In Which Ilyda Presents the Non-Problem

July 13, 1186

"Woah! Greet all of your customers like that, and you might get more business during the slow hours."

"Senwick!" God, he told terrible jokes. Regardless, Ilyda had to laugh. "My father is in the next room."

"Then jumping me was a risky move; you know I'm loud." He set her back down and slipped his tongue past her lips. Risky move indeed.

But it was tough to care.

The kiss broke and she lowered her heels to the ground. It would have been nice, being taller. But if being short was the only thing she had to complain about, then she had it pretty damn good. "At least you're not cutting classes for me this time."

"Hey, I only ever cut electives." The dismissal came with a wink. "Why can't you go the university, again? You're smart."

"We've been over this; my parents can't afford to send all of us, so in the interests of fairness, they're not sending any of us." And in truth, she had no idea what she'd study. She'd always figured she'd head off to another shire--Armion, maybe--and run an inn of her own over there. It would keep her plenty occupied while Senwick was off doing his bard thing throughout the continent--assuming they got to that point, of course. "Plenty of people in this kingdom managed to make a living before the university opened. I'm fine with being one of those people since."

"I know." But when his hands met hers, the squeeze was firmer than usual. "I just wish I could see you every day, you know? I'm going to be traveling so much when I'm done school; I want to spend more time with you now."

"Good to know."

"Sorry?" His head pulled to one side as if by weighted ear, mouth otherwise distorted. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's convenient to my plans." Yep--being short was the only thing she had to complain about. For all she'd suffered her overbearing father since becoming his eldest unmarried daughter, everything was coming up Ilyda now. "I talked with my brother and sister-in-law, and it sounds like they might need another pair of hands around their inn. All those rowdy university students and all."

"So... you're moving to campus?" She certainly couldn't complain about that smile.

"You got a problem with that?"

He shook his head. "Not even a little."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Sev Meets His Housemates

April 1, 1184

It was Sunday--so technically, the spring term started tomorrow. But most of the new students were moving in today, and Sev's new housemates were not exceptions.

He'd briefly met Landus, who'd shown up that morning with his brother and his sister-in-law and his adorable little niece. Landus seemed like a good sort--maybe a little quiet, but Sev was quiet too, and that was hardly an undesirable quality in a housemate anyway. He'd helped Landus and Neilor move Landus's things into one of the empty bedrooms, then the family had left and Landus had asked Sev for directions to a few of the buildings noted on schedule, not keen on being lost and late on the first day of classes.

The right thing to do would have been to accompany Landus as he went to explore, just in case he got disoriented or forgot something or Sev had misremembered, but he did have an essay to work on; his classes were only half over, after all, thanks to the staggered semesters. That, and he was curious enough that he didn't want to miss the arrival of the other two newcomers.

Though one of them, at least, he doubted he would have missed. "See, Orrick? This fellow's not so rude as to complain about my singing!"

The young man on the couch rolled his eyes as his brother smirked Sev's way. If the seated one was Orrick, then the other was Senwick. Sev supposed he ought to have known that, having grown up well within walking distance of the pair of them--never mind their family connections to the Kemorins, who in turn were connected to Sev's family through his sister--but Sev had spent most of his youth helping his no-longer-young father, and this particular branch of the Wythleit family had not had the easiest of childhoods and seemed to keep to themselves.

Though Sev now suspected that Senwick, at least, would have preferred otherwise. "Your singing sounded fine." That got a laugh out of the him, though his sterner twin was less amused. "Though, I don't understand why you're singing into your hand."

"See? I told you people would question that." Orrick sighed, no doubt not wanting to answer but not trusting Senwick to do a better job of it. But even if he was serious... Sev knew cruel, knew brotherly hostility, and this wasn't it. Orrick did care. Maybe Orrick was what Congren could have been if their mother hadn't died. "Forgive him. He's convinced that one day, people will sing into their fists."

"Filthy lies! One day, people will sing into noise-amplifying devices that they hold in their fists!" Senwick turned his hand so that Sev could see the side of it; sure enough, it wasn't fully clenched, but instead left a hole just large enough to grip a slender object. "I'm thinking something to do with metal wires and some sort of artificial lightning--maybe from some kind of acidic mixture. But all in a casing, of course," he added, as if that was the most pressing question the whole idea raised.

Orrick groaned. "He's such a child. Our father and stepmother tell us they'll cover our fees entirely, and he takes that generosity and means to train as a bard."

"At least I have plans. You pretty much looked at the options and said 'Psychology sounds interesting'. What the hell even is psychology, anyway?"

"Something with more practical applications than music, maybe?"

Senwick's response to that was a loud appearance of his tongue. Frowning, Orrick turned to Sev. "You're Severin, right? What are you studying?"

"You can call me Sev." He shut the library door and Orrick nodded to the free bench. Not wanting to seem too aloof, he took it. "I'm majoring in Economics."

"Economics?" Senwick let his arm droop to his side, but a musical lilt clung to his voice all the same. Orrick may have thought his career choice frivolous, but in these few minutes of knowing him, Sev didn't think he could see Senwick as anything but a bard. "That sounds about as fun as falling off a cliff into a river of piranhas. Let me guess: your father made you take it?"

"Well... yes. But I'm actually enjoying it." Not that Senwick looked any less impressed. Orrick, at least, managed a polite false-interest. "Plus, if my father can apply what I learn to his ranch's business, then we'll hopefully make enough money to put all my little sisters through university."

Orrick smiled--for real this time. "Now, that's a noble goal. See, Senwick? We should both study something with earning potential. If we can pay our parents back, then they won't have to worry too much about where they'll get the money to send our little siblings."

"Yes, because there's every chance in the world that Raia's children won't get to attend the university where she's the chancellor."

"They'll still have tuition fees. We do."

"They also have a grandfather who's the university's top patron. I think their fees are as good as paid." Senwick took his twin's silence as a victory, but Orrick still didn't look convinced. Maybe that was how one dealt with Senwick? Let him have the last word, and he'd eventually drop it? He didn't seem the type to hold a grudge...

But now that he was living with these two, and would be for a while, Sev supposed it was only a matter of time before he knew for sure.

"So, do you mind helping me haul in my instruments from the front hall? I'll teach you how to play one of them if you do."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Raia Hears the All-Surrounding Sound

July 20, 1170

Orrick and Senwick both reached for the green-clad doll, then looked at each other for a minute before Orrick picked up the red-shirted figure instead. A grin on her face, Raia watched as the two of them began to play. "They're so cooperative."

"They play more nicely together than any of the others ever did, that's for sure," Falidor agreed, sending a fond glance the boys' way before looking up at her from the bench. "Just between you and me, I think it would break their little hearts to learn... well, you know."

She did know. Poor Falidor. It was obvious that he loved Ailede's kids--all of them--as his own, but he still had to live with the knowledge that most of them were other men's. That must have stung, even if any fondness he'd ever had for his wife had long since disappeared; still, it was probably not something he cared to dwell on, so she figured she had to say something. "I wonder what it would be like to have a twin."

Falidor shrugged. "Probably rather like having any other similarly-aged sibling."

"Killjoy," she teased, somewhat unimpressed by his dull answer. "I suppose I wouldn't have gotten much more out of a twin than I did out of Jadin, though--unless we were identical, of course. Wouldn't that be something? Can you imagine all the tricks you could play?"

Smirking, the steward leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Do you think the world could handle two Raias?"

"Not at all." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and beamed at him. "It could use a couple more of you, though."

Laughing, he opened his mouth to say something in response, but was cut off by an angry shriek from downstairs. "FALIDOR!"

Raia bit her lip as a disheartened Falidor pulled himself to his feet, sighing. "And so the witch returns to her keep."

"Falidor! Where the hell is my sister?"

A walking cloud of bitter contempt, Ailede stormed through the door, glaring around the room in search of her husband; when her eyes found Raia, she scowled. "What is she doing here?"

"Raia came over with Nora earlier," Falidor answered in the same resigned tone he always used around his wife. "Nora left a while ago, but the boys wanted Raia to stay a little longer, so she agreed to do so."

Ailede snorted in disbelief, but didn't press the matter further; she had other things on her mind. "Where's Neleine?"

Falidor's too-large wedding ring fell to his mid-digit; he pushed it back to his knuckle with an absent mind, apparently too used to this to think much of it. "The abbey."

"The abbey," Ailede repeated, each syllable dripping with enough venom to kill a cat or a small dog. "Why is she at the abbey?"

Falidor crossed his arms and stared at her; Raia had heard this story mere hours earlier, and had she been in his place, she would have been surprised and annoyed too. "You said you wanted her out of the house, remember? You told her that when she told you she was pregnant again."

"Yes, but my slut sister wouldn't take the veil out of her own free will! You sent her there, didn't you?"

Falidor sighed again. "I didn't have much of a choice, you know. You told me to either get Neleine out of the house or you'd trick Riala into marrying some boy; obviously, I would have rather seen your sister go than my daughter."

Ailede's face, already scrunched into a tense ball of fury, folded into even further malice; Raia was reminded of one of the mutts her father let sleep in the stables, a cranky old sack of bones with more wrinkly, sagging skin than his body knew what to do with. "Shutting her in a nunnery, though? How could you do that to your own family? You should have just found her husband!"

"You think I didn't try?" Falidor's mouth sunk into a hopeless frown as the lights in his eyes flickered out. "I must have asked every bachelor for miles around, and they all laughed in my face! Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, and all that--"

Whatever 'all that' was, Ailede didn't care to hear it. Her hand flew across Falidor's face with such force that Raia felt herself swaying backward as if propelled by the shockwaves. Her mouth pulled itself into a scowl. Where did this woman get off? "Don't talk about my sister that way, you pathetic excuse for a slab of meat!"

"Why shouldn't he?" barked Raia, unable to contain herself any longer. "In case you've forgotten, you already did so yourself!"

Falidor froze in an awkward sort of horror; meanwhile, Ailede turned around and poised her glower like a knight might draw his sword. "What did you say to me?"

Frustrated, Raia ground her teeth; dear Lord, had a more irrational person ever walked the earth? "You were railing at him for implying that your sister is a slut--and you called her a slut yourself just a minute ago, you stupid cow!"

Ailede's jaw dropped, her piggy little eyes as wide as they could ever hope to be. The effect was not so menacing as it was pathetic. "What did you just call me?"

"You heard the first time! Why should I repeat myself? The only thing wrong with your ears is the lack of anything between them!"

By the wall, Falidor shook his head in a vain attempt to dissuade her, but Raia did not think she could afford to take her eyes off of her opponent. Ailede bit her lip so hard that a brief wash of blood could be seen across her teeth. "You dare insult me in my own home, little girl?"

Her home? "It's Falidor's home!" Raia snapped, not sure how much more of this stubborn egocentricity she could take. "It's Falidor's house! Nora asked for this house for Falidor! My parents gave this house to Falidor! The only reason you're here is that he's the only one of your millions of men who was kind enough to take you in, you ungrateful whore!"

Ailede shrieked, plunging her foot to the hardwood so firmly that it was a small miracle--or misfortune--that she didn't plummet right through to the room below. "You horrible little bitch!"

"Oh, I'm the bitch? At least I'm not milking some poor man for all he's worth while fucking the rest of the shire without even bothering to cover my tracks!"

"That is it!"

She pulled back her arm and hurled it forward. Raia cringed, bracing herself for the same stinging pain that Falidor must have felt only moments before--but it never came.

She opened her eyes and gaped. Ailede was standing several feet further back than she had been, struggling to free herself from her husband's grasp. She squirmed and kicked and bit, but to no avail; he was too strong for her. "Let me go!"

"NO!" The word ricocheted off the walls and rang, long and loud and definite--all-surrounding, all-encompassing. Falidor was a sight to behold. Never before had Raia seen him so angry, and she doubted it was a different case for Ailede; where the woman had been livid before, she appeared now both startled and frightened. His hand crushing her arm in its iron hold, he pushed her away. If she wanted to do something more than just stand there, she didn't--she couldn't.

"Get out of here, Ailede." Ailede didn't move. "Did you not hear what I said? Get the hell out!"

The vitriol in his voice was enough to push any fear past the crippling effects of shock. She shot one last glare back at Raia, then hurried to the landing, slamming the door behind her.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor's Question Is Not So Profound

June 20, 1167

"And this one here is Senwick," Falidor introduced the infant as he held him up for Lord Severin to see. The baby's blue eyes widened at the sight of this stranger, much like his cousin's had minutes before; Falidor didn't think either of the two babies appreciated the company, but he was just relieved that his lord had was finally getting out of the castle. Apart from the occasion of the duchess's wedding, Lord Severin hadn't been outside the keep walls since they had buried Lady Alina. "This one is Ailede's. He's a few days younger, but we averaged the two birthdates and have been feeding people that one."

Lord Severin nodded, studying the baby's face with a likely-feigned interest--that broken apathy never left his eyes. "They do look quite a bit alike, though. Same hair, same eyes... if I didn't know better, I'd believe the whole twin story."

Falidor lifted the baby to his lips and kissed his tiny forehead. "Well, they're cousins, after all. Since he died before my family ever came here, we've been telling everyone that they look like my father."

The older man sniffed. "Funny--it seems to me that they both look like my father."

ne brow raised, Falidor glanced down at the baby in his arms, then back at Orrick in the crib. Baby features, he knew, could be deceiving, but sure enough, there did seem to be a slight resemblance. "When was he here last, exactly?"

Frowning, his lord shrugged. "Around this time last year, perhaps? Late June, early July?"

"Well, Orrick was born in late March, and Senwick in early April, so... oh."

"Indeed."

Shaking his head, Falidor flashed Senwick one last smile, then lowered him into his crib. "All right, time for your nap, little blue-blooded baby--say goodbye to your big brother, now."

He stroked the baby's face and watched as his little eyelids began to droop. After about a minute or so, Senwick had settled into his slumber; grinning, Falidor stepped away from the crib and sighed. "They're such good babies, both of them. All my children are--and they are my children, you know, no matter who fathered them."

"I can't argue with you there," Lord Severin agreed, his unfocused eyes darting among the stray toys littering the floor.

"But I'll admit--and perhaps it's a little selfish of me--that it would be nice to personally sire another one some day," Falidor ventured, his first glimpse of Fenrick and Riala flashing in front of him yet again. "Do you know what it's like to know that you'll probably never hold a baby and look down at him and see your own eyes staring back at you again?"

It had seemed a profound question as he'd said it, but only after he'd finished did he remember just who it was he was asking. Of all the stupid things to say!

Lord Severin stared at him for a few agonizing seconds, his gaze both unfathomable and only too clear. "You know, I really should be heading home--now."

NEXT CHAPTER: