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September 14, 1204
A lifetime of leers and ogling did not permit Eliana much comfort when turning her back on a man, their greedy eyes capitalizing on the chance to do as their fingers longed, that prickly feeling on her skin timed to the point where she half-believed it the physical consequence of stares. Dalston, however, was not prone to the same drooling dog-smells-meat hunger of other men that had plagued her since puberty. He did comment on her beauty, of course--often enough to be almost annoying--but never as he might have had she not even been in the room, always to her and not to the other men around him, and not as often as he tried to talk to her about practically anything else. Over a year of marriage later, and she still wasn't sure just what to do with that.
Obviously, she liked it... but it was still so odd. And of course some paranoid part of her had to muse about what he had to gain from luring her in with a false sense of security.
"You know? I think you and my sister will miss each other once she heads off to Dovia, even if neither of you would ever admit it."
A false sense of security, painted by conversation of his sister of all things! Not a topic brought up often by a man whose immediate concern was the stiffness of his cock.
Eliana bit her lip. It was just as unfair of her to paint Dalston with the actions of other men as it was of said other men to mentally undress her without so much as asking her name. She wanted to trust him. He hadn't given her any reason not to trust him. And yet...
Well, maybe conversation of his sister of all things wasn't the worst way to distract herself from her own unfounded suspicions. That was big news, after all. "I doubt it. Princesses have better things to do than to miss their sisters-in-law, even the ones they can actually stand to be around."
"I don't know; the job description of a princess always sounded rather light on duties to me."
"This from a man who thinks all I do working at the library is read."
From the bed, Dalston chuckled. "Well, I've lived with you long enough to know that's what you'd like your job to be."
"Perhaps," she admitted as she abandoned the fire and eased herself back into bed, "but I owe it to all the books I've loved over the years to see that more people read them." Men in books, after all, didn't know or care what she looked like, and had always made more use of her mind than her breasts or her ass or old wives' tales about violet eyes meaning wanton desires.
"If you say so. But I daresay my sister's favorite thing about university so far has been the library, and I have to wonder if you have anything to do with that."
"Not a thing. I see Camaline no more often than any other student there, and I don't believe she's approached me in there once."
"Of course she hasn't. She doesn't want to impose on your being family, so she compensates by keeping her distance. It's her attempt at being respectful."
Dalston's whole damn family was respectful. How such a thing couldn't be too good to be true was beyond her.
"Good night, Dalston."
NEXT CHAPTER:
February 1, 1198
"You're Prince Telvar, right?"
Telvar grimaced. He'd lived in this foreign country for all of half an hour and already someone had recognized him as the Crown Prince of Carvallon. Not that he'd planned on spending four years masquerading as a peasant--not many Carvalli commoners could afford to educate their children in such a far-off land--but he'd hoped to cultivate an identity beyond merely 'prince'. "I am."
"Great! I'm Dalston. I don't know how much your mother talks about the family back here, but I'm your cousin!"
His cousin! Telvar blinked. He'd... never actually met any cousin of his. His father only had one niece, and she and her husband and mother preferred to keep their distance. His mother had many nieces and nephews, but they all lived in Naroni or Dovia. Telvar had never been to Dovia--and he'd never been to Naroni before now. "Really?"
"Really! Our mothers are sisters--well, half-sisters, anyway. My mother is Princess Learianna."
"Ah, right. The Duchess of... Armion?" His overview of Naronian geography must have been sufficient, at least to the point where his cousin gave him a nod. "You're her second son, right?"
"Luckily! I don't know if I'd much care for being duke; knights have much more fun." His cousin smirked, then looked him over quickly. The grey eyes were, apparently, King Roderick's greatest legacy; they'd missed Telvar's mother entirely, but Dalston's mother must have inherited them. "You know, I think I only recognized you by the Carvalli royal colors. You must take after your father's side."
"My father?" That... was not a thing he'd ever thought he'd hear. Not from anyone who had any connection to his mother. Not that Dalston would have met Telvar's mother, but if Dalston's mother had reminded him to keep an eye out for Telvar... "My father is olive-skinned and twilight-eyed. Everyone I know always comments on how much I look like my mother."
"Your mother." Dalston's brow rose. "Isn't your mother blond and teal-eyed?"
Telvar squinted. It had been many years since his mother had seen any of her siblings, save his Uncle Searle in Dovia. Certain facial features may have been difficult to remember after such time. Coloring, surely, was a different case. "No. My mother has my hair color, and my eye color."
"But all of King Roderick's children are blond. My mother said that Queen Ramona was no exception--and she said that Queen Ramona got her mother's eyes, which were teal."
Teal? Not that a child's eyes always matched either parent's--a few of his siblings shared eyes with his grandmother, whose differed from her son's--but from what Telvar had noticed, dark eyes seemed to trump light in more cases than not. Could teal and grey really produce a dark brown? "And King Roderick's were grey, right? Like yours and your mother's?"
"Like mine, at least, and like most of my siblings--but my mother's are violet, like her mother's."
Huh. But if Roderick's grandchildren were prone to the grey eyes in spite of their parents, then how come none of his siblings had grey eyes?
"Your entire family is blond."
His cousin nodded. "My entire immediate family, anyway. Any cousins of mine who don't got it from the parent not related to my grandfather."
"And your mother said my mother was blond."
Another nod. "Blonder than she. My mother's is golden, like her mother's was; she said Aunt Ramona's was a paler blond, like my grandfather's."
Pale blond. Up until today, that had described not one person to whom Telvar was related.
Telvar hadn't come to the university to study mathematics, but anyone inclined to study at all could tell that that didn't add up. "Any chance that I could meet your mother one weekend?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
