In Which Pandora Is Aware of the Finite

February 8, 1179

Where was it? It was the fourth time Pandora had checked her parents' wardrobe and as she might have predicted--for all she'd prayed and prayed again otherwise--it hadn't just reappeared, waiting for her to swoop it up and lovingly pack it away for the upcoming nuptials. She'd swept her own room, Thallie's, Camaline's... hell, she'd even checked her brothers' rooms, for all they'd protested. But why would anyone else have had it? It was hers by right and they all knew it, and it had been here just last night. She'd looked. Twice.

She slammed the wardrobe shut and glared, for all the little help it did. She supposed she ought to be happy. She would be married in little more than a week, and to a man who'd taken the time to woo her at that--and unlike poor Mona, her family would actually be there to see it.

Well... not quite all of her family. The wardrobe was doing more than its part to make her remember it.

"That armoir wasn't cheap, you know."

Pandora's father closed the door behind him but never took his eyes off of her. Her shoulders drooped. It wasn't about the armoir. "Sorry."

He frowned. Not that he'd been smiling much lately. "Pandora--"

"I can't find it."

Her father blinked. Either he was shocked beyond belief or he didn't know what she was talking about. "Mother's wedding dress. It was here last night, but it's just... vanished!"

"Pandora--"

"I've looked everywhere! Do you think someone might have taken it? I don't want to suspect anyone, but they all know--"

"Pandora--"

"--it's mine. Mother said she wanted to see me in it, just before she died. She wanted me to wear it. I know she's not actually going to be there, but if Thallie took it--"

"Pandora, calm down." Was he... chuckling? How could he chuckle at a time like this? Her mother's dress... the dress she'd married him in... "Your sister didn't take your mother's dress. You can't find it because I already packed it."

Now it was Pandora's turn to blink. "You packed it?"

"Yes. It's in one of your mother's old chests, along with a few more of her things I thought you might like to have. I had Sparron take it out to the carriage. I'm sorry for not letting you know, but you're not usually prone to panic."

No, she wasn't. And now she just felt silly. "There's usually not much worth panicking over."

"Hmm. Perhaps. But that dress would have been, had it truly gone missing." If he was playing through that scene in his head, he did a good job of not showing it. "I put one of your mother's necklaces with it--that one with the crystal dove. She didn't wear it on our wedding day, but she later lamented not doing so. She thought it would have matched well."

She believed it. He would not have made such an observation on his own. "I think it will too."

Her father smiled. He hadn't been quite stingy with his smiles these past few months, but that didn't make the sight any less of a relief. "Are the rest of your things packed?"

She nodded. Her father wrapped his arms around her and squeezed like he never meant to let go. But he knew better. This house had become painfully aware of the finite.

"We're all ready to go, but you can take your time saying goodbye to your home. We won't leave without you."

Pandora didn't answer. She just peered over her father's shoulder and squinted until she could see some hint of her mother behind him.

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 Tries Something New

March 2, 1177

The baron's daughters were not quiet, solemn girls. They were nothing on Florian's Alyssin, of course--when it came to being loud and obnoxious, who was?--but they'd always been friendly and talkative enough. But now, all Pandora could offer was a mumbled greeting of "Florian" and Thallie paid him only a glance. How were these the same girls who'd been joking with him mere days ago?

But whatever. It wasn't as if he showed up at work just to chat with the baron's daughters--not while they still had some filling out to do, at any rate. "Is your father in?"

Thallie squirmed in her seat; Pandora gestured toward the door. "If you need something, Sparron's in the study."

Sparron? But that meant... "Where's your father, then?"

Thallie took to picking at the embroidery on her sleeve. "Sitting with Mother."

Her sister shot her a glare, but Florian nearly missed it. Was Holladrin that sick? He knew she hadn't been well lately, but ill enough for her husband to drop everything? And during the quarterly taxes, no less? "Is she all right?"

"Well, she's been a lot worse, but..." Pandora trailed off, sharing a quick glance with her sister before looking back up at him. The blue eyes he'd always teased her parents about had never looked more like her father's hazel. "I suppose you'll find out eventually anyway. Mother is with child. Arydath just confirmed it."

Well... that was troubling. "I thought they weren't going to try for any more on account of her health."

"They weren't," Thallie confirmed, her full lips forming a grim line. "But you know how it is."

Amen to that. God, she looked so much like her mother--the heart-shaped face, those soft blue eyes, that silky golden hair. He hoped Holladrin had been so healthy in her youth. He hoped Thallie would not be so unwell in her womanhood. "I see."

Thallie nodded and took to staring blankly in front of her. Beside her, Pandora shook her head, pleading eyes like desperate prayers that had fallen on deaf ears. Poor girl was getting close to fourteen and by the standards of some nobles, she could have been a mother herself. But Florian had been born a peasant; fourteen was not so much an age to be a mother as it was an age to need one.

"Father is furious with himself. He was already worried sick about Mother, plus Sparron and Jeda, and now this happens. I don't know if he'll be able to live with himself if she dies."

Her younger sister squirmed. The feeling shared, Florian bowed his head and sighed. Poor Holladrin. Poor, sweet Holladrin who'd never done anything to deserve the unlucky hand she'd been dealt by her own blood. And to think--she was probably laughing just then, making small talk, trying to distract her beloved from this and everything else. What an unfortunate family they were if the loving mistress couldn't find the time to worry about her own ailing self.

And Florian cared more than he thought he did if he couldn't even think of a well-timed remark.

Maybe it was time to try something new. They were only little girls, after all, of an age with a couple of his own children. Perhaps he could be reassuring. No... he'd never been good at reassuring, not without resorting to cliches at any rate. Still...

"Well... she survived four of you, right?" That didn't sound quite right, Florian had to note as Thallie cringed. There had to be a better way to say this. "Maybe it won't be a problem. At least it gives her an excuse to take it easy, right?"

Pandora indulged him with a weak attempt at a smile. It wasn't convincing, but he supposed he'd give it to her. She was very young, after all. "I hope you're right."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Holladrin Ponders the Power of Blood

April 25, 1163

"Well, don't you have the biggest, bluest eyes of all the babies I know," Florian informed Holladrin's daughter, leaning toward her as she gazed up at him reverently. "Your mama has nice blue eyes too--but they're not your blue! And you know what? Your papa has hazel eyes. So... where did you get those eyes of yours, girl? Hmm?"

"Florian!" Holladrin scolded, though she couldn't help but laugh as she gasped his name; some things just refused to change! "You've been told a thousand times--she has Octavius's mother's eyes!"

The steward's eyes narrowed. "I hope you realize that's a waste of a good joke, your majesty."

She couldn't help it; she giggled. "And I hope you realize that I'm the only woman around who appreciates your sense of humor enough to let you go about questioning her baby's paternity for all to hear."

"Indeed I do," he assured her, continuing to amuse the baby with rather forced-looking faces. "Now, help me think of all the men in this kingdom who have eyes like this little girl. The only name that comes to my mind right now is Lady Alina."

Holladrin rolled her eyes. "You guessed it; her ladyship is the father of my child."

"Damn, wish I'd been there to see that," sighed Florian regretfully. "Oh well, I suppose I can always catch the next show, hmmm? I must say, if I were her ladyship, I'd much rather sleep with you than his lordship anyway, so I'm sure she'll be back for seconds."

A devious grin crept onto Holladrin's face. "Sorry? Didn't quite hear you... except, that is, for the part about you sleeping with his lordship. Anyway, I trust I can always... catch the next show, as I believe you said?"

Florian shot a dark glare her way. "Touche, my lady--touche."

Chuckling to herself, she let him kiss the baby on the forehead, then carried her to the cradle and gently tucked her in for her nap. The baby was so peaceful when she slept, Holladrin noted; she wished she would have been able to see that firsthand eight days earlier, when the girl had been born.

She'd fallen ill again a few hours after the labor. No one had been expecting it--she'd been fine the whole time she'd been living in Naroni. She spent a good week confined to her bed, her husband and the twins frequently running about, bringing her soup and water, showing her the baby, holding her hand and singing to her. Finally, she was well enough to stand, laugh, run about, and--most importantly--spend time with her daughter.

For as long as Holladrin could remember, her mother had always been periodically ill--not unlike herself now. She'd been ten years old when her mother had died; her mother had been forty. Holladrin herself was nearly twenty-five, meaning that if she herself were to succumb at forty, her daughter would be a mere girl of fifteen.

More frightening yet, however, was the notion that her daughter might inherit the illness herself. Nightly, Holladrin prayed that she wouldn't; perhaps that, coupled with any luck, might strip this curse of the power to claim yet another generation. Still... it was a troubling thought. Troubling indeed.

"My lady?"

"Yes?" answered Holladrin, hastily spinning on her heel and meeting the steward's eye.

He cocked his head, frowning as his cool blue-gray gaze studied her features. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she insisted, perhaps a little too fervently, "indeed, I am. Thank you very much for asking. Now... if you would excuse me, I should very much like a moment alone with my baby."

NEXT CHAPTER: