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September 7, 1197
"I think you should marry King Oswald."
Searle smiled as that prompted a raised brow from his mother. He had no idea whether or not she was open to such outright opinions on the matter, but she'd been sitting in silence for a while now, stewing in the gloom of his condition. The premature mourning did neither of them any good. "What makes you say that?"
"The knowledge that you would be Queen of Dovia, but that not much else would have to change in your life." She would, in keeping with Oswald's original proposal, remain in Naroni--where Cladelia and their children would no doubt need her once Searle was gone. "Naroni's more than an offshoot of Dovia now, and the two countries will need a link to keep their shared heritage intact without compromising either's sovereignty. And not many people know and love either land better than you do."
"I will take that as the compliment it is, but there's no sense in pretending that the marriage wouldn't change things for me personally." His mother frowned, folding her hands in her lap. "I grew up with Oswald, and he's very dear to me, but a development like a marriage--even in name only--can create tension between friends. I wouldn't want to risk hurting Oswald even if there wasn't the chance that both kingdoms could suffer for it."
"I don't think they will, though. Oswald's been married twice, and the second was more or less for the sake of two sets of half-orphans having two parents again; he knows what it is to marry someone you'd prefer and who'd prefer you as a friend."
"Perhaps." His mother dug one finger into a lace on the other sleeve. She wasn't the restless type, or even the type to fidget idly with her clothing, but between a dying son and an unusual marriage proposal, she wasn't without excuse for the odd behavior. "I was very lucky with my two marriages. I loved both your father and my first husband deeply, to the point where I'd hesitate to call either of them the love of my life; at my age, and with the love I'd have, I suppose no amount of political reasoning could have prepared me for the prospect of a third."
"How much is anyone ever prepared for anything, really?" Another sharp pang in his gut backed Searle's point to his own self. Even if he'd been sickly as a child--which he hadn't--he sure as hell wouldn't have been prepared to die at twenty-nine. "It's been a long time since Dovia had a queen; if you're to be their next, then they couldn't hope for any better."
"I appreciate that." His mother had always been good for a warm, loving look, and she didn't fail to pay him yet another. But, when a person had a lot on their mind, it could be hard to smile. "Rest assured that I'll keep thinking about it."
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 3, 1168
Leara felt somewhat guilty about leaving her half-sister with only bookish young Xeta for a buffer--neither Ietrin nor Camaline cared for poor Eilyssa, though Leara didn't see how they could think the whole situation with their mother was her fault--but she wanted to see Lorn. He was the reason she'd come, after all, even if she did enjoy the company of the other girls.
But for whatever reason, he'd made himself scarce. It occured to her that he might have been avoiding her--she did think he'd known she was coming--but Lorn was not the sort who did that to his betrothed... was he? Leara didn't want to think about it. At any rate, she'd found him now. "Lorn?"
He turned around and pressed a finger to his lips. Leara frowned; sheepish, Lorn flashed an apologetic grin. "This little turkey's supposed to be napping."
"Your little brother?" Leara closed the door behind her and crossed the room to the crib. Little Searle was getting close to two months old now, but he'd been somewhat sickly and had yet to have many visitors; Leara herself hadn't seen him.
Lorn nodded. "Somehow, we got stuck with the only baby in the world who never sleeps."
"At least he's quiet." Leara's own little half-brother was two now, and it had taken nearly that long for his infanthood cries to stop ringing in her ears.
"Yes, but on the off-chance he falls asleep, he snores like a beast!" Lorn laughed as he reached into the crib and lifted the baby from its depths. "To think, for nine long and horrible months, my stepfather lived the horrific life of the falsely-accused."
Smiling, Leara tilted her head and watched the baby sneeze quietly; she wondered how old they had to be before that ceased being cute. "At least the baby's all better now, right?"
"Oh, he's fine," Lorn assured her. "He's actually getting to be too cheeky for his own good. Aren't you, Searle?"
The baby blinked. Lorn responded by sticking out his tongue. "I know you are, but what am I?" Searle's mouth fell agape; Lorn shook his head. "He's a lost cause, this one. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."
Wait... what? She'd never even been able to talk to her own baby siblings; how was she supposed to talk to somebody else's? How did anyone manage to talk to babies, ever? "Lorn--"
He'd raised the baby to her level before she could protest. Unsure of what else to do, Leara waved awkwardly. "Uh... hello, Searle."
As she could have expected, Searle only stared; Lorn, however, grimaced. "Sorry if he's at a loss for words. You're the first pretty girl he's seen who isn't his mother."
"I imagine he's seen Xeta and Rona," Leara corrected him, not sure whether or not to meet the baby's wide blue eyes.
"They're his sisters; they don't count."
"It won't be long before I'm his sister too."
Lorn fell quiet, raising his brother to his shoulder and patting him on the back. Perhaps her joke had been ill-placed. Maybe he didn't think they'd be married all that soon. Maybe he didn't want to think they'd be married all that soon. "Lorn..."
He silenced her with a surprising wink, then kissed the baby's cheek. "Hear that, Searle?" he whispered into the baby's tiny, shell-like ear. "You're not going to be my competition for very long! Lucky for me, don't you think?"
Searle balled his hand into a fist and tapped it against Lorn's shoulder. "He's disappointed. He wanted you all to himself."
Trying to ignore the blush warming her face, Leara grinned--at least, she hoped she'd managed a grin. "Sorry, Searle. I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
NEXT CHAPTER:
