enough, at least--to last. "I... guess it never came up."
His mother sighed. "That's a shame. I wish you'd be more open about your talents, dear. You have so many, but you're never keen to share them."
"Mother--"
Whatever he'd been about to say--he hadn't quite thought it through--he was spared the trouble by a knock at the door. Thank God.
"Odd," Abrich's mother muttered. "Does anyone else know you're back? It seems a little early for word to have gotten out."
Casimiro shrugged. "Well, we did stop at my castle to leave my things with my steward, but that was..."
"Casimiro? Casimiro, is that you? It's an emergency!"
It was Sir Neilor's voice--not a friend of Casimiro or Abrich or really anyone in particular if it got down to it. Abrich shared a puzzled glance with his mother while Casimiro stood. "Neilor?"
Neilor pushed through the door, panting, easily the least composed Abrich had seen him since Ashe had defeated him in that tournament. His usually-hard eyes paid an obligatory glimpse around the rest of the room before they locked with Casimiro's. "Sorry about this. I went to your castle in hopes that you might have gotten back, and your steward said you would be here--"
"Calm down." Casimiro scuffed the floor with the tip of his boot, but nothing more. Little though he liked Neilor... well, Casimiro was a better reader of situations than Abrich was, and if Casimiro was willing to hear out a frantic, emotional Neilor, then something had to have been wrong. "What's the matter?"
Neilor needed a couple breaths before he could answer. "It's Ellona..."
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