In Which Holladrin Is Inconvenienced

December 24, 1203

"I wouldn't blame you, you know--if you didn't want to do this any more."

Of course Holladrin knew. How could she not know, when Farilon offered her that out every time they were alone? He always gave her an exit.

And, as always, she didn't care to take it. "I know it's not what either of us really wants, but I'd rather a few stolen kisses than nothing."

"But you could have so much more."

"More, perhaps--but not better. No marriage in the world is as convenient to me as all the inconveniences with you." An inconvenience, she'd learned all too well these past months, did not have to be unpleasant. "Don't worry about my needs. As for my wants, there's only one you need to worry about: you."

Farilon's blush found itself lost in the glow of the nearby fire, but Holladrin didn't need to see it to know it was there. By this point, she knew how it dilated his eyes, opened his lips. She knew even the cheek's tug of a smile before he stopped it from forming. "I don't... I mean, I'm not sure--"

A soft knock on the door cut him off. Holladrin pulled back in a practiced step while Farilon watched over her shoulder. Farilon had excused himself from the party on account of a headache. Holladrin hadn't been in need of a story, but if caught, she'd say her mother had sent her to check up on him. Her mother had seen just how 'ill' Farilon's wife was, after all, to the point of admitting upon arrival that this may not have been one of Danthia's usual ruses. Surely there would have been a chance of Farilon catching that ailment?

"Uncle Farilon? Are you in there?"

"Celina?" His niece, daughter-in-law to the hosting earl and countess. He breathed relief into her name, glad to not have to explain anything to Searle of Bandera himself.

"Yes, he's here," Holladrin answered, announcing herself before Celina could enter. "If you've come to offer him a cup of water or a cold cloth, he's just refused both from me."

"Oh. Sorry that the headache persists." In spite of believing that, Celina did slip herself through the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Uncle."

"It's all right. Talking with Holladrin did ease it somewhat." Farilon grimaced. "Did you need something?"

"Actually, you're needed in the entrance hall." Celina's finger caught the end of one moon-blond curl, eyes fluttered shut in a half-informed messenger's unease. "My mother-in-law asked me to fetch you. She said that your wife's maid just arrived. I didn't see her myself, but it seems she's in something of a state."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Celina Achieves the First Fundamental

September 2, 1191

"So. Your first semester has treated you well?"

"I think so." Celina squirmed, hoping Karlspan didn't see it. She supposed there were worse things a betrothed could do than ask mundane questions, but... it was still a mundane question. She didn't want to talk about school. Everyone else already asked her enough about school! "I'm not sure I like Brother Rambert's marking style, though. He doesn't seem to take kindly to original thought."

"No, the best way to do well in Brother Rambert's classes is to write all of your essays the way you think he'd write them." Karlspan sighed. "High on himself, that one. You'd think he was regular clergy."

"Karlspan! I don't think all regular clergy members are that way."

"Not all of them, but enough of them. I don't know why you'd find the notion controversial, though; aren't some of your cousins Kemorins?"

"Yes, but they're also part Mokonri. A Mokonri knows better than to make trouble."

"But why is it making trouble, pointing out the flaws in the world?" A fair thought--and not one that had never crossed Celina's mind. But she'd just never been a rebel at heart. "Seems to me that those we call troublemakers now are the ones history will call heroes."

"Yes, I suppose there's merit to that. But not everyone has the instincts for tackling the establishment. Perhaps some of us are better off supporting from the sides."

"Yes, I think the key to the progress of civilization is full self-awareness on the part of each individual." He winked. "Perhaps you and my sister will make a good team when she gets here. She loves nothing more than ruffling feathers, but has difficulty toeing the line. You could be the one making sure she keeps her head on straight."

"I hardly think your sister is my responsibility."

"Oh, my sister is her own responsibility and wouldn't have it any other way. But all the same, you might balance her out."

"Or she might balance me out, you mean."

"Not so much. You're already balanced enough."

"Oh." She knew what the word meant in that context. "So you think I'm boring."

"Quite the contrary." He stood up, then offered a hand, pulling her up to his level. "I think you are a well of good thought, and that the world is thirsty. Just because you're not inherently anti-authoritarian doesn't mean you don't have some earth-changing idea in that beautiful brain of yours."

"Perhaps I shall write a book, then," she muttered, half-sarcastically.

"And perhaps I shall sponsor you." That... was not so sarcastic. He swept one hand up to her face and placed the tips of his fingers gently beneath her chin. "I know you're not exactly thrilled about our arrangement, and I will admit to some fault in that--I'm hardly the romantic sort, after all. But I must tell you that I don't think I could have found a better match for myself, if you don't mind me saying. I can talk freely to you, and know that you hear me, and I enjoy and learn when you talk freely to me as well. Of all the things important to a marriage, I believe that in particular is paramount."

In spite of herself, Celina let out a small smile. "It's up there for me too. Now that we're on the same page there, maybe it will be easier to work out some of the other fundamentals."

"I should hope so." He kissed her--briefly, but firmly. It was more business than pleasure, but not entirely unpleasant. "Do you think we should go eat now?"

It was getting close to the dinner hour. And perhaps they would speak more candidly in the inn, with so many others around. "I'd like that."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Karlspan Is Startled in Turn

July 26, 1186

"So I'm thinking I'll study Philosophy. It should be sort of interesting without being too time-consuming." Unless maybe there were a lot of papers involved. But if he specialized in logic, assignments would probably run more along the lines of short answer problems--at least, Karlspan dared hope. "What about you?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it yet." That... sounded like Ricky. And Ricky's father, according to Karlspan's father. "I still have three years before I even go, and I don't think you have to choose your major right away."

"But it seems that most people have."

"Maybe. But everything sounds sort of interesting to me, and sort of boring too. I might have to feel all the faculties out."

Yes--his father had been right. The Mokonris were rather wishy-washy. The Mokonri men, at least; both of Ricky's full paternal aunts seemed to know what they wanted. Maybe there was hope for Celina after all. "Has your sister thought about it at all?"

"I don't know. Probably not; she's not starting until I'm a junior and you're a senior." Ricky lifted one hand from the ground and picked at his fingernails. Apparently he'd never heard of a file. "Why do you care what she wants to study?"

"Why shouldn't I care?"

"I don't know, but it's not like you to care." This coming from a kid who picked at his nails. "For all I know, she might not even want to go."

Really? "Why shouldn't she go?"

"It's not a question of 'shouldn't'. She might just not want to."

"Do you think she doesn't want to?"

"I don't know. But she wants a big family, and she might want to get an early start."

Ah, yes, the 'big family' excuse. When Count Felron had cited that during an angry rant about the university admitting women, all Karlspan's father had had to do was point out that it was only matter of time before there were more noblemen than reasonably-sized estates. Besides... "Your grandmother has ten kids and didn't get started until her twenties--older than she would have been had she just gotten out of this university. If Celina wants a big family, she can still have one if she goes to university first." Though, God--he hoped she didn't want ten kids!

"Hey, I didn't say I didn't want her to go. Just that--"

"Yes, yes." Karlspan rolled his eyes. "She might not want to. I heard you the first time."

"Then why do you--?"

"Ricky!"

Speak of the... well, it couldn't have been the best idea to think of her as 'the devil', even in his own head for the sake of an old expression.

"Ricky, I'm going to Veldora to see CeeCee and Renata--and to see if Lyssa's feeling better. Mama says you have to come with me."

"Aww, really?" Ricky groaned. There really was a world of difference between fourteen and fifteen, Karlspan supposed. Sure, girls Ricky's sister's age were a little younger, and Renata would probably always be plain, but CeeCee... no, there would be no such worries on that front, with her bouncing brown curls and her clever smile and her much-more-womanly-than-twelve body.

Not that Karlspan had any right to notice that now. But there was another opportunity to be had here. "I can go with you, Celina. I know the way."

"Oh." She stopped just short of him as he shot to his feet, eyebrows peaking as her brother sighed with relief. She wasn't any stunning beauty, but she was nothing horrible to look at either. Besides, she was only twelve; she couldn't have reached her aesthetic peak yet. And there were more important things than looks anyway. "That should be all right. I'll have to ask just in case, but Mama did call you trustworthy yesterday."

His father would be pleased to hear that. He'd told Karlspan to worry more about impressing the duchess than the duke before they'd left for Naroni; a mother's opinion, after all, meant more than a father's in such matters. "I'm flattered."

"Are you sure it wouldn't be an inconvenience, though? I mean, you are a guest, and Mama did ask Ricky."

"It's no inconvenience." For the sake of getting off on the right foot, he wouldn't mention that technically, Ricky had neither been asked nor been informed by their mother. "It will give us a chance to get to know each other. I don't know about you, but I'd like to have some idea of who you are before we get married."

Ricky choked. Celina was subtler, but the bulging eyes and the backward lean were an unmistakeable tell of a person in startlement. "Before... what?"

"Your father never told you?" Shit. Did most fathers not tell girls? It seemed a basic courtesy to tell them. Lia, at least, had been told about Cambrin Jamoran...

"He... didn't mention it." Damn. It would probably take the entire trip to cheer her up, if he could even do that. It might be a job better left to her friends. "Did they just decide this?"

Oh, double damn. He couldn't lie to her after that. "No, they made the agreement a few years ago now."

"A few years ago?" Why oh why hadn't his father warned him that she didn't know? More to the point, why had her father not told her? "Ricky, did Papa say anything to you?"

Karlspan followed Celina's gaze over to her brother. He doubted there was any more certainty there than there had been in regards to the university. From the looks of it, he wasn't wrong.

"No..."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lorn's Boots Are an Ill Fit

July 12, 1177

"So... wanna go play at the tournament grounds?"

It really said something when it fell to the five-year-old boy to break the awkward silence. Then again, five-year-old boys were... well, five-year-old boys. As far as Ricky was concerned, Auntie Rona had every right to refuse to come out of her room. In fact, it probably didn't make sense that Auntie Rona might view having to leave her room as a punishment, considering how many times Ricky's own room had been a place of exile. It meant nothing to him to just let it be and go about his business.

Similarly indifferent, Karlspan shrugged. Searle's son was a little older than Ricky was, maybe a little meaner too, but that didn't make him any less of a kid. "Fine."

The boys gave their parents a quick wave and hurried off. Maybe they had the right idea, not letting Rona's lack of cooperation get in the way of a good visit.

Sighing, Lorn let the doorhandle drop and took the seat next to Leara. Decorum stated that he should have offered it to Searle, but if Searle hadn't seated himself yet, then he probably didn't care. "It seems my sister will not be gracing us with her presence just now."

"It's all right," Ren dismissed, in spite of Leara's lingering frown. "We'll see her at supper."

At her side, Searle sniffed. "Assuming she deems hunger less tolerable than our company."

Was that a hint of offense? Surely it would be from anyone else. Then again, this was Searle. Then again, maybe it was preferable to err on the side of caution. "Sorry. She's usually quite polite. It's me she's angry with, not any of you." Well... maybe you, Searle. It was your idea, after all. Remind me why I went along with it? I told you she'd be upset!

Not that such a thought probably occurred to Searle. No... every thought occurred to Searle. "No matter. Many girls get upset over their betrothals. To hear King Oswald tell it, Ren here was none too pleased to hear that she was stuck spending her life with me."

"Searle!" The back of Ren's hand landed lightly on his arm. "You're three years younger than I am. That was a big deal at the time."

"Well, fortunately for Rona, this tournament has a strict lower age limit of sixteen." He pushed back a lock of hair. Lorn had tried that in front of the mirror a few times and found that the gesture only made him look feminine, but Searle somehow pulled it off. Maybe it was the complete lack of a soul made all the difference. "Speaking of which, how many competitors can we expect? Anyone notable?"

"Uh, well..." More than I was prepared to accommodate, at any rate! Not that he could push the words out of his mouth.

Thankfully, Leara was a bit more coherent. "We have about fifty competitors. Most of them are gentlemen looking to raise their status, but there are a few seasoned fighters with some connections here that have expressed interest. Casimiro de Cervantes has done quite well in some of the Galician tournaments, and Neilor del Marinos has a reputation in Catalonia."

"Del Marinos?" Searle raised an eyebrow. "Any relation to your brother's mistress?"

Lorn nearly choked. He was trying to be civil, and he realized that people's standards of what was and was not acceptable could vary, but bringing up the fact that Leara's brother had a mistress? And with the girls playing in the corner of the room, no less? "Searle--"

"No, it's... it's all right." Leara didn't sound quite 'all right', but Lorn shut up anyway. She was trying to compose herself, and--honorable intentions or not--his causing a scene would be counterproductive. Thank God for Leara. One of them had to know just what the hell they were doing. "But yes. He's Ellona's brother."

"Interesting." And yet, he looked like he was stifling a yawn. "Well, I imagine you can cross off most of the obscure names straight away. These tournaments do tend to go to the regulars." Searle stepped away from his wife's chair and set himself in front of Lorn while Leara exchanged a glance with Ren. "Of course, it's best to wait a few rounds before putting any serious money on the line. Are you a gambling man, Lorn?"

Lorn's toes curled inward, his boots oddly vacant, more like his father's boots whenever his sisters had bullied him into joining their dress-up games than any pair Lorn himself had ever owned. These were a man's boots and he'd never felt more like a boy. "No. Not particularly."

Searle laughed. "A pity. I was hoping you were. I imagine you'd be terrible."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Hilla Needs Another Name

May 11, 1175

"I'm sure she'll bring home a man."

It was the one consistent belief Rona seemed to hold in regards to Riona's disappearance. Hilla wasn't quite convinced of this, but she let it be; if this was how her friend was coping, then why should she ruin that for her? Not that that was a very practical belief. Then again, when had she ever been practical? And when oh when oh when had Riona ever been practical? "Oh... well, you never know."

"But even if she doesn't, I hope she comes back soon." A wide pout formed on Rona's mouth. Hilla sometimes suspected that the girl practiced in front of a mirror at night, but she had to admit it gave an impressive effect. "Her sitting room is my favorite place to chat."

As if that was the reason. No, Rona just missed their friend, just like Hilla herself did--but it wasn't like she needed reminding of that. "Aww, honey, you don't miss Riona's sitting room; you miss going over to her castle so you can flirt with her brothers."

The usual dreamy look returned to Rona's eyes and Hilla allowed herself an inward sigh. Surely any mention of Riona's brothers could cheer up Rona--she was even grinning. "And I bet you miss going to her castle so you can flirt with her father."

Now Rona was really beginning to sound like herself--a romantic second and a tease first. "Well, can you blame me?"

The younger girl giggled. "But he's so old! He's--I don't know, at least forty!"

"Well, he doesn't look it!" Wary of her friend's raised brow, Hilla turned instead to Rona's maid. "Aspen, help me out here."

"Hmm?" As if only just reminded of her own presence, Aspen jerked her gaze from the empty hearth and returned to her charge of keeping an eye on Rona's niece and nephew. "Lord Severin? Err... I guess?"

Well, if she counted 'hmm' and 'err', then that was four more words than Hilla could usually get out of Rona's maid. Still, some help. If her stepfather ever got her a maid of her own, she'd have to make sure it was a girl of a more talkative variety. How did a dreamy, excitable young lady like Rona not tire of such a stiff, awkward companion? But oh well. Against all odds, Rona actually seemed to like Aspen--and she only had to gesture toward the empty couch cushion beside her to remind Hilla of the fact. "Aspen, dear, please sit with me."

Having been born a peasant and only elevated by her mother's marriage to Sir Tarien, there were many things Hilla had yet to learn about the help, but she didn't think it was customary for maids to sit and chat with their ladies in the presence of company. Nevertheless, Aspen turned away from the babies and shuffled toward Rona's couch, her linen skirts swishing against the floorboards. "As you wish, my lady."

"And none of this 'my lady' nonsense." Rona greeted her maid to the couch with a playful nudge; Aspen's response was little more than a small, tentative smile, but Hilla got the sense that it was more than most people could pull from her. "You know my name."

"Yes, my--uh, Rona."

Satisfied, Rona beamed, then turned back to Hilla, leaving Aspen a chance to look back at the floor beneath their feet. "But really, even if you think her father's the one that's to die for, you must admit her brothers are quite charming--Lonriad especially."

"Yes, but it hardly takes a genius to figure out he's dead gone on Asalaye." Maybe she shouldn't have said it. Hilla's own social standing offered her a wide variety of potential husbands, but young Lonriad was the most coveted of the few remaining bachelors of a suitable age and class for Rona--or at least, if she wanted to stay in Naroni, which Hilla knew for a fact that she desperately did.

But maybe that knowing smirk meant that it wasn't such a horrible transgression? "True. Well, at least that would get her away from your brother and out of your hair, right?"

"Exactly." Hilla tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and glanced toward the ceiling. Oh, how she wished Riona were here; Riona put her foot in her mouth so often that Hilla never found the chance to do so. "But yes, Lonriad is pretty handsome--even though I do still say his father has him beat."

"Good luck getting past Lady Leonora, then." Her eyes rolling to the back of her head, Rona's pout returned. "But really, you're lucky, Hilla. You can have your pick of the men. Lorn won't let me marry anyone lower than a knight. He's already thinking about finding someone for me in Dovia."

She could have seen this coming. They got on this subject every time they talked about boys, even though Rona hated to discuss it. Hilla didn't want to hear about it either. One of her best friends was already gone; she didn't want to lose the other too.

But for now, at least, Rona was still here--and while she was here, Hilla could still reassure her. "Aww, honey, I'm sure any man your brother could find would take one look at you and move his whole life out here if that's what you wanted."

Aspen's apple eyes flickered toward her lady. Meanwhile, Rona sniffed. "I appreciate the sentiment, but you needn't lie to me."

"I'm not lying." She wasn't. The only reason Rona hadn't a man was simply than there weren't many men to have had--and if Aspen's somber look was anything to go by, she knew it too. It was nice to have finally found some common ground there. "You know what? I bet Riona brings back a man for herself--and he brings along a man for you."

That could have been a lie for all she knew, but nonetheless it seemed to give Rona a little bit of hope on two counts. Surely that smile couldn't have come from some horrid sin? Maybe such lies needed a name other than lies. "And a tall, dark, handsome one at that!"

NEXT CHAPTER: