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August 1, 1204
"So... you're about an hour away from being my stepmother."
And it hadn't been so long ago that Laralita would have thought that the last thing she'd ever have cause to say of her dear cousin and friend. Actually having said it did nothing to alleviate the strangeness of it all.
"That does look to be the case, doesn't it?" Holladrin grimaced as she fished a curl out of the woven back of Aunt Ren's bedroom sofa. Her dress was a beacon of pure white in Bandera Keep's otherwise dark master bedroom, and Laralita had spent the past several minutes struggling to look at away. "You and Roderick aren't bothered by it, are you?"
Laralita shook her head. It certainly didn't bother her to see her father happier than he'd ever been, nor did it bother her to think that she and her favorite cousin would be living under the same roof until she headed to Naroni for schooling. In a way, she was quite happy.
Or she would be, once she got over the oddness of it all.
"It... it's just strange. But I'll get over it, and I'll make sure Roderick does too. We love you, and obviously we love father, so we'll adjust."
"That's a relief to hear." Holladrin rose to her feet, and stretched her shoulders backward, eyes shut in welcome calm. "I'd been worrying about it, honestly, but I wasn't sure how best to bring it up. Regardless of the answer, though, I'm sorry I never cleared the air before the wedding day."
"It's fine," Laralita assured her as she too stood--what with the likely looming hug and all. "Just promise me one thing."
"For my stepdaughter? Anything."
Laralita indulged the voicing of 'stepdaughter' with a smirk, but it didn't last long. Her request was one that demanded deadly seriousness and a face to match it.
"Never talk to me about sex with my father. Ever."
Holladrin blinked, clearly not having expected to hear quite that. But, she didn't waste much time in nodding. "Fair enough. I'll just talk to you about sex with other men, then."
"Thank God." That settled, Laralita leaned in for that looming hug, not-so-looming now upon the act of the hug itself. "Congratulations, stepmother."
NEXT CHAPTER:
March 14, 1204
"Holladrin! I, uh... I wasn't expecting to see you today." In truth, Farilon had good reason not to have expected her, so she'd take his surprise without question. She'd also take that undeniable smile, and hope to soon see it swell. "I thought we were still... laying low."
"I know, and we probably should for a little longer--but I just had to come and tell you something."
"A good something?"
Of course it's a good something, silly. He wasn't the only one grinning like an idiot.
"A wonderful something!" Holladrin indulged herself with a quick peck to his lips, then eased back, her hands on his shoulders. "My mother approves--of us, I mean. I didn't even know that she knew, but she approves."
"You're serious?" Not words of suspicion, but of hopeful disbelief. If he didn't trust her, those teal eyes wouldn't have hid it well. Those eyes never lied--and for her, at least, they never doubted. "I would have thought... I mean, your mother was the only one who cared at all for Danthia..."
"I think her care for Danthia became..." What had it become? Holladrin sighed. She did not want to think about her late aunt. Danthia would not ruin today for her, or for Farilon. No longer would she ruin anything for Farilon, or for Laralita and Roderick. "I don't know. When it happened, I think she was just relieved that Danthia was... out of her misery. I don't think she ever learned how to not be miserable.
"But that doesn't matter now. Wherever Danthia is--hopefully a place where she can learn to be better--she's not here. And we'll wait some time out of respect, sure, but we can be together now."
"And if your mother supports us, then what reason will anyone else have not to?"
"None that would matter, at any rate." Though, Holladrin supposed the twins might think it strange, at first--the age difference, at the very least, and her friendship with the two of them, and the fact that she was their cousin on their mother's side. But she'd worry for them later. "My mother suggested waiting until well into the summer, at least. To marry, I mean. Er, that is, if you want--"
"If I want?" A soft refrain, as if she'd told a playful joke. "Holladrin, my love: there is nothing I want more."
NEXT CHAPTER:
March 14, 1204
"Please, Holladrin. You've escaped notice so far because everyone else is wrapped up in their own family dramas, but a mother never misses the way her daughter looks at a man--or the way a man looks at her daughter. I said nothing before because there was no need. With your Aunt Danthia dead, that has changed."
Her daughter's deer-to-the-bow look gave Riona no pleasure, but the balance of honesty and discretion was one of few maternal assets she could pride herself on. She'd never been the warmest of people, finding it easier to show affection by pulling strings in the background to make life easier for her children than by cuddling or hours of inane play, and there were days when there was guilt over it. But, Riona Sadiel didn't lie to her children, even if she sometimes had to omit the truth or hide behind cryptic wording. And Riona Sadiel let her adult children make their own decisions, and didn't pry.
Holladrin didn't need to be protected anyway, not from men. Anxious as she might have been at the moment, a clever, pretty girl from a powerful family didn't get to be her age and unmarried if she didn't know how to deal with unwanted suitors. Farilon was not unwanted. While Riona wouldn't pretend to see the appeal, he was kind and caring and loyal--somehow, he'd even managed to be that to Danthia, of all people. Not the choice she would have made for herself, but she didn't disapprove for her daughter.
But, Danthia's death hadn't been so long ago. No one missed her, and no one cared enough to bother taking her passing at more than face value, but if Farilon married so suspiciously early, either he or his new, beloved wife could raise a few eyebrows. That was a string Riona could pull.
"I think it's a fine match."
Her daughter's level of shock neither rose nor lowered, but its manifestation shifted. Where before there was fear, confusion now reigned: wide eyes squinting, quivering lip curled, tense shoulders slouched to a slight tilting of her head. "Sorry?"
"There's the age difference, sure, plus the fact that he was until recently your uncle by marriage--but, he's a stable sort, plus a marriage would renew the tie between House Andronei and the Royal Family that weakened when Farilon's brother left your Aunt Meera a widow. That, and you were adamant throughout your time at the university that you intended to return to Dovia, so on the off-chance that Queen Medea fears Farilon might make a move for her throne, I don't doubt she'd appreciate another reason for him to stay safely out of Naroni."
"From what I hear, Queen Medea isn't so paranoid, Mother--plus everyone knows Farilon has no interest in ruling. I see your point about the alliance, but Aunt Meera did give Conant three children before he died, so that bond lives on as long as they do. And surely it wouldn't seem appropriate if Farilon married again just yet! Especially if people know just how bad his marriage was."
"I didn't say that you ought to head for the chapel right this second." But, if they did head for the chapel, and Riona herself had championed that union... well, then at least any suspicion would be off of Holladrin and Farilon, and instead with the one who at least deserved it. "Give it another few months, well into the summer at least. No one should bat an eye at Farilon never marrying again, after all; he's still a young enough man, plus he couldn't be faulted for wanting an improvement on his first marriage."
"I suppose." Holladrin stood, as she often did when in need of absolute confirmation. Riona had a habit of doing the same. It was difficult to look someone in the eye from the disadvantage of a seat. "You're sure you approve, Mother?"
"You know I wouldn't have said so if I wasn't."
"Yes, but you must understand just how... well, how much of a relief it is," Holladrin finished in a please half-sigh as she stepped forth for a hug. "Thank you, Mother."
"You needn't thank me for wanting you to be happy, darling. So long as Farilon makes you happy and treats you well, why should I object?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
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:
July 16, 1203
"Oh. I, uh... I thought you would have gone home hours ago."
"My horse hates thunder." Holladrin nudged the logs in the hearth with the poker. Farilon hadn't been at home all day, and once the storm had raged too long, she'd been of two minds whether to wait up for him, or to retire to Laralita's room. In truth she still hadn't made that decision, but it was too late now. "By the time the storm was over, it was too late to head home."
"Ah, right. I nearly stayed at my brother's as well."
She wondered if he now wished he had. "Oh."
"I'm sorry that I've been--"
"No. I understand." She set the poker down and turned. The hearth and the candles lit the room well enough, but his hair still shone the color of moonlight. "I haven't had much idea about what to say to you either."
Could she now, though? As well as the alert to her mother, Laralita had also given Holladrin a conversational entrance with Farilon that didn't involve King Oswald's Easter banquet, or anything that might have happened the night of. Then again... no, that wouldn't do. The last thing Farilon wanted to discuss was Danthia, and the last person he wanted to discuss her with was Holladrin. And what could he do with the knowledge of the letter anyway? The closest he had to a means of controlling Danthia was keeping well enough out of her way that she had little need to bother him. Her mother was the one who could look into it without repercussion.
But that left them in their silence, Easter hanging between them in its unspoken and omnipresent glory. She was tired of the silence. If there had to be silence--between the two of them, at least--it ought to have been on their reasoned terms. "I don't want to pretend it didn't happen."
Farilon's head tipped to the side. Struck by her own lack of clarity, Holladrin abandoned the fireplace and hurried toward him. "I mean, obviously I don't want people to know it did, but I don't see why we should let it keep us from ever speaking. It was just one kiss."
"More of a kiss than I've ever had with my wife," he muttered in admission, as if she didn't know that.
"And more of a kiss than I've ever had with anyone. It was a good kiss. I liked it. I don't regret that it happened."
"I don't either." And yet, his mouth remained a steadfast frown. "But I should. I'm a married man. I'm a father, and you're much closer to my children's age than mine. And hell--my wife is your own aunt."
"You're certainly not married in the emotional sense, and I'm an adult, and we barely knew each other before I was an adult. And you're not my uncle by blood." She smiled, somewhat elated by the mere speaking of it. Farilon's mouth didn't move, but however the candles flickered, his eyes did brighten. "I don't want to have an affair--but if you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn't oppose that."
"Does that not count as an affair of sorts?"
"Should it?"
Emboldened--for Farilon, at least--he stepped forth, one hand to the small of her back, one steering nudge to the front of his body. "I'd like to think it would be at least significant enough to name."
"Perhaps it would be better to think it too significant to name."
"Will it be?"
Holladrin shrugged. "It's hard to say, if it hasn't even started."
The tips of his fingers landed beneath her chin and his lips brushed hers like a fleeting dream, only for a second but lingering in dancing pulse about her mouth.
"I suppose that's the start of it, then."
NEXT CHAPTER:
July 16, 1203
"It's adorable. They haven't even met yet, but he's already smitten. I swear, whenever he's not writing letters, he's just waiting for her replies!"
Behind her, Laralita's twin brother groaned. "I'm right here!"
"I know--and you can't even protest. Adorable!" But in truth, she did rather envy Roderick. Laralita had nothing against her own betrothed, but... she had met him. And she spent most of their time together... waiting for him to grow on her.
Plus, they'd been a half-random match of similar age and not-inappropriate standing. Not that she didn't think she was the all-around lucky one, not being the perpetual center of their mother's scheming--but a betrothal to Carvalli royalty? That was a not-insignificant perk.
"Don't be embarrassed, Roderick; I had a few classes with Dera's sister, and she says Dera's similarly enamored." Their cousin Holladrin shot a wink over Laralita's shoulder before turning back to her. "For the record, I have no trouble believing it. He's sweet--like his father."
"I guess." Her father was sweet--but it was strange that Holladrin thought so, given that the last few instances of their being in the same room had involved a level of interaction so minimal that it seemed almost choreographed. But, maybe part of her father's sweetness was that he was a perpetual fish out of water? And whatever Holladrin privately thought, she was the type to give the benefit of the doubt until there was no doubt left to be had. "And with all she dotes on him, I will give my dear baby brother credit for not turning out like our mother."
"Baby brother?" Roderick smacked his own forehead with an open palm. "We're twins! And I'm the older twin!"
Laralita sighed. "God, he's so pedantic."
"And Mother doesn't dote on me! At least not since I grew up, she hasn't. She just can't let go of her stupid delusions of my being king one day. I'd love it if she treated me like she treats you."
"She barely even remembers I exist!"
"That would be perfect!"
"Oh, don't fight! You two always get along so well, so long as the topic of your mother never comes up." Holladrin took Laralita by the arm and dragged her over to the empty bench by Roderick, seating herself on the far end and pulling Laralita down beside her. "Can't we all just agree that your mother is a terrible mother to both of you, if just in different ways? Even my mother thinks your mother treats you both horribly, and my mother might be the only person left who even sort of loves your mother."
"I guess." Roderick sniffed. "I'm sorry, Laralita."
"Sorry, Roderick." Laralita curled her toes inward, the silk of her slipper not so soft as a minute prior. They would be sorry, for now. Her brother may well have been her favorite person on the planet, but of course her mother had to ruin him for her too. "For someone so allegedly obsessed with what's best for you, it's alarming that she doesn't know you wouldn't want to be king even if it were more likely."
"And if she took a minute to notice you, she'd realize that you're clever and charming and full of ideas--and not just some accidental twin daughter to be treated as an eternal afterthought."
"I'll say. She didn't even notice me standing there while she was sending out that letter."
Her brother's mouth curled, dragging his brows down with it. He hadn't known? Their mother hadn't told him? "What letter? Who does Mother write to?"
"I'm not sure, but it was strange even for her. She even came down to meet the courier herself rather than sending it with a servant. She had him prove his illiteracy with a note insulting his mother--I guess she thought he'd react if he could read?--then insisted that the note was only ever to be delivered to... I don't know, she showed him a drawing of symbol or something, then burned that on a candle after he left. Oh, and he told her to burn it if he couldn't deliver it for some reason. Even gave him a flint, just in case."
"That almost sounds like--" Holladrin cut herself off with a shake of her head. For the moment, Laralita would take that as another benefit of the doubt, but she'd ponder the end of the sentence later that night as she drifted off to sleep--and she wouldn't know it then, but the answer would cross her mind. "Maybe she mentioned something to my mother? I'll ask her. If she didn't, then... well, my mother would want to know anyway."
"And I think we'd want your mother to know too," Laralita agreed after a quick shared glance with Roderick. "Sometimes I swear that your mother is the only reason ours isn't a serial killer yet."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 23, 1202
"Oh! Your highness!" The young woman's cheeks flashed pink as she recovered from her spell of jumpiness--as if it were she who was surprised to see Farilon, in the private upper floor of his own house, not expecting to see any vaguely familiar-looking people who apparently knew him on sight coming out of Danthia's bedroom. "I wasn't sure you'd before I left. My mother sent me over to check up on my aunt, because she didn't want to deal with her herself--and who can blame her, really?--but got word that her sister was 'dreadfully ill' and felt obligated to at least inquire. By the way, it's only a somewhat bad-ish cold. I kind of thought that would be the case, what with Aunt Danthia's typical dramatics, and my mother probably thought the same, but nevertheless--"
"It... it's fine. You don't need to explain." Farilon rubbed at the back of his neck, probably just as red as she'd been at the sight of him. Danthia's niece, then? One of Riona's daughters, probably the eldest if he had a reasonable guess of her age. What was her name? He'd seen her before, certainly. The red curls, the blue Sadiel eyes...
Though, the womanly body must have been a more recent development. "Uh, it... it was nice of you to indulge her."
"You don't know my name, do you?"
"Uh..." He racked his brain again for the names of Riona's daughters--and barely managed to remember Riona's name. She had him there. "Well, if you're half Andronei and half Sadiel, I can probably narrow it down to... six choices?"
"You sound just like the Carvalli students back at the university--as if they're not just as bad with that." Still a university student. Dear Lord. Was he already old enough to be a dirty old man? "Anyway, it's Holladrin. For my paternal grandmother."
"Right. Your, uh, your grandfather's first wife."
"Are you all right?" Her pretty eyes narrowed, pouting lip to a puzzled frown. Such a dynamic face, from the few minutes he'd spent staring at it. Danthia, for the most part, had maybe two expressions. "Frankly, you're much more out of sorts than Aunt Danthia is--at least, by whatever low standard of sanity we can assign to her, at least."
"Uh, yes, I think so." But that arched red brow said he wasn't convincing. "I don't know. Maybe I've caught Danthia's cold? I hope my children don't get it."
His children! Good God. If Holladrin was still attending the university, then she wasn't much older than the twins. And yet--he was staring at her hair, how soft and full it was, and how long it had been since his fingers had been lost in a woman's curls. Er, that was to say, the curls on her head.
Though, come to think of it--
"Um... yes. Yes, I'm definitely coming down with something." He drew his fist to his mouth and forced out a cough. His blood had drawn to the same boil as it had back in his youth, that first time he'd noticed how Aydelle Ildaras's hips swayed in a pendulum motion when she walked away. That had resulted in a swat to the back of the head from his sister Camaline, then a flick of her violet eyes downward and warning that he needed a cold bath. "Uh, I don't want to be rude, but maybe you should... I mean, surely you don't need to catch anything so close to Christmas--"
"Yes, right. I was just about to leave anyway, before I ran into you." She paid him a hasty, likely indulgent smile, then took hold of her skirt for a quick curtsy. What the hell was wrong with him, longing to dive beneath it and let loose his tongue between her legs? "Feel better, your highness."
"Thank-- thank you." Damn, his face couldn't have been far from the color of her hair. "Uh... have a good day."
She hurried past him, no doubt eager to get away but too polite to run. Farilon forced himself not to turn around and watch her leave, lest she have a sway in her hips.
How long had it been? He'd have to get to a brothel soon. It hadn't occurred to him just how pent-up he was.
NEXT CHAPTER:
