In Which Prior Is Exposed to the Inconceivable Thought

July 12, 1197

"My lady." Prior took Neva's hand and endowed it with a kiss. He hadn't seen much of his betrothed in the past while, as they'd had conflicting schedules in the last couple terms and they'd both been home for the break for June and so far July. But, given the planned double date with Alina and Adonis for Prior and Alina's birthday, it had made more sense for the four of them to return to campus for for the night.

"Prior," Neva addressed him rather less stiffly--as was her right, what with her being a duke's daughter and him only being a baron's heir grandson. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you. Have you and Alina talked over the plans for tonight?"

"Yes. We agreed that it makes the most sense to just eat at the inn--just as you and her discussed a couple days ago, apparently." His betrothed laughed--or perhaps forced herself to laugh. "I assume Adonis will have no objections."

Prior frowned. No, Adonis rarely objected to much of anything--but Adonis wasn't his concern at the moment. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I suppose." Though her shrug and sniff said otherwise. "Our fathers made the match, after all; given that, I should be relieved that you're at least a good person in spite of your being in love with another woman."

...EH?! "What are you talking about?"

"Alina. You two are always making plans to see each other, always talking about each other. I don't think I've ever had a conversation with her that didn't somehow end up being about you."

Oh God. An uncomfortable nausea brewed in Prior's gut. He'd had no idea Neva had felt that way--and perhaps he'd ought to have made more of an effort to know how she'd felt, about this and everything else. But Alina, of all people... "Neva, I'm sorry that I gave you that impression but Alina's just about the last person I could ever be in love with."

"Really?" Neva raised an eyebrow, daring a tentative smile but not convinced. "But you're so close with her."

"I am. She's one of my closest friends, and has been since childhood." Probably not the best way to start, but it was honest--and another touch of the hand might have done something for Neva's reassurance. "But really... Alina's the closest thing I have to a sister." Well, before Geneva had come along, anyway, or this second child that his mother and Aunt Xeta were currently considering. But it was exclusive knowledge that Geneva was his mother's, and for good reason--though, he supposed Neva would have to know once they'd married.

Because surely if she knew he trusted her with that...

"I know it's probably tough to imagine if you've felt like this for a while, but the thought of me being attracted to Alina is just as inconceivable to me as the thought of an attraction to Ricky or Dalston must be to you."

"That... that would be pretty inconceivable," Neva agreed, mouth curling briefly in a squirm of revulsion. "You really mean that? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I mean it. And now that it's been addressed... well, maybe you and I could make some efforts to become closer. It'll only be a few years before we're married now, and I think we could know each other a lot better by then."

Neva nodded. Prior doubted she was quite through with the idea of his--ugh--being in love with Alina, but at least she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt? "I'd like that."

"I'd like that too." He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, the soft flesh of her face warmed by her blush. "Perhaps call at Tetran Keep for dinner next Sunday?" He'd make a point to find out her favorite meal before then.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Leara Says the Right Thing

January 27, 1180

As usual, shy Neva had opted for the solitude of her xylophone over playing dolls with her less inhibited cousin, but Farilon was more than happy to indulge Yvanette in her stead. Leara wasn't quite sure what to make of that. It was true that most of her memories of Farilon involved a friendly little child ready to jump into any game anyone might have proposed... but in those memories, Leara herself was just an older child. She was an adult now, Farilon's brother's wife, mother of three-going-on-four. Farilon was--would have been?--nearing fifteen now. The prospect of having to entertain a year-old niece would have sent most fifteen-year-old boys running back to their tutors, begging for more Latin exercises.

Not that Farilon was most fifteen-year-old boys. "He's certainly good with the kids."

Rona lifted one ankle and crossed it over the other. She'd been looking on with some concern, probably fearing the sharp edges of her brother's borrowed body, but without any realized issue, she shrugged in defeat. "He is a kid."

"Yes, well..." Leara trailed off, not sure if there was a right thing to say to that and failing to find it if there was. Perhaps it would be best to take a cue from Jadin and avoid discussing Farilon with his family. "Yvanette seems to be having fun."

"She does." And for all Rona was concerned, it seemed that was the end of it.

"Good of your husband to take mine today." Rona raised an eyebrow. It was a weak shift in conversation and Leara knew it, but it was the first thing that had come to mind and therefore it was less awkward than the silence. Perhaps there was some merit in what Camaline had said about her fear of silence. "Lorn needs to get out more."

"So does Ashe. That's why I suggested it." She picked at the hem of her sleeve and sighed. In the past couple years, Rona had grown up quite a bit, but she wasn't beyond the occasional relapse into adolescence. She was still the same girl who had sulked in that same chair back in the days leading up to the tournament, and that hadn't escaped Leara's notice. Not that it made up for all the things that did. "I take it Lorn's stressed over what to do about Deian?"

Leara nodded. "He knows that there hasn't been any cause for alarm, but..."

"But he's still concerned," Rona finished for her. "And not without good reason."

I'll say. Not when the creature had slaughtered all those innocents. Not when he had killed Lorn and Rona's own father. Not when he had threatened Rona's husband, for all Ashe had been sparing with the details when he'd finally felt safe in telling at all. But Rona didn't say any more. She no doubt didn't want to talk about Deian either.

"So... what about your man? Why is he due for a good day's hunt?"

"Oh, God. Why isn't he?" And there went yet another topic of conversation. Leara's sister-in-law would never call on her again. "He's always so tense, you know? Like he thinks everything he touches is going to fall apart."

Interesting way of putting it. The fact in itself wasn't so. "A lot of people are tense."

"Not like Ashe is." At the sound of her father's name, the tone no doubt like he'd done something bad, Yvanette glanced back at her mother, eyes wide and inquiring. Rona grimaced and waved her daughter's attention back to Farilon before elaborating. "He... I don't know how to explain it. Like he thinks he's dreaming and he's afraid of waking up, maybe."

Within her, the baby stirred. It was good to know the feeling was mutual. "At least that means it's a good dream?"

"It would be if he let it. That's what's bothering me." Rona peaked back at Yvanette, thoroughly reengaged in her uncle's wordless storyline. According to Celina, the little girl looked just like Rona at that age, but Leara struggled to believe it. It was difficult to imagine a Rona without woes. "I've tried getting him to talk about it, but never to any effect. I think it has something to do with his past, which is another thing he refuses to talk about. And I want him to get past it, because he's so sweet and he loves me so much and I just want us to be happy, but..."

"But you don't know how to help him."

And it seemed, for once, she'd said the right thing. "But I don't know how to help him."

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