In Which Falidor Will Make It Work

January 13, 1194

Raia usually made a point to keep busy when the university wasn't in session. In all the years Falidor had known her, she'd never been one for idleness. Once Alina and Sev had grown old enough to not require her attention, she'd needed that toy-making business. Then, when she'd decided she'd prefer to make toys as a hobby, she'd needed the university. When the university was closed for breaks...

...well, she certainly didn't spend those breaks alone on the couch in their bedroom, staring at the empty hearth.

"You all right?" Falidor asked as he sat down beside her. Only one thing that might have been bothering her occurred to him. He'd been there himself once, longer ago now than he cared to admit. He'd felt so damn old.

But Raia had never complained about feeling old. She was the sort who was well aware that time marched forward and felt no need to deny it. If anything, she found comfort in her own mounting adult experience.

But this was a milestone. A big one.

"It's... it's not as daunting as it seems, you know. Being a grandparent."

Raia stirred. Nothing like the first grandchild to prove that time was, indeed, moving forward. And the grandchildren would just keep coming. Alina was happily married and would have many more children after this one. Sev planned on proposing to Rennie on her next birthday. Falidor wasn't sure if he himself would live to see his grandchildren from the younger three, but Raia almost certainly would.

"I mean--it is, I guess. But it's a good thing, really, once you get over the strangeness of it. There's no need get all pensive just because Alina's pregnant."

"It's not that Alina's pregnant."

Falidor frowned. Not much else had changed for the family in the past while. Well, maybe Raia's nephew Dalston was becoming more and more of an anxious wreck, but that boy had been an anxious wreck since infancy. Something with Riona and Isidro and their grandson, perhaps? "Then what--?"

"It's that..." She inhaled with some labor and let it out in a sigh. "...I'm also pregnant."

"Oh." Had she not wanted another baby? Privately, Falidor had entertained fantasies of one day surpassing his father-in-law in the area... but, as Raia was the one who had to bear those children, he didn't think it right to pester her. But she'd never said she didn't want any more children... "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I called on Ardyath while you were at the keep. She confirmed it. I'm due the week after Alina."

"So our grandchild will have a little aunt or uncle."

"They will." Raia slumped. At least she didn't have the discomfort of the baby's girth yet. "I guess I'll get over it. I just didn't think this would all happen at once, you know? I didn't think my children would be having babies while I'm still having them myself."

"It is pretty odd to think about. But, it does happen. Happened to me, happened to your father, happened to Florian and Thetis and a ton of other people we know." He reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll make it work. We always do."

"Yes, we do." She rubbed at the side of his hand with her thumb. "Guess I'd better make the most of these months when it comes to getting used to it."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor Finds Ice in the Air

August 7, 1185

A summer illness had been make its rounds in Armionshire, and the duke and duchess had both caught a bought of it. It wasn't anything life-threatening, but it had kept them both in bed the better part of the week, and Aldhein had taken the opportunity to observe and guide as young Ricky took the reins for a while. As such, Armion had been somewhat out of the loop for the month so far, so Lord Severin had ridden out to brief them on the situation with the brothel. Falidor had known this, anticipating that he'd have to pass Florian's news Nora instead.

But he hadn't expected Alsina to be there as well. Not that he didn't trust his youngest sister to keep her mouth shut if asked, but the health alert would be issued in two days' time--the day after Master Maesflein's arrest, assuming no problems with the warrant--and the baron had requested that the situation be kept hush-hush until Maesflein was locked away, not wanting any widespread panic to provoke any reckless decisions on the man's part.

"Falidor!"

Alsina greeted him with a smile and a small wave. Nora, though, faced him with a knowing look. She was well aware of what sort of news he had, and she wanted it now. She saw no reason to ask Alsina to leave.

So, he wouldn't. "Alsina. Nora, I just spoke with Florian."

"And?"

"He's spoken with some of the women at the brothel. The baron has offered them compensation for the duration of the closure, as well as free consultations with healers or doctors of their choosing."

"Good." That would probably be the last time he heard her say that word for a while. "What of the owner?"

"Unrepentant as we could have guessed. He doesn't realize what trouble he's in; he's still in his house, though the baron has undercover guards in the area just in case."

"And the arrest will be tomorrow."

"Yes." Though not soon enough, he thought. His sister's eyes looked to agree. "How fares Ilvina?"

"Not any better." Nora sighed. "Xeta and Roddie are with her now. She seems most at ease with them, and Aerina says all we can do is keep her comfortable."

Damn. He'd feared as much. "Poor kid."

"Tell me about it." His sister cracked her knuckles, scowling all the while. And once upon a time, he'd thought the angry looks she'd reserved for Ceidrid and Rifden where fearsome enough. "I swear, if it's a soft jury, I'll hang Grayer Maesflein myself."

"Grayer... M-maesflein?"

It was Alsina. Knowing, dreading... fearful? "The b-butcher?"

Despite the summer heat, the air turned to ice. Something was wrong. Falidor never knew what to do with 'wrong'.

Thank God Nora did. "You don't mean..."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Severin Is Guided Off-Script

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This post centers around a rehearsal for the masque, which as the cross-section of Naroni and Albion readers will know, is based on the "Trial of the Century" arc from the on-going storyline "The Orkney Saga". As such, most of the dialogue between the fourth and eighth images was shamelessly lifted from this Albion post, so all credit for those lines goes to the talented Morgaine. If you haven't read Albion yet... then what are you waiting for? Read it, read it now.

May 6, 1185

"I have to say--you make the most beautiful immortal light witch I've ever seen."

"This after you watched young Ellona in the capture scene rehearsal yesterday?" True. But as objectively attractive as Ellona may have been, there was an inherent repulsion in checking out a woman the age of some of Severin's own children, and he didn't doubt Nora knew it. But she also knew he'd respond to 'But what other immortal light witches have you seen?' with reference to Ellona, so if her aim was to get the last joke, his wife had made the correct choice. "I'm flattered. And I'll have you know that you rank among the most handsome of aspiring barons.

"A pity that in this universe, I'm married to Tarien."

"And I'm married to Arydath. So you may have gotten the last joke, but I believe that between the two of us, I got the more desirable fake spouse--for all Tarien has us both beaten."

"Us, and Arydath too," Nora teased. Severin knew she didn't mean it, but all the same, it was a relief to see that she was now comfortable making such jokes, having spent much of their marriage surrounded by undue glances and constant whispers about former servant girls who married their lords. Most of the spectacle had worn off by now, but some of the lingering stupidity refused to die.

"Indeed. But speaking of fake spouses, there are a lot of other people's not-so-legally un-wedded husbands and wives, and we've probably kept them waiting long enough--unless you care a quick exploration of that broom closet over there, in which case another few minutes wouldn't kill them."

"Tempting, but I'd rather hold out for a lengthier and more comfortable session after the fact." With a wink, she brushed past him toward the door--but not without a nip to his earlobe. So there was an advantage to tying back his hair indoors. "Come along. Sister Paulina always knows when we haven't rehearsed."

"If only because Searle will tell her." But the masque was near enough now that there was little point in complaining too much, so he followed her into the dining hall, where the jury would rehearse while Paulina had the stage for the four in the opening scene.

"Everyone." He took his seat at the head of the table. In the actual performance, they'd be blocked in such a way that allowed them all to be turned toward the audience--but Sister Paulina hadn't quite decided on the arrangement, so they'd sit naturally for now. "I hope you were at least able to entertain yourselves while we kept you waiting."

"Ovrean and Renata were, pestering me about what you were probably doing to my sister," Falidor grumbled.

"And what you were probably doing to my father," added Searle to Nora with a shudder.

"I see." Nora shot a succession of glares about the table, ending with an eye-roll Severin's way. "Well, whatever we were doing to each other, that's our own business, isn't it?"

"Agreed. Let's just start acting, so we can all be equally uncomfortable. Everyone ready?" Five nods. On that note, Severin put on a forced-cheerful face, as dictated by Morgan's script. "Well! What do you say we start with a vote, to figure out where we all stand? Those in favor of acquittal, say aye."

"Aye," chorused Nora and Searle.

"I see. Those in favor of conviction? Aye." Falidor joined him on the last word. As scripted, Renata and Ovrean were silent. "Lady Claire? Master Chevaux? You didn't vote."

"I--" Renata's start and stammer rang perfectly timed as always. She was the strongest actor of the six of them--as Sister Paulina never failed to remind the other five.

Falidor leaned in toward her, a little overdone. "Lady Claire?"

"I... don't know what to think."

"Well, at least you admit it." Nora reassured Renata's character with a wink. "Most folks don't, as a rule."

"So what don't you know what to think about?" Severin asked.

"I... oh, I don't even know where to begin. She's a woman. A mother. A grandmother! How could any mother do such horrible things to a little boy?" A pause, marked by expressions. Renata's in particular melted from indignant disbelief to lost confusion. "But... why would Betsy Pelles... Lady Dindrane, the little boy... why would they lie?"

And then, quick as a whip while the others processed, that was Nora's line. "It's not that simple. We're not being asked to say she's innocent, you know. Just whether she's guilty or not."

"I don't..." How did Renata trail off so naturally?

"We've got two choices for each of the charges: guilty or not guilty. Now, if we say she's guilty, well, then, she's guilty--at least, in the eyes of the law. But if we say she's not guilty? That doesn't mean we think she's innocent. Just that we're not quite convinced that she's guilty."

"Indeed," Searle chimed in agreement, though as always, Severin had to wonder about Sir Aglovale's actual chiming ability. "There's no physical evidence, really--just the word of three people. Should we send a woman to the block on that?"

But to his own credit, Severin could see Richard Ferreira snorting in derision. "She's the king's sister. I'm not at all convinced that she would go to the block, no matter what we decide."

"Even so..."

The scene carried out, for the most part, kink-free. Searle pointed out that these were death penalty offenses, and Renata questioned his trust of his (character's) sister's testimony, while Searle and Nora argued that testimony just wasn't sufficient. Falidor countered that, pointing out the flaws in the defense's testimonies and the strengths in the prosecution's, plus the state of the witness--and Nora confirmed the injuries to be of a magical nature.

Some lengthy reasoning later, and Renata came to the conclusion of 'guilty'. Brought to the fence, Nora questioned the defense attorney's method--the lack of a reasonable doubt, swapped for a multitude of smaller doubts. Searle made a loud-but-weak protest on classist grounds, and Severin ignored him--to ask Ovrean why he had yet to speak a word.

Ovrean stroked his beard, though Master Chevaux was said to have a more impressive one. "Didn't think it was my place at first, sir."

"Nonsense. Of course it's your place. We're all..." Severin relented with the obligatory pause. The Kingdom of Albion did not place hierarchy over justice--that was rather the point of the play--but that didn't mean there was no hierarchy for the characters to consider, or so Morgan had explained. "...here to do the same job."

"Aye, sir."

"So, what do you think?"

Ovrean looked over at Nora, then Severin again--and then, at Searle. "Begging your pardon, sir, but... she's guilty. Ain't no doubt in my mind."

"Why not?" Searle demanded.

"'Cause of--"

"Everyone! Quick! Lady Morgause set the courthouse on fire! We have to evacuate--now!"

That... was not in the script. "Florian, not again!"

"Who is this 'Florian' of which you speak? I am Sir Bors, here to guide you all to the flame-free safety of the great outdoors!"

At least a fire made more sense than his previous interrupt of 'The hippos are attacking!'? "Florian..."

But instead of stopping like a rational person--and Severin had to wonder why he'd ever considered that Florian might do anything like a rational person--Florian dashed around the table and took to prodding Falidor's shoulder. "Come along, Sir Lancelot! We're too young and handsome to die!"

Caught between amusement and annoyance, Renata shrugged. "We might as well continue on as usual. Who knows what antics the audience will throw our way, anyway?"

"No time for nonsense, absurdly attractive wife! We must depart from this place!"

Severin grimaced. At least the performance wasn't so far off now--and at least there would be plenty of people backstage to keep their eyes on Florian. Hopefully. "Yes, let's continue on. Ovrean, let's take it from your line."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor Won't Lie to Her

November 17, 1183

"Hello, sweetie," Falidor muttered as he lifted his day-old daughter from her crib. He'd never thought it right to hope for one sex of baby over the other, and he'd always made a point to put the health of mother and child alike first in his mind... but while he'd done the latter still, he would have been lying to himself if he thought he hadn't hoped for a girl this time. He suspected that Raia had been of the same opinion, going by the smile on her face when she'd named the baby for her late sister.

And knowing that had been the plan, fate had smiled on them indeed. Viridia not only had Raia's brown eyes--her Aunt Viridis's brown eyes--like the rest of their mutual children, but she was also the first blonde among Falidor's biological children. Going by the few strands she had so far, it was more like his brothers' hair than Raia's sister's, bright and sunny rather than silvery and star-like, but Falidor counted that a blessing; she may have been named for her aunt, may have resembled her, but the hair would be a reminder of who she really was.

Her own sweet self.

"I know you haven't been with us all that long, but I hope you know we adore you already--even Rio, though you'll have to excuse him for the first while. He's used to being the baby of the family." Though privately, Falidor thought Rio would make an excellent big brother in time.

"Starting in the new year, you'll be coming to work with me at your grandfather's castle. Your mama will be working at the university, which is further away. But you'll still see her in the evenings, and on Saturdays and Sundays." Surely Viridia would understand? Well... as well as a baby could, at least. But she'd need an occupation too, one day. She may have been named for her aunt, but she was still Raia's daughter. "For a while, at least. They'll eventually have a nursery at the university, so when you're big enough for the longer ride, you can go there if you prefer.

"Or you can keep coming to work with me. I don't mind, and I know your grandfather and your Aunt Nora won't either."

And surely her cousin Celina wasn't so much older as to be a disinterested playmate? And who knew, maybe Jadin and Xeta would conceive again soon. But Viridia would never lack for cousins, that was certain.

Cousins, or love. "I won't lie to you. I'm a busy man--and your mama is a busy woman. But even though we won't be around all the time, that doesn't mean that we don't love you. We have a lot in our lives and we like it that way, but you and your siblings will always be first. You know that, right?"

Viridia blew a little bubble as he lowered her from his shoulder to his arm. He took that as a 'Yes'.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor Closes No Doors

December 14, 1182

Subdued did not suit Raia, or so Falidor had noticed over the past few months. Her toy-making business had dwindled throughout the first part of the year, and around June she'd called it quits as a business, though for the sake of a hobby she still whittled little figurines for her nieces and nephews for their birthdays (their own children, with the exception of Rio, were a little old now for most of Raia's specialties). With the loss of that focus, she'd been in somewhat of a rut--well, as much of a rut as Raia would allow for herself, but there was no denying she was the sort who needed to be busy--and of course that had only deepened when they'd received news of her sister.

It was December now. Falidor's birthday had come and gone, Sev's was only a day away, then came Christmas and before anyone knew it, the year would be over. This one hadn't begun on the best note for the kingdom as a whole; he hoped the next could at least be a new start for Raia.

"Feeling all right?"

"I suppose." She shuffled over as he joined her on the bed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"If I had a new idea for an occupation, would you support it?"

Did she need to ask? He thought he'd been pretty open about his support for the toy-making... "You know I would."

"Even if it was... a little more ambitious than the toy-making business?"

He nodded. "Even if it was a lot more ambitious than the toy-making business."

"Even if I worked long hours? Probably longer than yours?"

"We'd make it work. I could take Rio to the castle with me; he could play with his cousins." Alina and Sev were old enough to be left alone for a while, and there was always the housekeeper.

"What if I was grossly unqualified?"

"Why not? I was grossly unqualified when I got my job." He wondered if her father had ever told her the story behind that--not that there was much of a story in some stranger randomly knocking on the door of the old new house and asking if anyone wanted a job.

"Actually, I think I'm still grossly unqualified for my job."

"Don't be silly." But he thought he heard a bit of a laugh in the words. "But thank you."

He took her hand and squeezed it as their shared grasp fell to the blanket. He didn't see why she was thanking him. It shouldn't have been some grand gesture, not closing someone's doors. "Care to tell me about your big idea?"

Her eyes narrowed and her grin widened, black lashes contrasting white teeth. He knew that look. It was never a bad omen. "All right, try to keep an open mind..."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Aldhein Acknowledges the Better Man

May 7, 1181

"Huh." Falidor straightened himself to a vertical line, a further lean no doubt prevented only by the lack of a back on the bench. "That may just be the earliest Florian's ever been kicked out of here."

"I don't know." Aldhein glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Seoth and his son escort that familiar blond head away from the window. From the hair tossing about, Florian had no intention of going quietly, but he was a small man and outnumbered besides. Of course, he wouldn't have been Florian if he'd ever concerned himself with such trivial matters as 'odds'. "I still say it was September 13, 1176."

"Really? I could've sworn the old record was February 25, 1168."

"No, that couldn't have been it. There were enough people there for a belching war to constitute noise pollution, remember?"

"How drunk were you that night? I could've sworn it was just Florian squaring off against himself."

"Then how do you explain the five-part harmonies?"

"Years of practice?" Falidor cracked a sheepish smile. "Some cultures out east have mastered singing three notes at once, you know."

"The hell bullshit is that?" Florian's voice broke through the wall over Seoth's controlled muttering. "Come on, it's not like you have any rules saying I can't curl on your floor with tortoises..."

And first thing tomorrow, there would be a sign on the door saying precisely that. Perhaps it was time for Florian to cut his losses and start pestering some other innkeeper. Of course, given that would be common sense for anyone else...

Ah, it was too much thought, especially when Aldhein's head still hurt from the sounds of those poor tortoises bouncing off each other. Mindless banter with Falidor was the easier way to go. "I don't think belching and singing are the same process."

"Then you've never heard Florian sing, you lucky bastard."

Outside, Seoth raised his voice somewhat, though not to the point where his words were distinguishable. Florian didn't have that problem. "Well, that's just not fair! Why can't you acknowledge my God-given right to give you money?"

"Anyway." Falidor looked over at the window again, prompting Aldhein to do the same. It was just Seoth's son, though--not Florian making some ridiculous 'help me' face, which was the last thing Aldhein cared to do as yet another tortoise crawled over his toes. "I want to ask you something."

"Ask away."

"You're friends with Aydelle, right?"

"I guess you could say that." He hadn't seen her naked in years now, but they were still coworkers and they were still civil and they still talked when the opportunity arose. Did that make them friends? For the purposes of Falidor's question, it must have. "Why?"

"Just wondering about... you know." Falidor peered around to the door again. Luckily, Florian didn't say anything to threaten the gravity of what Aldhein expected the follow-up to be. "How she's doing, her and the girls. I know that marriage ended badly, but..."

"There's no 'but' for Aydelle." That much had been obvious. Apart from a short-lived dread over how to tell her daughters, he'd never seen the woman so relieved and carefree in all his years of working with her. She'd even laughed once or twice--a real laugh, like some weight that had held all her joviality to forced breathy chuckles had become suddenly feather-light. Shitty thought, maybe, that the death of a person could be so liberating to another, but then again, Eblor had never been much of a person. "Aydelle's fine. Better then fine. The girls... I don't know. I don't see them very often, but they seem all right, and Aydelle hasn't said otherwise. How are your kids coping?"

"They're... well, coping." There was something tentative in the cadence of the word. Falidor might have thought it an overstatement--or, more likely, an understatement. "Lyssie probably told you that she and Fenrick are building a new house and leaving the old one to Lonel and the twins. Riala and Maddie seem to be going about life as usual. Ailede was never really the type to, uh..."

"Inspire feelings of attachment?"

Falidor's face scrunched, the phrase distasteful to his ears but none more apt coming to mind. It was odd to think that Falidor, long-suffering, finally-happy Falidor, was and remained the closest thing Ailede had probably ever had to a friend. "I guess that would be the diplomatic way of saying it."

And that was precisely why, in Aldhein's mind, there was no reason for Falidor to be dwelling on Ailede, at least not a whole five months later. A former spouse or lover one held in high or even neutral regard? Fine. Aldhein still left flowers on Geneva's grave twice a year, on her own birthday and on their daughter's.

But he'd liked Geneva, even after she'd disappeared. He wasn't sure if he'd loved her--he'd been young enough to not necessarily know love when he saw it--but he'd never managed to dislike her, not after she'd given him Eilyssa and certainly not after she'd died for her. Reputation and personal woes be damned, he'd known her as a great lady. Ailede had been a being of perpetual selfishness and neglect of others and outright contempt if they'd dared challenge this. She hardly even counted as human.

Aldhein would have taken Aydelle's route of 'grief' if he'd lost someone he felt the need to speak of diplomatically. "It's admirable that you choose to remain civil."

"Honestly? She was uncivil enough for the both of us, up until the last time I went to visit Fenrick before she died." Too bad Seoth wasn't here to bring them drinks, as Falidor surely needed one. Aldhein would buy as soon as business outside had been resolved. "There's no point in continuing that ugliness now, even if I have earned the right to do so."

"Well, you're a better man than I would be." A thud! sounded from the outer side of the wall, no doubt a well-placed kick. Aldhein sighed. "And you're lucky Florian's not here, because he'd drag that ugliness out and parade it in front of you like he wanted you to marry it."

"I already did marry it." Aldhein snickered. Falidor winced at his own daring, but managed after a second to ease himself into a smile. "Florian would mean well if did that, and he can say what he likes when I'm not there."

"Oh, he already does."

"I'm sure." Another thud!. Shaking his head, Falidor stood. "Well, maybe we should help the poor man. As ridiculous as he can be, I owe him much more of my energy than I do Ailede."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor Seeks the Words

December 6, 1180

Falidor's former sister-in-law seated herself, a reminder of why he ought to have made more of an effort to keep in touch after they'd both divorced their respective Dephwains. Aydelle was a woman who took full ownership of any room she entered. Many of the women Falidor loved most--his sisters, the late Lady Alina, the dearly departed Laveria, and of course Raia--shared that trait, and in a man's world, that sort of confident, no-nonsense strength of spirit was something he never failed to admire in those of the female persuasion.

Ailede had never been like that. She'd never owned rooms, but conquered them. And like most other conquerors, her power was not so much earned as it was taken, any body in her way shown no mercy, any soul in her wake stripped of freedom and marred with bleeding wounds. Some men cited women like Ailede as a reason to loathe any woman who dared be her own person, but Falidor disagreed. Ailede was not an example, but a misconception. Ailede gave strong-willed women a bad name.

But even with Aydelle right in front of him, Falidor wasn't sure why he was wasting thoughts on Ailede. "It's... certainly been a while."

"It has." She shuffled to her right, toward the center of her chosen seat. "Sit with me?"

He did as requested. That was the difference, he supposed, or one of them. People like Aydelle or Raia, like any other civilized human being on the planet, never demanded but requested, and did not indulge so-called demands but fulfilled requests as they saw fit. People like Ailede could only make demands, and could not even consider bending for even the most heartfelt of desperate pleas. "To what do I owe the honor?"

She stiffened. She was colder than Raia, perhaps--for all the rumors seemed to suggest otherwise--but there was only one Raia, just like there was only one Aydelle. Falidor's life might have been quite different if he'd figured out that general premise earlier. "I have news."

"Good news?" She shook her head. "Bad news?"

She swallowed. "News."

Lamp-like eyes turned away from the wall opposite and set their focus instead on his. Her own daughters, if he recalled correctly, both had her eyes, along with most of her other features. Her former husband's face flashed his brain like some long-forgotten childhood nightmare and he remembered just how fortunate a thing that was. "Just news?"

"I suppose it ought to be bad news, but I don't feel it." Her hand curled around the edge of the seat cushion, a few stray snowflakes melting off of her sleeve. "I suppose you ought to know that our former spouses are dead."

"How? When?" He posed the questions on some in-born reflex, but he couldn't claim to care. Frankly, it was a shock to learn Ailede could die at all.

"Fire. Yesterday. Ailede was at Eblor's house, and the neighbors say they were screaming at each other about something their father left one of them, then the next thing anyone new, the house went up in flames. They were both long gone from the smoke before anyone could contain it; seems they were so preoccupied with their fight that they forgot to tend the hearth." Pushing to the point of abandoning basic priorities. An unexpected end, but a fitting one. "Not much survived the blaze, but Eblor didn't have much anyway. The girls were never going to inherit anything from him. They certainly won't miss him."

Falidor fought back a sigh. As far as he knew, Ailede hadn't lived at the old house since Fenrick's youngest was born and had spent little time there before she'd run off out-of-the-blue anyway. His children wouldn't miss her either. He guessed he'd try to at least feel bad about it. Ailede hadn't been much of a person, but she was still just that--a person.

"Does their mother know?"

Aydelle shrugged. "The king said he'd send someone to break the news, but I doubt she cares."

"She never did care about much." Perhaps that had been Ailede's problem. She'd lived her life among broken people and didn't know anything but to beat others down to that level. He could feel sorry for her there. "Have you told your girls?"

"No, but I suppose I'll have to after I leave here. You'll have to tell your children too."

He nodded. "As soon as I find the words."

NEXT CHAPTER: