In Which Celina Judges the Ease

September 8, 1199

"You wanted to discuss something with me?" Celina asked her son-in-law, rather at a loss for what he might have possibly wanted. They had remained on good terms since her daughter's death, and he'd proven a capable father to her grandchildren. Most casual requests he could make of her would have required little fanfare, likely by letter or slipped into conversation when they saw each other next. Even a larger favor, such as minding the children if he were to leave the country for a couple weeks, wouldn't have merited an unexpected in-person visit.

"I did, yes." Nythran dropped his hands from his hips and took to tugging at his sleeve. He was not a nervous sort of man, so the tic raised some degree of alarm inside Celina's head. Surely if something had happened to one of his children, he would have been at their side?

But he smiled. The children, thank God, were fine. "Uh... you're probably aware that I've been spending a lot of time with Cladelia lately."

"I had noticed, yes." She did live in the same castle as her daughter-in-law, after all. "You've been quite a comfort to her since Searle passed. Thank you for that."

"In truth, she's been quite a comfort to me as well. My children like her as well, and their children. Holladrin in particular worships Lileina."

"I see." She did, now. At least, she thought she did. "Nythran, are you thinking about marrying Cladelia?"

"I--" He coughed out an anxious chuckle before the answer proper. That, in itself, was answer enough. "Well, I don't want to make you uncomfortable--you know, since I was married to your daughter, and she was married to your son. I still miss Riona, and I know Cladelia still misses Searle, but..."

"But it's easier to miss them together than it is to miss them on your own."

Nythran nodded. "Exactly."

"I understand. And I hope you know that I want both you and Cladelia to be as happy as possible--and that both Riona and Searle would want the same."

"So... you'd be all right with it, then?"

"Of course."

"Well! Uh... thank you." A spark in his eye rather less than subtle, Nythran's mouth fell to a sheepish grimace. "I don't know if I could have been all right with it if I were in your position, to be honest."

"For your sake, I hope you never have to find out if you would be." Both Ovrean and Holladrin, she hoped, would live the long lives their poor mother had been denied. "But I can't think of a better stepmother for your children than Cladelia--or of a better stepfather for her children than you."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Cladelia Would Prefer a Better Word

July 20, 1198

"Well... it's nice that Celina still invites me to family dinners," Nythran sighed as he sat down next to Cladelia on the bench. As of a quiet half-minute prior, they were the only two in the room. Cladelia's youngest was down for her nap. Her son was a couple years younger than Nythran's, enough that the older Ovrean likely found his cousin of the same name annoying, but Nythran's Ovrean had a slingshot and had been itching to show it off to an admiring party. When it came to the girls--minus the baby, of course--Cladelia's was the senior of the two, but Lileina fancied herself grown-up enough now to at least try to put up with the antics of younger cousins. She also wished others would fancy her grown-up, so of course she needed an excuse to play with her dolls--and what better excuse was there than a younger guest in need of indulgence? Not that it much looked like indulgence, what with Lileina being the one to drag Holladrin off in glee.

As for Celina and the visiting King Oswald, they were probably still in conference with Lorn. They'd be back soon, and not without Lorn's branch of the family in tow... but as unused as Cladelia was to being alone with her dead husband's dead sister's widower, she didn't want to guess at what her sweet, loving mother-in-law would have thought of that musing.

"Don't be absurd. You know Celina; you'll always be a son to her."

Nythran shrugged. "I know that's her intention, but it doesn't always play out that way. My father and Camaline rarely see each other if they don't have a reason to see each other, and he only sees much of Nata because my stepmother is her grandmother. I won't even get into the mess with Karlspan."

"Well, Karlspan did that to himself--practically abandoning your niece like that. You'd never do that to your children." Nor, if her cousin Ren's latest letter implied what she thought it implied, would Nythran had taken to sniffing out hints about Ren and Searle's twin nieces, who'd at least been spared those visits by virtue of being at the university. Those girls couldn't have been older than Karlspan's own daughter--if they were even as old.

"Fair point. But Camaline and Nata are still good people, and my father thinks highly of them--but if they come to dinner, it's mostly as the mothers of my nephews."

"Perhaps it's different with men; the lot of you do seem to take pride in pretending you don't feel much." The weight of the band around her finger might have been that of a cannonball. Searle, in that sense, had been different. Wonderfully different--to the point where she shouldn't have been surprised that they hadn't had long, because not many things of such beauty dared risk outliving their own perfection. "Celina is a woman, and she and you are the two who loved her daughter best. Riona is at her most alive when the two of you are together."

"Hmm." Thoughtful--oddly enough for a man of their age, most of them so unwilling to heed a woman's opinion--Nythran's lips eased into a faint smile. "I never thought of it that way. Thank you, for that."

Cladelia nodded. He'd been without his love longer than she'd been without hers. If such a realization had been lost on him, regardless of whether or not he'd outgrown the need to stroke his own ego, then what hope could she have had for herself, a few years down the road? "It wasn't any trouble."

"Perhaps not, but I needed to hear it." Nythran's hand moved a few inches outward, only to retreat back, as if he'd meant to pay a reassuring squeeze to Cladelia's own but thought better of it. They were kindred spirits now, she supposed, or would be in time--but for now, she appreciated the respectful distance. "I hope, once some time is passed, that you and her find the same with Searle."

Once some time had passed.

Six more months, another year, another five... the word 'some' could have meant as little as a few weeks, or as long as the rest of her life, and it would have been pointless to venture a guess. Whenever a mind thought it had a formula for the speed of grief, life would throw a new factor into the equation, and Cladelia had never been one for complex mathematics anyway. She preferred words. She would have preferred a better word than 'some'.

But, for now, 'some' was all she had.

"Thank you."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Riona Meets a Not-So-Casual Acquaintance

July 16, 1192

Riona and her son made their way into the front room, apparently quietly enough that her husband didn't notice. He was too busy talking to the dark stranger who'd been heralded by one of the maids a few minutes prior. As if the poor woman hadn't had enough work to do. She hoped this man was here about the steward job.

Didn't sound like it, though. "I don't know who told you she was staying here, but they were wrong. She's at our father's castle, but I don't think she's seeing visitors right now."

"Did she tell you that?"

"No, but she... she hasn't been well."

Riona shut her eyes. Jeda wasn't ill; she was pregnant. Of course, a man couldn't say that, not about his own sister. Not when he feared she'd be branded a whore. Though, from what Riona could tell, Jeda was quite happy about this pregnancy, now that Ietrin was gone.

"It's not serious, is it?"

"I don't think so, no. Anyway, how do you know Jeda?"

"I, uh..." It was a little too much of a pause for a casual acquaintance. "I used to work at the castle."

And he called her Jeda. Not the queen, not her majesty... Jeda.

Perhaps... could he have been...?

"Nythran?"

Her husband turned around, a quick grin her way. "Yes, Riona?"

"I think the only person who knows if Jeda would like to see this man is Jeda."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Nanalie Gives an Exit

October 12, 1177

"Everyone's fine!"

Pandora's enthusiasm was enough to make Nanalie cringe. It had felt right to let the baroness's eldest be the one to tell the rest of the family, but maybe she ought to have walked the girl through it first. Yes, the baroness was doing well--and yes, so was the baby. But the birth was barely over. There was still time for some problem to arise.

Two younger boys dropped their pretend swords and Thallie looked up from the toddler she'd been entertaining, wide grins on all three young faces, but the baron and his eldest seemed to sense that they weren't out of the clear just yet. Sparron bit his lip and stared at the opposing wall in some silent, open-eyed prayer. The baron took a second to collect himself before looking up at Pandora. "Your mother?"

"Smiling and laughing with Arydath and Camaline."

"And the baby?"

"Fat!" She practically giggled the word, as younger onlookers tended to do. Nanalie had attended enough births by now to realize that the concept of 'fat' as a positive was lost on young maidens. "The good kind of fat, though. Healthy fat."

"Boy or girl?" piped up one of Pandora's little brothers from behind Nanalie, prompting an eye-roll from their sister Thallie.

"Boy."

Nythran and Farilon raised their hands and leaned in to clap them together. The girls shared a glance and snickered--like they wouldn't have done the same thing if they'd been that age and had a new sister. "Does he have a name? Can we name him?"

"Mother wants to name him for Uncle Oswald." Pandora shot her little brothers a warning glare, then turned back to her father. "What do you think, Father?"

The baron stood, his heir following suit. "I think your mother can name him what she likes. Mistress Indruion? Is it all right if I bring the children in to meet their brother?"

"I don't see why not, although Mistress Indruion was my mother."

"Very well." He glanced toward his younger children and nodded toward the door. Thallie abandoned the small boy on the floor and took her sister by the hand, practically dragging her back into the room. Nythran and Farilon followed, a little less enthusiastic but grinning nonetheless. "Thank you for your assistance, Mist--Nanalie."

"My pleasure, my lord."

He shook her hand, then proceeded to the room, Sparron at his heels. That left Nanalie with the toddler.

Odd. She could have sworn that until today, seven-year-old Farilon had been the baron's youngest. This boy was barely more than a baby, not even old enough to get excited about the new family member. Still, she wondered why he'd just been left here. Surely someone would have thought to pick him up...

"Oh, that one's mine."

Startled, Nanalie wheeled about to find a young man sitting on the couch, an amused grin the smooth oasis between the angular nose and the rock-crushing jaw. Thick brown brows peaked to let the twinkling eyes beneath shine unobscured--hazel eyes like the baron's and the new baby's. "Just wait until he turns his head; poor boy could have taken that castle with his chin if he hadn't been taking things easy on Cousin Thallie. Isn't that right, son?" The boy edged to the side, prompting a chuckle from his father. "Don't mind him. He's a little shy around pretty ladies, but you can probably tell he didn't get it from me."

His laughed with a rich baritone that put the songs of bards to shame. Nanalie squinted. He was broad-shouldered, certainly not lacking in distinctive facial features... how on earth had she missed him? "Have you, uh... been here this whole time?"

The man stood, nodding--though that smile never left his face. "Don't worry about it. I'm pretty enough to be mistaken for a timeless statue, after all."

Nanalie sniffed. "You do realize that most timeless statues have rather small--" Wait... what was she thinking? She couldn't say that to a stranger! "...noses."

He laughed again, even more heartily than before. She had to cover her mouth; she suspected it contagious. "Only if the sculptor is stingy with the marble. Anyway, I'm Garrett. The baron is my uncle; I used to be a squire here."

"Nanalie." She held out her hand, expecting him to shake it like the baron had--but instead, he kissed it. For a man with such a craggy nose his lips were surprisingly smooth. "If you used to be a squire, wouldn't that be Sir Garrett now?"

"Technically--but for you, I'll make an exception." He let go of her hand and winked at her. Nanalie frowned. Was that appropriate behavior for a man with a son? Wary, she glanced down at his finger; sure enough, he wore a wedding band. "I don't think I've seen you around these parts before. Are you new to the area?"

That seemed innocent enough. She supposed she'd give him the benefit of the doubt for now. "I was born in Naroni, if that's what you mean. But I live in Veldorashire and I didn't get out much before I started working with Lady Arydath."

Garrett's brows arched, the line of his mouth still curved, but a little more muted, a little more thoughtful. Nanalie almost found she preferred it. "You know, I have a sister in Veldorashire. Perhaps I'll stay a little longer next I visit her?"

Hmm. That not so much, maybe. "Perhaps you and your wife ought to make a day of it."

"Perhaps we would, if she were still alive."

Well. That penis joke was looking to be good form now. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's all right. It's been over a year now." Regardless, he sighed. "It was an arranged marriage. We weren't quite in love, but if we'd had a while longer I think we might have gotten there."

What was she supposed to say to that? Her littlest sisters would have known. A grown woman, standing here in need of a child's help to say something about love. She swore never to let her father learn of this. "Again, I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"It's all right. You couldn't have known." That was true, she supposed. It did little for the guilt, but it was true. "Besides, I have my son, and my sister and her family, and our family here. And--" he hesitated, untying the knotted word with his tongue "--my mother-in-law."

There was more than a hint of distaste mingled in the phrase. "You don't say."

"You might have met her, actually." He sniffed. Somehow it was not the ground-shattering noise she had expected from such a nose. "She had a baby last month. Charming woman--so our king seems to think, anyway."

Oh. Charming indeed. "Well, now I'm really sorry."

A snicker escaped him. It was oddly good to hear him laughing again, even if she'd never heard it before today. "Likewise; given how she is when she isn't shoving an infant out from between her legs, I'd hate to see her while in the process of doing so."

"To be fair, you're a man; you probably couldn't handle the sight of anyone in the process of doing so."

Garrett smirked. "True enough."

Nanalie's mouth twitched in response. What was she doing here, though? The poor man was here to meet his new cousin, after all; he shouldn't have been out here talking to her. It was rude of her to be keeping him like this. She had to give him an exit. "Well, I hate to just rush out on you, but if I don't get home soon, my family will be at the mercy of my stepmother's cooking--and believe me, they won't forgive me for that."

"Likewise, I won't forgive you if you don't invite me some time."

That hadn't been expected. Nevertheless, she nodded. "I'll get back to you on that. Anyway, it was nice meeting you."

"You as well--and I shan't forget about that invitation."

He took her hand and kissed it once again. Why he was willing to do that after she'd just helped deliver a baby, she couldn't quite guess.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Florian Annoys and Is Annoyed

February 11, 1170

Florian stepped into the study and greeted his disgruntled lord with a wide grin. He had been given the day off, and he knew exactly why--indeed, it was also the reason he had come. "Happy birthday!"

The baron shot him an annoyed glare; Florian briefly wondered if he'd considered the possibility of a surprise visit for the sole purpose of being a grievance. "Get out."

As if he had any intention of doing so. "So, my lord, how does it feel? Is there truly such a difference between thirty-nine and forty?" If there was one thing that Florian had learned about the nobility, it was that most of the adults had an incredible preoccupation with their ages; birthdays were always dreaded, and God help everyone else if one of the lords or ladies was approaching a multiple of ten.

His lord slouched further downward and sighed. "I gave you the day off; can't you just go and savor that extra freedom like anyone else would?"

"Not a chance." Florian made sure to maintain his smile; the baron was looking annoyed, but not quite sufficiently so.

The nobleman pulled himself to his feet and stepped around the desk. "Don't you have a wife and children at home?"

"Well, yes, but most of the kids are off playing with Falidor's brood," Florian replied, taking a secret delight in the thought of stuck-up Ailede having to put up with his unruly offspring. "Anyway, Thetis wanted me to go to the village to pick up some herbs; if she asks, I was never here, all right?"

The baron raised an eyebrow. "Well, if your wife needs herbs, then perhaps you should go and get them for her."

Florian dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "I sent Evera and Setran to get them. Besides, Thetis only thinks she needs herbs--pregnant women, you know? And would you believe that she's claiming it's going to be twins?"

Likely for the first time that day, a smile broke upon the baron's face. "Well, if any woman deserves the honor of twins, it's Thetis--and if any man deserves the burden of twins, it's you."

"I won't argue with you there." Florian brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes, then shook his head. "I just hope it isn't triplets."

"What's this? You're having triplets?"

Florian glanced back toward the door, the source of the voice revealing herself to be the baroness, her small son in her arms and her own bulging middle a fraction of the size of Thetis's. "I thought you had the day off, Florian."

He smirked; he could tell by the sparkle in her eye that she'd been expecting him. "Well, it isn't every day that my lord celebrates his fortieth birthday."

"I don't believe 'celebrate' would be the right word," groaned the baron.

"Birfday," repeated young Nythran, though Florian doubted the boy understood such abstract concepts just yet.

Regardless, it seemed only proper to reply to a nobleman, even if he was under a year old. "Yes, Nythran--birfdays. You haven't had any yet, but your father has had more than enough for both of you."

Laughing, the baroness waddled to her husbands side and handed him the toddler. "He wanted to see Papa--to wish you a happy birfday, no doubt."

The baron rolled his eyes, but nonetheless indulged the boy with a hug. "Thank you, son."

"And speaking of birthdays," the baroness mused with a smile, turning to Florian, "isn't Thetis nearing her due date?"

Florian nodded. "Just one more month now. Poor thing's getting pretty tired; had to send Evera and Setran into town for herbs."

"Evera and Setran?" For some reason, her blue eyes widened. "You mean to say that your boy is old enough to be taking girls on trips to the village?"

It seemed that Florian was not the only one who had stepped into the room with the intention of being an annoyance. "What? Of course not--she's his stepsister."

The baroness exchanged a quick grin with her husband. "Well, it isn't as if she's his actual sister."

"She might as well be," Florian reminded her. "They grew up together. Evera was in my care for nearly a year before Setran was born."

"So what you're saying, then, is that they've had their entire lives to grow fond of each other."

Shit. He'd forgotten how difficult it could be to argue with the baroness. She was sharp, charismatic, and armed with a distracting amount of cleavage; had she not been, he might have thought of a retort. "Congratulations, my lady; you have me sufficiently annoyed."

NEXT CHAPTER: