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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:
January 15, 1157
Dalston had found his brother, but it seemed that Arkon had already settled in the company of his in-laws.
They were seated on the bride's side--not surprising, seeing as Lileina was their niece, after all. Lileina was an Andronei, but it was obvious that the Sadiel clan from which her mother came would dominate her seating. Most of the guests had not yet gathered on the platform where the ceremony would take place, but the Sadiel men seemed to have made a point to congregate earlier than everyone else. Sir Marsden, the youngest of the Sadiel brothers, exchanged a good-natured, yet visibly bored glance with Dalston from where he stood behind the back bench, where silently sat Karlspan, the sickly Earl of Bandera, another Sadiel in-law. In front of him was Arkon, seemingly talking to his father-in-law in the row in front of him, and wearing the absolute ugliest tunic Dalston had ever seen; he was somewhat surprised that Renata had allowed him to come to her niece's wedding sporting something that was seemingly made from a faded tapestry and a few old bedsheets.
Dalston was rather surprised to find the redheaded Sir Vulcran here, sitting with his brother Sir Tarien; ordinarily, Vulcran could be found only wherever wine and women could also be found. Perhaps he was showing some restraint for the sake of his oldest sister's oldest daughter, though, whether of his own accord or by the insistence of some other family member.
Tarien too seemed rather out-of-place. As usual, he had not bothered to comb his hair--he had probably come straight from the stables.
However, the oldest two brothers, Koradril and Sir Ovrean, were as immaculate as ever.
And of course, there was their brother-in-law--Haldred, the Baron of Hoprine. The father of the bride looked as majestically apathetic as he ever did, despite the occasion; Dalston suspected that the act was all he could do to keep himself from bursting into tears.
Behind him sat his wife's father, the Count of Valcria and Sadiel patriarch. Dalston had been quite young when Cladelia had married Haldred, but if he remembered correctly, Searle was exactly as he had been in the front pew of the chapel at Hoprine that day.
He'd forgotten how much he missed these men, and everyone else at this wedding. They hadn't necessarily been close, but with only ten fully interbred noble families in Dovia, they had certainly been a part of each other's lives--spending holidays in a distant shire, sending younger sons off to be raised by other lords...
Weddings and funerals; that would be it for them now. Personally... Dalston was hoping for more weddings.
NEXT CHAPTER:
