In Which Ceira's Planning Is Perfect

August 13, 1182

"Ceira, you can tell me all the lies you want, but I'm never going to believe that having me for supper at your in-laws' place was Thetis's idea." Clearly, Esela didn't know Thetis very well, as Thetis absolutely would have suggested that Ceira's twin come and eat with them some time. She was right, though; in this instance, it was all Ceira. "Regardless, I suppose I have to thank you, because Eleara has gotten it into her head that I need to be set up again. So, thank you, for getting me out of yet another awkward meeting with an idiot who makes me want to tear my breasts off just so I'd have something to throw at him."

Thetis might have blushed at something like that, but at least Florian would get a kick out of Esela. And so would, hopefully, someone else. "You're welcome, sister. Though believe me--the idea was all Thetis's."

And it must have been so difficult for the brutally honest Podrag not to spill the beans! But he sat by her side, silent like he'd never been in his life, nodding along. He'd get his reward and more when they got home, she'd decided. Maybe they'd even conceive that baby they'd started talking about.

"Of course it was." Esela clicked her tongue. She may not have known Thetis, but she may have known Ceira all too well--twins and all. No matter. "Though you needn't lie to me. I suppose you have the right to pity me if you wish--though I should hope not for some perceived loneliness, but instead for the constant stream of pigs that everyone I know insists on parading in front of me."

"You'll meet the right one some day." Maybe sooner than you think.

"I suppose it's not impossible that I will. I just wish that, if people must set me up, they would at least make a reasonable guess as to my idea of 'right' every once in a while." Esela sighed. And to be fair... yes, many of her suitors had not been the most tolerable of men. But surely she was not yet at the point where those fools tarred the male species as a whole? She was only seventeen, after all.

Then again, she was... seventeen. "I can talk to everyone who keeps setting you up, if you like."

Her sister snorted. "Well, can't have everyone thinking I'm bitter, can we?"

A fine-legged, broad-chested figure made his entrance from the stairs. Ceira smirked. Just in time. He'd go for the door, no doubt wanting to get a little more work done in the orchard, but even Hamrick wasn't unstoppable. "Oh, if they have any brains at all, they'll understand. There's nothing much worse than a dreadful suitor, isn't there? Especially when it's dreadful suitor after dreadful suitor after dreadful suitor..."

That brought her brother-in-law to a halt. Perfect.

"And those after the dozen before!"

And now he was looking. Good boy, Hamrick. "And you're hardly the only one, I'm sure. I mean, Podrag and I were very lucky, finding each other so easily; I'm sure there are plenty out there who can relate to your tales of courtship woes."

"I'll say," Hamrick sniffed, prompting little more than a glance from Esela. Had she perhaps caught on? Surely there would have been a glare... "You know, just last week, my meddlesome little sister had the gall to introduce me to some humorless, mind-numbingly dull woman she works with at Sir Ashe's castle. I spent the entire evening wishing for an earthquake to liven things up. I suppose my sister thought all I'd care about were looks."

"Isn't that how it always is?" Esela agreed as Hamrick joined her on the couch--not that Ceira had left him with much of a choice for seating. "Here, have this attractive person. He's so handsome that you won't care about the sheer lack of anything behind his pretty face!"

"Or the fact that she's an awful person! Why would you set me up with someone actually smiled while kicking puppies?"

"Or who openly believes that the only reason a woman should leave the kitchen is if she plans on pleasuring him in the bedroom?"

"Or who thinks that liars ought to be stoned, but perverts? Oh, how can they be held accountable when the cleavage was right there?"

"Don't even get me started." Esela's face contorted into a mock-apelike look, arms flexing in frustrated exaggeration as she spat in a lowered, thuggish voice, "'Oh, I'm a man! I do whatever my penis tells me to do; it's not my fault that my brain doesn't work at all!'. Yes, it is. And don't piss on all the men who aren't like that. Excuse me for wanting to hope that there's at least one man out there with the decency to keep his urges under control."

"Or 'Oh, I'm a woman! That's why I can't carry on an intelligent conversation; I only like silly sewing circle gossip!'." And there was Hamrick with the shrill falsetto and half-imagined hair flip. Excellent. "Speak for yourself! I'm depressed enough without people trying to convince me that every woman I'm ever going to meet is pretty much a talking rock."

"Thank you! Half of my suitors seem to wish I was a talking rock!"

And so the shared grievances had formed a bond. Almost time to start browsing dress fabrics.

"Your suitors should court my suitors. The less offensive half can get exactly what they want, and the more offensive half can get exactly what they deserve. Your kitchen bastard and my puppy-kicking witch?"

Esela chuckled--a first for the evening, but hopefully not the last. "What did the world do to deserve their offspring?"

"They can perish together in some not-so-tragic accident before they can reproduce."

No--not a last. And had Hamrick just grinned as Esela's famous snort got the better of her? "A not-so-tragic accident! Wouldn't that be perfect?"

Perfect. Now that it was almost time to speak again, Ceira fought to keep a straight face. Not quite as perfect as this, Esela. "So, would you two like to sit together at supper?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Florian Is Understood and Not Comprehended

April 11, 1182

"Well, I don't know why you'd expect my response to be any different from my wife's, seeing as we live in the same house and talk to each other and all..." Falidor's brother's side-eye to the door his wife had just shut did not go unnoticed by Florian; Rifden and Aerina had always been one of those couples who were a bit too attached. "...but yes, I did know that the baron had married again. Renata of Valcria, right? Queen Laralita and Lady Alina's sister?"

Hmph. That was the fourth time that connection had been mentioned. At least there had only been the one wise-ass who'd gone back to the previous generation and named her as the baron's cousin. Another cousin! And this time, the baron couldn't even claim the weak defense of 'second cousin'! It would have been amusing, had Florian not been so thoroughly pissed off at everyone at this point.

"I didn't ask for her life story. I just asked if you knew."

"Well, I do. And so does Aerina, and I'm pretty sure my kids have picked it up too." Rifden sniffed. "Actually, I'm pretty sure your kids would have picked it up as well. It's not exactly a--"

"Don't say it." Why did people keep saying that? He was the baron's steward! If anyone knew the baron's secrets... "Never mind. Who told you?"

"Falidor."

"And who told him?" As the other man opened his mouth to reply, Florian realized he was better off not hearing that answer. "No, don't answer that."

Rifden sighed. "Can I go home now?"

"Whatever. You're useless anyway." Just like the last dozen people, Florian added to himself bitterly as Rifden hurried out to catch up with his wife. Christ, this was the renovation thing all over again! He still couldn't see what was so different about Seoth's inn.

Well... the inn was a full for this hour, today. He could take advantage of that. "Hey, everybody!" Enough eyes from each table fell to him that the conversations died down, a silent gap trailing behind, just waiting to be filled. "Am I the only one here who didn't know that the baron had married again?"

A couple seconds--the longest of Florian's life!--passed before anyone spoke. But, finally...

"Probably."

"It's a reasonable guess."

"You know, I don't think I know anyone who doesn't."

Well. Wasn't that a pleasant little kick in the crotch. "God damn..."

Behind the bar, Seoth's mouth curled with an unheard laugh. Florian glared at him. "What's so funny?"

"What isn't?" I'll tell you what isn't, buddy: this whole thing! Every fucking minute of it! "But now that you've bothered every paying customer in here, why don't you..."

Seoth bit his lip as he was both cut off and proven wrong by the swinging of the door. Florian took stock of the new arrivals and grinned; sure his own son wouldn't lie to him?

"Dragon!" His son flinched. Florian pretended not to notice and nodded to Dragon's companion--one of Nora and Jothein's twins. "Ceira."

"Father."

"Master Tumekrin."

Florian smiled. Even if Dragon was, God forbid, uncooperative, Ceira had always come across as a reasonable, honest young woman. Much too reasonable and honest to be commonly seen with a rascal like Dragon, at any rate.

Hmm. Well, now that he was wondering he supposed he ought to ask. "So, how do you two know each other?"

Ceira blinked, hearing, understanding, not quite comprehending--though Florian had thought her smarter than that. Then again, Dragon didn't look to be handling the question so much better. "Uh... well, that probably would have been a better question before we got engaged..."

...Oh, fuck me. "You're engaged? And you never told me?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Nora Catches a Second of Mortality

June 4, 1181

Nora was not the sort who made a habit of comparing herself to others, but nonetheless she strode down the corridor, the twins at her heels, feeling distinctly short and plump and plain-faced, common-born and uneducated, altogether unremarkable. The fabled Sadiel sisters had long been held as a standard of earthly perfection in Dovia, certainly in Bandera where Nora had been born and raised--and where Laralita herself had once been countess. Lady Alina had proven too kind to be intimidating, too welcoming and friendly to inspire any feelings of inadequacy, and Nora now knew Queen Laralita too well to think her opinions mattered in the slightest. As for the others, she'd only ever met them briefly at weddings and funerals, where there were plenty of more familiar faces to mingle with and more than enough going on to distract even the luckiest of misfits from any petty, jealous self-loathing.

But now Lady Renata was here, in Nora's own home, without a priest at an alter or a friend's lively banter as an alternative for attention. Lady Renata--the cleverest of the sisters, the most politically and spiritually inclined, said to be the most beautiful of those still living, fifty years old and more than capable of passing for one of her own daughters.

And as Nora stepped into the sitting room and caught sight of Renata, 'more than capable' seemed a gross understatement. This woman could not have been fifty. She could not have been a day older than Lettie, for all Lettie was her sixth of nine children. Nine! Nora herself had nine, all of whom had made their permanent mark on her body; Renata's, evidently, had been more courteous. The woman probably wasn't even wearing a corset.

Nora dug her nails into her palm. She was being ridiculous. None of this would have even been a concern had Renata been a figure of less repute, or had she not been the stunning sister of her husband's even more stunning first wife, or the only former sister-in-law he seemed to like at all. And not one of those was a reasonable justification! Why should she be jealous? She didn't want to trade lives or even bodies with Renata. Nor did she think Renata was a threat to Severin's affections--surely she wouldn't do that to her own sister? Then again, Renata's sister had been Nora's friend and employer...

No! Even if that was the case, she trusted Severin. And that wasn't the case anyway. Lady Renata surely had a better, more serious reason for turning up unexpected, and with her young daughter besides. You're smarter than this, Nora scolded herself. Stop it. Just ask her what she wants.

So, one quick breath later, she stopped a few feet short of the other woman's feet and greeted her with a nod. "Lady Renata."

"Lady Leonora." She hadn't called her 'lady' with the same mocking emphasis Laralita liked to use; that had to be at least a decent sign. "I take it you are well?"

"Quite." But Renata had hardly come all the way from Dovia to inquire about her health. Figuring it would be more tactful to let Renata announce her reasons on her own, Nora turned to her girls. "My daughters, Ceira and Esela."

"Girls," Renata acknowledged as they gave their quick curtsies, taking her own daughter by the hand. "This is my youngest, Alina."

The twins chorused their hellos and Nora forced out a smile. Alina replied each with a fearful blink. She wasn't as old as the other two--eleven or twelve, Nora guessed--but it was the sort of age difference that brought about mimicry and the insistence of tagging along, not large enough to constitute any sort of fear, certainly not from a girl so closely related to Lettie. Unless perhaps there was something else on her mind?

Nora turned to the twins. Perhaps tact had not been the best approach. She would speak with Renata alone. "Why don't you two give Alina a quick tour of the castle?"

"Yes, Mother." Esela looped her arm around Alina's and dragged her toward the corridor, unswayed by the pleading looks the girl shot back at her mother. With a polite nod, Ceira followed.

"She's lovely," Nora muttered as soon as the youths were out of earshot.

Renata paid her a short-lived, half-hearted grin. "I could say the same of your girls. Is Severin around, by any chance?"

"No, and he probably won't be back for a couple of hours. Do you need him specifically, or will I suffice?"

"Hmm. Honestly, I need both of you." She brushed a bit of horsehair off her sleeve as Nora blinked in disbelief. What could Renata of Beretrin possibly need from her? "Forgive me for imposing myself upon you. Alina and I will actually be staying with Searle and Valira, so you needn't prepare anything. If Severin won't be back for a couple hours, I might go back there and put on something more suitable once Alina returns."

"Fair enough." As if her riding dress wasn't worth more than the combined cost of every scrap of cloth Nora's mother had owned in her life. But if she wanted to change, Nora wouldn't protest. It wasn't the sort of thing she made a point to care about--even when there wasn't a more pressing matter at hand. "Care to fill me in, though? They'll be a while yet."

"So they will." Renata sighed. Even in all her tall, formidable, not-possibly-even-close-to-fifty glory, she was in that second just as mortal as anyone else. "You see, my late husband..."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Nora Answers with a Question

March 30, 1165

Given the circumstances, Nora was surprised at how at ease Alsina seemed with the two-day-old twins, but then again, perhaps it was a relief for her to be around a pair of small people who were so new to the world that they couldn't even sense that anything was out of the ordinary. The poor babies, born during such a time of turmoil for the family--their father's recent death, their aunt's encounter that could very well have been rape for all anyone knew. At the very least, she supposed that things could only get better for them now.

At least, she hoped that things could only get better for them now.

"They certainly do like you," she tried to assure her younger sister as she eased the older of the twins, Ceira, to her shoulder, "and the older two miss you, you know. I hope you realize that you're welcome to visit whenever you like."

Alsina nodded. "I know. Thank you."

Nora locked eyes with baby Ceira, then smiled and gently placed her in her crib with a quick kiss on the forehead. Behind her, Alsina did the same with Esela. She then trudged away, the hem of her dress leaving a just-noticeable trail on the somewhat dusty floor. Cuthron clutched at his aunt's skirts as she brushed past him on her way to the couch, but she paid him no notice; pouting, he turned back to his toy ark.

It was heartbreaking, just watching the girl. She had easily been the most spirited of the five children, more rambunctious and irrepressibly wild than Nora and their three brothers combined. Their mother had always laughed and claimed it would be cold day in hell before anything ever stalled Alsina; Nora had never been so grateful that where their good, kind mother was, she could not test that theory.

Shaking her head, she crossed the room to the couch, stopping only to ruffle her son's hair. She took a seat on the couch next to her sister, then grabbed the girl's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "So... how are things?"

Her question was met with silence. For a good minute, all she could hear was Cuthron's playful banter between Noah and the animals, the wife lying abandoned on the other side of the ark.

Even that ceased shortly. Cuthron took to squirming in indignation as he realized that neither his mother nor his aunt was speaking. "Auntie Sina?"

Nora closed her eyes; she was proud that her son was a bright young child, but she might have preferred that he hadn't picked up on this uncomfortable tension. "Go back to your toys, love."

One eye still on the little boy, she glanced toward Alsina once more. Her sister's hands were in her lap, the fingers on her right fidgeting with the wedding band on her left. It was twisted upwards... downwards... upwards... Nora could no longer stand to watch it. At last, Alsina let the ring slide back into position, then sighed.

"I lost it."

The neutrality of her voice invoked a sudden dryness in Nora's mouth. What could she say to this? 'I'm sorry'? 'Congratulations'? Either one seemed fitting--similarly, either one seemed most shockingly inappropriate.

Indeed, the only way she could think to answer was with a question. "Uh... have you seen Arydath?"

Alsina nodded. "I saw her yesterday. She was very helpful."

Nora frowned. "Does Aldhein know?"

"Uh... not exactly."

She raised an eyebrow; Alsina was not known for giving such vague answers, but perhaps that had only been the Alsina of Old. "What do you mean, 'not exactly'?"

The younger girl shrugged. "Well... no 'exactly', I guess. He doesn't know."

"I see," muttered Nora, absent-mindedly curling a lock of hair around her finger. "What are you going to tell him?"

Alsina took a moment to think about it, then answered, "Maybe he just won't notice."

In a more clearly positive situation, she might have laughed. "Believe me, dear, he'll notice. You have to tell him."

"He's not exactly attentive," Alsina mumbled, her voice both hopeful and resigned.

"Regardless, he still has to know."

Again, she took her time. They sat there for quite a while, their eyes fixed on the wall in front of them, until Alsina finally found something more to say.

"What can I do if he loses his reason for putting up with me?"

NEXT CHAPTER: