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January 1, 1200
"And would you mind telling me exactly how any of that is my problem?" Question or not, Isidro didn't give his father any time to answer. The more chance he gave Domingo to speak, the more likely he was to lose his own edge. He was fucking sick of giving in. "You blew your own damn fortune. You ruined your own damn standing. You got kicked out of your own damn castle. Don't come crying to me as if I owe you a damn copper."
"I don't want to take any money from you. I just need a place to stay, and a means of getting some money for myself."
"Well, you're not staying here." It was a damn lucky thing Nato had had the sense not to let him stay the previous night. With Domingo safely at the inn when Isidro and the rest of the family had returned, he'd had the time to brace himself.
"I don't expect that either. I'm an old man with nothing left, and I just need a quiet place to die in peace. From what I've heard, you have enough standing in this godforsaken place to work something out there."
"First off, only people who know and love this country get to call it 'godforsaken'--and secondly, half the reason I ended up here is that you told me not to bother going back to Galicia. In a sense, I traded you for that standing." That, and a far better family than you were ever capable of being.
"I'm not denying that. Look, I'm getting up in years--and I realize that nothing I can say will ever make you forgive me, and maybe it shouldn't." Domingo sighed. Isidro had to squint at him; it was quite possibly the humblest phrase that had ever leaked out of that mouth. But too little, too late. "If you'd prefer never to see me again after today, then fine. But if you can find it in your heart to put me up somewhere, I'd go to my grave appreciating it."
"Don't. Your appreciation means nothing to me." If Domingo was even capable of appreciation, or any other feeling that half-acknowledged any other person. In that sense, Isidro supposed he pitied him--but he couldn't let that pity get the best of him.
But, was he really any better than Domingo if he let a man go homeless out of sheer hatred? "I can arrange to have you put up in a small farmhouse on the outskirts, but I have some conditions--and if you even think about breaking any of them, I can just as easily have you evicted."
Domingo shut his eyes, a sharp breath of relief freed through his nostrils. "I'm listening."
"Firstly, you are not to approach or contact me or Riona or any of my children or grandchildren, or nieces or nephews. If Riona or my adult children seek you out on their own, then I suppose that's their choice--but you're not allowed to initiate contact. As for Riona's siblings and stepparents, I suppose there's a chance you might interact with them on some professional capacity and that may not be avoidable, but if that happens, you will treat them with the utmost respect. Got it?"
Domingo nodded, though not without a wayward glance to the floor. Isidro gritted his teeth and continued. "Next: keep it in your pants. If you absolutely have to relieve your urges, then you can pay for it at one of the brothels--and you will pay full fare, with tip, and you'd better be the best-behaved, most respectful client any woman who services you has ever had.
"And as for your conduct among the general populace, you will be a model citizen. If you must drink, tell the innkeeper not to let you have too much. Don't pick fights--and if someone tries to pick one with you, walk away. Don't try to haggle down the price of any good or service you purchase, and if you employ any farmhands or household staff, pay them fairly and on time and don't act as if you own them. Understood?"
His father's mouth formed a flat line. Not one of those behaviors would come naturally to him--but, if he was as desperate as he claimed, then he was in no position to negotiate. "All right."
"And don't think I won't hear of any violations of my terms. Very little happens in this kingdom that Lord Severin doesn't hear about, and he won't hesitate to tell me anything he learns concerning you."
"I'll keep to your terms, Isidro."
"Be sure that you do. I'll send someone to the inn to speak with you tomorrow." His in-laws were hosting a New Years' Day banquet tonight; he'd iron out the details with Lord Severin and Lady Leonora then. But for now, he didn't want to give Domingo one more second of attention than necessary, even if he was bound to do exactly that over and over again in his own head. "Now, leave; I'd much prefer it if the first day of the new century didn't end up being entirely about you."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 31, 1199
"So I get that this might be a tough concept for your tiny brain to comprehend, but one lousy cold isn't going to kill your little brother." Nato resisted the urge to glare back at the reckless woman on the couch and instead channeled his frustration into the fire in front of him. The poker drove one log to the back of the hearth, burnt bark crumbling off of it as it hit the wall. "You, however, look worse and worse every time you do this--even if it's just a lousy cold. Damn it, Aspen, what the hell is wrong with you?"
On the bench behind him, Aspen sniffed--sniffled, more like. Damn lucky thing her family had decided to stop by on his before heading over to his Uncle Lonriad's castle for the party, really. If she'd grown worse for the wear there and had to leave the party early, then that would be a ruined night for most of the guests, never mind the already-stressed Yvanette who'd probably end up taking care of her. Here, she at least gave Nato an excuse to stay home.
"Sorry for caring about my family, asshole. Why do you even care, anyway?"
"Because you make no fucking sense and that bothers me." That was the only answer he'd managed to think up when he'd asked himself the same question, at least.
"If I bother you so much, then just leave me with a servant; like you said, it's just a cold."
"Don't tempt me." Not that he would, though. His mother had been the one to take to immediately doting, whisking Aspen off to Shahira's old bedroom--the warmest in the castle--and wrapping her up in a robe she herself reserved only for the coldest winter nights. She would have stayed with Aspen herself had Nato not insisted that she'd enjoy the party more than he would. If he left Aspen with a servant, he'd be dealing with her wrath until he was fifty.
Of course, telling Aspen that was out of the question--but he was spared having to do so by Aldhein's knock at the door. "Nato?"
Nato gritted his teeth. His sister hadn't had any interest in attending the party, but her children had wanted to go, so she'd taken them; her husband, meanwhile, had gotten out of it on the technicality that it overlapped with the tail end of his work hours for the day. Frankly, Nato would have preferred it if Aldhein had gone to the party and Shahira had stayed at the castle for a few hours instead. Shahira could have been a firm-but-sympathetic nurse for Aspen for a few hours while Nato worked off his fury as the makeshift steward. "What is it?"
"There's someone here. He asked for your father--"
"My father's not here."
"Obviously. Would I be asking for you if I thought he was?"
Back on the bench, Aspen coughed out a small laugh. "Hmm. I suppose I'm lucky; my brother-in-law never gives me any mouth."
"And if you start taking on other people's tooth decay, don't expect that anyone ever will," Nato hissed under his breath.
"Still alone in that bedroom together? You know, for two people who say they can't stand each other, you have a weirdly intimate relationship."
"Shut up, Aldhein." Nato abandoned the fire and made for the door, opening it just wide enough to greet his brother-in-law with a glare. "Did this man say what he wanted?"
Aldhein shook his head. "No. He just asked for your father."
"Fine. I'll go talk to him then--and I'm also going to send you off to relieve my sister at the party. Aspen, you stay here and think about what you're doing with your life."
"Does wanting you out of it count as a start on that?"
Nato couldn't be bothered with a response, so he slipped out of the door and slammed it behind him, storming past Aldhein as if he were some inconspicuous statue on his way to the front room. Damn Aspen. Damn Aldhein. Damn whoever it was who'd come asking for his father. Was it too much to ask for, really? Just one night where he didn't have to be the only one around with a shred of sense?
"What is it?" he growled as he reached the front room, the worst of the storm that followed him having made it through the double doors.
The man in front of him squinted; given the apparent age of him, that wasn't surprising. "Isidro?"
"He's out." And while he'd been told all his life how much he looked like his father, his light eyes and unscarred face had proven enough to avoid being outright mistaken for him until now. "Who the hell are you?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 27, 1198
"Bar's closed for th' night," the lone remaining drunk--an older man, late sixties or early seventies by the iron hair and wrinkled hands--slurred from the corner table. "Landlord cleaned up in here, just cleanin' up the kitchen now."
Adwyn frowned. Judging by the number of discarded tankards by the man's feet, he was in no small part why the landlord had chosen to close the bar early--and yet, he was still here. "Can you find your way home?"
"I'm stayin' here. Meant to head to Naroni for th' New Year."
"Interesting. I'm heading there myself." For the sake of discretion, he didn't mention that he was accompanying the Carvalli Royal Family. It may have been his free night, but he was still a professional--on the surface, at any rate. "Can't say I'd fancy traveling with the hangover you'll have tomorrow, though."
"Not goin' now. Sit."
Shrugging, Adwyn obliged. He supposed he could keep the man from falling off his chair for a few minutes while the landlord tidied up in the kitchen. He'd find a more happening place soon enough, as always. "Why the change of mind?"
"Chickened out--like las' year, and the year b'fore that."
"And what's so terrifying about Naroni that keeps you out?" Adwyn smirked. "You don't believe all that bullshit about the creatures in the forests, do you?"
The man sighed and pushed himself upright--or, as close to upright as he could manage in his condition. "My son."
Guilt, then. Adwyn got that. "Ah... my daughter's in Naroni too. I haven't always done right by her, but she's been more forgiving than I deserve. Something about that place, maybe."
"Dunno." The man sighed. Another side of the table wasn't far enough away to avoid his breath. "My son never liked me--an' I never liked him, really. But, I'm old an' disgraced an' alone. He's all I have left in the world."
"Huh." Adwyn leaned forward, not entirely sure of what to say to that. He supposed he'd have to wing it. "You know... I don't think children always owe their parents anything, at least as far as emotion is concerned. A kid doesn't choose to be born, and sure as hell doesn't choose a shitty father like you or me. But, we're why they're here, and we have to live with that; it's only fair for the parents to shoulder the load for bridge-building and whatnot."
"You did that with your daughter?"
"Like I said, my daughter's more than I deserve--and if nothing else, nothing I put her through was out of malice. She understood that, even if my selfishness and recklessness left her more than a little inconvenienced."
"Hmph. Tha's you, then. I meant to hurt my son. Thought it would toughen 'im up, maybe." The man kicked over one of the tankards by his feet. "Or maybe I jus' couldn't stand the sight of 'im. Couldn't stand his mother. Never would've married her if we hadn't made 'im."
"Well, good luck reconciling, in that case." Adwyn cracked his knuckles beneath the table. His own father, at least, had had the decency to run like hell and leave his mother to her own more impressive devices. "Kids know when they're not loved properly. They don't recover from that."
The drunk sighed again. "Wouldn' be here if I didn' know it."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 8, 1181
Isidro's father waited until Riona's boot disappeared from the top stair and sounded from the floor above. Ashe and Lonriad had gone with the first request, probably wanting to avoid the worst of the drama, but Riona hadn't budged until Isidro had swallowed back his selfish wants and begged her to follow the others. He'd already dragged her enough of this shit.
"Sit." Like he was nine again, Isidro did so automatically and cursed himself all the while. He couldn't think of a dog who was so blindly obedient. "Care to explain to me why you've come trespassing in my house?"
'To get out of the rain' would not suffice. No, that would just bring forth one of those old war stories, in which Domingo and his fellow knights had found equal violence in enemies and the elements, yet had pressed on and prevailed, a stop not even considered. Of course Isidro should aspire to the same, though Domingo would have no doubt that he never could. "You're not usually here this time of year."
"I have some gold hidden on the property. I've come to retrieve it." Was it an insult, no hint of warning or wariness? His father might have thought him incapable of even basic, petty theft, and therefore beyond the bother of lying. "But unless you've been using my house for years without my knowledge, I think the same could be said of you. I don't think much of Naroni myself, but surely you find it more than suited to your needs year-round."
"If you must know, I received an invitation from my grandfather. We happened to pass through here on the way back."
Domingo stiffened for a minute, then snorted. Heaven forbid alarm was a feeling worth showing. "That old codger is still alive?"
"Yes." The 'probably not for much longer' was worth the omission.
"Hmm. Can't imagine why he'd want to see you, but most are mad by that age. Men aren't meant to live that long; when the day comes that you're too old and weak to lift your sword, the best thing to do is to fall on it."
"I don't see your sword on you."
Wherever that glimmer of boldness had shot from, it returned when a cuff to the head smacked it aside. "Mind your manners, boy, or I'll leave your inheritance to my horse."
"What?" He couldn't have heard that right... had he? Was there a word that made sense in context that might have been mistaken for... that? "I thought you'd named Augustin your heir."
"That was the plan, before he blew it with Maria and married that del Marinos bitch instead." Domingo almost spat the name as he took to the couch instead. "Marries one of that bastard Kaldar's slut daughters, then Casimiro goes and marries the other one. And Bernardo marries a peasant! At least you managed a lord's daughter, even if her father is a lunatic."
"He's not a lunatic."
"Hmm." His father wasn't the sort who often changed his position; a patronizing utterance was the best he could hope for. "Well, I suppose he seems reasonable next to your mother."
And a comparison like that was the worst. "You don't get to talk about my mother."
"And what right have you to say so? You can't say I never did anything for that woman." A pale finger reached for Isidro's face and traced over his scar. The sting rivaled that of the original etching. "The truth about that never left my household, did it? Not unless you spread it about yourself."
No. It wasn't a story he had any right to tell. "Don't blame her for that." You blame her for too much as it is.
"I'll place the blame where it belongs. Now, I hope you weren't planning on staying any longer than just the night."
Isidro shook his head. "No. We just needed to get out of the rain."
"Then I suppose you and your companions may sleep here, so long as you tidy up after yourselves and you're gone before I wake."
I wouldn't have it any other way. "All right."
"And I didn't get where I am by being charitable. If a traveler caught in the rain wants to stay under my roof, he shouldn't expect to do so for less than five pieces."
Given that there were four of them, that meant Domingo owed someone twenty. But Isidro didn't want to further the conversation. After all this, he just wanted to sleep.
He stood and stepped to the fireplace, feeling the carved wooden edge for a hidden compartment. He pried it open, fished out his purse, and began to place the coins. "Here's ten for Riona and me. You can pester Ashe and Lonriad before they turn in."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 8, 1181
Lonriad's sister hadn't said a damn word since Isidro had dug up the spare key from beneath a cluster of rocks. Neither had Isidro himself, for that matter, but that was different. Isidro was understandably upset for his own sake, despite the practicality and downright necessity of the ultimate decision. Riona was only upset on Isidro's behalf, though if she was paying any attention, she'd notice that he'd managed more than enough ugly old emotion on his own. She didn't need to feed that unease.
Then again, it wasn't all that long ago when a Riona more concerned with someone else's well-being than her own was a laughable idea, so he'd give her credit there. And maybe he had been a little insensitive. Didn't matter, though. They all knew he'd been right. "Nice and toasty in here, isn't it?"
"Lucky for us there was dry wood already in here," Ashe agreed--at least, Lonriad would count it as an agreement--as he spurred another shower of sparks in the hearth. "Your idea, Is?"
"Hmm?" Isidro pried his gaze from the washed-out, rusty window just long enough to notice the fire. Lonriad wondered if he'd noticed the heat. "No."
Awkward, Ashe turned back to his task, though Lonriad gave him a couple points for getting Isidro to speak at all. Shelter or not, this was looking to be a long night. "Sorry. It just seemed a little too much foresight for your father."
"It is. It was my brother's idea." The ill-fated Fortunato, Lonriad assumed. If ever a father had given a son a less fitting name--and that considering Lonriad's own eldest brother, named for the most pious Dovian lord in recent memory.
It was odd that he missed Jadin. At least it wouldn't be too long now before they were home again.
"What do you think? Another week or so?"
Isidro shook his head as he abandoned the window in favor of the rug. Did that mean he was forgiven? His brother-in-law wasn't looking at him with complete contempt... "If that. Maybe four days if we keep the rests to a minimum. More likely five or six."
In either case, they'd probably leave the house to meet dawn at the door. "Good. God, I think I'd even brave Asalaye's cooking if it meant we were under the same roof."
That did it--finally, a snicker out of Riona. "As if yours is any better."
"It's worse! That's why we have a cook." Not that their cook was much to brag about either. "But who knows? Maybe Nanalie will have us for supper when she hears I'm back. She'll be missing her favorite brother-in-law."
"It would take more than a month for anyone to miss you."
"A month?" Lonriad gasped in mock-amazement, though it might not have been as 'mock' as he'd gauged. He knew it had only been a month, but it felt like they'd been gone quite a while longer. "Here I was, thinking we'd barely be back in time for Sevvie and Yvanette's wedding."
Ashe threw him a glare-full of daggers for his trouble. Ah, normalcy. All he needed was some dry comment from Isidro and any guilt over the stop would be gone. "You might want to watch what you say about my daughter while I'm holding a sharp object."
"I'd be more concerned about whether your kids will recognize you with short hair, even if it doesn't look as stupid as I'd hoped. Riona, you should become a barber."
She laughed--an actual laugh! Thank God. "Well, I could probably practice cutting hair on Izzy, but let me know if you find any willing test subjects for surgery."
Isidro grunted. Lonriad doubted he'd put up a fuss if Riona had any serious ambitions in barbering, but he was less than amused with the banter. Maybe it had been too much to hope for, a total lack of tension. "I'll keep an eye out. But I'm going to bed."
"Now?" Riona's voice was more curious than argumentative, but Lonriad and Ashe both looked away regardless, Ashe to the stairs and Lonriad to his own lap. He might have done more harm than good, cheering Riona up. Perhaps Isidro needed an ally after all. "We can relax a little before. It's not that late."
Ashe cleared his throat. "Uh... Isidro? Riona?"
Neither showed any sign of having heard him. "No, but I'd prefer to leave as early as possible. And I'm sorry to be rude, but I don't want to have to wait for any of you."
"Is? You might want to--"
"And you won't," Riona insisted, cutting Ashe off. "If any of us are still asleep when you get up, you're welcome to wake us."
"Don't think I--hey!" Teeth gritted, Isidro rubbed his arm where Ashe's fist had hit it. It was hardly an appropriate first thought, but Lonriad would have to congratulate him on not defaulting to a slap. "What was that for?"
"Sorry! I just thought you should know--"
"Know what?"
"Isidro?"
Lonriad thought he caught the hairs on his hand spring to attention as a man's tread rung from the lower steps of the stairs. Riona clung to the arm of the couch and Ashe shot Isidro a mixed-message of a look, reading both 'You all right?' and 'Don't say I didn't warn you'. As for Isidro himself, the only movement was a strained, tugging twitch at the side of his mouth.
That was probably enough. "Why are you here?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 4, 1175
"For the last time, absolutely not!" Isidro's father crossed his arms and scowled. "I can't believe we're still debating this. We're already a day behind schedule thanks to your idiotic charity and I refuse to waste any more time on this than we already have."
"This?" He hadn't expected his father to handle it well--at all--but he'd figured he could at least expect humanizing pronouns out of the man. Well, he'd figured wrong. "The 'this' we're discussing is a little girl. We have to do something."
His father sniffed. "And what do you propose we do, then? Find her a home? If anyone in this village gave a rat's ass as to whether she lived or not, they would have already taken her in."
"Yes, but maybe in the next village--"
"Yes, but what if you can't find anyone who wants her there either?" His father's brows furrowed to a sharp 'v' and a branched vein flashed in his forehead like a bolt of lightning. For Domingo, there was a fine line between basic human compassion and an inconvenience. He didn't want to go out of his way. That much Isidro got. "I'm not hauling around an infant until we can find some place to drop her--which could very well be never, might I remind you!"
"But she's just a baby!" And why couldn't Domingo see that? This wasn't like all those times Isidro had begged him for a pet. "We can't just leave her here!"
"Well, I don't see why we shouldn't."
That was it. When Domingo had his mind made up, there was no convincing him otherwise. Frankly, Isidro wasn't sure why he'd bothered. Then again, the only way to argue with someone so stubborn was to be stubborn in turn. "And I don't see how we could. Go on ahead if you want, but I need to make sure she's going to be taken care of. I'll catch up with you later."
His father remained unmoved. Big surprise. "Well, if you really want to take pity on an unwanted orphan pest, then I can't stop you. But if you won't leave with us tomorrow morning, then don't bother meeting up with us at all. Think about it."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 6, 1175
"Where in God's holy name is that innkeeper?" Domingo thrust his hands toward the fire, the scowl on his face evident even from Riona's angle. "We've been waiting ten minutes and not a sign of hospitality yet. We are on a crusade; the worms who own these places should be begging to serve us."
From a bench by the wall, Augustin sniffed in agreement, but Riona couldn't say she shared the sentiment. Patience had never been her strong suit and had they been forced to wait at an earlier date, she might have complained even more obviously, but tonight was a different story. The innkeeper could take all the time in the world and it wouldn't be enough. Private rooms weren't cheap and she hadn't guessed that they would take the scenic route and would still be on the continent come April; if she had, she would have grabbed some more money. But hindsight was useless now--she hadn't, and her purse had run dry. She barely had enough for a bed in one of the grimy, smelly dormitories which housed the drifters and the outlaws and the local drunks who'd had too much wine to make the trip back to their own houses. So much for hoping to sleep comfortably in her shift the entire time.
"Oh for the love of Christ! What's taking that man so long?"
"Other duties, perhaps?" Isidro sounded just as annoyed as his father did, but the target of his bile was elsewhere. "An innkeeper can't be everywhere at once, you know. He's probably in the bar."
"Yes--where I should be." Turning away from the fire, Domingo pulled the sack of coins from his belt and tossed it to Augustin. "Pay for the rooms, will you? Three, as always."
Augustin tied the pouch to his own person and nodded. "Yes, Uncle."
"Good." Not wasting another word, the older man barged through the door and strode past the window on his way to the bar entrance. Augustin and Bernardo exchanged a glance; Casimiro looked to his feet and Isidro just cross his arms and stood there. Riona took a moment's pause before letting her eyes fall to the records on the desk. There were plenty of available suites--unlike most of the other inns they'd visited, where they'd usually nabbed some of the last. Figured that she couldn't afford one now.
Or maybe...
It was probably a long shot... but then again, so was getting to sleep in a public dormitory when you were trying to pass as a boy. "Cas?"
"Mmmm?" A little bit of light welled in his blue eyes as they met hers. He did seem fond of her. Maybe he knew. If he did, though, he wasn't telling anyone--not even her. If that was the case, perhaps it made him all the more honorable.
Shame that she had to inconvenience him. "Could I... maybe borrow some money?"
"Oh." Casimiro's face fell; a muscle in Riona's arm twitched. "Sorry Searle, I don't have any of my own. Augustin's been handling our funds."
Shit. Wary, Riona cast a glance Augustin's way. He was conversing with Bernardo and probably wasn't paying the rest of them any mind, yet he still managed to look like he was refusing her. Casimiro would have lent her the money if he could and she might have even been able to coerce Bernardo into letting her dip a hand into his purse, but Augustin? She would have been better off asking a rock. "Oh..."
"Don't worry about a bed, though, if that's what you're thinking." He nudged her on the shoulder and smiled. "Dormitories aren't so bad--and this place seems rather nice, so I'm sure you'll be comfortable."
All right, maybe he didn't know--he wouldn't have said it if he had. Then again, at least her disguise was working? But what did that matter if she had to share a room with a dozen men anyway? "Uh..."
"Christ, Cas, have you forgotten what it's like to be fourteen?" As if from the shadows, Isidro shot forth from the wall and wedged himself between Casimiro and Riona; she couldn't help but feel a little irked. "Physique-related insecurities? Chest hair anxiety? Spontaneous erections that won't go away?" Embarassed, Casimiro glanced up at the ceiling. What the hell was Isidro doing? All Riona could do was grit her teeth and pretend to know what he was talking about. "The dormitory could be a fucking palace, but as long as there are strangers in the room, it's not going to be comfortable for our poor little friend here."
Well, at least he'd sort of addressed the problem, despite how little else he was good for. Not that it meant much--she still needed a room. Casimiro seemed to get this. "Yes, but... what can we do about it?"
"It's simple." Isidro's eyes ran from the top of Riona's head to her boots and back again. "We have three rooms, do we not? That's three double beds for six people."
A cold flush surged throughout Riona's veins. Surely he was not saying...
"I mean, if we're going to pay for them anyway, we might as well get the full use. Chances are that my father will be too drunk to appreciate having his own bed anyway. Augustin can share with him, and you can bunk with Bernardo. I'll take Searle."
...Eh?
"Oh, don't look at me like that, kid." Isidro crossed his arms, his gaze charging through her skull and doubling back as it reach the rear of her brain. "I know you don't like me, but better me than a whole room of strangers, wouldn't you say?"
Riona swallowed. What would Searle say in this situation? Did it even matter? It was exactly what Riona couldn't say. "Uh... I guess?"
"Good." He tore his unrelenting eyes away from her and headed toward the stairs. "The innkeeper's out back chopping wood. I spoke with him while you lot were tying up the horses. The rooms have been paid for--I have the keys and everything."
NEXT CHAPTER:
