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May 26, 1178
Under otherwise ideal circumstances, Searle's wife and sister-in-law were not the most natural of companions. They were both clever women, rather quiet women, but they were clever and quiet in different ways. Unlike Ren, whose social reservations sprang more from a reluctance to waste her voiced thoughts on anyone who wouldn't appreciate them, Searle suspected that Ramona was at least a little shy--not surprising, as she'd grown up with a rather boisterous triplet sister. But Ramona was like Lettie in terms of her cerebral, theoretical nature; Ren's smarts tended to be focused on more immediate, practical things like logistics and politics. They didn't dislike each other so far as Searle knew, but they certainly didn't seek each other out.
Under less than ideal circumstances, however...
Well. Sometimes, people didn't really need to speak.
"How?"
If the eyes had their way, Ietrin's question was directed at the empty hearth. How many times had they watched their uncle light fires in this room? Searle had to turn around. "Suicide, it seems."
"Would he have really done that to the children?"
Searle sighed. He loved his brother, but Ietrin could be so frustratingly naive. "If he didn't love them quite enough. Really, Ietrin, you'd think you'd understand the concept of parental abandonment by now."
"But he did love them enough, and you know it. And he loved us enough too." A gangly hand grazed Searle's shoulder and steered him around. "You're angry with him, aren't you? He was the closest thing we had to a father."
"But he wasn't our father." Not that it made much of a difference in the long run. "And why should I be angry? I'm simply being rational. It's not as if he'd been the same since Aunt Eldona passed. If you ask me, he's been planning this since she died; he was just waiting for a point at which he could commit the act guiltlessly."
Frowning, Ietrin cocked his head to the side. "Guiltlessly?"
"Well, he couldn't have guessed how long his parents would live, and with both Ovrean and Tarien out of the country I can't imagine he would have wanted his children raised by Vulcran and that sanctimonious bitch of a wife of his; to ensure that they'd be in good hands, he had to wait until Riona was grown and about to be married so that her husband could provide a stable home for the rest of them."
"A stable home? With Uncle Haldred and Aunt Cladelia?"
Searle sniffed. "Perhaps he just grew sick of waiting. Besides, for all Primus's grandparents might be a little volatile, his father is a decent fellow."
"A decent fellow with his own motherless hoard, yes."
"Riona and Primus can look after them."
"Riona and Primus are children." Ietrin wiped back a tear, causing Searle to stiffen. Crying brought him enough discomfort even if it was his own brother. "Searle, I don't think you can puzzle this out."
Ren glanced over from the couch, giving him a reprieve from the sight of his brother's watering eyes. Ren's own were dry, but inscrutable; if only for the sake of his sanity, he'd assume that she agreed with him. "Don't be absurd. He must have had some reasoning for what he did."
His brother just stood there, rocking back and forth slightly as Ramona looked on with a nervous frown and Ren took to staring at her lap. "Well, you can think what you think, and I'll feel what I feel. Will you write to Mother, or should I?"
Searle closed his eyes. He'd never written a letter to their mother in his life, whereas Ietrin wrote her at least once a week. But no doubt she'd grown tired of those letters and most of them were filed away unread. If it was written in Searle's hand, then it was a rarity, an urgency--something to be heeded. If people were puzzles, then even his mother could be solved; why was his uncle such a struggle?
"I'll write to her. Perhaps you ought to head to Valcria to be with our cousins; you always were better with the little ones than I was."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 30, 1174
A shaking hand grasped at Tavrin's forearm and squeezed--stunned, disbelieving, but beyond ecstasy. "He's waking up!"
Indeed, the Dovan's breathing had steadied and his eyes were beginning to flicker. There had been a brief moment during which Tavrin had thought they'd lost him, but he was fine now. He was going to be all right. "He is."
"Ren." The word was little more than a hoarse whisper, but it was still a word. A name. Her name. "Ren?"
"Searle!" The woman's grip tightened, her nails digging into his arm in spite of the borrowed cloak's scratchy fabric. Not that Tavrin could blame her. She loved this man. He wouldn't have been watching his fingers either had that been Atala on the bed. "You're alive!"
His eyes drooping, the man pushed himself upright. He might as well have just been waking from a nap. "It sure looks that way, doesn't it?"
His wife let ring a controlled giggle. As close to a smile as such a grim-looking human must have ever come, the Dovan slipped off the bed and greeted her with a kiss. "I love you."
Clinging a little more tightly, she rested her chin on his shoulder. From what Tavrin could see, there was a hint of a tear in her eye. "I love you too."
"Promise me something?"
She nodded. He stepped back and looked her in the eyes for a minute, then sighed. "Let's grow old together, all right? Really old. So old that we'll be halfway rotted and no one else will want to look at us by the end. But it'll be all right because we can look at each other. And then we can die in our sleep one night, maybe holding hands under the covers if our fingers haven't fallen off by then." He wove his hand between locks of her hair and began to play with her curls. "Can we do that?"
"Of course." The tear was gone and replaced by a small sparkle. It swelled a little as she stood on her toes and met him with another kiss. "You always said we'd be together forever."
"And we will be--no matter what happens."
The rest of the room might as well have not existed. Tavrin might have been intruding by simply not leaving. He'd played his part already. He didn't have to stick around for their happily ever after. Besides, didn't he have a love of his own? Didn't he have his own happily ever after waiting for him back in Naroni?
"Excuse me?"
Or maybe he still existed in Ren-and-Searle World after all. "You're the one who healed me, aren't you?"
Not sure what else had to be said, Tavrin nodded. From what he'd heard, the man was the type to dismiss others as idiots, but perhaps there were certain things that cast all doubts aside. "Thank you."
Tavrin's lips twitched into a small smile. "Not problem."
"Searle."
It was a voice he'd grown familiar with over the past few days, the voice of that silly Dovan lady with the funny hat and the perma-pucker lips. Tavrin glanced over his shoulder; sure enough, she'd risen from her place on the couch and was now staring at the man, waiting for his acknowledgment of her presence.
Somehow, Tavrin got the feeling that she would be waiting a while.
The man locked eyes with his wife for a moment or so before shooting a glare the way of his younger brother. "Ietrin, did you bring her here?"
The boy buried his face in his hands. The red-haired Dovan on the couch turned his head, slouching somewhat. "Searle, don't be too hard on your brother."
"I shan't be." The hat lady flinched. Tavrin knew why. The older man's advice had said nothing in regards to her.
The seconds ticked by with an agonizing slowness. The boy and the girl and the redhead exchanged their glances. The man's fist clenched and his wife bit her lip. The hat lady just stood there, looking like she might crumble to pieces at the slightest disturbance.
But to Tavrin's relief, the tension was eased by the arrival of two more Dovans from the other room--one of whom was very small. The youngster flashed a goofy grin Tavrin' s way, then bounced up and down in the Dovan King's arms and reached toward his father. "Papa!"
"My baby." The man rushed to his wife's side and held out his arms to receive the child, who greeted him with a hug around the neck and a slobbery kiss on the cheek. "My big, beautiful boy."
The baby laughed. A tad more serious, the man ran his fingers through his son's silky hair and held him back a little, just enough to look him in the eye. "I'll never leave you. You know that, right? I'll never leave you. Not now, not later, not even when I'm dead. I'll never leave you--never."
For some reason, the hat lady bowed her head, frowning. There was something amiss with the Dovan's wife as well, but it was harder to pinpoint; maybe he'd been wrong in assuming she'd just be happy to see her husband alive. "Searle..."
"I just want him to know that." He kissed the baby on the brow, then nodded to the Dovan King. "Thank you for watching him, your majesty. It's a shame that my father and your late wife can't be here with us today, but you yourself are more than all the grandparent my children will ever need."
NEXT CHAPTER:
After a good minute of awkward starting, Ren still didn't know what to make of her mother-in-law's strange guest. His eyes were alarming and the markings on his face were bizarre and she had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't wearing anything under that cloak. But it didn't matter. If he could help Searle, he could have been a reanimated spider corpse for all she cared.
"You is the wife, then?" His voice was an elemental overload upon her ears. It rang with the warm caress of a summer breeze and refreshing cool of dewy grass on bare feet, and yet there was an edge to it not unlike the foreboding glow of a distant wildfire. But if she looked him over one more time--sized him up, dove into his eyes--she had a hopeful feeling that there was no hostility to be found. He wanted to help. He wouldn't have come if he hadn't.
"Yes." She let her hands fall to her sides, the hard cool of her wedding band tangible even through the silk of her gown. "Can you save him?"
Behind her, Searle's uncle heaved a skeptical sigh. The heavy fabric of Elhina's cloak rustled and Ietrin moaned. Ren was only relieved that her son wasn't here, exposed to this toxic mix of cynical resignation and her own foolish shred of hope. Thank God her father had been willing to play with him in the other room. This was no place for a three-year-old boy--or anyone, for that matter.
Tavrin's ethereal eyes flickered to the bed, where Searle lay in a cold sweat, his mother hovering over him. Laralita had barely acknowledged Ren or Koradril upon her arrival; she'd just marched up to the bedside and cemented herself to the spot. Was it her right to act the doting mother after all these years of neglect? Ren wasn't sure whether to feel touched or enraged. Searle would probably be furious to learn that Ietrin had even considered bringing her here.
But if Tavrin could actually do something... did it even matter? Maybe it would to Searle, maybe in the short term. He was a proud man and he wouldn't break down in his resolute hatred of his mother, not even if she had indirectly saved his life. But he would get over it. This way, he might see Karlspan grow up. They might have a few more children, Lord willing. He might even bounce their grandchildren on his knee. Surely that--even the thought of that--was more important than his undying grudge? "Please... can you help him?"
The visitor turned back to her, his fists clenched and his brows flat. His mouth was motionless for a moment longer, but his lips opened as Searle began to toss beneath the covers. "I try, yes?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 24, 1174
"...but of course the winter has long outstayed its welcome--hard to believe that it's nearly May, isn't it? Oh well, at least it gives me an excuse to wear that lovely crispinette your father gave me for my birthday. Speaking of which, perhaps you'd like a similar one for a wedding gift, Elhina? I know we haven't set a date yet, but it's bound to be sooner rather than later, so..."
Their mother seemed so enraptured with her own voice that she didn't even detect Elhina's exasperated sigh. Not that Mona found that too surprising. Mona was at the age when girls started to realize that their mothers weren't perfect--and with her mother, that epiphany had hit years ago. She almost wished it was her own theoretical wedding they were talking about, if only because it would mean she could get the hell out of this castle a little sooner.
Alas, she was only nine. But at least that gave her time to figure out some way out of here without having to get married? Maybe something involving pirates...
"Oh, but it simply couldn't be anything like mine, of course! Mind you, the homage would be flattering, but I do have to stay one step ahead of--"
Whatever it was her mother had to stay one step ahead of, Mona never heard. The knock at the door was a welcome interruption. "Your majesty? Your son is here to see you."
Her mother's face scrunched into an annoyed pout. There was nothing she hated more than being interrupted. "Which one? I have three sons."
"Five," Elhina corrected under her breath. Mona didn't know whether or not to acknowledge that she'd heard her.
But apparently, her mother did. "Yes, five. Three, and then two. Anyway, which is it?"
"Young Ietrin, your highness."
"Oh, of course!" sighed Mona's mother as if it had been obvious--though really, Ietrin would have been the least likely option the way Mona saw it. Not that she and her mother ever saw things the same way. "Well? Send him in."
Eblor's footsteps could be heard making their way down the corridor, soon replaced by another set heading in the other direction. Mona watched with relief as her brother stepped into the room, shattering whatever remained of their mother's insufferably girly oasis. "Sisters."
"Ietrin."
Mona barely knew her two older brothers, but the differences between them were apparent even in her limited scope. While Searle must have been the spitting image of his late father, Mona suspected that Ietrin was exactly what their mother would have looked like had she been a man. Where Searle was stone-cold and glaring, Ietrin was inviting and never without that shy smile Mona wouldn't have thought fitting for her mother's lips. But the most striking perpendicular was how they acted around their mother. She could have taken the whole world in her hands and laid it at Searle's feet, and he would have shoved it aside. Ietrin would have settled for the smallest house in the tiniest village in the poorest country if it meant a second of her time, a fraction of her heart."Mother."
"Darling." Mona's mother rose with the grace of an empress and the contentment of a caged animal. "I trust your journey was well."
Ietrin swallowed. "Well enough."
Nodding, their mother locked her hands together and flexed them outward, the gold of her wedding band as bright and flawless as the day Mona's father had placed it on her finger. Mona wasn't sure if Ietrin could stomach the sight, but it didn't matter. He wasn't looking. "What brings you to Naroni?"
For a moment, all was silent. Ietrin opened his mouth, but no sound burst forth. He tried again a few seconds later, but was no more successful. A third time... a fourth...
The fifth time was something different entirely.
"Mama, you have to c-come home!"
Mona felt the blood drain from her face, a faint spell coming over her in spite of the fact that she'd never been prone to such things. She'd never seen a man cry, and she'd certainly never seen her mother move to comfort anyone. "Mother...?"
"Please!" Ietrin buried his face in his hands and wailed. "We have to leave t-tomorrow! You have t-to come with m-me..."
Her eyes a strange mix of compassion and surprise, Mona's mother bit her lip. "Darling..."
"Please." The world might have ended right there and it wouldn't have mattered as far as the two of them were concerned. Choking back another sob, Ietrin wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "It's Searle..."
NEXT CHAPTER:
