Hybel 6th, 1513 – Fitz-Chivalry estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

The summer sunlight streaming in the windows hit Caroline’s tinted hair, exaggerating the brassiness of the tinting and highlighting the sallow color of her face over the mourning dress that Katherine insisted she wear. The forced laughter didn’t help any. If he lived to be ninety, Brandon would never understand why Katherine insisted that Caroline and Leo be chaperoned. All they ever did was sit and have awkward discussions until one of them lost their tempers. Then one of them would stalk off and sulk and the other would go home.

It was usually Marianne who was stuck with watching this sad pantomime. But she had protested that she had plans to meet “a friend” at the library this afternoon when Katherine had announced that Leo would be coming over and that she was expecting Marianne to chaperone. Well, it was phrased as a request, but all of the Fitz-Chivalry children knew when their mother said something in that tone, it was a demand and it would do them no good to protest it.

She’d looked so disappointed that Brandon had heard himself volunteering before the words had really even finished leaving Katherine’s mouth. Marianne had looked so grateful that he hadn’t even felt bad about subjecting himself to an afternoon of torture. At least until the torture started. He thought as his eyes flickered up over the top of the book that he was using as a shield against his sister and her inane chatter. 

Even now, though, it wasn’t that he was upset at Marianne, she suffered through this every time Leo came around, no, he reserved that for his mother who really thought that this madness was necessary. Leo wasn’t going to ravish Caroline on the parlor sofa with their father in his study in the next room. First of all, he couldn’t imagine any of the Finessas ravishing anyone, which was why he didn’t have too many concerns about the fact that the “friend” Marianne was probably meeting at the library was probably male. And he’d have laid pocket money it was Severus, who probably would have genuflected at Marianne’s feet with more seriousness than at the altar.

Second of all, Henry was in the next room and if Caroline so much as coughed uncomfortably, he’d stick his head out the door to see what was going on. And thirdly, Leo wasn’t stupid. Not to mention that Leo didn’t even seem to want to kiss or touch Caroline, so ravishing her on the sofa was probably as likely as a fae becoming an ironsmith.

So far they’d covered the weather and Leo’s classes at Camford and whether Caroline was enjoying her Hybel break. It all made one of Brother Loki’s lectures seem like a night out at the tavern.

“Um, I think that my mother mentioned that Lord Rance was–a cousin of yours?” Leo said, obviously grasping at straws for something to talk about.

“Well, a second cousin of my mother’s, I think.” Caroline’s eyes flickered in Brandon’s direction and he made a show of turning the page in his book, the last thing that he was going to do was help Caroline out here. If it had been any of his other siblings, he probably would have, but even at Edmund’s most annoying, he held no candles to Caroline. She was on her own here.

“I’m sorry.” Leo said running his finger over a crease on his breeches.

“Well, getting struck by lightning just sort of happens, right?” Caroline said. If she only knew, Brandon thought to himself. If she only knew… “I mean, it’s sad but I think that getting struck by lightning is just–it’s your time, you know?”

“Er. I–I guess?” Leo said awkwardly staring at the arm of the sofa.

“Your father does–something for the king, doesn’t he?” Caroline asked cocking her head to the side.

“So does yours.” Leo said, eyes narrowed slightly.

“Well, aye. But Daddy does stuff for the king in Reme, not in Albion, I was just wondering if–if your father had said anything about Garth.” Caroline asked.

“Who?”

“Cousin Milford’s younger brother.” Caroline told him.

“Nothing…” Leo looked hard at Caroline. “Why?”

“Well, I heard that the council wouldn’t want Adelina for Richard’s guardian because of Rance being near the Reman border.” Caroline said. Brandon frown slightly. Why would Caroline be listening to something like that? Caroline had less interest in politics than pretty much anyone else Brandon knew.

“That–may be.” Leo sounded guarded. “So you’re hoping that they find him?”

“If they don’t find him–doesn’t that mean that they would have to move Rance’s estate to–someone else?” Caroline pressed. Brandon’s eyes flew wide as he figured out what Caroline was asking a half moment too late to stop her from saying anything further.

“Wait–are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Horror crossed over Leo’s face. Unfortunately Caroline, being so shallow if she were a puddle you could cross it in stocking feet and not get your stockings wet, could hardly be deep enough to be saying something else.

“It’s not that I’m hoping they won’t find him, but if they don’t, somebody’s got to attend the estate, if the Rance’s can’t, then there are people who could.”

“I cannot believe, Caroline!” Leo gaped. “I know you want your father to be granted an estate, but to hope that your own kin lose theirs because your father might get it is repugnant.”

“What is repugnant about practicality?” Caroline asked as Brandon mimed for her to stop.

“You wouldn’t know practicality if it bit you in the arse!” Leo’s tone rose sharply.

“Do not swear in front of me, sir!” Caroline gasped.

“That is the very least of the profanity I would like to use directed at you right now. What kind of self-centered bitch would even think that? Certainly not one I would ever care to marry.” Leo climbed to his feet staring down at Caroline.

“And no gentleman, and I do use that term quite loosely, I would care to marry would ever use that kind of language in front of a lady.” Caroline also rose.

“It certainly doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t marry you under any circumstances. Vivi was right about you.” Leo snarled at her.

“Of course, go hide behind the jealous convictions of your precious little Vivianne.” Caroline planted her hands on her hips and sneered.

“Why would Vivi be jealous of you? You’re stupid, rude, self-centered with a mind too shallow to drown a worm in.” Leo said, throwing his hands in the air and storming away. “My father will contact yours about dissolving the betrothal contract. Good day to you, Miss Fitz-Chivalry.”

“Good day to you!” Caroline called before dissolving into tears and throwing herself on the settee. “MOTHER!” Brandon stared at his sister then at the ajar parlor door.

“Brandon?” His father’s voice came from the study door, barely loud enough to hear over Caroline’s hysterical crying. He turned and walked into the study, shutting the door after him when his father mimed for him to do so.

“I am sorry, sir.” Brandon sank into the chair.

“Don’t be. I could hear well enough that I could have interceded if I really thought that it would help anything.” Henry sighed and picked at the cuff of his shirt. “This thing has been falling apart for long enough that I was almost expecting this. Maybe if I move quickly I can repair relations with the Finessas, though I’m certain that your mother will want all contact with them cut off as of immediately.

“But–if we cut off all contact with them–won’t we be losing our chance at ever becoming ennobled?” Brandon asked. “With the close ties that the Finessas have to the crown?”

“Quite possibly. We do live in a monarchy and no matter how much we like to pretend to be above nepotism, it does still exist.” Henry steepled his fingers and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “Your mother–I hate to put it this way–but your mother is Reman. And the only thing more important to a Reman than power–is revenge.” He sighed. “I have worked in the Reman court too long not to know that. Right now, to your mother, cutting ties to the Finessas for their supposed slight to Caroline will be far more important than whatever help being in good relations with the Finessas would put us in for eventually being ennobled.”

“So–what do we do, sir?” Brandon asked with a wince to the particularly shrill pitch Caroline’s sobbing hit in the next room.

“Well, truth to tell, this couldn’t have come at a worse time, I received a dispatch this morning, I’m going to have to go to the embassy in Reme for a month, six weeks maybe, to hopefully keep the Remans from poking too many sticks at Rance until Garth can be located or another suitable guardian instated.” Henry admitted with a sigh.

“… The Lord Wright has a very peculiar sense of humor, doesn’t he, sir?”

Hybel 4th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire Albion

The words on the page in front of him were wavering for the third time, Josh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The problem he’d found with choosing poetry as the subject he was being “tutored” in was that for so many years poetry had been his refuge from the craziness that came with being a Carico. But now every time he sat down to read one of those volumes, all he could hear was Darin’s deep voice, practically see him sitting in that chair by his desk, that half a smile on his lips. And that was just another bit of craziness that truthfully Josh didn’t need.

He sighed and flipped the page. He hadn’t expected to find someone he felt about the way he felt about Darin. Someone whose soul was a cracked and crazed and battered as his own was, but unlike Josh, someone who drew strength from adversity, someone who didn’t let that break him. He doubly would never have expected that it would be a “him”, certainly there were men that had “agreements”, he wasn’t totally innocent to the idea, but even had he entertained the idea, which he hadn’t really, before Darin, he’d never been that strongly attracted to anyone, male or female. Still an orphaned peasant boy was hardly what he ever would have pictured. Somehow though, none of that mattered when he looked at Darin. Still, it all hardly seemed to matter, Darin definitely was interested in the fairer sex, all you had to do was watch him with an attractive serving maid. And he had this feeling that was so deep it felt like knowledge that what was in store for him was that old Gaulish saw. Die young and leave a beautiful corpse.

And that brought his thoughts back around to why he was sitting here trying to lose himself in a volume of poetry anyway. In just a couple of short hours, they’d be piling into the carriage and heading to the cathedral to listen to a bunch of people lie about Milford Rance and what a great man he was.

It was usually lies, but when you considered he’d be in the pew next to–and behind–the reason that the man was in a box in the first place, the lies seemed that much more distasteful.

A knock came a moment later on the door. Josh didn’t jump exactly, but he did stand up and give his waistcoat a firm tug before saying “Come in.”

The door didn’t reveal who he thought it would. Usually if his mother wanted to see him, she had one of the maids summon him to wherever she was. But it was definitely his mother standing in the doorway, her black silk suit showing not the slightest sign of wilting, despite the heat of the day.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” His mother said, pausing just a few steps inside the door. “But I am at my wits end, Josh.” Josh couldn’t help the blink, if he did manage to restrain gaping at her. His mother come to beg help off of him. “Your sister listens to you far better than she ever listens to me. Please, try and talk some sense into her.”

“I know she’s stubborn, she’s related to your father’s family and mine. But usually she’ll see sense.” It was a shock to see Marisol flustered. Nothing ever seemed to phase her, she had a completely enviable ability to roll with whatever life threw at her. But she was definitely frazzled. “I do not even want to know what will come out of this. Please, Josh. I’ve had the maids lay out a couple of my suits, we have time to have them hemmed up before we have to leave.

“All right, Mother.” Josh said, not quite tracking what she was talking about. But apparently Bet had gotten an idea in her head and was being stubborn about it. Which if he thought about it, he should have expected. You’d have to be a saint to forgive a man who had done to Bet what Rance had. And now she had to go sit in the cathedral and listen to the same lies Josh had been lamenting listening to earlier. Of course she would rebel–and of the four of them, only Marisol didn’t know why she would be rebelling.

“Thank you, Josh. I’ll be downstairs in the parlor.” Marisol turned and walked back out into the hall and down the stairs. Josh squared his shoulders, feeling like a man suiting up for a battle, because if Bet had dug her feet in, it’d probably be one. And he he walked out the door, crossing the short piece of hall that separated his bedroom from hers and tapped on the ornate door.

“Who is it?” His sister’s familiar voice came a moment later.

“It’s Josh, can I come in?”

“Of course.” Of course. He pushed the door open and walked into his sister’s domain. Bet was at the mirror, checking her cosmetics, he guessed. “Mother sent you in to deal with me, huh?”

“Yeah. She didn’t, uh, actually get to the part where she explained what I’m supposed to be talking with you about, though.”

“My dress. She doesn’t think it’s appropriate, either for my age or the event.” Bet smoothed the waves of her hair one last time before stepping away from the mirror and around the screen. Josh bit his lip, pretty much to keep from pounding his fist against his forehead and groaning. He could definitely see why his mother had a problem with it. No twelve year old should be showing that much decolletage, nor really anyone attending a funeral.

“And you do?” Josh asked. If he couldn’t be honest with Elizabet than who could he be honest with? That was the thing that his mother didn’t understand about dealing with Elizabet when she got into one of her stubborn phases. You had to lay your cards out on the table, be honest. Marisol never laid her cards on the table. She wasn’t dishonest but she kept so many things close to the vest that you never felt she was truly being honest.

“If all I am to Father is a means to an end, a piece of meat to be auctioned off to the person who can give him what he wants, then why shouldn’t I acknowledge that?” Elizabet said, planting her hands on her hips in a way that said that he was not off to a great start.

“Because that’s not what you are, Bet. Aren’t you the one who always says that Father shouldn’t win with us? He doesn’t get to break you, he can’t.” Josh pulled his sister into a long hug, hating the way her body quivered as he did it.

“You think he should get to break you. Aren’t you the one who is always trying to be what that son of a bitch thinks you should be? To the point of completely denying your own heart?” Elizabet pointed out ruthlessly.

“And since when do you want to be me, Bet?” Josh shot back.

“Since I realized it doesn’t matter!” Elizabet said. “I’m still just a piece on his game board and nothing I do will change that. What’s the point in fighting and arguing and trying to be something else?”

“Okay.” Josh said. He saw her blink before he turned for the door.

“Okay?” Elizabet echoed. “What are you doing, Josh? Where are you going?”

“To my room, to get The Sword.” The Sword had been Joshua the First’s. The one that he had used to lead the army against the Remans in the battle that won the town. Elizabet caught his arm.

“And what are you going to do with it?” He felt a little tingle of something–magic, maybe?–coursing between her palm and his bicep.

“I’m going to kill our father with it.” Elizabet gasped and that tingle became a current that locked him in place.

“Josh! Don’t even joke about that!” Elizabet told him in a shocked voice.

“I’m not joking. If I can’t protect you from him while he’s alive, then I’ll just bloody make him not alive.” Josh said through clenched teeth. “The king won’t even have to come to River Sulis twice for a funeral. He can just stay an extra day while we get a box.”

“Josh, don’t throw your life away.”

“What life, Bet? I’m so fucked up that I can’t even fall in love right. You’d make a much better baroness than I’ll make a baron, Mother can go on with her life, Darin will be okay, you’ll take care of him, I know. Everyone and everything I care about will be safe as long as he’s not here.” Josh enumerated for her. It was about all he could do, his legs were trembling from whatever she’d done to him, and he wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t fail him a moment later.

“Josh.” Elizabet’s voice broke. “You can’t do that.”

“Orkneys are good at killing people who get in their way. It–and being batshit crazy–is about all we are good at.”

“I. Won’t. Let. You.” Elizabet told him.

“If my choices are you or him, I choose you. If my choices are you or me, I still choose you.” Josh told his sister.

“Josh.” Elizabet whispered. “You won’t, promise me, you won’t. We can’t lose each other.”

“If the dragon’s gone, you won’t need me.”

“But I will. I need you to be my big grouchy brother to scare all the pimply faced suitors Mother scrounges up. I don’t want to be Baroness. I want to be able to stand behind you and tell you I told you so while you do it.” Elizabet laughed, except it didn’t touch her eyes at all. “I won’t stop needing you after he’s gone and I am not going to let you take yourself away from me.”

A tap came at the door. “Lady Elizabet, Lord Joshua. Your lord father says it is time for you to leave.”

“See, we’ll be late for the funeral if you kill him. You can’t kill him.” Elizabet stuck her tongue out at Josh. “We’ll be right down, Fern. Now,” Elizabet poked him. “You stop being crazy. Right now, Joshua Piers.”

“You first, Elizabet Sophie. I always have to go first, it’s your turn.”

Trigger Warning! So as not to be all spoilery, there is character death and other stuffs in this post. Proceed with caution.

Ververe 29th, 1513 – Riding grounds, outside River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

It seemed strangely quiet this morning. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had been riding all by herself. As it was officially Hybel break as of yesterday afternoon–despite it not yet being Hybel–there were no lessons, including riding lessons. Then Vivi had something that she was doing with her father and brothers, Elizabet had known that for a good couple of weeks. Then this morning her father told her that the FitzChivalries had sent over a servant, Marianne had sent her regrets but she wasn’t going to make it either. Still, Elizabet would be damned if she was going to spend the first day of her break sitting around the estate doing nothing.

It was, in fact, a perfect day for finding some of those trails that Marianne was too chicken to ride and Vivi preferred to avoid as well, she said she always felt like she was going to tip off. Well, of course she felt that way, that’s why Elizabet rode astride rather than side saddle when she was going on trails like that.

But what should have been a good day of riding, just her and Honey and practically the whole riding park was actually setting up to be a not so good day after all. It felt like someone was taking a pin and pricking her up and down her spine. Every branch that creaked in the faint breeze, every dry leaf that crackled seemed like an executioner’s drum. Like something horrible was ahead.

Once Honey had picked her way down out of the trees into a meadow, Elizabet climbed out of the saddle, her nervousness was obviously translating itself to the horse because it felt like she was about to bolt. And Elizabet was nowhere near big enough and strong enough to wrench the horse’s head if the mare spooked.

If she had taken half a dozen steps before she realized that she had made a mistake, she’d have been surprised, that single pin was suddenly dozens, every instinct telling her to get out of that clearing and do it yesterday.

She’d just started to move toward the stirrup when the rustling of grass and something internal told her it might already be too late. She looked up at the easiest way out of the meadow.

“Lord Rance.” Elizabet’s heart sunk. Her father had many acquaintances who were just fine, but Rance–he gave off the same vibe that Cox did, one that said that he was not… safe?

Outwardly, he was just another man, a counsel member, one that her father had been trying to court around to an alliance for a while now. So far as Elizabet knew though, he’d never found anything that Rance had wanted. Rance had a son who would be starting at the Academy at the start of the next year–so it wasn’t entirely–weird that he would be in River Sulis, or even that he’d be riding in the park.

But she knew, in that way that she could never say how, that this was not right.

He slid out of his saddle and Elizabet bit her lip, hard.

“Ah, Lady Elizabet, just the lass I was hoping to see.” Elizabet’s throat went dry. Why would he want to see her?

“I guess the luck is more with you than me, Lord Rance.” Elizabet said.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Rance stalked toward her at a ground eating lope that was as intimidating in it’s purposefulness as having Rance suddenly looming over her was. “Some people would count this as their lucky day.” He swept up one of the plaits hanging over her shoulders, twining the blonde strands around his fingers for a moment.

“Somehow, I seriously doubt that I’m going to be one of them.” Elizabet said, grabbing her plait and pulling it out of his hands, repressing an urge to shudder.

“Well, what you think is hardly relevant.” Rance told her with a matter of fact tone that Elizabet didn’t like at all. “I’m just taking what I am owed.”

“Owed? What are you going on about.”

“Your father has tried for years to find something that could sway me ’round to an alliance with him. He’s got a block, you know, on this edge of the country. Only Firth and Rance don’t vote en block with your father. The Earl of Firth hates your father’s guts and I truly think he’s given up on it as the earl’s heir feels much the same way. He’s figured out ways to work around Firth.” Lord Rance smiled, it wasn’t a pleasant thing. “However, I have been on occasion both a help and a hindrance. I’ve never found any reason to make it easy for him. He’s never had anything I’ve wanted–until recently.”

“However, one evening–at a quaint little tavern that I sometimes frequent–your father’s steward, Masen, happened to catch up with me–and it so happened that your father had come into something I was interested in.” Rance was moving closer to Elizabet with the same purposefulness that he had crossed the meadow with. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what he was interested in.

“You see, Lady Elizabet, it is so hard to find such things–They’re very easily broken.” He said in a musing tone.

“Well, I’m not that easily broken.” Elizabet snarled, refusing to be cowed by this jackass.

“All the better.” Rance almost purred in a thoroughly disturbing tone.

“I don’t care what you think you’re owed–or what my father agreed to, you’ve got about two seconds to stop touching me or you’re going to regret it.” She slapped his hand away from her hair. Rance just laughed. He caught her shoulders and forced her back toward Honey’s side, pinning her more or less against the horse. Honey whuffled in surprise, but otherwise stood firm, trapping Elizabet.

She shoved at his chest when he let go of her arms enough that she could. Rance’s chuckle was just fuel for the fire that was suddenly racing up Elizabet’s spine. She was not going to be another one of Rance’s “broken toys”. He was just enough off balance from her shoving that when she kicked him in the knee, he took a step back. She used the newly won space to get one good gut punch in.

He gasped a moment for breath, but when he caught it–and her–he was smiling. He liked this.

Catching her hands up in his left, he belted her across the face. A few moments of struggle later–his nose slightly crooked and bleeding profusely from her elbow slamming repeatedly into it. Her cheeks on fire from where his slaps had split them. Her nose was dripping blood too, but she didn’t think her nose was broken as his surely was. He hit her hard enough to send her reeling.

She didn’t think she passed out–exactly, but everything had gone all fuzzy and when it cleared, her riding habit was tossed off into the grass on one side and he was drooling against her neck–actually drooling–like a dog. The feeling of that sliding down her neck forced a reaction out of her. She lashed out with a foot and caught him hard in the gut. He made a surprised wumph and crossed his arms across his torso.

Elizabet squirmed up into something of a sitting position, the two of them staring at each other for a long moment, then he leaned forward, his lips stirring her hair as he spoke. “I love it when you fight. So many of them just cry and squall. It’s so much better when you fight, bitch.”

As if something in the core of her had been embers that were suddenly fed paper and stirred, fire raced along every nerve ending in her body. She snarled something–some words that didn’t make any sense–except they did. Rance had about enough time to look uncertain and back up a few feet before a bolt of lightning screamed through the tortured air and wrapped around him.

Two more bolts, in quick succession, hit him square, the third knocked her to the side and she collapsed, face down, into the meadow’s soft green grass as rain began to fall as if the very sky were crying for her.

—

Darin and Brandon had about enough time to scramble after Josh who took off as if he knew exactly where he was going–but nowhere near enough time to ask if he by any chance knew were he was going. He cut through some of the thickest trees seeming like a shadow except his bright flag of hair.

A few minutes, enough time for a couple other rumbles of thunder to crash down somewhere ahead, they broke through the trees into a meadow. Two horses, one a butterscotch colored mare, the other a very ordinary seeming chestnut gelding were grazing on the ground, seemingly unconcerned about what had happened in the meadow.

Given what Darin knew about horses, they should have been bolted for the four winds by now, not grazing calmly.

On the other side of the butterscotch horse who whuffled at Josh as he passed and he patted the mare’s nose absently–it sorta seemed like all hell had broken loose. A blonde girl was flung to one side, a scarlet riding habit balled up and tossed off to the other. It was obviously the girl’s because she was only wearing underwear.

“Bet.” Josh sobbed, kneeling by her side and reaching out to stroke her hair. Feeling very much the outsider as Brandon knelt by the girl as well. He had little sisters–he probably had a better idea than Darin did what to do with–all this.

But if he wasn’t going to look at Elizabet, his eyes were drawn to the–other person in the meadow. Electricity crackled over the man’s skin still. Sparking and shooting little miniature bolts of lighting out into the muggy air.

He was groaning–the occasional tortured sounding breath escaping from his mouth which was twisted and split. He was obviously dying and even had that best doctor been on sight, nothing they did would have changed that. A gasp behind him dropped his stomach as even seeing Elizabet’s crumpled riding habit and the dying man hadn’t.

Stupid, Darin! Stupid! He maybe had remembered to tell the kids to stay with the horses–but of course they weren’t going to. They were kids–curious enough for six cats. He should have been smart enough to stay with them. To wait where he was. Now he was going to die, probably painfully, when his sister and Raven realized that the kids had seen someone die because he was an idiot.

And that fate would be reserved for if the kids didn’t figure out what had happened to Elizabet. If they had any inclination of what Elizabet in her unmentionables meant, Sara-Beth would go hunt up the bonephone itself and bring him back so she could keep killing him.

He heard some stirring behind him and took his attention off Anna-Marie and the other kids for just a second to see Elizabet climbing disorientedly to her feet. Josh caught her when she stumbled and her breath hissed between her teeth half in pain, half in reaction before she buried her face in her brother’s coat.

The man on the ground flopped for a moment like a fish, flipping onto his back, before blood spewed out of his mouth in a miniature fountain, eyes half-open.

“Is he–?” Brandon asked. Darin, much as he didn’t want to, but feeling probably the most qualified to make the call, went over to where the man lay, now still a hand under his nose indicated no breath, a touch to the neck, wrist, and chest indicated no flutter of heartbeat. He was dead.

“Aye.” Darin said. “My sister’s a nurse, she taught me–y’know?” Brandon looked puzzled, but seemingly more by the idea that Darin would think that he’d question him than by the pronouncement.

“He’s, he’s, he’s…?” Bronx gasped. Shit!

“We’ve got more trouble than that.” Josh said finally. “That’s Rance. And Rance doesn’t go to the pot without at least a couple of guards around. He wouldn’t want them that close, if–well.” Josh trailed off. “And they probably don’t know exactly where he is–was?” Josh looked at the body like he wished it would stir again so he could tear it to bits as he pulled his sister a little closer to his shoulder.

“But they’ll be coming.” Brandon agreed. “I’m not sure why that’s more trouble, though. He got struck by lightning.”

“He just happened to get struck by lightning while attacking my sister? You really think anyone will buy that was a coincidence given our family history?” Josh asked.

“But can’t your father do something about it? I mean no offense, Josh, but nothing goes in or out of River Sulis without your father’s saying it can.” Brandon pointed out.

“Father told him he could.” Elizabet’s voice shook and sounded more like an echo than like the vivacious girl that Darin was coming to know. “He wanted an alliance with Rance–and I was–the payment they…” Josh drew in his breath and muttered something into Elizabet’s hair.

“Like I said. We’ve got trouble.” Josh closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Okay, Brandon–get Bet out of here. We can force father’s publicity machine to cover our asses, but only if those guards can’t connect Bet being attacked with Rance’s death. Darin–will the kids talk?”

“Only to their parents, probably–and then more about,” He jerked his head toward the body. They didn’t even seem aware–as of yet–of Elizabet. Maybe that was because between the horse and the fact that she was clinging to Josh like ivy to an old stone wall, they just couldn’t see that she was more naked than dressed. Maybe. “I’ll–um–see what I can do.” Darin said. Not certain what he would do, but needing–somehow–to make some sort of promise given the look in the other boy’s eyes.

“Okay, get the kids out of here too.” Josh said. “I’ll bullshit the guards, I’m good at that, and can pull rank if worse comes to worse.”

“Anna-Marie.” Darin called the girl over. She and her friends came to where Darin stood, giving wide birth to the dead man in the grass. “I need you to go back to the pond, go back to the horses, we’ll get you there. And take care of Bronx for me–and Starla, okay? Can you do that for me?” Anna-Marie’s hands shook but she nodded. Her head had barely completed one full nod before the other kids were taking off for the pond at a run. He voiced a silent prayer to the Lord Wright that he would keep those kids at least sort of sane.

“I should–I should go with them, shouldn’t I?” Darin asked as Anna-Marie’s yellow dress disappeared at last into the ring of trees.

“No–please–I–please?” Josh asked. Darin had about enough time to nod before the sound of horses making their way up the incline hit his ears.

Josh squared his shoulders, pulling around him an aura of Lord Joshua, son of the baron of River Sulis as thick as Darin had ever seen it and he strode over to where Rance’s horse stood at the mouth of the path. He heard the jingle and thump of two men dismounting and braced himself.

“What’s going on here?” One of the two guardsmen in the emerald green of the Gwynedd family demanded.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Josh’s voice was haughty. “Shouldn’t you have been here attending to your lord rather than leaving him to die alone like some common rabble in the grass?”

“Die?” The other one asked.

“Who are you to ask me anything?” The first sneered.

“Lord Joshua, son of the Baron,” his eyes flickered over the man’s plain surcote. “Unless your father has very messed up priorities, guardsman, I would say that alone gives me every right to question your actions.” The guardsman flushed.

“Begging your pardon, my lord.” He said dropping his eyes.

“I’ll consider it.” Joshua shook his hair back from his face, how he managed to do it, given the water that was currently dragging Darin’s hair into his eyes, Darin would never know. “As to what happened here, Lord Rance was struck by lightning.”

“Just his lordship?” The guardsman asked shrewdly.

“We heard a lass scream.” The second guardsman added.

“My sister, the lady Elizabet was nearby, I believe she was thrown when her horse was spooked by the lightning striking so near. I had one of my companions accompany her back to our estate.” Josh said calmly.

“But.” The first guardsman’s eyes narrowed.

“But? Is there something else that I should know, guardsman?” Josh demanded. The guardsman obviously knew that Rance was going to be with Elizabet, it was clear on his face–but the only people who would be able to back up that version of events were either dead or damned unlikely to admit he set his own daughter up to be raped, which is the only way the baron would have foreknowledge.

“No, no, sir, m’lord. Haynes.” He obviously knew he was trapped, instead turning to the second guardsman. “Go see to his lordship.”

“Yes, sir!” When the first guardsman had his back to Josh to go back toward the horses and the second had his back to Josh walking toward the dead nobleman, Josh turned and met Darin’s eyes. He mimed wiping sweat off his forehead and Darin shot him a grin.

Ververe 29th, 1513 – Outskirts of River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Eric stood up as he heard the unfamiliar clatter of horse hooves stopping outside. He was used to hearing them continue on down the street toward Sara-Beth’s by now, but he wasn’t used to hearing the sound of a horse being tied up to his post box. His mouth was a little dry. Johnny might have been a bit more troublesome at home, but Anna-Marie was all spit and spark like her mother without her mother’s natural sense of when to cut it back.

She was absolutely fearless when she thought she was on the right track–and he worried for her so much. His heart leapt a bit higher into his throat when he heard the familiar clatter of slippers running across the front enterway, followed by a slower yet equally familiar gait–Darin’s–following.

About half a heartbeat later, he was sure it was a half, he was paying very close attention, Anna-Marie burst through the door and without even acknowledging him, tore off in the direction of her bedroom, the door shutting with a slam he hadn’t expected to hear for another five years yet.

Darin paused for a moment to shut the front door, but then turned toward Anna-Marie’s room. He glanced down at his hands, obviously avoiding Eric’s eyes, and muttered something that sounded like “Sorry, Mr. Osmont.”

Eric took a moment to remind himself to breath and hurried immediately to Anna-Marie’s door. He hesitated for a moment before knocking. Anna-Marie didn’t say anything, he looked over his shoulder at Darin who shrugged. Eric had always wanted to be a parent who could allow his children as much privacy as he could. But sometimes it was more important to be papa than to be polite.

If his baby-girl was in there crying, then obviously Papa was needed more than the manners his gram had beat into him one ruler across the knuckles at a time. He opened the door. Anna-Marie had flung herself across the bed, her hair like a black waterfall trickling over the edges and falling down toward the floor.

“Little bear?” Eric asked softly. It took about as much time as two blinks for her to push up off the bed and launch herself into his midsection with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. She clung for about an exhale before leaning her head against his torso. His daughter was shivering with reaction and if he was any judge just about to–

She covered her face with hands that shook like dry leaves in a windstorm and sobbed.

“Oh, baby. My little bear, my poor little bear.” He murmured into her soft hair as he squatted down to hold her. “Papa’s here.” He told her. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“He’s dead, Papa! He’s dead!” Anna-Marie sobbed out.

—

Earlier that day.

“Anna-Marie, we can’t just ask!” Elias said tugging on her sleeve, pulling her around to face him. It was the first morning of Hybel break at school and it had dawned hot, muggy, sticky, and a general slice of something that just lacked a few cow demons to make it Hell. And everyone knew that the best way to spend hot, muggy, sticky summer days was fishin’–and everyone equally knew that the best fishin’ was at the pond in the big park that the nobles rode their horse ’round.

Only problem was they weren’t actually supposed to go fish there. It was the nobles park and that was just like the nobles, they didn’t even fish at that pond, but it was theirs and so nobody else was supposed to use it. But she knew–mostly because Sara-Beth had been griping to her mother as they’d done their washing–that Darry was supposed to be going riding at that very park with his friends today.

“What does it hurt to ask?” Anna-Marie asked, looking at Starla and Bronx for confirmation. Starla shrugged. She would, she was terribly wishy-washy, whatever way the tide goes, that was what her mama said. Bronx just looked sad–and scared–and like he was about to cry. She’d mostly invited him along because he looked like was going to cry. And Starla’s bleeding heart started bleeding all over the place as Anna-Marie’s mama liked to put it and she had insisted that they had to make him feel better.

Well, given that he wouldn’t talk about what was wrong–beyond the fact that he was Romeo’s brother–she’d probably be pretty sad if she were related to Romeo too.

“Who is that?” Starla whispered, pointing toward the blonde man who had his back toward them at the moment.

“I think that’s Darin’s friend, Joshua.”

“The baron’s son?” Elias squeaked.

“Don’t. Be. A. Chicken.” Anna-Marie said. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Huh?” All three of the others looked at her in puzzlement.

“I think it means if you don’t try, you won’t get anything.” Anna-Marie said after a long moment.

“Where did you hear it said that way though?” Bronx asked. Anna-Marie thought for a moment. Where did she hear that said? She just remembered hearing it somewhere and she thought some lady had said it.

“Dunno. Look, they’re done talking, now let’s ask before they leave. The worst that can happen is they say no. And ‘sides, Elias, the only way to get permission to go fish in the nobles’ pond is to ask a noble, and I dunno about you, but I don’t know that many nobles.” Elias didn’t look convinced, then again he usually didn’t look convinced by Anna-Marie’s logic, but they moved up toward where Darry and the blonde man that Anna-Marie thought was Lord Joshua stood.

“Hey, guys.” Darry said with a smile.

“So, um, are you gonna go ride horses?” Anna-Marie asked looking over at the two saddled horses picketed by the street.

“I believe that was the plan.” Darry told her. “Why?” Darry was probably one of those people that her mama would say knew her too well–whatever that meant.

“Cause I was wonderin’–we wanna go fishin’.” Anna-Marie offered.

“Uh-huh.” The corner of Darry’s lips was poking up as if he were starting to smile a little.

“An’ you know that the best fishin’ is at that pond on the riding grounds.” She added in a hurry.

“It is?” Lord Joshua asked, his voice bewildered. Darry nodded with a smirk. “And you know this how?”

“A holdover of a misspent youth.” Darry shrugged with a grin. “Anyway, your point?”

“Mama says we’re not ‘posed to go without permission of a noble–and Mister Lord Joshua is a nobleman, right?” Anna-Marie shot a look at Lord Joshua who–rather like Darry–looked like he was trying to keep from laughing.

“So what you want is permission to go fish there?” Darry asked, his eyebrow arched upward. Anna-Marie nodded so fast her hair bounced and made weird little noises when it hit the back of her dress.

“I don’t see why not.” Lord Joshua drawled. “Seems like you are the only people fishing that pond anyway.” He winked at Anna-Marie who blushed for some silly reason. “I’ll let the caretaker know that you and your friends have permission and not to run you off if they see you there.”

A whole summer of the best fishing in the whole town and even Anna-Marie’s mama couldn’t argue with it. Anna-Marie threw her arms around Lord Joshua’s middle and gave him a tight hug. It sorta felt like he had several rocks shoved into the front of his shirt, it was that firm.

“Anna-Marie!” Elias hissed. “You’re hugging the baron’s son!” Anna-Marie blushed again and quickly withdrew. Lord Joshua just laughed.

“Seeing as we’re all going the same direction.” Lord Joshua said after ruffling Anna-Marie’s hair. “Why don’t we all just go together.”

“I can’t walk as fast as a horse.” Elias muttered toward his shoes.

“We’ll walk the horses and you guys can ride.” Lord Joshua said as their eyes all lit up.

—

Anna-Marie grinned as she grabbed a worm and skewered the squirmy thing on her hook. Darry’s friend, Brandon shook his head. “What?” Lord Joshua asked from where he letting his horse drink out of the pond by where Anna-Marie stood.

“Just I have a little sister about Miss Anna-Marie’s age and I could never imagine her–ever–under any circumstances touching a worm, let alone skimming it onto a hook.”

“How does she fish?” Bronx asked.

“She’s a lady, I think my mother would have apoplexy and die if her daughters–any of them–ever fished.” Brandon said as Darry and Josh laughed.

“Well then, tell Marianne she needs to take up fishing, maybe between the poker and the fishing your mother will have that fit. Not that I wish her dead–but Sara-Beth says that sometimes apoplexy can cause people to be struck dumb–which I might wish on your mother–it would keep her from constantly calling me “the scholarship boy” like it’s my name.” Darin leaned against the black horse that Starla and Bronx had ridden up on.

“Somehow I don’t see it.” Brandon said. “But speaking of Marianne. She wanted me to tell you that she hoped Elizabet was feeling better.” Lord Joshua blinked and stared at Brandon.

“Feeling better?” Lord Joshua asked, sounding bewildered.

“Aye, your father sent over a servant that said that Elizabet was feeling under the weather and so they’d have to cancel their ride this morning.” Brandon told him.

“Bet was feeling fine, in fact she left at the same time I did.” Lord Joshua said.

“I saw the boy myself and heard the message. It was the little dark-haired boy your mother usually uses as a page.” Brandon said.

Obviously paying more attention to the conversation behind him than his fishing pole, Elias managed to hook his shirt collar with the hook and yank himself over. “Do not tell your brother about this.” He said, brushing off his butt and glaring at Bronx, who dropped his eyes to his shoes, looking about like he was going to cry again.

“I don’t tell my brother nothin’.” He muttered. “And I certainly wouldn’t tell him nothin’ that’d let him make fun of me or nobody else.” Elias glanced down at his own shoes and muttered something like “sorry” to them.

Starla, who actually was making the best accounting of herself–even if Anna-Marie would almost have pegged her the kind of lady that Brandon said his sister was–reached out and patted Bronx’s shoulder.

“Why would my father send a servant over to your house that Bet was sick, though, if she’s not?” Lord Joshua had about enough time to wonder before he heard it–they all heard it. The sound of a girl’s terrified scream and just the time to take a breath later, a sharp crack of thunder close, very, very close.

“Elizabet!” Lord Joshua screamed, a look of horror shot across his face as rain seemed to be ripped from the sky.

—

Later

“Who is dead?” Eric asked, stroking Anna-Marie’s hair and rubbing her shaking shoulders. One of her friends? Someone Darin knew? Who?

“The–the man from church.” Anna-Marie said. “On Sunday. The man who was with the Baron at church.”

Seryl 23rd, 1513 – Dead Man’s Alley, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

A much younger Reggie would have thought by the time that he was this age, this level of success, he would have been finished having to drink in disreputable taverns in bad parts of town. That Reggie had thought that when you got old enough and successful enough, you could pay people to do it for you. And he could’ve, but if he wanted it done right, he’d have to do it himself.

Besides as his old mentor, a bent old man who could out run, out drink, out swear, out fight and out duel any man of any age, used to say “The first rule ye gotta know, Reggie me lad, ye ain’t never gonna be finished doin’ thin’s ye don’t wanna. If ye’re breathin’, ye’re gonna have something ye’re doin’ that ye don’t wanna.” And as always, the old man was right.

He shook his head and picked at the bread on the plate in front of him. It was good bread, actually every thing about the tavern was pretty good, except the location. Mistress Ollerton kept the place clean, the food was good, the ale was excellent. And if–or hopefully when–he didn’t need to spend certain long afternoons sitting in Dead Man’s Alley watching things, he’d definitely be helping her find a better locale.

It was probably a good thing that the bread was so good, as was the ale. Otherwise he’d never be able to keep it down.

As any plantsim would tell you, the earth remembered. Sometimes there was too much horror in any one place for it to forget. It called out–sometimes–to anyone with the power to hear it. Reggie could hear it. He just couldn’t help it. How did you ease the pain of all of the things that had happened here?

And the horror wasn’t helped by the reason that Reggie was here, though she certainly wasn’t the cause. Blood-soaked land tended to call to people whose stock in trade was blood in some form. Dark wizards were often drawn to make their homes in places where bad things had happened. If something was already corrupted, you didn’t have to go through all of the effort to corrupt it.

Places like this tended to be just that much more receptive to dark magic. In the case of this “Madame Bones” he was watching, she would have been drawn to the place because the easy store of magic found there would add to her power. She wasn’t that strong of a witch.

His eyes flicked over the tavern patrons. Mistress Ollerton’s teenage daughter waited for the drink order from the two people sat on the “drinking benches” by the fireplace. They were arguing about something, when the woman’s eyes flickered to Reggie, he nodded as if in agreement with her and her attention went back to her drinking companion with the smug knowledge that she was right.

Behind him were two couples sharing either a late luncheon or an early supper. Mistress Ollerton herself at the bar taking stock of the contents of the shelf. Probably preparing to send someone to the bakery to pick up more of whatever was needed for the dinner rush.

Then his eyes turned back toward the window. Now, if Reggie had been just an ordinary man, he’d have seen nothing more than the opaque window glass. But Reggie had never been what one might have termed ordinary.

With just a little bit of applied power–used very sparingly–he could see the street as if nothing, not even the walls, were in the way. He could have seen all the way into the shop he was watching if he had put a little more power into it, however the witch probably would have sensed it and Reggie had no intention of tipping his hand this early.

On his way to the tavern he had stopped and sensed where her wards covered and his probing ended about half a foot from where her protections began. However it did mean that he saw little more than a small courtyard with a well. On one side sat an herbalist’s shop, sharing the building with it was a pawnshop. Sharing with building with the bookseller was a shop that specialized in imported cheese and seemed to be doing pretty brisk business.

He’d been there for a while already and no one had gone in or out of the witch’s bookshop. She might have been open more in the evening, he supposed. And he might have been wasting his time. But it was a tiny hint of something–nothing so strong as a glimpse of the future, just the vaguest feeling, that told him that he was not wasting time, that if he stayed, he’d find something out. He trusted those feelings.

And if it seemed silly, sitting here in this tavern, making himself queasy and watching people come in and out of the courtyard carrying cheese, well–as the old man had told him “If ye ain’t asking yerself on a daily basis ‘why the fuck am I doin’ this’–ye’re probably not doin’ it right.”

Still, there was no one at home, Eve was still at school, Colby at work, and he would know if anything went so massively wrong that it wouldn’t do without him for a couple of hours.

The couple behind him had left, the man heading toward the front exit, the woman, he was too well trained to sit up and look attentive, especially as he shouldn’t have been able to see anything. But she was headed straight toward the courtyard he was watching. Then she turned and headed into the cheese shop–seriously–how good could the cheese be?

Reggie kept from sighing and shaking his head mostly by will. It was ridiculous, he was being ridiculous. There were three other shops in that square and at least two of them would probably be doing decent business for most of the afternoon.

And even if someone did come out of the bookstore that didn’t–Reggie froze in the middle of reaching for his mug of ale. Then realizing how it must look, he continued to reach for the glass and picked it up. Hoping that no one would have noticed the stop motion jerkiness of the movement.

Because someone had just come out of the bookshop–and it was someone that Reggie knew. Even across the square, blurred slightly by being at the edge of his spell, he knew them.

It was only the presence of others in the tavern that kept Reggie from snarling aloud and had nothing to do with the absolutely ridiculous outfit that his nephew was wearing–seriously–those shoes and trousers would have looked more at home on Goldie than on any little boy.

Mentally snarling and flailing, Reggie watched as Romi made her way through the sudden throng of people in the streets. He saw the faint aura of dark magic clinging to his niece and nephew.

Her attention seemed to be more on the people around her than on little Ruben toddling along as fast as his not-quite three year old legs would take him. Once out of the courtyard, Goldie seemed to shake herself and began wailing. He couldn’t quite make out what she was crying about, she wasn’t old enough to really be talking, mostly it seemed to be “No!” and “Bad!” but he had a feeling it had something to do with that magic that wreathed around her.

Ruben didn’t seem to even notice it was there–though he had his suspicions about Ruben–and about Bronx, even if he’d never have said to his brother that he doubted the boys were his.

Goldie was the most sensitive of the kids to magic–noticing when he had been working it, even if the boys didn’t. And at Goldie’s age, almost no one reacted well to black magic, even those who would go on to practice it.

Reggie tossed a few coppers on the table and headed out into the street. The smell of dark magic–coppery and blood-like seemed to linger in the air even above the smells of sim and sweat and old that his nose detected. Romi was walking faster now, probably wanting to get Goldie out of the alley before someone noticed who she was.

In her haste, however, she had forgotten something. In a practiced motion he swept his nephew up into his arms, the little boy looked startled for about half a minute, then grinned at his uncle. Reggie had to restrain a shudder at the thought of how easily someone else could have picked up the little boy. How easily he could have disappeared and no one would know what had happened to him.

Reggie wondered how long it would be, where it would be, that Romi would notice that Ruben wasn’t behind her, every step she took Reggie’s disdain grew more. He might not have had children of his own–other than with Sara-Beth he couldn’t have imagined having them with any of the women he’d been with–but he had taken care of his sister for most of her life and had been old enough to watch his brother when his brother had been no older than little Ruben.

He could not have ever imagined leaving either of them to walk after him in a busy street–especially not one as dubious as Dead Man’s Alley.

Yes, think about the leaving Ruben behind and not about the black magic that was crawling against the edge of Reggie’s protections. He’d have to figure out some way to get the kids away from Romi–to find out just what the magic was and what it was doing–and if it were something that were actually trying to hurt the kids or just something lingering from being in the witch’s shop.

He caught up to his sister in law when they were back on the sunny riverside main street. Her eyes flew wide as she saw Ruben–then even wider when she saw who was carrying him.

“R-Reggie–w-what are you doing here?” If he had the smallest hope that Romi had just been buying a book in the witch’s shop, her guilt at seeing him killed it.

“I was just getting a bite to eat in the tavern. Mistress Ollerton has a great stew on Mondays.”

“Oh–I never stop in there.” Romi told him with a faint sneer.

“Yeah, well.” Reggie shrugged. “I was just coming out of the tavern when I noticed this little guy trailing behind. I thought you might miss him.”

“Are you trying to imply I don’t pay attention to my kids?” Romi’s sneer went up several notches.

“Considering I picked him up just outside the tavern and we were all the way here before you even noticed he wasn’t still behind you, do you have any reason why I shouldn’t imply that?” Reggie asked quietly. Romi started to say something then humphed and tossed her head.

“It–it was only because Goldie was fussing. If she had been being quiet then I would have paid more attention to Ruben.” Of course shift the blame off onto the baby because Wright forbid you ever own up to doing something wrong yourself. Reggie thought at his sister in law.

“Well, as I’m headed your way anyway. There’s someone I need to talk to, why don’t I carry Ruben back to your house for you. Just in case Goldie starts fussing again.”

“Thank you, Reggie.” What could possibly have been so important that Romi, who granted has about as much brains as a dog in heat, would have come out–during the day–with her kids to go to a bookstore–when I’m not even sure she can read–owned by a dark witch?

Part of him wished he could just wash his hands of the whole thing. But they were his nieces and nephews–despite what blood they might or might not have–and there was also the words of the old man ringing in his head. “If yer gonna be a wizard, Reggie me lad, ye got three choices. Ye’ll either be cleaning up shit, walking through shit, or causing shit. And the more ye want to be able to look at yerself in the mirror when shaving, the more likely ye’ll be the one cleaning it up.” What else could he really do?

Seryl 14th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

The new maid, Mrs. Hearst’s niece, ducked her head and looked to the side, she was taller than Elizabet–who wasn’t?–but between the ducked head and the hunched shoulders and slouched posture she didn’t seem it. “No, m’lady. I haven’t seen Lord Joshua.” Her tone was deferential and–almost scared. Like I’d blame her for the fact that I seem to have misplaced my brother. Maybe Fern thought that Elizabet would. She didn’t think her father was that unreasonable and he was by far the most unreasonable person in the entire household from pot boy straight on up.

“That’s just like brothers. They’re always around when you don’t want them and not around when you do.” She shook her head. Fern raised her head slightly, a small smile poking at the corner of her lips. “You have brothers, right? Isn’t that just like them?”

“Aye, m’lady.” Fern said.

“How many?” Elizabet asked, curiously. Fern blinked at her. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Oh, I have three, m’lady.” Fern said. When Elizabet nodded encouragingly, she continued. “All younger.”

“Miss them?” Elizabet pressed. Fern nodded again.

“Oscar an’ Ham a lot. Hamilton, it’s a family name, m’lady.” She added in a hurry. “Parnell not so much.”

“Ah, one of those brothers that the best part of knowing him is missing him when he’s gone, eh?” Fern giggled behind her hand. “I have some extended family like that.” Fern looked down the long hall toward the green door the separated “upstairs” from “downstairs” and Elizabet realized that she was probably keeping the other girl from something. Niece or no niece, the housekeeper would come down hard on the girl for any perceived slacking.

“I should probably go find my brother.” She told Fern.

“‘m Sorry I couldn’t be more help, m’lady.” Fern told her, though she ducked her head and shoulders a little, at least she wasn’t looking like a whipped dog as she had when Elizabet had first stopped her.

“Salright.” Elizabet told her with a smile. “It’s not your fault that my brother is good at disappearing.” That would be my father’s fault. She thought as the girl curtsied and hurried off down the hall. Though if Fern hadn’t seen him, there was one place he might be. Mrs. Hearst wouldn’t have sent anyone into that room to light the lamps, normally there wouldn’t be anyone in it. She quickly turned the corner to the smaller, but no less opulent door set there.

A brazier was lit here, wouldn’t do for the family to stub their toes getting to the lamp, after all. But that was about all the stock that Elizabet took of the room. She wanted to get in and out of it as quickly as possible. It was like all the time that Cox spent in the room had somehow permeated it with something it couldn’t be too healthy to expose yourself to.

Up the spiral marble stair, her soft slippers seeming to call to the empty walls by the way they echoed as she climbed. The furniture in the antechamber was opulent, if a touch dated, she’d been told it was a holdover from when her grandfather had been baron of River Sulis. It was the same furniture that resided in Madame Cox’s parlor. Except of course it seemed welcome and right in place in Madame Cox’s parlor, here it seemed rather like one of the aged courtiers who played chess in the gardens at Camelot, old, tired, still good for stiff formality, but not so good for much else.

And of course there was a painting of some relative stuck on the wall to watch disapprovingly. Like there was practically anywhere in the house. Every room had to have some solemn portrait staring at every move you made, unblinking in their disapproval.

Whomever had come up with the idea that decorating with portraits was a wonderful plan was obviously a sadist.

She didn’t linger, lest the portrait of great aunt somebody-or-other get the idea that she was being idle. Sure, it was silly and superstitious, but a little silliness never hurt anyone. Elizabet pushed open the door to her father’s office to be greeted by warm light and the glint of her brother’s hair as he stared at a set of papers in front of him. Fingers curled about his chin, a slight slouch of shoulders and a haunted expression that she’d lay a year’s pocket money had nothing to do with those papers.

He looked up and smiled at her, an honest smile, true and a little sweet, though it flickered a little at the edges.

“What are you doing in here.” Elizabet asked. She hated this room most of all. It was like most rooms decorated by someone of Orkney descent, dark wood, fabric that looked like it had been dyed using blood, carvings and all the trappings of opulence abounding. But that wasn’t why she hated it. It was her father’s room. More than his bedchamber, which she wasn’t even sure what looked like, she never went in there, this was where her father held court.

Where edicts and demands were handed down. If it would have changed anything, Elizabet would have burned the entire room. But it wouldn’t, nothing would change until Jayson was gone from all their lives.

Normally Josh felt the same way about this room and avoided it with the same passion Elizabet did. It was strange to see Josh at the desk that her father normally sat at. Though there was no doubt that Josh was their father’s son, the wide upswept eyes and line of the jaw were identical, there was no mistaking Josh for Jayson.

And it was the one prayer that Elizabet voiced often, that her brother would continue to be exactly as he was and never develop the aura of “this man is crazy” that their father exuded with every breath.

“Father said that I should tend to dispatches and such in here.” Josh shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling in almost furtive movement.

“What father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Elizabet pointed out.

“Not worried about it hurting him, Bet.” Josh said, pinning her in place with slate eyes. “I will be baron some day, I’ll have to get used to this office sometime.”

“No, you won’t.” Elizabet told him.

“This room has served as the office for the baron since the estate was built, it was specifically designed to be the office of the Baron.”

“Oh, sure, physically, these four walls will be here when you’re baron. But this office won’t. I know you, Josh, and would be heartfully disappointed in you if you didn’t gut everything out of this office when you inherit it.”

“Except the jar on the console.” He jerked his head behind him. “I couldn’t get rid of Great Uncle Victor.” Elizabet looked past Josh then back at her brother’s face.

“I don’t really think that’s Great Uncle Victor.” She said. Though she wasn’t convinced. She couldn’t put it past her father to use the ashes of some dead relative as a bookend.

Josh also looked over his shoulder at the jar. “Well, there is the ashes of someone in that jar. And what if it is Great-Uncle Victor? You can’t just give away a relative. No matter how creepy it is…” Josh shuddered.

“We’ll put the jar down in the crypt and if it is him, he and Grandfather can battle it out in the afterlife, and if it’s just fireplace ashes that Jayson uses to scare people, he can explain why there’s a dead tree interred in the family crypt.” Elizabet told him. Josh almost smiled.

“So, that’s why I’m here. Why are you here?” Josh asked.

“Looking for you. What’s got you worried?” Elizabet asked as Josh’s eyes flickered down to the papers in front of him. There was a chance it was a stall tactic, but there was also a chance that there really was something there too.

“You ever heard of a Madame Bones?” Josh asked.

“No.” Elizabet peered over the top of the page. “Who is that–other than a person descended from someone with a really poor taste in surnames–or someone crazy?”

“I don’t know either. Though what I do know about her, I’d lean more toward the latter. I think it might be an assumed name. She’s apparently a gypsy witch. I’ve got a report on her from Guardsman Rose. She’s ostensibly a bookseller, though there’s more than a few rumors that’s not all she sells. She’s got a shop down in Dead Man’s Alley.”

“Cheery place, that.” It was Elizabet’s turn to shudder. She’d been there only once and had had nightmares for months. She still sometimes had nightmares about it. There was something wrong there. You could feel it in the very ground. Josh nodded. “Well–I’ve never heard of her, but I know someone you might ask.”

“Oh?” Josh asked, finger sliding over the wood of the table.

“Darin.” Something like pain briefly surfaced in Josh’s eyes. “He’s down not far from there, and you know him, people talk and he listens.”

“Aye.” Josh stared at his hands. Yep. That’s just what I thought, Elizabet thought to herself. “He might know.”

“Although he hasn’t been around so much recently. Still comes for tutoring, but not so much beyond that.” Elizabet pressed. The problem with trying to talk about anything involving her brother and how he might feel was that you had to come at it more than a bit circumspectly. You had to trap him into admitting he felt it before you could even talk about it.

“Aye, I know.” Josh was meeting her eyes, but the way they twitched away told her more than words ever could’ve.

“What in Wright’s name made you convince yourself you needed a poetry tutor in the first place?” Elizabet asked him after a moment. “Josh, you love books and poetry almost as much as Marianne does.”

“It was a reason to get Darin to come around more, alright? I–like him… I mean, I realized that he was someone who would be a good friend.”

“I know.” Elizabet said and watched her brother sigh. “But I think it’s more than that.”

“It can’t be more than that, Bet! I can’t–I can’t.”

“C’mon, Josh, stop doing the old Lord of the Manor bit, so if you like him in a you wanna–”

“Bet!” Josh was blushed so hard his face looked slightly purpled. “I can’t like him like that, and it has nothing to do with Remi’s it’s a mortal sin to want to–to make love to another man sort of way. Darin doesn’t have parents that Jayson won’t want to piss off. He’s not safe. He can’t protect himself from–from our father.”

“And with anyone else, I might agree. But I honestly think that Darin would spit in the eye of the Grim for someone he cares about. And despite all his protests I think he cares about you.” Elizabet told him. “And if the Grim doesn’t scare him, I highly doubt our father would even make him blink.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“And you know this because you’ve talked about it?” Elizabet asked blandly. And if they have talked about it, I’ll eat my riding boots–after I’ve walked through the corrals.

“No–but I am pretty sure that he likes girls, Bet. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not one.”

“I dunno, you’re a little muscular, but plenty pretty enough.” Elizabet batted her lashes at her brother. Unfortunately instead of making him laugh, he surged up out of the chair and walked over to the fireplace staring for a long moment into the mirror above it.

“Would you want to tell Vivi or Marianne that you liked them?” He muttered at the mantle.

“If I liked them, it’d be better to tell them than live forever knowing I didn’t have the courage to do it.”

“Yeah, well, Darin’s not the only one who would spit in the eye of the Grim. I’m not like you, Bet. I can’t be fearless. I don’t know how.” Josh said, wrenching Elizabet’s heart in her chest. She wished he could. Her father shouldn’t be able to keep Josh on the ground. He didn’t deserve that victory.

“Josh, if you want to suffer in noble silence, I’ll think you’re an idiot, but I will accept that. If I have to. But you cannot do what you normally do when you don’t know what to do.” Elizabet paused for a moment wondering if that made sense and shrugged before continuing.

“Have you looked at Darin, I mean really looked? He is looking so much better than when we first met at the Guardstation. His skin doesn’t look two sizes too small, you can no longer shave with his cheekbones, he looks like he slept sometime this year, you know why that is?”

“I know.” Josh murmured. “And I thought of that.”

“So what are you going to do?” Elizabet asked. Josh shrugged.

“…Suffer in noble silence–but keep being a friend.” Josh said after a long moment.

“That’s my big brother.” Elizabet said, giving him a quick hug. Jayson can’t have your heart, Josh, he can’t break your spirit. It’s what makes you who you are. It’s what’ll make River Sulis a better place when you’re baron. And I will personally cut his heart out if he tries. She thought to herself as they both turned to leave the study. He might have won a few battles, but damn it, I am winning the Wright be damned war.

Seryl 10th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

“You should go over and talk to him, Caroline.” Marianne’s cousin, Babette said from her place on one of the settees in the lounge.

“It doesn’t do for a lady to be so bold, Babette.” Caroline demurred, fluffing her hair like a ninny. “Besides, it’s just plain rude to interrupt.”

“She’s afraid Leo’s more interested in the card game than in her.” Audrina snickered. Caroline sighed and tossed her hair again. Ugh. Vivi squared her shoulders under her dress and tried to keep her hands from balling into fists. Right now it was taking every ounce of deportment and the fact that no one (except maybe Marianne) would thank her for turning around and slamming her fist square into Caroline’s face to keep from doing exactly that.

Did the girl ever use her brain? Did she have one? Maybe it just dribbled out her ears onto her pillow and spiders had taken up residence in there instead. Nah, Caroline was probably too poisonous for even a spider to survive living in.

“I am not.” Caroline said. “He was quite attentive when we were dancing.”

“She means he was talking to her while everyone else was dancing.” Audrina mock-whispered across Caroline to Babette and Nadine.

“Because dancing with my younger cousin is so much better than talking with ones almost betrothed.” Caroline smirked.

“And just what is wrong with my brother?” Babette asked tossing her hair haughtily.

“Nothing.” Caroline told her. “He’s just younger than Audrina is and I think the only reason that she danced with him is because every other lad in attendance knows to stay far, far away from her. Audrina does have a bit of a… shall we say… reputation?”

“Just because mother and father would prefer I chose my own spouse instead of auctioning me off to the highest bidder does not give me a reputation. How’m I supposed to know which boy I want to marry if I don’t do a bit of flirting with all the options?” Audrina sneered back. Maybe their brains had been “borrowed” by the cow demons and used to play a rather vigorous game of croquet and been returned damaged.

“Vivianne?” Marianne whispered. “Are you alright? You’re awful pale.” Vivi noticed that her brothers, all three of them were craning their attention toward where the two of them stood.

“I’m fine. I just–it’s probably just the wig.” Marianne didn’t look convinced–for that matter, neither did her brothers.

The door to the cardroom opened, letting in overly warm, overly perfumed air from the ballroom.

“C’mon, let’s sit and get a game in before my mother can arrange me another dance.” Elizabet grinned at her best friends. “You too, Ri.” She added when Marianne hesitated.

“Marianne, don’t you dare, a lady doesn’t play poker.” Caroline called from her couch.

“My mother plays poker. My grandmother, Sophie, who I’m pretty sure was considered the epitome of “a lady” in her day was the one who taught me to play poker.” Elizabet dismissed with a wave. “A lady, I guess, is not supposed to take shits either, must be why you’re so full of it, Caroline.” Caroline’s startled gasp was almost drowned in the masculine laughter. Marianne hurried to one of the chairs at the card table, with Severus dropping into the fourth chair a moment later when Ansem excused himself from their poker game to go find a drink.

“You are so coarse, Elizabet.” Caroline sniffed when the laughter had died down. “You’re a young lady now, not a child. One of these days you’re just going to have to grow up and stop wasting those deportment lessons that your parents are paying for.”

“Caroline, let me tell you something that your mother won’t. There is a lot more to being a lady than following ‘the rules’.” Elizabet looked over at Caroline, holding her gaze for a long moment. “A true lady doesn’t need to pretend to be something she’s not. And someone who spends all their time pretending, rather than being themselves is an actress not a lady.”

“Wow, that almost sounded wise, Elizabet.” Severus commented breaking the silence that had followed Elizabet’s words.

“Well, I’m only twelve, almost wise is about the best I can do. Your deal, Ri.” Elizabet flicked a strand of black hair out of her face. Severus chuckled. Marianne hesitated for a second before picking up the deck of cards and dealing out the cards.

“So, how’s it going in there?” Vivi asked, jerking her chin toward the ballroom.

“I now know how a prize side of beef feels.” Elizabet said. Vivi shrugged, Marianne stared at the table, picking at a piece of fluff that had built up on the felt. At Vivi’s own debut, her mother had already broached the subject of marrying Vivi off to Prince Nathaniel. He had been supposed to attend, but had caught some sort of flux or something and had not been able to make it. Still, it had spared Vivi the indignity of having to be passed from prospective husband to prospective husband via dance after dance.

She’d only had to dance the dances she felt like dancing and chatted with only the people she felt like chatting with–and with the few people that she couldn’t really avoid having some conversation with.

Marianne had probably had it the worst. Neither she nor Elizabet had been invited to the party, Elizabet had only been nine and a fairly rambunctious nine at that. Vivi had been eleven, only three or so months from the mythical twelve, but Lady Katherine was a quibbler over things like that. In fact, Vivi and Elizabet had had a sleepover and gotten wired on fizzy pop and cake and according to Elizabet’s nurse, had to be more or less peeled off the ceiling that night.

But from what little Vivi knew about Marianne’s party, she’d had a relatively empty dance card–but not by choice. More, she gathered, because there just hadn’t been too many people that interested in dancing with the second daughter of a man who was perilously close to losing noble status.

And Vivi knew it bothered her. Lord Henry, so far as anyone knew, hadn’t entertained many offers for Marianne. Which sucked because  Marianne–of all of them–was the one most deserving of being chased. Wish I could trade her my quasi-betrothal to the prince. Vivi thought glumly. She had met Nathaniel once–so many years ago she barely remembered him as anything but tall and blonde. She didn’t know what he was like or what he looked like. He wrote her a couple of letters a year, probably because the queen told him he had to.

She was starting to think that he was avoiding her. Every time she’d gone to court with her mother, he wasn’t at court. Every time he was supposed to come to see her, something happened, fire, flood, rioting in the streets. He’d broken two bones, come down with any number of communicable diseases, either he was the most hapless prince in memory–or he was no more keen on the idea than she was.

But if he would just meet her, they’d either hit it off (ha) or they’d know they didn’t want to get married to each other and they could start looking other places. Vivi’s father insisted that she would not be forced to marry someone that she couldn’t stand. No matter what that meant giving up. But he equally insisted that they couldn’t decide that without meeting each other as young adults.

Leo had met him at Camford and told her that he really thought that she would like Nathaniel. But then again, he really thought that he could tolerate Caroline for the rest of their natural lives, so as much as she adored her brother, she wasn’t sure that she trusted his judgment on matters romantic.

“Well, that’s it for me, lads.” Leo said, tossing his cards onto the stack. “Probably shouldn’t lose all of my pocket money, I do need to get back to Camford somehow, and I don’t fancy sleeping in bushes all the way.”

“Aw, c’mon, Leo, I’d lend you some.” Vivi craned her neck, looking at the stack of chips that Charlie had amassed in front of him, most of Leo’s pocket money was probably sitting in that stack.

“No, thanks. I don’t care to be your debtor, Charlie, your interest rates are way too high. You’re worse than a Reman pawnbroker.” Leo told him to the laughter of most of the rest of the room. “Besides…” He trailed off. Vivi’s back was to Leo, but he probably nodded toward something because there was a chorus of “ah’s”.

“My lady, would you care to accompany me for a breath of air?” He said walking over to where Caroline sat. She tittered behind her hand, but Vivi would bet money that she also used it to screen a smirk shot at Audrina before she stood and tucked her hand into the crook of Leo’s elbow.

“Oh, we probably shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.” Caroline paused. Knowing her brother, Vivi would guess it was an act of will for him to not roll his eyes at her. “Marianne, you probably shouldn’t lose all your pocket money either. Why don’t you accompany us.” It would take knowing Marianne well to see the way she withered a little. She slid her cards together and slid them in at the bottom of the deck.

I can’t let her go by herself. Vivi decided. Normally Elizabet would have made it a group thing, and it would have been a lot more fun that way, but it probably wouldn’t do for the guest of honor at the party to disappear out into the night to chaperone a single couple that wasn’t even related to her.

“I’ll go with you.” Vivi said handing Elizabet her cards.

“I’ll wish I could, guess I should probably go head back into the meat market.” Elizabet sighed. “Sorry to abandon you, Severus, but you can go lose all your pocket money to your brother instead of me if you want.” Severus chuckled as the three of them stood straightening their skirts.

The balcony off the Carico’s library was, for a wonder, currently empty. Leo escorted Caroline to the bench nearest the door and under the lanterns and seemed to settle in for a long conversation about the weather or something equally fascinating. What did you talk about with someone who would be hard-pressed to challenge a rock to a battle of wits.

“So, who was your favorite costume?” Vivi asked Marianne, hoping that even if her brother and Marianne’s sister couldn’t find something fun to talk about, she and Marianne still could.

“I think Lady Marisol’s. She looks almost exactly like that picture of Lady Dindrane from the costume book.” Marianne told her.

“I kinda liked Darin’s date’s.” Marianne frowned.

“I didn’t know Darin came with a date…” She trailed off.

“Well, she’s been chatting with Benoit most of the evening.” Vivi told her. Caroline snickered.

“You can actually chat with Benoit?” The comment earned her three black looks. Even if it was kinda true, it was a little hard to chat with Benoit, he was a very nice boy, but dense as a brick wall. He might have actually lost a battle of wits with Caroline. Still, it didn’t do to say something like that. Which I think just proves Elizabet’s point. Caroline isn’t a lady any more than that bench she’s sitting on. She’s just an actress.

“Anyway,” Vivi said as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “She’s the one who came as Baroness Ferreira.”

“Are you sure we aren’t just prejudiced in favor of our own ancestors?” Marianne giggled. “I mean you’re descended from the Ferreiras and I’m descended from the Gwynedds and Lady Dindrane while not my direct ancestor, so far as I know, was the sister of my ancestor.”

“Well, point.” Vivi took the lull as a chance to shoot a look at her brother who had such a confused look on his face from whatever Caroline was saying that Vivi was hardpressed not to laugh. “Okay, so what about favorite male costume, we’ll see if we’re still prejudiced.”

“Hmmm, Well, I did like Darin’s. But I would have to say I think my favorite was Joshua’s.”

Vivi giggled. “He does kinda work the hell out of a black outfit, doesn’t he? I didn’t realize you could probably break wallnuts with his calf-muscles until I saw him in those hosen!” Marianne swatted her arm.

“Vivi!”

“Well, I coulda made some comment about his butt. Which is very nice too.” Vivi waggled her eyebrows  and Marianne blushed even redder.

“So before your mouth gets you into any more trouble, what was your favorite male costume. And please tell me that you whomever it was you weren’t looking at their–rear.” Marianne said sounding somewhat prim.

“Well, no, you can’t even see the butt of the guy in my favorite costume as anything more than a bit of a lump. Besides I wouldn’t be looking at your dad’s butt anyway. I liked your father’s costume a lot.” Vivi said.

“Ugh. Vivianne!” Caroline interjected. “Really, with Edouard’s and Jeremie’s and even your brother Severus’ costumes the “best” costume you can choose is a middle aged man with five kids? I mean, really?”

“The question was favorite costume, Caroline. Not which was the best looking boy who filled out his tights well.” Vivi told her affronted. “And I notice that Leo wasn’t on your list, what’s wrong with his costume?”

Caroline gaped for a long moment, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Sorry, Marianne, I’m afraid the air out her has turned a bit rancid.” Vivi said shooting Caroline a black look as she headed off, intent on finding her mother and insisting to be allowed to head straight home. Elizabet was going to spend the whole evening stuck in the ballroom dancing or chatting anyway. And while Vivi was not going to blame Marianne for her obnoxious sister, after all she hated it when the backlash of some prank or what not of her brothers’ spilled over onto her, she couldn’t help but wish that Caroline would just do them all a favor and fall down some stairs or something.

—

Seryl 11th, 1513 – Finessa Estate

Vivi took one last long look at herself in her costume in the mirror. Twisting to look at the way she filled out the back and wishing there were a bit more to fill out the front before sliding the black wig off and there she was. Back to being plain old Vivi, with too many freckles and unruly not quite red, not quite blonde, not quite brown curls spilling out.

She turned to the wardrobe, slipping out of the costume, holding the underdress in one hand, reaching for a clothes hanger.

“Vivi?” She gasped as Leo’s voice came from her room. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Leo–I thought you were still at the party.” She dropped the cloth in her hand and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. She heard Leo gulp, saw him freeze in the middle of settling on her bed. Why is he looking at me like that?

His eyes swept over her, once, twice, on the second trip down she glanced down–just then realizing that she was–very not dressed.

“Lemme grab my robe.” She said, hurrying back down the stairs, just stepping over the dress that she probably should have picked up from it’s crumpled heap on the floor, her cheeks still painfully red.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s–my fault for not knocking. Guess I’m not used to having to worry about my sister the young lady.” Leo said with a chuckle that would have been better if it didn’t sound so forced.

“But, I thought you were still at the party.” She repeated, sliding onto the bed beside him. “It’s not even like you had to worry about me getting home. The walk home isn’t even far. I do it every day almost.”

“Not at night.”

“With all the guards posted at the Carcios to keep people from crashing the party, ha, Leo. You must be mistaking me for your delicate little flower.” Vivi said.

“Delicate little flower?” Leo repeated.

“You know–Caroline.” Vivi told him with a glare a the toe of her stocking.

“Vivi, my marrying Caroline FitzChivalry is more that it’s a good match politically and even financially. It has nothing to do with actually wanting to marry Caroline. You can’t keep punishing me for it.”

“Daddy said we didn’t have to marry anyone we didn’t like! You can’t possibly like her!” Vivi said, trying very hard not to whine as she said it.

“I also don’t dislike her. There are quite a few girls out there that I can’t even say that much about. It’s hard to find a girl who is tolerable and a good match.” Leo sighed. “I mean it would be wonderful, Viv, if I could find a beautiful girl who was a good match and had a good personality. But this isn’t a storybook, Vivi.”

“Wouldn’t marrying Marianne net you the same advantages as Caroline and that wouldn’t give me a sister-in-law I wanna strangle to sit across from at Robertmas dinner!” Vivi asked.

“And just how offended do you think Lord Henry would be if I said to him ‘you know, the more I get to know Caroline the less I like her, can we try the other one?’…?” Leo started to glare at her then quickly looked at his boots. He never glared at her–not even when she deserved it. It wasn’t his fault–and he was right–and she just couldn’t admit it.

“It’d be Lady Henry who was offended. I’m pretty sure that Lord Henry is well aware that his eldest daughter is a bitch.” Vivi said.

“Vivi!”

“She is!” Vivi said turning on her side and looking at her brother. “She belittles and insults her sister, her friends, me, anyone she thinks she can!” She locked eyes with Leo and whispered. “And she’ll make you miserable.” She added in a whisper.

“Vivi.” Leo rolled onto his side and put a hand on her elbow as her fingers ran over his belt buckle. “Oh Wright, Vivi.” He twined a curl around his finger before shifting.

A moment later he was basically straddling her waist, leaning over her. Then he shook himself like a dog that had just been dunked in cold water.

“Vivi, I–”

“You’re right.” She met his eyes, the exact same color as hers, in understanding even if he never finished. There were some things you just couldn’t articulate. “We shouldn’t be doing this now.”

“Vivi–we shouldn’t be doing this at all.” A moment later he’d slid off the side of the bed and stalked off toward the door, without so much as a look back in her direction, the staccato of his boots almost identical the sound of Lady Henry’s slippers on the floor.

Vivi shivered.

Seryl 10th, 1513 – Carico Estate, Lothianshire, Albion

“If you don’t mind my saying… you are an idiot, brother dear. I love you. But you’re an idiot.” A voice whispered in Josh’s ear, causing him to jump and almost slam the library door.

Being a year older certainly hadn’t softened his sister any. Well, with Bet, he supposed that was only to be expected. He was a thin cover of fragile marble laid over a marshmallow center, Elizabet was diamond from the core out, only her physical appearance usually granted her any softness at all.

Tonight, however, even the usual softness granted to her by her hair and the clothing she wore had been traded for something else. Her costume, that of Lady Morgan le Fay, added an extra physical hardness to her. She certainly was shades of a legend in it, but if there was something that the Lady Morgan of legend and Elizabet shared, it was a distinct lack of the appellation “soft”.

“How,” his voice cracked slightly. He coughed into his hand and tried again. “How do you mean?”

“This is just like you, Josh. Just go in and talk to him.” Elizabet shoved at his shoulder. “I promise nothing’s changed.”

“That’s what you think.” Josh muttered. Elizabet rolled her eyes.

“Okay, let me rephrase that, except what’s going on in here.” She paused to tap the side of Josh’s head with a long finger. “Nothing has changed with him. You’re a better host than that.” Josh was starting to feel like Benoit, that was to say lost, in what should be a simple conversation to follow. He’d been doing okay until that sharp left turn at the end there. “Darin came to my party because you asked, in fact I’m pretty sure, given how much he protested whenever the party came up in conversation, that you insisted that he come.”

She sighed. “So he came and his date is in the ballroom chatting up other people and he’s hiding in the library with Ri, only she at least is pretending that she is interested in that book of poetry she’s holding, and he’s staring at the Orkney crest on the wall.” Elizabet shook her head one of the flowers woven into the dark strands of her hair threatening to slide out. “It is your duty as host of this event–and as the person who invited him–to make sure that Darin has a good time. So.” She poked him hard through the sleeve of his doublet. “Oww.” She complained. “What do you keep under that thing, Josh? Rocks?” She wandered off still muttering about how nothing good could come from a birthday where she hurt her finger on her brother’s bicep.

“You have better manners than that, Joshua Piers!” She called from the dining room door, waggling a finger in his direction. She was right, of course, damn her. He did have better manners than that. But she didn’t understand.

It had all started in the reception line. He’d caught sight of Darin in his costume as Florian Carey, the later years steward of Earl Pellinore, a rather ironic choice, as Florian was said to have a very peculiar sense of humor and a distinct sense of whimsy. Darin, so far as Josh had ever seen, had no sense of humor and wouldn’t know whimsy if it bit him in the arse. He could never imagine Darin holding a record for being kicked out of the most taverns in his time in Albion, managing to even beat Captain Jessiah Andavri for the record!

The blonde wig didn’t suit him. Josh had decided as he nodded in response to whatever Lord Henry had just muttered to him, briefly losing sight of Darin to the huge puffed shoulders of Lady Henry’s costume. It made his face look sallow and drawn, contrasting badly with the dusky tone of his skin and reinforcing the hollow hopelessness that was almost always lurking in Darin’s blue eyes.

He needed–he needed… His mind was pulled back onto what he was supposed to be paying attention to, which was the receiving line, by the sound of Lady Henry simpering to his mother.

“Oh, Lady Marisol, I was so grieved to hear that Lord Jayson would be missing this. I know that Henry wouldn’t have missed our girls debuts for anything. I would half expect him to crawl out of the grave to be at Julia’s. Such a shame that he couldn’t make it back from Camelot in time.”

Josh’s mother was obviously trying to wrangle whatever sharp thing that had been building behind her teeth into something appropriate to say at a party when the tension was defused by an unlady-like snort from the woman behind Lady Henry in the receiving line.

“What?” Lady Henry turned, affronted.

“Oh, nothing, I am sure you are terribly grieved,” Madame Cox smiled as she gave Elizabet a hug. “I, unfortunately, have mixed feelings on the whole thing. It certainly is a shame that the baron will miss this.” She winked at Elizabet. “But it does mean that Masen is still in Camelot too, which kind of dries any tears I might have over the whole thing.” Elizabet covered her mouth with her hand, probably covering a giggle as well. Josh’s mother was too well schooled to smirk, but he thought he detected a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips too.

“Surely you wouldn’t stand for Master Masen missing your own daughter’s debut!” Lady Henry asked, planting her hands on her hips. Lord Henry was looking like he was praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“It would honestly depend on why he was missing it.” Madame Cox said, ignoring Lady Henry’s stance to lean in and kiss Marisol’s cheek. “After all, the universe is the Lord Wright’s to control and not ours. And certainly should it be fire, flood, or act of Wright that was preventing him from being there, he’d be excused in my eyes!” She fluttered her lashes in Lady Henry’s direction.

Lady Henry stormed off to where Lord Henry stood waiting looking like he still wanted to be swallowed by the paving stones, forgetting to say anything to Josh at all. “What?” She hissed at him.

“I told you not to get into that with Lady Marisol, Katherine. It’s not like she’d miss that it was a jab at her.” Lord Henry muttered before heading off toward the house, their murmured conversation fading as they went. Madame Cox, then the Captain and Mrs. Cox followed through without further incident when Josh caught sight of Darin and his date as well.

“You might as well come up, Darin, we’ve already spotted you.” Elizabet called to the pair at the bottom of the stairs. “And you’ll have to forgive me for asking who this lovely young lady you’re escorting is.”

“This is Eve Rose.” Darin said. Marisol’s eyebrow shot up as she looked over her shoulder at Josh who shrugged. Actually he had known that Darin was planning on inviting Eve, but there was no way to gently break that bit of information to his mother, so he would just pretend that he hadn’t known. Whether it worked was anyone’s guess.

“Rose–any relation to Reginald? Or to Guardsman Colby?” Elizabet asked curiously.

“Aye.” Eve said with a smile. It was Elizabet’s turn to look at Josh, only her expression was puzzled. He shrugged again. “They’re my brothers.”

“Oh–I didn’t know that Colby was related to Reginald.” Elizabet said faintly.

“We don’t make much of a deal of it. There are people,” Eve looked at the back of Miguel’s gaudy tunic as it was disappearing into the distance. “who would make it into something it isn’t. Call Colby’s loyalty to the guard into question when there’s no need for it. He wouldn’t do that.” Elizabet nodded in seeming understanding, probably actual understanding, if Josh could follow it, then Elizabet could more than likely follow it that much easier. Not for the first time he thought that River Sulis would have a much brighter future if there were some way that he could step aside and let his sister take the barony when their father died. The last thing this town needed was an idiot like him in a position of rank.

As Eve, Josh’s mother, and sister fell into easy discussion of the various costumes, Josh was pinned in place by Darin’s blue eyes. A wave of something that he had been trying–for months–to ignore or mislabel swept over him. And like a sharp slap to the face it was impossible to mistake it for anything else, that wave of lust, woven tight with softer things; hope, comfort, security, (love?) all wrapped up in a pulse of “want, want, want”. When that one single, perfect moment passed, between one heartbeat and the next, a second wave of much more familiar emotion rolled in: hopelessness, cowardice, panic on the verge of physical pain. Still, he had been trained from the cradle to keep up appearances, and so he murmured out some mechanical formula to Darin and then to Eve. They too turned down the path toward the house. All Josh wanted to do was run. But he couldn’t. It was Elizabet’s debut party and he, despite what he wanted, had a job to do. He was the host.

Still, that was what had lead to him standing out in the hallway lurking outside the library. Knowing that Darin was miserable and that it was his duty, his responsibility to make him happier or at least more comfortable–but–being a coward and as Bet so gently reminded him, an idiot. Oh, he didn’t want to mess up everything he’d built with Darin with him being stupid. Darin had forgiven him a lot, including everything that had happened that night, but he’d never forgive him for this. And Josh would never forgive himself if he ever let on.

But Darin saw right to the quick on so many things, how could he hide this from him?

He had hated himself lots and lots of times, but never more than in the stasis he found himself in standing outside the door to the library. The question “why” pounding in his head in time to the pounding of his heart. Why me? Why him? Why now? Why this? Why-why-why?

He took a step back as a group of his father’s contemporaries headed for the library–or maybe the balcony outside of it where they could smoke their pipes and talk about things that sometime in the next ten years society dictated would become the very most important things.

A moment later, the door to the library opened and Josh caught sight of a green sleeve, hurriedly he turned toward an arrangement of roses on a side table and began fiddling with the positioning.

Darin hesitated for a moment, but apparently the ruse worked, for he turned and wandered off in the direction of the bulk of the party. Still caught up in self-loathing, still hating himself for doing it, Josh followed along silent as a shadow and just as insignificant.

Darin seated himself on one of the gold settes in the corner of the room. Josh’s mother had been threatening for years to recover them, firmly of the opinion that the gold didn’t go–but she hadn’t found a fabric that she liked in their place, so there they stayed.

“There’s a seat open, Darin.” Dell said jerking his chin at the empty seat at one of the card tables. “Oww. What was that for?” He reached down to rub his right shin.

“For being stupid.” Severus said. Josh sighed to himself. Being stupid indeed.

“Are you sure?” Jules asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m not much of a poker player.” Liar, Josh thought, Darin was a helluva card sharp, Josh knew he played a lot with his own friends. He just didn’t play with Josh’s friends. It was just a lot of tutoring sessions to put into stakes. They thought nothing of tossing in a few silvers to a “friendly” game. Darin had to think of it, he didn’t have the luxury of thinking that money was unimportant.

“Besides, I’m more fascinated by the schoolteacher hustling the nun at billiards.” Darin joked, jerking his head toward where the Mrs. Coxes were playing an absolutely cutthroat game. Madame Cox laughed before turning toward Josh, who was still lurking in the doorway, eyebrow arched. Josh hurried into the room, trying not to look like he was hurrying. Somehow he didn’t think it worked to fool her. He dropped, hopefully casually, into the seat next to Darin.

“I meant to ask, Madame Cox, who are you supposed to be?” Charlie asked, turning in his chair to look over his shoulder.

“See, that’s the trouble with attempting to be clever,” she said to the room at large. “You never know if you’re succeeding in being clever or if you’re missing the mark. Heloise.”

“Pardon?”

“Heloise–the elder daughter of the first branch of Wesleyans in Albion. She’s a distant ancestor of mine or so the family legend goes.”

“The one who published all those scandalous treatises?”

“Aye.” Madame Cox said. “We both share a talent for saying things that are–mildly–scandalous.” Mrs. Cox choked. “Oh, c’mon, those books weren’t so bad.” She nudged the woman dressed in the nun’s habit with her elbow.

“Yes, Annette, they were!”

“They’re educational at the very least.” Madame Cox said blandly.

“I could have gone my whole life without that kind of education.” Mrs. Cox said primly. “It’s your turn.”

“So,” Josh said almost freezing again when Darin turned those heart-of-the-ocean blue eyes on him. “How you are doing?” Darin’s brow rose sharply, though it was half obscured by the blonde strands falling in his face.

“Words fail me.” Darin said. Aye, I was afraid of that. Josh thought.

“Hmmm. Well would you say it’s on par with the historical epic–or is it more like that Reman poetry recital?” Josh asked.

“More like that one time I walked into the hall by the salle and saw Brother Loki with his tongue in Brother Dustin’s mouth.” Darin told him blandly.

“Yeesh.” Josh said.

“Wait, you saw Loki kissing Dustin–and you didn’t tell us?” Edouard asked, slurring just slightly. His head was going to kill him in the morning. It was a good thing that they had the week off of courses. Of course it was no real surprise that he’d hit the bottle at any occasion. Josh didn’t know what he was drinking to forget, but he’d lay a month’s pocket money that whatever it was… it was something serious.

“…Aye.” Darin said after a long moment.

“Why?”

“I guess cause they–um–like each other? Why do most people kiss?” Josh couldn’t see Darin’s expression, but could hear his eyes rolling in his voice.

“No, I mean why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I know what you’d likely do with the knowledge.” Darin asked. “C’mon, I’m the orphaned street rat, you’re the gentlemen. If I have the manners not to gossip and make fun of them, you should know better yourselves, but that’s never stopped you before. What business is it of any of ours if Loki and Dustin are–um–fond of each other?”

“Father Remi says that it’s a mortal sin.” Jules said rubbing the back of his neck.

Josh heard Darin’s sharp intake of breath and nudged him slightly. “Well, if  Father Remi said that the sky was blue, I would probably go stick my head outside and check that it hadn’t turned green with violet spots before I believed it.” Darin said folding his arms over his chest and slumping back into the settee.

Josh leaned toward him and murmured “Nicely said.” by his ear. Darin glanced and him and shrugged again. Josh nodded and stared at his boots for a long moment, trying to pull his heart back out of his throat and into his chest where it belonged, feeling the hammering of his pulse to the soles of his feet. What am I going to do?

Tyves 16th, 1513 – River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

The big iron gate squealed as Anna-Marie pushed against it, sending up a tortured sounding shriek. And of course with the dusk had come a summer storm, which was building up fog like some giant blowing smoke rings. She bit her lip and tried to orient herself. She didn’t come here very often. She didn’t have any reason to.

She knew–at least in daylight–how to get to where Cookie and Ayla were, Darry had brought her a couple of times. And once, just once, Elias had brought her to see his mama. Anna-Marie shivered as a cool breeze made it’s way up her back, or maybe it was the way that same breeze stirred the fog.

There was a lantern at every crossroads. And there was a statue of some sort, with lanterns by Elias’ mama, so, hopefully she wouldn’t lose her way. Oh, why couldn’t she have just told Mama or Papa where she thought Elias was and let them go try and find him. Because this was her fault and it was too like what Romeo’d do to just drop fixing it into someone else’s lap.

She sucked in a deep breath, her head twisting around. She wasn’t scared–or at least until an owl hooted, somewhere out there in the dark, and she jumped. Maybe a little scared. And grass rattled behind her and she was lost.

“Yer alright, sweetie.” A voice seemed to say from somewhere out there in the mist. But she didn’t see anything. “Just head up th’ rise there an ye’ll see the lanterns.” It was a strange voice, sorta like someone whispering in her ear, sorta like someone speaking in her head.

It couldn’t be anything too bad. This was a churchyard and the Lord Wright wouldn’t let anything bad happen to anyone in a churchyard. So, maybe–well, if the lady was right, there’d be light ahead and she could see, and if she wasn’t then Anna-Marie could just turn right around and walk back down the rise and find the path again.

Easy, right? Again there was a feeling of something out there in the mist, like an arm settling around her shoulder, a smell like warm baking bread and cinnamon and–floor wax? But she still couldn’t see anything. But she squared her shoulders and marched up the rise that voice had wanted her to climb and yes, right there, ahead was some sort of statue. A big crescent moon with lanterns hanging off it under a big old weeping willow tree. And just off in the mist she could see the statue of St. Vivian.

Anna-Marie thought she knew where she was now and the feeling, the smell started to float away into the mist, with one last ghostly sensation of someone smoothing her hair back. “Thank you.” She whispered to whatever it had been with her.

She walked a little closer to the moon-statue-thing. “Who’s there?” A suspicious voice called out, sharp and much more sim than what had been with her in the dark and the mist. And it was a familiar one.

“Elias?” She asked, peering around the moon statue.

“What do y’want?” He sounded near as sullen as Romeo. To make this right. She thought. Because nobody should be out here in the mist. Not when they could be home with their family snug in their house.

“I wanted to ‘pologize.” She told him, though he didn’t move.

“How’d you know I’d be here.” He asked, staring up at the sky.

“Cause your mama’s here?” Anna-Marie bit her lip. “I wanted my mama and papa tonight too an’ Romeo was a lot meaner to you.”

“My papa doesn’t care.” Elias said.

“Elias Butcher, don’t be a stupid-head. I knewed you were missin’ cause your papa came to our house looking for you, an’ your step-mama too.” Anna-Marie planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“My papa came to your house?” Elias said, his voice cracking a little. “I don’t believe you!” He added a moment later, loud, it seemed to bounce off the mist and the trees. Anna-Marie took a deep breath, getting ready to shout him down. Maybe she was dumb and this was her fault, but Elias was being dumb too.

“Anna-Marie!” Her mama called from somewhere in the mist behind us.

“Elias, oh, Wright you scared me.” Elias’ papa said, pounding up out of the fog, Mrs. Butcher hard on his heels. “What were you thinking?” If he still thought that his papa didn’t care about him, Anna-Marie would give him such a piece of her mind.

“‘M sorry, papa.” He said, face crumpling. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. Y’shouldn’t haveta worry ’bout me.”

“‘Course I’m gonna worry about ye, Elias.” Mr. Butcher knelt next to Elias who buried his face in his hands. Maybe this was what Romeo didn’t understand, maybe the Lord Wright had made it so people could cry for a reason. Because sometimes you were hurt and the hurt needed to get out somehow. “Ye’re my son.”

“But you have Kian now.” Elias whimpered.

“That doesn’t change what I have with ye, Elias. You will always be my son, even when I’m old and totterin’ around on a cane and ye are too.” Mr. Butcher pulled Elias against him as the sky started to cry too. “Ye’re stuck with me worrin’ ’bout you.”

“Papa,” He shook his head and started to try and pull away from his papa, but Elias’ papa was smarter than that, or maybe he’d just figured out he’d forgotten one too many hugs because he just pulled Elias closer.

“Why would you run off, Elias?” Mr. Butcher asked as Elias sniffled and sobbed into his hands.

“Cause Romeo said you don’t love me no more cause you’ve got the twins.” Elias sobbed out and that seemed all he could sob out because he became incoherent after that. Anna-Marie swallowed hard.

“Romeo? Romeo Rose from next door? Why would he tell you that?” Mr. Butcher asked.

“Cause I told his papa that he’d been teasing Elias an’ callin’ him a crybaby.” Anna-Marie said, dinner and guilt swirling together and trying to climb up her throat from her tummy. “An’ Guardsman Rose told Romeo he had to do double chores til Hybel cause he’d been being a bully an’ so Romeo come out and told us that of course we’d tattle cause you don’t love Elias no more with Kian and Violet ’round.”

“And he didn’t say anything to you?” Mr. Butcher asked.

“He didn’t get the chance, Anna-Marie punched him in the face ‘fore he could.” Elias muttered to his hands. Elias’ papa stared hard at Anna-Marie for a moment, before stroking Elias’ hair.

“Well, Romeo is wrong, Elias. I love ye so much and I wouldn’t never fergive m’self if anything happened to ye. Never.” Mr. Butcher said. “An’ I suppose I deserve ye thinkin’ ye couldn’t tell me ’bout Romeo.” He shook his head “But why didn’t ye tell Star. I thought–,” He trailed off looking at his wife.

“She isn’t my mama.” Elias reminded him.

“Well, no, she’s not. But.” Mr. Butcher sighed.

“An’ if I start thinkin’ about her like a mama, won’t I forget my mama?” Elias asked.

“Oh, Elias. No, ye won’t forget yer mama. She’s in here.” He put his hand over Elias’ heart. “An’ she’ll always be there. She’s there in ye an’ in Marina an’ she’ll be there whenever you need her. But sometimes…” He trailed off again.

“Sometimes you need a friend, eh?” Mrs. Butcher said, speaking for the first time. “An’ if you need a friend, you can come to me anytime, okay?” Elias nodded. Mrs. Butcher leaned down and gave him a quick hug. “Now, at the risk of sounding like a mama, it’s raining and this mist is getting mistier by the moment an’ we should all get home before we’re soaked to the bone.”

Mr. Butcher put an arm around Elias’ shoulder and lead him off into the gloom, Mrs. Butcher close by the other side. “Papa Bear is right.” Anna-Marie’s mama said. “We can’t fault your heart. But sometimes, me lass, I wonder ’bout your brains.” She ruffled Anna-Marie’s hair before they too walked off into the mist.

—

Tyves 18th, 1513

“Colby!” Eve gave him an enthusiastic, just shy of bone crushing hug. “I was beginning to think you were a figment of my imagination. Reggie says you come by, but it’s always when I’m at lessons.”

“Sorry, Eve. When you’re at lessons is when I can get away.” Colby told his baby sister.

“You could bring the kids with you. I can play with them while you talk with Reggie.” Eve told him with a light poke in the torso. While Eve was a ball of energy, a comet of laughter and warmth that could light up any room, attention pretty much always settled on the man on the other side of the desk.

Even just sitting casually, white shirt stretched taut over broad cafe au lait shoulders, energy seemed to pulse and swirl around him. There really was no question as to how Reggie could hold an empire the size he did, five minutes in his company would tell you that even if Miguel, Captain of the idiots as well as the Guard of River Sulis always wondered it.

Colby could have told him, of course, but he chose to not remind people that he and Reggie were related. Miguel would either question Colby’s loyalty–or he’d come up with some moronic plan for how to use Colby against his brother.

“So what does bring you here?” Eve flounced into one of the ornate chairs on this side of the desk.

“Well… I need advice.” Colby admitted to his hands. And he might be a man grown with four children, but he still came to his elder brother when he needed it.

“Divorce your wife and set your eldest son up as a cabin boy under a captain with a hard reputation, I know a few, if you’d like some recommendations.” Reggie said with a smirk.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Colby snorted sarcastically.

“Well, I think it’s good advice.” Reggie sending a wink to Eve.

“Romi would never forgive me if I sent Romeo away.” Colby said.

“He’d come back–hopefully with some sort of better perspective and a work ethic. And maybe not be such a little brat.” Reggie told him, thoughtfully. “But what did you need advice on?”

“Well, Romeo–actually. The Osmonts little girl, Anna?” Colby frowned that didn’t sound quite right.

“Anna-Marie.” He should have known that Reggie would know. He probably knew the name of every chicken in River Sulis, let alone ever child.

“Aye. Anna-Marie dragged the Butcher boy over to my house on Saturday. Romeo’s apparently been bullying the kid something fierce. And don’t say you told me so. I know you did.”

“When do I ever say I told you so?” Reggie asked with a quirked eyebrow. Okay, well, he didn’t say he told you so, even when he had. With Colby he didn’t have to. Colby was so used to hearing it from his wife that even if no one else said it, he still knew it.

“I made him apologize to the boy and gave him extra chores for a couple months in hopes that that might straighten him out–just a little.” Colby sighed. “But right after I gave him the punishment, he went outside and picked another fight with Elias.” Reggie shook his head. “But he might have bit off more than he could chew, because he did come back in the house with a bloody nose.”

“Elias Butcher gave Romeo a bloody nose?” Eve asked, sounding startled. How would–oh, yeah, Marina, Elias’s older sister was old enough to run in the same crowd that Eve did. She probably knew the kid enough to know that it was highly unlikely. Colby couldn’t claim to know either kid well, he didn’t have any children Marina’s age and quite obviously Elias wasn’t one of Romeo’s regular cronies.

“No. I’m pretty sure the bloody nose probably came from Anna-Marie.” Reggie said with a wry chuckle. “The Osmont girl is a spit-fire if nothing else.”

“Oh.” Eve said with a nod.

“So obviously taking the trash out every night isn’t going to solve the problem.” Colby sighed. “But hell if I know what to do with him that might make him see the error of his ways.”

“You could send him over here.” Reggie told him.

“Even if Romi wouldn’t flip, I’m not sure that Romeo would see that as a punishment.” Colby told him. Thinking back to all the times he had heard Romeo lording it over other children that his uncle was Reginald Rose.

“He’d probably get it soon enough if I have him helping old Ed spread manure in the flowerbeds and he gets stuck polishing the marble.” Reggie said.

“I dunno, Reg. Romeo seems to think that he’s gonna grow up to be just like you some day. Not me, slaving away at the city guard with nothing to show for it.”

“Because your wife doesn’t understand the concept of a budget.” It was Eve who said that, but still Colby winced.

“Still, he thinks being–what you are is–flashy.” Colby said with a sigh.

“He’ll never be what I am, unless he changes his personality entirely. And quite honestly I wouldn’t hire him, even as a grunt, with any personality I see him growing. But you’re right that we need to do something because I can think of a few people who would love to put one in your eye and mine by hiring him on.” Reggie folded his hands before standing up and heading over to pour himself some wine.

“I know what we do.” Eve said with a grin. “We do like Reggie suggested and have him come over to sweep floors and polish the marble and spread the manure and what not. And then we don’t bother hiding all the disreputable characters that Reggie has to deal with on a day to day basis from him like usual.”

“It’s partially our fault that he thinks it’s so glamorous to be–whatever Reggie is.” Eve sighed. “We have tried our best to hide the bad parts from the kids, you just still try and hide the worst parts from me when you can.” Colby and Reggie shared a shrug. “But if he sees some of the absolutely creepy guys who waltz in and out of this office, maybe he’ll see it’s not all sunshine and roses.”

“Maybe.” Colby said dubiously. “Romi won’t like it though.”

“Well, tell her if she’d discipline your kid then you wouldn’t have to send him to me.” Reggie told Colby flatly. Colby sighed. “It’s part of being a parent–or at least acting in a parental capacity.”

“Speaking of things parents have to do that aren’t fun, Reggie, you still haven’t told me if I can go to Lady Elizabet’s birthday party with Darin yet.”

“Darin–Sara-Beth’s Darin?”

“Aye.” Reggie and Eve nodded. “Darin seems to have gotten some sort of in with the baron’s son.” Reggie shrugged.

“Aye, I figured as much when Darin got caught on a pub crawl with Lord Joshua. But–still–Darin?”

“What’s wrong with Darin?” Eve asked planting her hands on her hips.

“Well, you’ve gotta admit, Eve, this family hasn’t had the best of luck, romantically speaking, with that family.  And Darin is Sara-Beth’s brother through and through.” Colby sighed.

“It’s an invitation to a fancy dress party not a marriage proposal.” Eve tossed her head.

“I don’t know why you’re waiting for me to say yes, even if I said no, you’d just poke me til I said yes, so aye, you can go with Darin to the party.”

“Goody. Tell Romeo to be over after school tomorrow.” Eve said skipping toward the painting that hid a door between Reggie’s office and the private family portion of the house.

“That girl.” Colby sighed.

“Meh, she keeps me on my toes.” Reggie said. “And she’s a good kid.” Colby nodded and wished, just for a moment, whatever magic Reggie possessed, that it would be enough to make his son into what anyone would call a good kid.

Tyves 16th, 1513 – Outskirts of River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

This is all my fault. Anna-Marie thought as she shoved the door open and spilled herself out into the dying summer sunlight. What if something happened to him? She thought she knew where Elias was, but what if he wasn’t there? She picked up her skirts to run just a little faster. She had to find him!

—

Earlier that morning…

“Climb up my apple tree. Slide down my rainbow into my cellar door.” Elias was better at clapping games than Gretchen was, but not quite as good as Starla. Of course there were all sorts of boys who would give him all sorts of hell if he ever played clapping games at school, so usually Anna-Marie had to make due with Gretchen. Boys were supposed to play boys games. And girls were supposed to play girl games. And the less they had to do with each other the better.

Which was dumb to Anna-Marie, all you had to do was look at the older kids, holding hands in the schoolyard or trying to sneak off to go snog in the woods to know that while apparently boys and girls were supposed to find each other icky, it would only be a few years before you went from supposedly gross boys trying to scare you with frogs (was it weird that Anna-Marie sorta liked frogs?) to no longer gross boys trying to stick their tongues in your mouth. That sounded a lot more icky than the frogs to Anna-Marie.

But the older girls didn’t mind, so as weird as the whole tongue thing seemed to be, apparently you got over it.

Anna-Marie was glad that Elias had come over to play today. Something was going on, she could see him at the edge of the boys’ area of the playground, by the “castle” and the monkey bars–which the Reman kids sometimes called the Albion bridge for whatever reason–hands clenched into fists, or slumped against a tree staring at his shoes.

But she couldn’t go over to the boy’s section and pester whatever it was out of him, even if Elias had been her friend since they were both in nappies. Even Anna-Marie had some basic idea of the playground rules, even if she didn’t like most of them.

Still, now they weren’t on the playground and she could pester him as much as she she wanted to. Now she just needed an opening.

Anna-Marie realized someone one was coming up behind her right before she heard shoes hitting the paving stones. Elias’ sorta cringed and took his eyes away from the game.

“Are you playing a clapping game?” Like a girl?” A sneering voice that made Anna-Marie’s teeth grit. “Like a baby?”

“I am a girl, Romeo.” Anna-Marie got to her feet and dusted back of her dress off.

“He ain’t.” Romeo Rose, the bane of the classroom and playground, was still sneering when he walked around Anna-Marie  and pushed Elias in the chest. “Unless you’re still in nappies under that.” He pushed Elias again.

“I’m not in nappies!” Elias protested.

“Of course you ain’t.” Anna-Marie agreed. What kinda butthead was Romeo anyway? How did it make you flashy to do something as stupid as accuse someone of still wearing diapers? “But Romeo might be.”

The two boys looked at Anna-Marie in near identical confusion. “He might?”

“Well, he probably hasn’t got the brains to hit the pot.” Anna-Marie crossed her arms over her chest. “My mama says some of the really addle-pated people at the hospitals wear nappies.”

“What do you know about brains, you’re a girl?” Romeo’s sneer returned.

“I know lotsa girls with brains, Romeo Rose. Enough to know if you got any, they’re drowning in stupid an’ mean.” Anna-Marie told the other boy.

“Leave Anna-Marie alone.” Elias said as Romeo reared back like he was about to hit her. “Nobody wants you here, Romeo.”

“Yeah, cause I’m a boy an’ all that’s ‘llowed around is girls an’ babies.” Romeo said, giving Elias another shove before putting moose ears above his head and wagging his butt back and forth like a dog. Anna-Marie was half tempted to tell him that–or to give him another Sminese burn–and still deciding which it was when he shoved Elias a third time. “Cry-crybaby-cry cry.” He sing-songed before running off the way he came.

“I ain’t a crybaby!” Elias called after him, though his voice was cracking all over the place and he sounded like he might cry any minute. Stupid Romeo. Anna-Marie scowled for a moment. She gave him a hug. Even if that was kinda a girl thing to do.

“Romeo’s got pigeon poop in his head.” Elias didn’t even smile at that. “Didja see it, last rainstorm, he was on the castle playin’ and he went and tried to run across the playground and slid on the mud under the monkey bars.”

“Yeah. I saw. But doesn’t matter how many times he shows he’s a big dummy, people still laugh at him.” Elias muttered toward his shoes.

“Aye, they laugh at him. My grampa says people do two kindsa laughin’ at people. They laugh with ‘em, cause they’re funny or clever or whatevernot, or they laugh at ‘em. Which is cause they think they’re all flashy an’ clever.” Anna-Marie told him. “I’m pretty sure that they’re mostly laughin’ at Romeo.” That got her no response other than a slight shrug of the shoulders. Okay, different tactic. She thought.

“Hey, Elias?”

“What?”

“You ever heard the Reman kids callin’ the monkey bars an Albion bridge?” He nodded. “You know why they call it that?” She bit her lip.

“No.”

“Phooey.” Anna-Marie said.

“They’re saying people from Albion aren’t smart enough to walk on their feet.” Anna-Marie’s mother said from behind her. “What was going on out here?” Anna Marie looked at Elias who ducked his head.

“It was jist big dumb Romeo, being a dummy.” Anna-Marie said.

“Elias?” Mama asked the boy. “Is something wrong?” He shook his head fast. “Would you like to stay for lunch?” He shook his head again. “My papa’ll expect me home for lunch.” He said. “I’ll see you later, Anna-Marie.” He said before he ran off toward his house.

—

“You should tell somebody.” Anna-Marie told Elias looking up at him from the front porch at the Butcher’s home.

“That’s tattling.” Elias kicked the base of one of the stone columns. “Besides, who would I tell?”

“What about your papa?” Anna-Marie asked. He shook his head.

“He’s too busy at the shop to bother with something as dumb as this.” Elias told her. “An–” he stopped with a shrug.

“Well, then what about your…” It occurred to her after it was half out of her mouth and too late to shove it back inside that it was the wrong thing to say. That that was what his eyes had been begging her not to bring up. He took off into the house. Her manners warred for a moment with her desire to fix what her mouth had gotten her into. She hadn’t, strictly speaking, been invited in, but she wasn’t gonna let that stop her as she clambered up onto the porch and tore off toward Elias’ room after him.

Elias was standing by the quilt that his mother had made him his head bowed and face buried in his hands.

“Elias?” Anna-Marie asked.

“She’s not my mama, Anna-Marie! I don’t got a mama no more!” He sobbed into his hands. “An’ Romeo’s right. I am a crybaby.”

“You ain’t. I’d cry to if my mama were gone.”

“You’re a girl.” 

“Y’think?” Anna-Marie growled at little tired of everyone pointing that out. Her being a girl had about as much relevance in this situation as the price of tea in Smina did. “Are you really gonna listen to a dummy like Romeo? An’ even if your step-mama ain’t your mama, she likes you. She’d help.”

“She’s too busy with the twins to care about me.” Elias told her. That didn’t sound right. His half brother and sister were about the same age as Johnny and as far as Anna-Marie could tell, about a quarter of the trouble. Not one in all the times she’d come and visited the Butchers had she seen either Kian or Violet running around naked as a jaybird swinging their braises over their head.

Mrs. Butcher always had time to offer Anna-Marie a shortbread and some tea and ask how things were going. But sometimes things looked different than they were. Darry and Sara-Beth were always happy when they’d come for dinner, but she knew that her mama was worried about Sara-Beth and that Darry and Sara-Beth fought a lot. Maybe this was kinda sorta the same thing.

Okay, if telling somebody wasn’t gonna help, she needed another plan.

“Well, if we can’t tell your mama and papa–” She leaned over and whispered her plan in Elias’ ear.

—

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Elias said.

“I don’t care if you’re a girl or a cry baby, but if you’re gonna be a chicken, we’re gonna have words.” Anna-Marie pushed open the heavy metal gate her slippers seeming to echo back at her from the walls of the little hallway that lead to a second metal gate.

“Anna-Marie.”

“Come! on!” Anna-Marie told him as they stepped into the courtyard of the house. Still, she did sort of wonder at her own daring as they approached the wooden door. “It is this one, isn’t it?”

“I dunno. Maybe we shouldn’t…”

“Unless some sort of wicked witch lives in the wrong side of the house an’ is gonna eat us if we knock on the wrong door, they’ll just tell us to go next door.” Anna Marie told him, squaring up her shoulders and rapping on the door. Her papa had told her that Romeo’s papa was a guardsman, that should’ve made him a good person. Hopefully he’d give them the chance to explain.

A moment later, a man in a dark suit opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard. “Mister–er–are you Guardsman Rose?”

“Aye.” Guardsman Rose looked puzzled for a short moment, then his face cleared. “You’d be Elias Butcher–and you’d be… Raven and Eric’s little girl, wouldn’t you?”

“Aye, sir.” Anna-Marie said. Elias didn’t say anything.

“Well, Miss Osmont, what can I do for you?” If that wasn’t an opening, she’d eat her best sunhat. And she told him. Told him about how Romeo had been bullying Elias–how he’d come over seemingly only to tease them–about how he was being a general jerk. And if her voice shook, just a little, as she told it. Well, she was a fairly newly minted eight.

“Please, come inside and sit. I’m going to go get Romeo.” Guardsman Rose said at the end of Anna-Marie’s recitation. Was that good or bad? Anna Marie bit her lip but headed into the cool interior of the house with Elias trailing reluctantly after her as Guardsman Rose headed up the stairs.

She moved over to the whitewashed wood sofa with the orange cushion and sat down with an experimental bounce. Elias, she noticed, was sitting on one of the chairs by the door.

“I’m pretty sure–cause we were invited in–that we can come in a bit further than that.” Anna-Marie told him. He hadn’t said a word since she’d opened the courtyard gate. That–wasn’t good was it?

He slid off the chair and–slunk–more than walked to the sofa before sitting down next to her with obvious reluctance.

“What do you think is gonna happen?” Elias whispered.

“Um, dunno.” Anna-Marie said, then a moment later, the door opened. Guardsman Rose walked in with Romeo trailing behind him rather as Elias had trailed behind Anna-Marie.

“These two children have just been telling me about your behavior at school, Romeo.”

“They’re lyin’.”

“I bet they’re not.” Romeo’s papa said with a shake of his head.

“Why would you believe them rather th’n me?” Romeo asked sullenly.

“Because I didn’t say what they’d been telling me. It could have been good. But if you’d been being good, you wouldn’t have immediately told me they were lying.” The guardsman told his son.

“Ma says you’re not ‘posed to use that trickery guardsman stuff on us.” Romeo said.

“Well, then I guess your mother will just yell at me.” Guardsman Rose said flatly. “Have you been bullying kids and teasing them, Romeo.”

“No! It ain’t bein’ a bully to tell a crybaby he’s bein’ one. That’s what ma calls speakin’ plain.”

“That may be what your mother calls speaking plain, but I call it being a bully and as long as you live under my roof you’ll abide my rules as well as your mother’s.”

“Ma says…” Romeo trailed off as he looked at his father’s face. “What do I haveta do?”

“Apologize to Elias and stop doing it for a start.” The guardsman said.

“‘M sorry.” Romeo said to Elias. “I won’t do that no more. G’me a shake on it?” Elias looked at Anna-Marie who nodded and slid off the couch. The two boys shook.

“Anna-Marie! Elias!” Romeo called as they were walking away from the house. He ran up the corridor after them. “Thanks, you stupid tattling crybabies! Now ‘m gonna have to do double chores until Hybel all cause you had to tell my pa cause you can’t take a joke.”

She probably should’ve guessed. As her gramama liked to say “a tabby cat can’t change it’s stripes.” A bully like Romeo would probably always be a bully.

“A course you’d come tell my pa, y’ain’t got no ma, no more an’ yer pa prob’ly don’t love you no more cause he gots yer sibs to love.” Romeo sneered at Elias. “An’ you–” he started to turn to Anna-Marie but got no further.

His eyes were huge as he touched under his nose where Anna-Marie had hit him and he stared at the blood on his finger tips.

“You hit me.” He whispered as if amazed that she would have done any such thing. “I’m gonna tell my ma.”

“Then you’ll be the tattler.” Anna-Marie did her best to match Romeo’s sneer, even though it sort of made her feel slimy on the inside. “Just go put a cold wet rag on it and you’ll be fine.”

He ran back in the house and Anna-Marie turned to see if Elias was alright. He’d run to the end of the house already, head and shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, Elias.” Anna-Marie said.

“I have to go.” Elias told her trudging away toward his house. Anna-Marie kicked herself and headed toward her house, this whole thing had gone bad.

She’d confessed her crimes to her father upon getting home. About dragging Elias to the Roses–about talking with Romeo–even about punching him in the nose. Papa had told her that her heart had been in the right place, but that she really needed to learn that not all problems could be solved with a Sminese burn or a punch in the nose and had forgiven her, just this once, for trying to solve it that way.

“You can’t fault her heart.” Papa had told her mama when her mama got home after work.

But then things went from bad to worse, because they hadn’t hardly gotten finished with supper when the Butchers knocked on the door asking if Anna-Marie knew where Elias was. And she betted she did. But the question was–was she right?