In Which Riona Is Justified

June 13, 1188

"Grandmama!"

Riona looked up from her bed and returned the sunny smile in front of her. Arkon was her great-grandson--her daughter Renata's grandson, through her daughter Riona--but 'Great-grandmother' had always been such a mouthful, so 'Grandmama' did the trick for most of her children's children's children. In particular, Riona enjoyed hearing it from Arkon's lips. She loved... well, most of her descendents. But of this generation, Arkon was a particular favorite, though she wouldn't dream of telling any of the others. She wasn't quite sure why, but at the same time, he'd never done anything that ought to have eliminated him as a favorite. Her husband's preference for Koradril's Danthia was infinitely more baffling.

But she wouldn't waste any more thoughts in her last days on that dreadful young woman than she had to. Arkon was here, his bright grin a welcome contrast from the somber faces she'd grown used to seeing over the past while. He was plenty old enough to understand that her remaining hours had likely dwindled into double digits, but he had an innate wisdom about him that steered him more toward enjoying the time that was left than dreading the end. Riona, never having been so attuned to life's dilemmas herself, appreciated it. "Ah, my boy! I was hoping I'd see you today."

"Might I sit with you a while?"

"I'd enjoy that very much."

Arkon stepped around the foot of the bed, through the narrow gap between the footboard and that garish canopy Laralita had once insisted on gifting them. Ten might have been a little old for cuddles with one's great-grandmother, but it was sweet of Arkon to make one last exception for her. "That's what I told Grandpapa you'd say! He said I shouldn't pester you."

"Nonsense! When you go, you'll have to tell your grandpapa that the surest way to pester me these days is to chase away my guests." Well, for old Searle, she supposed it was technically the second surest. At least it had been a while since the first had been an issue. She may have been the one dying, but at least the various parts of her body were all shutting down at the same rate.

"I will. But first I want to tell you something." Arkon seated himself on the side of her bed, drumming on the mattress with a moment's pause. "Well... ask you something, I mean."

"I do prefer being asked to being told." Riona winked. Precious few men were willing to ask a woman anything. It was a delight to think that her favorite great-grandson was one of them.

"All right. Well..." He slung his legs onto the bed, lips pursed as he fumbled for the right words. "I hope it will be a long time before this happens, but you know that I'm going to be Baron of Rexus after my father, right?"

"I'm familiar with the concept." The poor boy flinched; Riona smirked to reassure him. "What about it?"

"Well, I'm a Tamrion. And my father's a Tamrion, and same with my grandfather. But my grandmother was a Callcevern, like you."

"She was. Her father was my brother." And not that she'd had anything against Secundus, but such a pity that the laws at the time had bestowed the barony to the son-in-law rather than the daughter when Marsden had passed! "A pity she didn't live to see you grow up. Tivalia was a lovely woman. She would have a adored you."

And a pity that old Riona would end up being the last Callcevern rather than her sweet niece.

"So Rexus is Callcevern territory. But it's ruled by Tamrions now, and I don't think my father or grandfather ever felt quite right about that. And I don't either." His mouth made an awkward transition from frown to grin. "So, I talked to my parents, and they said that if it was all right with you..."

"I could maybe give my children the Callcevern name?"

She may not have quite been able to place it before. Now, though, Riona had quite the justification in her preference for young Arkon.

Quite the justification indeed. "I would be honored."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Riona Dismisses the Passing Fancy

July 6, 1183

As a rule, noble widows with mostly older children were not exceptionally busy--or if they were, it was in the company of similarly-aged women of their class, and Riona saw no sign of any such companion upon arriving at her daughter's house, and given her horse's presence in its usual stall, Laralita wasn't out calling on someone else. Indeed, the housekeeper had ushered Riona to the sitting room and told her to wait.

But it had been Lily, not Laralita, who came to receive her--not that Riona hadn't wanted to see her granddaughter, but when she called at Laralita's house, she expected Laralita. Lily had clued into this and told her that her mother was in the back garden, but instead of having Laralita called in, she'd sent Riona outside.

Why hadn't she predicted that going outside would only raise more questions? "Laralita? Is that you?"

The plainly-dressed woman working in the dirt patch raised the hoe to a standing position and glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there were Laralita's sparkling eyes and pouty lips, as out of place against the worker's dress and apron as Riona's aging, arthritic lapdog would have been in the Sahara. "Hello, Mother."

"So you're... breaking earth." Not the sort of thing she'd ever thought she'd say about a woman who couldn't bear to break a nail.

"Well, more of it. It's been a matter of phases; I kind of wanted to get some seeds in right away."

Riona peered over the fence and down at the dirt. Sure enough, there were a few sprouts poking up already... though anything that wasn't a flower or a tree or a shrub had always looked like a weed to her. "What are those?"

"They're tomatoes. The cook said they're an easy plant to start with, and they were a reasonable price at the market." Since when did Laralita go to the market? "I'll send one of the boys to Valcria with some once they're ripe, all right?"

Well, she supposed Laralita's tomatoes couldn't possibly be worse than whatever tomatoes her cooks were using presently. Odd as it was that Laralita had tomatoes. "All right..."

"And who knows? Maybe next year, I'll have strawberries. Or cucumbers. Assuming the tomatoes are all right, that is."

"Yes, yes, that sounds lovely." But Riona privately doubted this would be a hobby that stuck. It was just some passing fancy, perhaps--or some need to bring forth new life now that her husband was gone and the change would be upon her soon? Even sheer sexual frustration was a possibility, for all it was an uncomfortable thought; why else would she have mentioned cucumbers? She'd never liked the taste of them. "Really... lovely."

"Oh, good! But you probably just came for an afternoon visit?"

Riona nodded. "That was the idea, yes."

"All right." But instead of dropping the hoe, Laralita just lowered it and resumed poking at the soil. "I'll just finish another row, then I'll be right in. Be a dear and tell my maid to lay out a clean dress for me?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Alina's Niece is Given a Choice

January 15, 1157

"Brings on quite a few mixed emotions, does it not?" Alina's mother asked of the oldest of her five daughters, who was seated in an ornately-carved chair by the dressing screen. "Your baby getting married, leaving home, off to become a countess in some distant shire... are you sure she's ready, Cladelia?"

Cladelia laughed. "Of course she is, Mother! She's only a year younger than I was when I was married."

"Oh, but I was never sure whether or not you were old enough," Riona pressed. "I never did share your father's urgency, you know. Fortunately, I managed to convince him to wait a little longer with your sisters."

"Oh, never mind that, Mother! Meraleene, how does she look?" demanded Cladelia of the second sister.

"As lovely as her mother," Meraleene assured her from the other side of the dressing screen.

"Oh, I don't know about that..." muttered young Lileina meekly.

"Nonsense!" Cladelia snapped, her barely-pregnant bulge somewhat visible despite her tight gold dress. "Lileina, I'm sure you look just fine. Renata, can you see her? I'm not sure I trust Meraleene."

"Are you calling me a liar?" hissed Meraleene; Alina could perfectly picture her face, her eyes narrowed and her teeth clenched.

Cladelia rolled her eyes. "Of course not, dear. I'm just taking into consideration the fact that you aren't particularly bright, and therefore might not have the most trustworthy opinion. Renata has always been the sharpest of us, you must admit."

"Don't be an idiot, Claddie," Renata scolded her. "You don't have to be a genius to see how beautiful your daughter is. I can see her just fine from here, and I can assure you that if the twins grow up to be half as radiant as your Lileina, I shall be the proudest mother in Dovia."

Cladelia's eyebrows arched dangerously. "Well, you never know; perhaps come June, that enlarged stomach of yours will reveal itself to be a much prettier daughter for you and Arkon."

Suddenly, Renata looked as though she was about to leap from her chair, four-month belly and all, and squeeze her older sister's neck until her head shot straight to the ceiling. "And just what do you think you're saying about my girls?"

"Girls, please!" screamed their mother before Cladelia had a chance to reply. "Meraleene, you're not dim, Cladelia, you're not an idiot, and Renata, your daughters are beautiful! Now, we can't ruin Lileina's wedding with our petty fights, so if none of you have anything pleasant to say, I suggest you just shut up."

"Shut--up?" Laralita repeated in raptured shock. "Mother, you're so... vulgar."

Riona bit her lip, likely in an attempt to keep herself from belting out every obscenity that Alina knew--and likely every one that she didn't. "Never mind my vulgarity. Lileina, did your Aunt Meraleene do a decent enough job with the sewing?"

"Oh, I do think so, Grandmother," answered Lileina. "It's lovely, and very comfortable."

"Hmm. I think I'll go take a look at it anyway," Riona insisted, making her way to the side of her eldest granddaughter.

Meraleene's jaw dropped, Alina was sure of it. "Mother, she just said--"

"Meraleene, I hate to admit it, but Cladelia's right; you aren't exactly the sharpest nail in the fence. I'd feel much better knowing I'd examined the dress myself."

"So, Alina," Laralita addressed her as their mother began to carefully study the seams of the wedding dress. "I hear you had a son in November?"

Alina nodded. "I did. His name is Jadin, for Viridis's father."

"Lovely. It's such a weight off your chest, isn't it? Now you never have to bother sleeping with your husband again."

"Are you kidding?" she laughed. "I jumped Severin five minutes after the midwife cut the cord! It was the best sex we ever had."

Laralita's eyes bulged; she always had been a terrible prude. "You... you like it?"

"Try 'love'," Alina corrected her with a grin. Tormenting Laralita had always been a favorite pastime of hers.

Her older sister continued to stare, her mouth wide open. "Why?"

"Because I love him, maybe?" she replied. "It isn't my fault you don't give poor Karlspan a chance--might as well, seeing as the poor man probably won't last many more years anyway. Renata, back me up here."

"Lita, it is rather fun when it's with a man you love," agreed Renata, "although I suppose that might not be the case with a man you don't. But maybe Alina's right; it's the least you can do for a dying man. And don't you pull a Medea on us and say he's beneath you, because he's not--he's an earl, and you're the daughter of a count."

Laralita sighed. "I do take pity on him occasionally, I assure you. I just keep a careful eye on my monthly and make sure I only sleep with him right after I stop bleeding--no sense going through another nine months of horrid discomfort when I already gave him a son, after all. Now, if you'll excuse us, Meraleene and I have to go and oversee the flower arranging."

"We do?" asked Meraleene.

"You certainly aren't on top of your game today, are you? Come along, no sense keeping the florist waiting any longer."

Meraleene was quick to leave, shortly followed by Laralita. Quite frankly, Alina was not sad to be rid of either of them; in fact, she only wished they had taken Cladelia with them. With the exception of her darling Renata, she had always been much closer to her brothers than her sisters, especially now that they were older and all married women. Cladelia and Laralita were much too political for her tastes, she found, and there was just no spark in Meraleene. Her stupid, playful brothers were much more tolerable.

"Perfect," muttered Riona at last, finishing her inspection and stepping back from the young bride. "I'll have you know that the dress you're wearing is older than your mother; not only did she wear it to her wedding, but I wore it to mine. It cost a pretty penny back in the day, but it seems to be one of those dresses that just looks lovely on anyone... mind you, some brides are perfectly content to be married wearing only a nightgown under a man's traveling cloak, isn't that right, Alina?"

"It turned out not too badly; I wouldn't have had him tearing an expensive dress right off me," Alina laughed, remembering the elegant, but somewhat pretentious-looking dress that had been made for her wedding to Rudolphus.

"Well, when a man undresses his bride himself, of course," agreed Cladelia as she approached her mother and daughter, "but most women have their ladies. Lileina certainly won't have to worry about Cambrin... tearing her dress right off her, as you put it?"

Lileina shifted uncomfortably. "Could we... not talk about that, please?"

Cladelia chuckled. "We've scared her, ladies! Lileina, don't worry about it--even if you don't love him, it's not the most horrible thing that will ever happen to you."

"No, that comes nine months later," added Riona, earning her a sharp glare from her oldest daughter.

"Anyway, you look absolutely ravishing, baby," declared the mother of the bride, "and I think your grandmother and aunts can all agree. Now, I'm going to leave you for a few minutes while I track down Father Quartus. Mother, are you coming?"

"As long as Septimus isn't with him," Riona answered as the two of them made their way toward the door. "The gall of that boy! Would you believe that he told me he'd like to anoint me with his holy water?"

Renata glanced upwards at Alina, a smile on her glowing face. "So, how are your babies? I do hope to meet them one day."

"Oh, they're wonderful," Alina assured her. "I'm thinking it's about time to have another one, though."

Her older sister sent her a quizzical look. "Already? Alina, Jadin's not even two months old yet."

"I got pregnant with Jadin when Raia was four months old. Two months isn't that much of a difference. Besides, it's nice to have siblings close in age, isn't it?"

"I'm closer in age to Meraleene and Laralita, but I always got along better with you," Renata insisted. "Besides, everyone in your household so far has a birthday in the last three months of the year, and so will your next if you get pregnant now; don't you want some occasions to celebrate from January through September?"

Alina couldn't help but grin. "Renata, that is the silliest argument I've ever heard from you."

"Well, I'm in the middle of very silly pregnancy. I daresay this one will be the clown of the family."

"Aunt Alina?"

"Yes, Lileina?" she addressed her niece as the girl approached her.

"I'm sorry if I'm prying, but I just have to know," Lileina began hastily. "Why did you marry Severin instead of Rudolphus? My mother spoke of nothing else for months, you know--how you must've been out of your mind, I mean. She says she would've married Rudolphus in a heartbeat, even if he's rather dull, since he'll be duke one day. You were supposed to marry him, but you didn't. Why?"

Alina wasn't sure whether or not she should be amused; regardless, that she was. "Lileina, understand that I love your mother dearly, but we will never fully understand each other. I didn't marry Rudolphus simply because I didn't want to, and I didn't want to marry him because I don't love him and never did."

"So love is more important than politics, then?" the girl surmised, her teal eyes widening sorrowfully.

Suddenly, Alina understood--or at least, she thought she might. "You have a Severin of your own, Lileina?"

"Oh, no!" she protested. "I mean... I'm only thirteen. I haven't had time to find one, and if I ever do... well, I guess it'll be too late for me. I guess I just don't want to be a pawn for Cambrin and my father."

Alina knew what she was talking about. She had felt the exact same way during her betrothal to Rudolphus--like some disposable playing piece, being strategically moved from square to square doomed to be used in setups to conquer castles and bishops until being taken by the queen or checking the king--or, in her case, being liberated by her rogue knight. Her children would not know that fate, her husband had decided; she couldn't believe it had not occurred to her how thankful she should be for that before now.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" called Renata.

"It's Cambrin," the young earl replied from the corridor. "May I come in please?"

Lileina quickly ducked behind the screen while Alina made her way to the door and opened it, revealing the bridegroom.

"Hello, Cambrin," she greeted him stiffly, unsure of what to think of him after her little talk with Lileina.

"Hello, Alina," he replied politely enough. "If you don't mind, could I please speak to Lileina?"

Alina's eyes narrowed. "You aren't supposed to see the bride before the wedding, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh, yes, of course," mumbled Cambrin under his breath. "Lileina, can you hear me?"

There was a quick squeak of "Yes" from the other side of the room. Cambrin took a deep breath, then began, "Look, Lileina, I've been thinking and... you're only a girl. This wedding isn't fair to you. If you don't want to marry me, all you have to do is say so and I'll call it off. My mother died when I was born, so I don't remember her at all, but my sister tells me she was an unhappy woman trapped in a marriage she never wanted and went half mad near the end, and I don't wish that same fate for you. So if this isn't what you want, then please, just..."

He trailed off, his eyes widening as Lileina emerged.

"Cambrin..." she addressed her betrothed, "thank you. Of everyone involved, you're the first to give me a choice about any of this. You're a better man than most, and... well, thank you."

Alina stepped to the side as Cambrin made his way into the room. "I'm sorry you had to go through all this. I'll tell your father--"

"Don't tell him anything," Lileina cut him off promptly.

Cambrin raised an eyebrow. "...Sorry?"

"I didn't have a choice until you gave me one just now," she explained with a smile, "so I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to marry you. But now you gave a choice, and I know that I do want to, so don't tell my father anything."

"You want to marry me," Cambrin mouthed breathlessly. "I'm sorry, I just... never thought anyone would ever say that to me."

Lileina beamed up at him. "Oh, but why? You're so considerate, and very kind; you'll make a wonderful husband, and a great father."

"Lileina, can I... hold your hand?" he asked her, as if shocked by his own daring.

She giggled. "Go ahead."

Gentle yet determined, he proceeded to do so.

A wave of sweet relief washed over Alina. The secret of life, she knew, was an elusive thing that was often not obtained by those of high birth. Through her and Severin's own initiative, they had acquired it--through Renata and Arkon's persuasive natures, they had as well. Cladelia, Meraleene, Laralita... they had either never been given the chance to find it, or simply never bothered to look.

It was a tricky thing to find, that she knew, and oftentimes it was mimicked by more fleeting, impermanent things--but for Lileina, Alina was pleased to see, it was starting to seem real enough.

NEXT CHAPTER: