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June 10, 1203
"Welcome... dear." Riona had meant to say 'welcome home', but it felt somewhat presumptuous to be calling her castle Aspen's home just yet. Her daughter-in-law had only recently resolved to move in, and both she and Nato had been so hesitant about it that Riona and Isidro had agreed to treat this as a trial stay. With a vested interest in said trial going well--a happy home life would give Nato some incentive to take better care of himself--Riona didn't want to jeopardize it.
She hoped a hug, at least, wasn't stifling. Not greeting Aspen with a hug would have been aloof, and neither extreme would have made for a promising start. "How was the ride?"
"Well enough, thank you." Aspen held her breath, as if sucking in her stomach would have been enough to free their discourse of baby subtext. That... was another trial. Riona knew better than to impose her will on that either. "My parents will be by later with some of my things."
"Of course." Some of her things had already been brought. It would be a gradual move, which Riona didn't mind. She could gauge her expectations by the number of deliveries.
"Riona had your room prepared. Just let one of us know if anything's been overlooked." Isidro, as Riona might have guessed, had opted for diplomacy over familiarity. Between the two of them, perhaps they could strike an ideal balance. "I think it goes without saying that where Nato sleeps is up to you."
"He can stay." A soft request, a quiet one, but sure enough in conviction. "I don't want to be an inconvenience."
"Never a need to worry about that. If your stay here can grant you and Nato any clarity--separately or otherwise--then your presence is the exact opposite of that."
"If anything, this castle's been a little empty since our older three left home," Riona added, again substituting a phrase at the last second. 'Started their families' might have set in an acute dread about the two of them starting their own. "A great big place like this needs young people to keep the candles on in all corners. Old folks like us just want to stay curled up in one cozy little wing and leave the rest to ruin."
"You two aren't old," Aspen offered, never mind that they were older than her parents. "Thank you, though. Do you mind if I go lie down?"
Riona shook her head and watched her as her son took Aspen's hand with a slow reach. He found his haste as they touched, and the two whisked away to the castle's interior. It wasn't the usual newlywed impatience. Each of them no doubt needed space to hear themselves think first, then a little less to bounce thoughts off each other. In any case, Isidro and Riona made for two people too many in the room, and it was to their credit that they'd made sure the children had been occupied.
And with greetings out of the way, maybe they needed their space for a while too.
"Just curled up in one cozy little wing, are we?"
With a swiftness she hadn't known he still had, Isidro looped his arm about her waste and pulled her into him. How long had she known him, now? Dear Lord, they were old.
But it wasn't all that often when they stopped to consider that. "As long as I'm curled up with you."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 17, 1202
"So... a familiar is... some sort of external extension of the soul?"
It was, undoubtedly, more complicated that that--more complicated than his uncle's records since the bizarre incident of Balin's creation, more complicated than whatever research he'd managed had probably pieced together. But, based on Isidro's understanding of the journal passages, based on what he'd tried to relay to Lonriad once he'd returned from his walk... "I guess that's the best way of summarizing it. You said that your grandson sometimes blanks out every now and then? My guess is that when he does that, he's inhabiting the kitten's body temporarily."
Like his uncle must have done with Balin every so often, even kingdoms away. That had been how he'd kept tabs on him. "It's a separate entity the rest of the time, but he can take it over at will. It's a part of him, but not. I guess it'd be the same with Yvanette and the cat, if she chose to do so; you said she doesn't need to transform any more?"
Lonriad nodded. "She hasn't, at least. I doubt she's tried. She always hated it, ever since she was a little girl."
"Explains why she was such a gloomy child. I take it this was a manifestation of whatever magic was left in Ashe after Jadin and I fished him out of the sex pond?"
His brother-in-law's eye twitched. It might have been the wrong choice, saying that, but he had now. "You knew about that?"
"I figured it out some years back--but, I had more firsthand information to work with than most, and it's a stretch of the possible anyway. I don't think Ashe needs to worry about anyone else who might know."
"Does he know that you know?"
Isidro shook his head. "I'd imagine it's better for his well-being if he doesn't. He doesn't need another track to worry about covering, and I'll assure you that I have no interest in disclosing his secrets."
"I'm sure you don't, but now I'm worried that I'll let loose that you know. Then again, Ashe might already be anxious about how much you know--what with all that time Aspen spends pestering your son, and now you heading out here with me to find out more about familiars."
"I'll let you be the judge of that, then. You know him far better than I do." And if he thought about it... he hadn't known his uncle all that much better than Lonriad had. "You can keep my uncle's journals. My aunt said it was all right if you did, and you shouldn't have to go through me any time you want something looked up. Besides, my uncle was a doctor; chances are, anything he documented to help himself, he would have wanted it to help others if it could."
Lonriad's head slumped to the side, as if his frown was weighted unevenly. "You're sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. It's like Aunt Amani said: you're my family. I trust you." As if their first trip out here handed been proof of that. "Besides, I have better things to do than to puzzle out my uncle's handwriting for you."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 16, 1202
"Well, here's where Imran said they'd be: with our father's more personal texts." Isidro's aunt gestured to the shelves in the corner of the room. How many years had it been, now, since the last time Lonriad had accompanied his brother-in-law here? Back when Isidro's grandfather had been on his deathbed? Lord... it must have been twenty. He and Asalaye had conceived Alina shortly after that trip.
This time, though, it wasn't so much that he was accompanying Isidro as it was that Isidro was accompanying him. Or that Isidro had relented and written his aunt, and she'd had what he was looking for.
Familiar. Deian and Imran had used the same word.
"Thanks for your help, Aunt Amani."
"Don't mention it. Imran thought you might have more questions, as did my father; I won't stand in the way of their answers."
"Well..." Lonriad tugged at his sleeve. God, he hoped he wasn't intruding. Amani had said that some of Imran's personal journals would hold some of what he sought, but Imran was a dead man he'd barely know. He'd already insisted that Isidro be the one to read them, and the relay only the relevant information. It just seemed like the right way to go about it--if there was a right way.
"It's my question, really. This time."
"That doesn't matter." Amani, tired as her eyes were, indulged him with what he read for a true smile. She was the last of Zaahir's children now; perhaps she thought she owed her father's memory the knowledge that guests in his home found what they sought. "You're Isidro's family, and Isidro is mine. That makes you my family as well.
"Imran would have been even more sure of that than I am."
NEXT CHAPTER:
October 11, 1201
"Everything all right?"
Severin's father had a serious look about him more often than not, but if the hard, unblinking glint of his eye was anything to go by, he already knew the answer to that question. That wasn't unexpected. If there was reason to act as if he wasn't at least a little upset, Severin hadn't see it--so, why would he have bothered to pretend?
Especially when the only reason he'd seen fit to disturb his father in the first place was to inform him. "The dog died."
His father's posture stiffened as if cued by his frown--shoulders braced, arms forward, fists balled. There was no denying that Balin had been old for a dog, unless it was to argue that Balin had been downright ancient for a dog. Severin would be sixteen in December. He didn't know exactly how old Balin had been, as he'd made himself part of the family as a full-grown dog, but... well, he'd been a full-grown dog well before Severin had been born. And not only had he been older than Severin, but Nato and Alina as well. Any other dogs who'd been acquired at the same time had been gone for years now.
And yet, it had only been in the past few weeks that Balin had shown any beyond-aesthetic signs of his age.
"Well... no one can say he didn't live a damn full life for a dog, I suppose." All the same, his father didn't fight the escaping sigh. "I don't think I was prepared for it, though. After so many years of him putting off dying, I suppose I'd figured he'd never bother with it at all."
"At least he went peacefully, it looks like?" When that was said of people, Severin had yet to see what difference that assertion made--but, in Balin's case, given how unnaturally long he'd lived anyway... "Viridis found him. He was just curled up, like he'd gone to sleep and just stopped breathing at some point, none the wiser."
"I don't know. I think he knew it was coming. He always was uncanny that way. My uncle said he was more of a familiar than a pet; don't ask me what that means exactly, but you couldn't deny that Balin was always rather more--"
His father's voice came to a stunned halt, his lip curling inward and his eyes falling prey to a series of rapid-fire blinks. It might have been best to let him finish or not finish the thought as he saw fit, but Severin couldn't help himself. Anxious confusion was not a state in which he wished to leave his father floundering. "Father?"
"I know I can't be certain--" And yet, the catch in his throat insisted that he was. "--but I think my uncle is dead."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 1, 1200
If Riona's husband had ever doubted that he was a better man than his father, then surely even he must have proven himself wrong that morning. "It would have served him right if you'd just turned him aside outright. Even agreeing to see him was a mercy."
"I know." Yet, the toe of Isidro's boot scuffed the floor in agitation. "I just... I don't know. Part of me wants to rip myself apart for going so easy on him--and at the same time, all these nagging voices in my head are tearing me a new one for not doing more for my own father. I can't win with that prick."
"I don't think anyone ever has." Riona sniffed. She hadn't seen Sir Domingo since that unfortunate rainy night they'd been stranded at his hunting retreat, and that was far too recently for her taste; fortunately for her, he hadn't asked for her, so she'd been able to avoid him. "You're right, Izzy--he's a prick. I doubt he's ever had a genuine kind thought for anyone in his life, and he only has himself to blame for the fact that no one will miss him when he goes. You don't owe him anything, no matter what any nagging voices say."
"I know--or, my brain knows, at least." Isidro tossed back his head with a sigh; he didn't have as many grey hairs as some men his age, but the few he did have all caught the light at once. "You know, in some ways... I almost hope he has a few more decades left in him. When he dies, I'll know whether or not I'll miss him at all, and I don't think I'm ready to face either possibility."
"That's... fair, I suppose." Though, privately, Riona didn't see why Isidro would have any obligation to grieve. "But I don't know if we do the concept of family all that well, assigning it to blood ties. It's love that makes a family--love and respect."
Her husband smirked. "And with your family, you would say that."
"And it's a good thing that they're your family too." She gave him a quick peck of the lips, then smoothed down the front of his tunic--though, considering the time, she had to scold herself for bothering. "Shall we get changed? My father and stepmother will be expecting us soon."
"Good. I'm in sore need of the sight of some worthy parents right about now."
NEXT CHAPTER:
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:
January 31, 1193
"So," Riona broke the silence of the past half hour or so as she bounced the whimpering little bundle. "We have a grandson."
"So we do." Isidro eyed the pale head with a wary curiosity. Some might have judged him for it, but his main concern throughout the entire pregnancy and birth had been his daughter. The baby's welfare had been entirely secondary in his mind, and he couldn't say he regretted it. Shahira was irreplaceable. The baby had been an abstract concept, an amorphous idea. Why the hell should he care more about the baby than his beloved daughter?
But, now that the kid was here--now that he knew Shahira was safe--he supposed the baby would grow on him. Especially since he and Riona would be the primary caregivers until Aldhein graduated.
"You've barely even seen him, have you?" Riona lowered the infant from her shoulder. It was true--Isidro had been at Shahira's side until Aldhein had arrived, and now the two of them rested together, far more interested in each other than they were in reclaiming the baby from his grandmother. "Take a look."
He did as he was told, hoping the sight of the child would pique his interest somewhat. He was pleased, at least, to see Riona's eyes on the boy's face, even though he otherwise didn't think it a handsome infant. The dark brows and wispy black hairs made for an eerie combination with his far-too-pale-for-a-newborn skin.
God. He'd thought his feelings logical before the pregnancy had reached a favorable conclusion, but he struggled to justify now, with Shahira in excellent health, why he still looked at this baby and just saw something they'd pulled out of her, something that might have killed her and only by sheer luck hadn't. His thoughts were obsolete, yet they remained.
He just wasn't ready to be a grandfather.
"Will you hold him?"
Isidro stiffened. How he'd hid his tension well enough for Riona to miss it, he couldn't guess. "Uh... you don't want him for longer?"
"I've had him a while now. He needs to meet his grandfather." She held him out and waited for Isidro to extend a reluctant arm. "Don't worry; he's quite calm."
"With you, maybe." Infants did tend to know when they weren't wanted.
Riona snorted and lowered the ball of blankets into his arms. "Just hold little Izzy for a while."
Isidro raised an eyebrow. "...Seriously?"
"Aldhein has a ton of older siblings. He said there were already enough Florians."
"I guess." He raised the baby to his shoulder. It was a little easier if he imagined it was nearly seventeen years prior and it was Shahira he was holding. "I suppose at least you'll reserve that name for him now."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 25, 1192
"Well..."
Riona found herself trailing off, unsure of what else to say. A scolding would have been hypocrisy; she'd been a mother of two at sixteen, her first biological child born a scandalous four and a half months after the wedding. All the same, she hadn't expected this of Shahira, who'd passed over Riona's recklessness in favor of her father's calculated caution. Then again, Isidro had had just as much a hand in Riona's situation as Riona herself.
Being careful did not exempt a person from being human.
"I can't say I thought we'd be having this conversation any time soon. But we'll figure something out."
Isidro nodded in agreement. "From the sounds of the timing, the baby should be born before you start at the university. That's... lucky, I suppose."
"You're still letting me go, then?"
"Of course!" Had she really feared otherwise? "With your grades, it would be a shame for you to miss out."
"What about the baby, though?"
"The baby can live with us until Aldhein graduates," Isidro offered. "We're close enough that you can come home on weekends, or ride over if there's an emergency."
"And what about Aldhein?"
"Well... that would be up to you." Isidro looked to Alya, then Riona. Then, finally, to Shahira. Potential spouses were always a tough subject for fathers and children. "Do you want to marry him?"
Shahira shrugged. "It would make things easier. And I am fond of him, but I don't want marry someone who doesn't want to marry me."
"We'll invite him over to talk, then. But we won't force you to get married if you don't want to," Riona assured her.
"Thank you." Shahira sighed. "I just hope he doesn't take this as an excuse to drop out."
"I doubt Florian would take kindly to the loss of tuition money, so for Aldhein's sake, we won't let that happen."
"And if he wants, and the two of you do decide to get married, I would offer him a job as my steward when he's finished with university."
"He might like that." Shahira smirked, as if chuckling at some private joke. Riona would take it; it was the first smile she'd seen from her in a while. "I don't think he's really too interested in his studies."
"That's all right." Riona hadn't been much interested in her lessons either, back in the day. At least Shahira had overcome that trait. "He'll have plenty else to look forward to. Shall we have him over for dinner tonight?"
"I can go invite him," Alya volunteered.
Shahira nodded. "All right."
"Good." Riona clapped her hands together. It was a gesture of somewhat forced joy--but it beat flying off the handle. And it beat the thought of Raia's smug face when she found out she wouldn't be the first of them to be a grandmother after all. "Now, all that's left is for us to hug it out."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 26, 1185
Following Maesflein's execution, autumn had passed quietly for Nora, the only remarkable event being the reveal of Alsina's miracle pregnancy (which, technically... that would have been a summer instance). This hadn't bothered her. In truth, since she'd watched that man breathe his last--since she'd tried and failed to keep poor Ilvina comfortable in her last hours--since she'd driven that knife into that monster's scrotum--she'd had enough to want to call it a year.
The only complaint Nora had about the autumn of 1185 was that it had happened at all. She'd spent those months feeling morose and exhausted and done with the world, wanting little more than to curl up in bed and sleep until winter. She'd wondered more than once if menopause had sneaked up on her, but each month had so far proven her wrong. Regardless, she felt she'd aged more since September than she had in the decade prior. She'd told herself it must have been Raia's birthday--she was old enough to have a thirty-year-old stepdaughter!--but that couldn't have been it. More likely... she'd just had enough for one year.
But the year was almost over now. Christmas had come, and--judging by what little moonlight she perceived in her half-slumber--now it had gone. They'd had the family over. Some had stayed the night, some hadn't. They'd see them all again for New Year's at Celina and Ovrean's. Then again for her birthday, when she'd no doubt feel younger than she did now.
"Nora?"
She stirred. It wasn't Severin's voice, but it was a man's, and not a stranger's--even if she couldn't place it. She may have imagined it. That foggy purgatory between dreaming and wakefulness was not devoid of delusion. "Mmm?"
"Nora!" A hand fell to her shoulder; she flinched, realizing too late that it couldn't have been Maesflein. "Sorry..."
Indeed, Maesflein wouldn't have apologized. Nora lifted her eyelids as Atlas held the earth. "...Isidro?"
Her stepson-in-law, scar prominent even in the night. With Riona close to term, the pair of them had opted to keep their family off the road for the night. If she could guess at the one thing he'd wake her for, then that had been the right choice. "Is Riona having the baby?"
"Yes."
Of course she was. "Who's with her now?"
"Just Alya. But I sent Lyssa to get Xeta and CeeCee to get Raia."
Xeta and Raia would do--especially if the young girls were intent on seeing the birth, which was no doubt the case of they were up. Assuming all went well, at any rate. Nora sat up and nudged Severin awake--just in case. "How does she feel?"
"Not any different from the others, if that's what you're asking. Should I send for Arydath anyway?"
"Arydath?" Severin pried his head from the pillow and groaned. "What the--?"
"Riona's having the baby." He'd probably guessed as much, but it didn't hurt to be clear in the hazy hours. "No, I think it should be fine. If things get out of hand, Aerina's much closer anyway."
"I'll trust your judgment there." Isidro offered her a hand and helped her to her feet; in the drowsiness of the hour, it was a fight to find the floor. "I'm sorry to end your year like this."
Nora shook her head. "It's fine. Let's call it a beginning."
NEXT CHAPTER:
