In Which Garrett Does Not Have One of Each

October 21, 1180

Red Severin--both dark-haired little boys on the floor were named Severin, and both were called Sevvie by their fathers, so Garrett had taken to distinguishing them by the color of their shirts--was Valira and Searle's younger son, the only child they had brought with them as their other three were plenty old enough to spend the night with only the nurses about. He and Karlspan were less than a year apart and played together well; Red Severin was by far the more outgoing of the two, but while many children his age might have been frustrated by quieter playmates, the boy had nothing but patience for his shy, mild cousin.

Blue Severin was Lonriad and Asalaye's eldest. He wasn't mean, but he seemed to prefer animals to other boys, if the plight of poor captive Sheba was any indication. His little brother, scared of the bigger boys as year-old children often were, clung instead to his father's tunic.

Garrett couldn't be sure what he might have done with little Karlspan if his brothers-in-law hadn't had the good sense to bring their own sons along. He would have done what he could for the boy, of course--what sort of horrible father wouldn't try to comfort his son when the only mother the kid had ever known could very well be in mortal peril?--but if he'd been the one distracting Karlspan, wouldn't that bring further emphasis to his own worries? Karlspan's preoccupation with his little cousins and the presence of the other men were the only things holding Garrett's own sanity in place.

Not that the men were doing the greatest job of it.

"Maybe Nanalie's at an advantage? You know, being a midwife and all." Searle's suggestion was a misguided attempt at reassurance where distraction would have been preferred. "She knows what to expect, and how to best compose herself. And she's not the sort who's prone to panic if something goes wrong, so extra stress shouldn't be a problem."

As if to punish him, Lonriad didn't only nod in agreement, but apparently felt the need to contribute. "Plus you know how everyone listens to Nanalie. She's probably nagged the kid out already, no problem."

Garrett glowered at them both. At least his father-in-law had the sense not to make such comments. But then he remembered that Nanalie's mother had died birthing her youngest and suddenly that wasn't any better. "Er, so... surely you've heard my uncle's thinking about throwing a tournament? Planning on entering?"

He drummed on the desk, fighting to keep a grimace in place as his brothers-in-law took their sweet time answering. Too much time.

And after all that--two shakes of the head.

"If I'm going to get that messy, I'd hope to have a better reason than some vanity contest of brute strength."

"And you think I'd risk this pretty face? What does that leave my poor extended family to refresh their eyes with after a glimpse at my sister's husband?"

His father-in-law's forehead collided with his open hand. Garrett could relate to the sentiment. "Really, nobody likes winners' purses any more?"

"What's the point? It'll just go to Casimiro or Ashe or Neilor anyway. Or Isidro, if he forgets his helmet and the mere sight of his ugly face scares his opponents right off their horses." Lonriad shrugged, planting a kiss on his little son's head before steering right back to the conversation Garrett had been trying to avoid. "What about you? Is your new little mite going to be able to see his daddy fight before he has the chamberpot figured out?"

For Christ's sake, if the next phrase out of your mouth isn't--

"Oh, hello Valira."

That hadn't been quite what he was thinking. Regardless, Garrett swallowed back some misplaced nerves and turned his head. His sister had indeed emerged from the birthing room.

And not unaccompanied.

Whatever the hell they'd been talking about forgotten, Garrett scrambled to his feet. "Nanalie--"

"She's fine." Valira gestured for him with a jerk of her chin. "Get over here."

Relieved and grateful beyond the point where disagreement was possible, Garrett did as he was told. Not that he needed to be told.

A little face stared at him: tiny baby lips in a half-imagined smile, a nose far cuter than whatever horror he'd braced himself for, eyes that were his own but somehow better. He hadn't expected this calm so soon. He'd been caught off guard. He was in love.

"Hello." He stepped forward and ventured a small wave; hazel eyes followed his hand. "I'm your papa."

The baby blinked. Valira propped up the little bundle for a better look at Garrett's face; this one had missed out on big brother Karlspan's newborn fear of large noses. "You're just adorable, you sweet little... uh, what--?"

Valira smirked. "She's a girl."

"A girl!" His heart somersaulted. Not sure how he wasn't bouncing off the walls, he glanced at his little son on the floor. "Here that, Karl? You have a little sister."

Karlspan dropped his doll, beaming. "Yay!"

"'Yay' indeed! Did Nanalie name her, or...?"

Valira nodded. "She wants to name her after her mother, if that's all right with you."

"Of course! Isn't this great, everyone? Now we have one of each." And he cemented that fact with a kiss to his daughter's brow. Nanalie was alive. Karlspan was glad to be a big brother. And the baby--his little Honora--was the sweetest little girl he'd ever seen. It was nothing like Karlspan's birth, what ought to have been a celebration marred by poor Elhina's fate, what he'd kept trying and trying and failing to tell himself would not happen to Nanalie as well. He did not think he'd ever been happier. He did not think he ever could be happier. Surely this was the pinnacle of happiness. How could it not be?

What could possibly make him any happier?

"Um... Garrett?"

It was his father-in-law--still quiet but no longer tense, calm and perhaps a little amused. But of course he would be. He had a new granddaughter, after all. "I'm not sure that's quite correct."

Eh? "Sorry, I don't quite--" Behind Adonis, a mischievous Searle gestured to the door.

Huh. Perhaps it was possible to be happier. "She didn't look that big."

"She is a tricky one, my sister." Mindful of Garrett's third child--holy shit, he had three children!--Asalaye kicked the door shut behind her. "You're lucky that they don't look the same."

Garrett took a minute to glance back and forth between the babies. It was true that they weren't identical--or even alike, really, despite being equally beautiful. They both had his eyes and they both wore them better, and they both had a few wispy strands of similarly brown hair, but that was where the similarities ended. There was the tiniest hint of a bump in the bridge of Honora's nose, and perhaps slightly more definition in the other's chin, and maybe some difference in the overall shape of the face. That would be more than enough.

Well, except... "So, this one--"

His sister and sister-in-law shared a giggle before responding in time. "Girl."

"Then we'll name this one for my mother. Hear that, Karl?" Garrett didn't have to look at his son to know the little mite was smiling. "You have two little sisters!"

"Yay, yay!"

And if ever Garrett needed two words to sum up this day, he couldn't think of any more fitting than those.

Yay, yay.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Nanalie Forgives the Sentiments

July 27, 1179

"There!" Asalaye finished fiddling with the hem of Nanalie's shoulder and took a step back to admire her work. Nanalie felt like nothing so much as a piece of pottery fresh from the kiln. "Aww, Nan, you're stunning."

"If you say so." Privately, she was sure she was only as 'stunning' as a little girl playing dress-up. Wearing her hair long only showcased its lank and lifeless form, lacking every bit of her sister's full-bodied bounce. And while she couldn't deny Asalaye's good taste in fabrics, the dress was far too elegant for a woman who'd always been plain and had never aspired otherwise.

Garrett's sister looked her over with a hint of a smile. Valira wasn't any prettier than Nanalie herself--like her brother, she hadn't dodged the misfortune of their father's rock-crushing chin--but she'd applied a wave to her hair that framed her face nicely and she wore her green velvet and brown silk as naturally as her own skin. Not all people were born beautiful, but some were better at hiding the fact, and that was a skill Nanalie had never mastered. "The dusty rose suits you. You should wear that color more often."

Asalaye nodded in keen agreement. Nanalie glanced back into the mirror and nudged a shoulder. She didn't look quite so incongruent as she thought she would, but she couldn't imagine getting so dressed up for mass--never mind all the time. "Maybe..."

"Really. You should." Valira turned to her daughters, seated on the couch by the window. "Girls? Doesn't Aunt Nanalie look lovely?"

"Yes, Mother," they chorused, though neither of them seemed too enthused. Nanalie couldn't blame them; she'd never been the sort to be fussed about weddings either.

But luckily for the two of them, their indifference went more or less unnoticed. "I can't believe Ivilia managed to get her hands on that dye for the accent color. It's such a popular shade these days, and they only make so much of each..."

"You'd think they'd make more of this one. It does go with almost anything."

Nanalie glanced down at the pale blue of her bodice. She supposed it would go with anything, but it was still light enough to be impractical for everyday use. But did ladies worry about that sort of thing? Not that it mattered much. She did. "It's nice..."

Someone knocked at the door--her father, from the sounds of it. Thank God. "Come in."

Sure enough, the familiar lithe form stepped through the door and shut it behind him, dressed well but not over-well, greying hair neat and combed. Nanalie half-expected a disapproving sweep of the eyes as he noticed her obviously-not-white dress, but instead came a quick, cordial nod for the party. "Ladies."

"Adonis," Valira greeted him. The first name familiarity was a shock to the ears, but her father didn't seem to mind and Nanalie guessed it made sense. They'd be family soon, after all. "Is it time already?"

Her father nodded. "Thank you for all of your help."

She replied with a quick grin, then gestured for her girls. "We'd better find your father and brothers before they get into too much trouble. Come along."

The pair of them stood and followed their mother out of the room, a wave for the rest of them apiece. Nanalie's father waited until Renata had shut the door to approach his daughters. "My girls."

"Father." Asalaye greeted him with an embrace and a peck on the cheek. "You look very handsome."

"Not nearly so much that anyone will believe I produced you." He laughed, rubbing her on the shoulder as they parted. "It's not a good time, but the baby's getting a little fussy. Avine and Alina think he's hungry."

"Oh, probably. That kid is always hungry." Asalaye shook her head, eyes rolling back. But there was an odd fondness looming in her face that Nanalie wouldn't understand for a while yet. "Do you think I have time to feed him before the wedding?"

"You should. Had's giving Garrett the 'if you ever hurt my little sister' talk, and you remember how thorough he was with Lonriad."

"Ack! I feared we'd have to postpone the wedding to the next day!" The exaggeration was typical of Asalaye, but it had been quite the wait. Hopefully Had had developed an abridged version for Garrett. "But I'd still better rush."

"And be sure to thank your sister and stepmother for watching the boys."

"Yes, yes. See you two in a bit!" And with a quick parting wave, she was gone.

Nanalie's father planted a kiss on her brow, then stepped back to look her over. "You look lovely."

"Thank you." She brushed the skirt of the dress, not sure how cloth could be so stiff and so soft at the same time. "It might be a bit excessive, though."

He shook his head. "It's not excessive. And even if it were, it's your wedding; a little excess isn't about to hurt anyone."

"Tell that to my purse."

Her father chuckled. "Oh, I raised you right. But my offer still stands, you know."

"No. If I can afford it, I see no reason why I shouldn't pay for my own dress. No sense wasting your money on something I'll only wear once, especially when you still have three daughters at home."

"Fair enough." He pulled her in for a quick, tight hug, then released her with a sigh. "I'm going to miss having you around."

Nanalie sniffed. "It's not like I'm moving across the continent, Father."

"I know, but still. It's an adjustment." He shot her a strange sort of smile--a little bemused, a little proud, and just the slightest bit melancholy. "Ah, but you'll have to forgive an old man his sentiments. Are you ready, sweetheart?"

Nodding, Nanalie returned the smile. Her father's seemed to shift at the sight of hers. "Whenever Had and Garrett are."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Valira Breaks the Silence

April 29, 1170

Holladrin watched the door with a grimace. It had been a few minutes since Nora had dashed out, and surely she would be returning soon--not soon enough, however, for the inevitable speculation. "That's the second time in half an hour."

Smiling, Valira rolled her eyes. She couldn't say that Nora's behavior had surprised her; when one was married to Lord Severin, it was never all that long before one had something to show for it. "You should have seen her on the ride over. She kept stopping to puke in the bushes, and then whenever I suggested that we just turn around and go home, she'd gallop off. Either she really wanted to see you, or she's in denial."

"Or perhaps both," Holladrin mused with a wink.

Valira laughed. "Can't argue with you there, Aunt Holladrin. Still, I hope she's all right."

"Oh." A thoughtful sort of seriousness glazed over the baroness's face. "Yes, given how Lady Alina died..." She trailed off; neither of them wanted to think about that. The memory of that day was still only too clear--the crash of the sudden fall, all the blood, everything. Valira had not even been in the room and she could still recall and picture every detail.

No--neither of them wanted to think about that.

Fidgeting in her seat, Valira made up her mind to look toward a more positive outcome--the most likely outcome. After all, Nora had already birthed two single babies and set of twins. Lady Alina had birthed seven before that fatal day, Holladrin had birthed three, and Valira herself had had one with no complications. If every pregnancy merited a fatality, the only women alive past their late teens or early twenties would have been nuns. "I bet it's a boy."

Holladrin smirked--she must have been giving herself a similar lecture. "I'll take that bet."

"What bet?"

Nora had returned. "Sorry. What did I miss?" She collapsed onto the empty seat next to Valira and grinned weakly, though she did still look a little green.

"Just us making a wager about the sex of your unborn child, dear," Holladrin informed her with an impish grin. "I think it'll be a girl."

Valira shook her head. "I'm telling you, it's going to be a boy."

"My unborn child?" Her mouth obscured as she gnawed the inside of her cheek, Nora sent Valira a quizzical glance. "I don't recall mentioning anything of the sort."

"You didn't have to." Valira tugged at her sleeve and reclined backward. "The nausea did the talking for you."

Nora's lip quivered in desperate protest. "Perhaps I'm simply ill."

"Riddle me this, then," pried Holladrin from the other couch, running a hand over her own seven months' worth of swell. "How long has it been since your last course?"

Resigned, she glanced down at her lap and began to spin her wedding ring about her finger. "A while..."

"Ah yes--a while." Holladrin sighed. "Do you think Severin knows?"

Nora shrugged. "I doubt it; I imagine he has more important concerns than my laundry."

"Men can be rather unobservant," mused Valira, shaking her head as she recalled all those none-too-subtle hints that Searle had so thoroughly failed to notice. "When do you plan on telling him?"

"I don't know." She sighed, the wedding band still twirling about. "He won't be happy about this. He already has seven children, and add my four... and then with what happened to Lady Alina..." She didn't finish. She didn't have to.

The silence was brief, but overwhelming; it would have been against every urge in Valira's nature not to break it. "It's so easy for them to forget to pull out."

"On the off-chance that even works," Holladrin laughed in reply. "There's only one way to prevent the occasional accident from happening, you know--abstinence."

Valira stuck out her tongue at her aunt-by-marriage. "As if you've ever tried that."

Holladrin giggled again, and even Nora snickered. A smile curled on Valira's lips as she played with a lock of her hair; the room's gravity had not been fully vanquished, but at least they had this moment of relief. Predictably, however, it didn't last long.

"When do you think I should tell him?"

Valira sighed. She was younger than Nora, but still plenty old enough to know that such harsh questions typically merited answers of equal or greater difficulty. "Ideally, never; realistically, soon."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Searle Anticipates Yesterdays and Tomorrows

April 7, 1167

"Look, I know you aren't too keen on the idea," Searle's uncle sighed, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed, "but please try to keep an open mind in regards to Valira. You must realize that she has just as little choice in the matter as you yourself." He raised the crook of his elbow to his face and coughed; a brief spell of illness had spread throughout the east side of the kingdom, and only Searle and a handful of servants had remained unaffected out of all the castle residents. Fortunately, the others seemed to be on the mend.

Or unfortunately. Maybe if they'd still been ill enough--and if the baron's family had still been ill enough as well--then he would have been able to sneak off to the pond to see that girl again. Never before had he been kissed just like that, as if their two pairs of lips had been molded for each other, their tongues fibers of the same tight thread. She had been willing, but not easy; when he had reached for her laces, she'd smacked his hand away, giggling as she told him, "Not yet, you silly boy!" Yet--that betrayed an intention.

What if this 'yet' had been meant to happen today? What if she was waiting for him at the pond right now? If he didn't meet her there, would he ever see her again?

His aunt gave him a quick hug, then stepped back and looked him over. "You seem a little edgy. Nervous?"

That seemed like a safe explanation. "I guess so."

In the next corner of the room, his cousin Jadin snickered. "Oh, come off it, Searle. She's just a girl--it's not like you've never seen a girl before."

Searle groaned; Jadin was not quite at the age where he should have started discovering girls, but much to everyone else's misfortune, he was rather precocious in that regard. "And if you really don't like her, just picture her naked. I know that always makes me feel more comfor--ow!" He cringed as his older sister delivered a swift kick to his shin. "What the hell was that for?"

Raia tapped her foot impatiently. "Stop being such a pig--unless of course you want me to tell Camaline you've been undressing her with your eyes?"

"And why should she have a problem with that? It's not like she's the only girl I--"

"Jadin, do yourself a favor and stop talking," urged his father, an unimpressed frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Miraculously--or perhaps with the help of a threatening glare from Raia--Jadin shut up. Satisfied, Searle's uncle turned back to him and offered a brief twitch of a smile. "She really is a spirited little thing; I'm sure the two of you will have a lot of fun together if you give each other a chance."

He wanted to believe him, but since he hadn't seen the evidence himself, he found he could barely even nod.

"Papa?" asked Viridis from the couch out-of-the-blue, Vera squirming beside her. "Will I get a party when my betrothed comes to call?"

Searle's uncle smirked. "Got anyone in mind at this point, angel?"

The eight-year-old nodded, her pin-curled hair bouncing about every which way as her head bobbed. "A prince!"

Shaking her head, the girl's mother laughed. "Ah yes, of course--a prince."

Searle caught sight of Riona and the two younger boys making faces on the couch--the idea of their sister's prince was quite the object of ridicule for them, no doubt. He glanced to little Vera to see if she shared their sentiment, but she only stared at the floor, the heel of her slipper rising and falling as she moved her little foot. Was she all right? She wasn't usually so quiet. "Vera..."

Before he could say anything else, someone knocked on the door. "We're here!" came the lilting voice of the baroness from the front room. Searle swallowed; his imminent doom had finally arrived.

"Come in," his uncle bade her and her party--this was it. Searle counted the seconds in his head: one, two, three...

The door swung open and in stepped the pretty baroness, little Thallie in her arms. The baron followed with Pandora, then Sparron and Jeda entered at his heels, flashing smiles around the room before proceeding to Raia and Jadin. "Sorry we're late," the baron apologized. "Holladrin had a bit of a coughing spell just before we left."

Searle's aunt frowned, her head tilting in concern. "Are you all right, Holladrin?"

"Oh yes, thank you," the baroness assured her. "It was just a slight delay--nothing to worry about at all, really."

Thallie writhed in her mother's arms, grabbing one golden curl in her fat little fist and proceeding to gum it. It was a rather nauseating sight; was this what he had to look forward too? Restless babies with nothing better to do than ruin his hair? What sort of a future was that?

His contempt must have shown, for as soon as the baroness turned away, his uncle cuffed him across the arm. "Be nice."

Defeated, Searle put on the largest, most obvious grimace he could muster and waved to each of the newcomers. His uncle didn't look amused, but he was past caring at this point. What did it matter what anyone thought of him? His life was effectively over anyway.

After a minute or so, the baron's squire trailed in, sending a nod Searle's way. "Searle."

Searle squinted; he normally got along fine with Garrett, but right now he was not so much his friend as he was the brother of his betrothed. "Garrett."

"My sister will be here in a second," the younger boy promised. "She's just looking at the tapestry in the front room."

She can take her time, Searle thought to himself. "I see."

"Oh, I'm sure you do."

It wasn't Garrett's voice--or even a man's voice--but it was familiar, and coming from near the door. Searle peeled his eyes from the other squire and glanced toward the source of the sound. He didn't expect his gaze to linger much longer than a minute, but...

Oh my God!

"What's the matter, Sailor? Feeling a little green around the gills?"

He could not believe it. He simply could not believe it.

"Searle, Valira; Valira, Searle," his aunt introduced them hastily before crossing the room to her younger two sons. "Lonriad! Stop purposely bouncing into your brother!"

That was probably the last thing he heard from anyone else for the rest of his stay in the room; whatever else was going on, he found he could only focus on Valira as she made her way toward him. "You knew it was me, didn't you?"

"That I did," she insisted, gesturing to her brother. "Garrett met my father and I at the border, and we rode back to my uncle's castle in a carriage. You and your cousin Raia were riding nearby and we could see you through the window, so Garrett pointed you out. I was out for a ride myself yesterday when I caught sight of you, so I decided to follow you for a little ways and not introduce myself."

In spite of himself, Searle couldn't fight the small smile any longer. "And what a non-introduction it was. Would you like to talk in private?"

She nodded. He took her by the hand and pushed past the crowed, leading her into his uncle's study and closing the door behind them. The exit probably hadn't looked good from the adults' point of view, but as far as he was concerned, they could think what they wanted; this was his betrothed, after all.

As soon as they were alone, Valira's features came alight with a blend of ease and relief. "I hate parties."

"Me too," agreed Searle.

"They're so stifling."

"And intrusive. When we have our own castle, let's never throw a single one."

"Agreed."

She leaned toward him, her white teeth revealed as her grin widened. "I don't see how so many people like them. There are much more effective ways of having fun--take yesterday, for example."

Was she reading his thoughts? "Yesterday was certainly the most fun I've had in some time."

Had that been the right thing to say? He got a wink for a reply--that was a good thing, correct? "Well, I suppose we're just going to have to make a whole hell of a lot of yesterdays, then."

Well, at least one of them knew what to say. Desperate to prove himself, Searle wracked his brain for something clever. "You know... we could make today a yesterday."

Valira blinked. Twice. Thrice. Perhaps it had not been the wittiest thing he could have come up with.

Then again, perhaps it had.

"You know what's got me even more excited than all the yesterdays?" he muttered as they parted after several minutes.

Valira raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He grinned. "All the tomorrows."

Her hazel eyes dazzling, she opened her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by the frenzied, nervous arrival of Searle's youngest cousin. "Vera?"

"Are you all right, honey?" Valira asked the girl, turning around, her brow furrowed.

The little girl gave neither of them any heed--they may as well have been back in the other room with everyone else. She skitted a few feet inward, then let out a soft cry, shaking uncontrollably. "It's everywhere..."

"Vera?"

Her sister Riona had rushed in, the door swinging shut behind her. She too seemed oblivious to Searle and Valira, but for a completely different reason. "Vera, are you all right? I saw you come in here, and you're all shaky..."

She trailed off, as if expecting Vera to fill in the blank--she didn't. "It's all over everywhere. I can't see anything else--"

Thud!

The aftermath of the crash--for Searle, at least--was made entirely of sound. A woman's scream. A man cursing. A girl muttering the phrase 'Oh God' over and over. Voices blurred together--'What happened?'--'Check for a pulse!'--'Someone go for Laveria!'

Someone had fallen. On the other side of the wall, someone was lying on the hard floor, and Searle's boots would not move. All he knew of the scene was the sound.

His eyes, meanwhile, rested on Vera, wailing as her frightened sister tried in vain to soothe her. She lifted her head only once, and only slightly--just enough so that Searle could see her mouth the words "It's everywhere."

NEXT CHAPTER: