Hybel 8th, 1513 – Merchant District, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Tawny twisted her hands around each other, her teeth cruelly locked around her bottom lip. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. All she was doing was meeting a friend of Annette’s who taught piano lessons. That was all. Maybe it was the fact that Miguel was not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of her taking the lessons in the first place. But for Wright’s sake, she was a sim. She needed something to do other than think of new and different ways to seduce her drunken husband!

That was more or less all she’d done for the past six weeks and they were so sick of seeing each other naked that she was about to take a blindfold to his bedchamber. Tawney released her hold on her lip to quirk them up into a something that was almost a smile, remembering what Annette had said when she’d told her that.

“If you don’t like Curran, you can find another tutor.” Speaking of the Grim, Annette appeared out of the nowhere as she frequently did.

“I know.”

“So what is it?” The redhaired woman asked, green eyes fixing her in place. Though they weren’t cat-like in color or shape there was something somewhat sharp in them that reminded Tawny of a cat. Not even a housecat, once–when they were riding in the carriage to visit a family friend–they’d seen a mountain lion basking on a rock. The look in it’s eyes when it raised it’s head and looked at them sleepily was a lot like the look in Annette’s eyes. Wary confidence. The more she got to know Annette the more she was reminded of something that one of her tutors had liked to say “You can stick a hawk in a songbird’s cage, but that doesn’t make it a songbird.”

Annette played the role of the songbird grudgingly, but she wasn’t one.

“And I already know that Miguel probably doesn’t like it, but despite what he’s thought previously, having a wife who is completely dedicated to getting knocked up seems to require a lot of him. He doesn’t like that either. I’m not sure he likes anything.”

“Himself, maybe.” Tawny said before clamping a hand over her mouth and looking horrified, she hadn’t meant to say that outloud.

“Nah, I doubt he even likes himself, look at how much he drinks.” Annette said cheerfully. “And I don’t blame him, if I were him, I wouldn’t like me either.” Tawny giggled behind the hand still clamped over her mouth.

Letting her guard down around Annette was one of the smartest things that Tawny had done in a long time. It was hard pretending to be the kind of girl that her mother had wanted her to be. And while that seemed to be held up as some sort of ideal, people didn’t really like you if you’re shallow and self-interested. And trying to pretend you only had your husband’s interests worked about as well as square carriage wheels when your husband had no interests. Besides himself–and wine–and bad clothing.

A knock came at the door and Annette shot her a smile before heading to the door. Tawny folded her skirt in one hand and stared at the blue floral paper on the walls. It had been beyond kind of Annette to volunteer her house as a neutral meeting ground for this. She’d have to think of some way to help Annette later. She was a lot better friend than Tawny knew how to be back.

There were two men following Annette when she returned, both tan, one with light brown hair in a very similar shade to her own, though he didn’t look mousey with it, the other dark haired with a very shy smile and candid gray eyes.

“Tawny, this is Kevin Finnegan,” She gestured to the brown-haired man. “He’s the artist who painted that portrait I sent to my mother.”

“Pleased to meet you, you’re very talented, Mr. Finnegan.” Tawny said. Mr. Finnegan had an infectious smile, as she felt the corners of her lips being tugged up almost unconsciously in response.

“Of course, I’m the best painter in River Sulis, just ask anyone.” He winked a blue eye at her.

“Hey, hey, space in here is limited, I’m not sure we’ve got room for you and your ego, Finn.” Annette told him.

Apparently ignoring that, he turned back to Tawny. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cox. And you’re welcome to call me Kevin or Finn rather than Mr. Finnegan if you wish. I try not to stand on formality.”

“Because your ego’d knock you off it if you did.” Annette wrinkled her nose at him when he turned a mock glare at her. Something about the way that Annette almost smiled, the way her shoulders seemed a little less set decided for Tawny that he’d be Kevin to her, anyone who could get Annette to unwind, even just a little was obviously worth knowing.

“Annette’s told me a lot about you.” Kevin continued.

“I hope it wasn’t all bad.”

“She was uncertain about you at first, but it’s gotten a lot better recently. Besides I’d take all her bad-mouthing with a grain of salt anyway. You’re married to the illustrious Captain Cox of the River Sulis guard–and you haven’t smothered him in his sleep yet, that tells me you’re probably a saint in disguise.” Tawny covered her smile with her hand.

“And if Finn would quit running his mouth, I’d introduce you to the person who you actually expected to meet today.” Annette said shaking her head. “Anyway, this is Curran Hamilton. Piano tutor extraordinaire. Curran, this is Tawny Cox, my–cousin-in-law, I guess. And a friend.”

“A pleasure to make you acquaintance, Mrs. Cox.” The hither-to silent young man said with a formal bow.

“And yours, Mr. Hamilton.” Tawny said. “Though–I don’t suppose we have to stand on ceremony either.”

“I wouldn’t presume. Some people like ceremony, my mother for one. There’s not a ceremony or formality she’s met that she hasn’t liked.” Curran ducked his head, not entirely hiding the shy grin quirking his lips.

“He’s right, Mrs. Hamilton’s written the book on formality for the sake of formality.” Kevin said solemnly. “I’m pretty sure that Curran’s father called his wife Mrs. Hamilton from their wedding to his death by henpecking thirty-four years later.” Annette snorted and Curran shook his head.

“Well, unless you’re fond of formality for the sake of it, you’re welcome to call me Tawny.” She said, extending a hand to him. He took and bowed over it, causing a faint bit of color to rise in her cheeks.

“And please, call me Curran.” Curran told her when he looked up, their eyes locking for a moment.

“Well, there’s the piano if you want to dive right in.” Annette said sitting down in her chair, a cat with a bowl of cream smile on her face. “It’s even tuned.”

“Thank you, Annette.” Tawny said. Curran pulled the bench out for her and she sat on it, smoothing her skirt in a nervous gesture.

“Sit up just a little,” Curran suggested, “But keep your shoulders relaxed, it’s a piano, not a firing squad.” She did as he suggested, he pulled a sheaf of music out of his bag and set it on the wooden music rest.

“This is the C major scale.” He quickly and easily tapped out the keys, managing somehow to lean over her shoulder without it feeling like he was hovering over her, which was kinda amazing, considering Miguel could hover over her from clear across the room.

—

“So what did you think?” Annette asked after Curran and Kevin had left.

“He was–very nice–and I think he’ll be a good teacher.” She added the second part in a rush as if saying that Curran was nice was somehow leaving something hanging that she really ought not to leave. “I liked Kevin too.”

Annette smiled and nodded.

“He’s–more than your friend isn’t he? Kevin, I mean.”

“Not–exactly. We are friends, he is someone I can talk to and he’ll listen and understand as best he can. And he knows that being friends like we are is all I can offer.” She sighed and sat down in her arm chair.

“I meant you’re sleeping with him.” Tawny covered her eyes. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

“I think, considering the first few conversations we had and how you reacted to them, you’ve spent too much time around me.” Annette looked up at her, eyes shadowed. “Yes, I am.”

“I like him. Not that that has anything to do with anything.” She stubbed her toe at the carpet.

“No, but it’s nice to hear. No one ever says it about Masen. Then again, I’m not sleeping with Masen, so…” She trailed off with a shrug.

“You–,” Tawny sat down on the settee and looked at her for a long moment. The sunlight coming in the window set off the paleness of Annette’s skin, making the copper of her hair shimmer like metal. And just like that it was back, the marble-and-metal armor that Annette always kept around her.

And just like that–Tawny’s whole life seemed to spread out in front of her–if she did succeed in having a child with Miguel in a decade she’d be where Annette was–even her closest friends at arm’s length, wrapped up in armor and and respectability.

“How do people do this?” Tawny whispered, as reality crashed down.

Annette didn’t seem puzzled by the non-sequitur. “The same way they do anything unpleasant, all the other choices are worse. C’mon, it’s not all bad. And it’s better when you can remember the good stuff, too.”

“Aye.” Tawny agreed. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Hybel 6th, 1513 – Finessa Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

The window Charlie was looking out rattled, as probably every window in the entire estate as a door slammed above.

“What d’you think that’s about?” Sev asked from the place where he lounged on his bed, a book propped up on his stomach, wrinkling the silk of his waistcoat. Charlie tipped his head to the side and shrugged. Leo was home and he’d just gotten back from the FitzChivalry estate. It could be anything. Vivi was a powder keg whenever their brother was around. He’d suspected that something was–wrong–between Leo and Vivi probably before Vivi and Leo suspected that something was wrong between them.

Their parents, when they were around, were the very picture of loving care and parental concern. The problem had been that they hadn’t been around that much. Their mother spent far more time at court with the queen than here with them. Their father sometimes disappeared for weeks on end with no word as to where he’d been or when he’d get back. It wasn’t unheard of, lots of kids in their class were in the exact same boat. Or worse, their parents were never around and didn’t even care about them on the rare occasion that they were.

Still, if the Ferriera blood carried one thing over the year, it was passion. Loyalty was given absolutely, and once a Ferriera loved someone, it was nearly unshakable. Even when it probably should have been shaken. It had cost them a few times over the years. Vivi had been Leo’s pet pretty much since she had been born. Her first word was his name. Anything that Vivi had ever wanted, Leo had made sure that she had, sometimes even begging pocket money off his brothers, even at Charlie’s outrageous level of interest, to make it happen.

He imagined it was pretty heady stuff, having someone worship you. To know you could ask almost anything of someone and they would do it–somehow. The only thing that Leo had ever seemed to want from Vivi was her to be happy. He was content with that. Then somewhere, somehow, a line got crossed. A point of no return. And suddenly what had started as sweet, mostly an emotional shelter from the storm, became something it shouldn’t be. Maybe it was a societal thing. Leo, after all, was almost the stereotype of a “leading man”. Tall, handsome, with picture perfect manners and even the fiery disposition that was called for in books and theater. Pair that with parents who weren’t there, the knowledge that she was to be married off to some bloke her parents picked because they thought it was a good idea. Maybe it did make some sort of twisted sense.

“Finding all the answer to the universe out there?” Sev asked, sarcasm tinting his voice. Charlie laughed. If only the answers to the universe were out there in the reflection pool or the carefully tended rows of hedges and their mother’s prized purple roses. What was the answer to life, the universe, and everything? Forty-two, a voice seemed to whisper in his head. Whatever that meant.

“Nope. Just thinking.” Charlie tossed a stocking at his brother. He needed to ask the upstairs maid to come in and clean up Sev’s side of the room again. He’d ask his brother but the likelihood that his brother would actually clean anything was remote. The two of them could have had their own rooms, that was one thing the estate certainly was not lacking. But Charlie supposed that this was, in part, his way of dealing with the same issues that Vivi and Leo had. Sev wasn’t his everything, not by a long shot, but some nights, the only way he slept was closing his eyes and waiting for his breath to sync with Sev’s.

“Hey, Charlie?” The double doors popped open and Leo stuck his head inside. Leo’s eyes were dark, not a good sign, and there was a stress crinkle between his brows.

“Yeah?”

“You finished with my philosophy text?” A hundred questions piled up in his throat, Leo wasn’t the type to work out temper by reading a book, certainly not a text book.

“I can be.” Charlie said, moving over to his desk, picking the leather bound volume out of the neat stack by the inkwell.

“Thanks, I’d leave it for you to read, but I’m heading back to Camford tonight.” Charlie and Sev shared a glance. It was after tea. To even make it to the Lothianshire High Cross tonight, he’d have to ride well into dark or cruelly push his horse.

“Oh?” Charlie asked.

“Aye, I should probably get out of River Sulis before someone else never wants to see me again. I’ve already got Vivi and Caroline saying it.” Leo sighed, tossing the book in his hands. “Not to mention what I’m sure Lady Henry will be sending over for me breaking her poor daughter’s heart–as if she has one–and our betrothal.”

“Wait, what?” Sev asked sitting up and staring hard at their brother. “You and Caroline broke your engagement?”

“Aye. She wants the Rances to lose their estate so her father can have it. I just can’t with her.” Leo shook his head.

“Is that over her coldhearted lack of regard for her own kin or that her understanding of political succession is so poor that she thinks it’d work that way?” Charlie asked curiously. Sev and Leo both looked at him for a long moment. “It’s a valid question.” Charlie defended.

“More the former. I had long since figured out that her understanding of anything of consequence was limited at best. And even if I hadn’t, Vivi is always reminding me of it.” Leo said leaning against the wall, shaking his head.

“So what went wrong with Vivi.”

“Who knows?” Leo asked. “I actually had just told her that she was right.” Charlie looked sidelong at Sev who shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“Maybe…” Sev trailed off. Charlie gestured for him to continue, if he had an idea about why Vivi would respond like that, it was better than anything Charlie had. He’d have thought that Vivi would have been happy to know she was right. “Maybe it was the way you found out that she was right. She’s been telling you for years, right? But it took Caroline being incredibly stupid for you to listen to her.”

“I was listening to her!” Leo protested. “I just didn’t think that her being–not bright was worth breaking my engagement to her. I mean lots of men marry women who are not–that smart. In fact there are lots of people who believe that it’s better not to marry a clever woman.”

“I don’t know.” Sev said with a shrug. “Girls are complicated.”

“Yeah. Well, I’d better get going.” Leo sighed. “You know how the Remans are. If I give Lady Henry too much time, I’ll be dodging Reman bounty hunters all the way to Camford.” He laughed without humor.

“Whoa.” Sev said, pulling his legs up onto the bed and looking at Charlie. Charlie nodded in agreement. “Should we draw straws?”

“Over what?”

“Which of us should go brave Vivi in her lair?” Sev pushed a hand through his hair. “Someone should talk to her.”

“Do you really think she’ll want to see one of her brothers right now?” Charlie asked, unconsciously mirroring Sev’s position on the bed. “I would think that one of us would be toward the bottom of that list actually.”

“Well, I don’t know that she’ll really want to see either of us, but I do think that someone should go talk to her. And I also think that we’re the best she has. Dad’s gonna be busy with fallout. Mum’s not here. Marianne would be a better choice, but it’s not like Lady Henry’s likely to let her come over here anytime soon.” Sev paused, his throat working for a moment as he thought about the implications of that. Charlie hid a smile by laying his head on his knees before it faded. He might be stuck in a house of people with broken hearts. That ought to be fun. “Somehow I don’t see Elizabet being any more help on this subject. She’s a little too prone to telling people she told them so. That pretty much leaves us.”

“Right.” Charlie pursed his lips thoughtfully. “But–um–couldn’t we let her calm down a little more before we head up there.”

“Coward.”

“The man who knows when to hide lives to cower another day.” Charlie smirked. “Besides there’s nothing we could say right now.”

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.”

Hybel 2nd, 1513 – Finessa Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Knowing it would be all too brief, but enjoying it all the more for the brevity, Firenze Finessa, known to most as “Squeak” pulled his wife a little closer to his side. It was a bright, sunny summer day, his younger three children were here, and they were expecting company in the form of old friends who’d be staying for a few days. If he thought about it that way he could almost forget all of the stress that came with why their company was coming, of what was happening here.

“I should double check the linens.” Lianne murmured.

“The house keeper is quite competent, my love. Everything will be perfect.” He kissed her nose and she giggled like the girl of fourteen he had first met, not the woman of forty-one she was now.

“It’s like you forget who is coming.” Lianne pouted slightly.

“Your cousin.” He pointed out blandly tapping her pouty lower lip. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, we’re excused on the grounds of being family.” Lianne smiled and shook her head but made no move to get up and check the linens–or on the dinner preparations or on the parlor maids, so Squeak figured that he had won the argument, though he wouldn’t say that to her, especially not when she levered herself up off the cushion and settled onto his lap.

“Ugh.” The twins said at the same time as they did, sometimes. “You know,” Severus said turning toward Charlie.

“If we’re going to meet up with the lads at the pub, we should probably get going.” Charlie agreed.

“Boys, you’re not even going to be here when they arrive?” Lianne asked.

“We can get clucked over–”

“–And told how grown up we are–”

“And how handsome and like our father we look when we get back, because you know we will.”

“I’ve practically got the speech memorized.” Charlie told her.

“Well, you boys are very handsome and it never hurts to be told so by a beautiful woman.” Lianne said, more as a way of extending the protest so they wouldn’t think she was agreeing than anything else.

“Family doesn’t count.” Charlie said after exchanging a look with Severus.

“You’ve been spending too much time with your brother.”

“We’re twins, it was bound to happen.” Severus reminded her. Lianne just shook her head before nuzzling against Squeak’s neck. “Ugh.” The twins said again on their way out of the parlor.

Vivi continued to sullenly plunk away at the upright ignoring her parents. He wasn’t sure if it was insistence that she practice the piano that had her glaring and sullen or something else. It was no secret that Vivi didn’t care for the piano–nor did the piano seem to particularly care for Vivi as it snuck a sour note into her song.

“Mum, dad, you might want to stop sucking face, the king is here.” Severus’ impertinent comment accompanied another sour note from the piano.

“The King? Is that all I am? A hatrack for a crown?” Hector’s familiar voice came from the entry. “And what about your aunt?”

“Sorry, Uncle Hector.” Severus said.

“Oh, you two look so grown up and handsome, aren’t the twins handsome, Hector?” Lynnette’s voice came a moment later. “You look more like your father every time I see you.” He could imagine that Lynnette was distributing kisses on the cheek and Hector shaking hands and giving hugs, the twins trying to pile toward the door and the flow of royalty pushing them back into the house.

“And I keep telling you, Lynnette, I’m not the best judge of handsome men. I’ll trust your judgment there.” Hector told his wife, as he did every time she asked him that.

“See you later, Mum! Dad!” Charlie called a moment before the door shut.

“They’re leaving?” Lynnette asked, sounding puzzled.

“Aye, they made plans to meet a few of their mates at the pub. That’s teenagers for you.” Squeak said from the doorway to the parlor. “Your majesty.” He bowed lowly to his king who rolled his eyes. Hector’s hair had gone completely white over the past few years, but his face was still boyish and nearly unlined.

“Baron Finessa.” Hector inclined his head regally. “Oh, damn me, Squeak. It’s good to see you. Even if the circumstances are pretty lousy.” He didn’t get a chance to say anything more about the circumstances, even if he were inclined to as his wife and Squeak saw each other and suddenly the small entry was filled with the sounds of bird-like chatter.

“You would swear that those two hadn’t seen each other in years, when I will swear to you, I saw they together just last week.” Hector commented shaking his head before extending his arms toward Squeak. After hugging and back pounding and general good-to-see-you comments, both Squeak and Lianne’s attention was turned to the other occupant of the hall.

Nathaniel had been much blonder as a child, however, he had apparently grown into the Pendragon copper. Though Squeak wasn’t a lot better at truly judging how handsome a man was than Hector was, but Nathaniel had no obvious flaws of face except a scar on one cheek. Squeak wasn’t sure which of the innumerable accidents had caused said scar. The boy had spent years trying to grow into those long legs and arms and was only very recently managing to catch up to them.

“Nathaniel. Oh, it is so good to see you! I wish the circumstances had been happier, it’s been so long.” Lianne drew the young prince in for a long hug. “You look so grown up and handsome. Doesn’t he look handsome, Squeak?” Squeak choked back a laugh that he didn’t want to explain. He had no idea if his wife and Lianne did that on purpose, or if their thoughts just ran along the same line, but they did always say that when they were confronted with one of the other’s children, at least the boys, the girls were “lovely” rather than “handsome” most of the time.

“Is it just Nathaniel then?” Lianne asked, drawing back.

“Clarys may be coming with Matilda, if they make it, but her cat was just starting to birth a litter when we were leaving. We couldn’t ask her to leave the cat.”

“More Father crumpled when confronted with Clarys’ teary eyes.” Nathaniel murmured.

“Well, aye.” Hector coughed into his hand.

“And Sebastien–well, he’s going through a sensitive phase, I didn’t know that exposing him to so many grieving people would be good for him.” Lynnette finished. Squeak quirked an eyebrow at Hector, who shook his head just slightly. They’d talk about it later, he imagined.

Vivi’s playing from the parlor suddenly wandered terribly off key as if to remind them that she was there.

“Is that Vivi?” Lynnette asked. Squeak and Lianne both nodded.

“So I’m guessing Piano Virtuoso is not Vivi’s chosen career path?” Hector asked.

“Hector, honestly.” The queen frowned sourly at her husband. “Be nice.”

“Vivi, honey?”

“What, mother?” Vivi called back, still poking at the piano. Hector mouthed “mother?” and it was Squeak’s turn to shake his head to indicate they’d talk about it later.

“Aren’t you going to come say hello?” Lianne asked.

“Fine.” Her song–such as it was–came to a sudden jarring halt.

“Though, I don’t suppose we have to keep you out here in the entry.” Lianne said, coloring slightly. “There’s really no reason for it.”

“No beautiful chambermaids you want to keep an old lech away from working on the cobwebs in the corners?” Hector asked so solemnly you’d almost think he was serious, except the sparkle in his green eyes.

“Hector.” Lynnette poked her husband with an elbow as they all piled toward the door. Vivi had come about half across the parlor only to stop short when she saw Nathaniel behind Squeak and Hector. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Oh, Nathaniel,” Lianne said, “I don’t suppose you even really remember our daughter, Vivianne.”

“I–remember her as well as can be expected.” He dropped his lashes to hide his blue eyes for a moment. Vivi’s expression remained unchanging.

“Vivi, this is Prince Nathaniel Pendragon, Nathaniel, this is our daughter Lady Vivianne Finessa.” Lianne introduced formally. Nathaniel extended his hand to Vivi as if expecting to shake, then seemed to remember that this was a lady and one usually kissed the hand of ladies. Vivi, her lips tightening slightly, extended her hand for a shake. Nathaniel’s cheek flushed slightly and he took a half-step back before speaking.

“A pleasure to remake your acquaintance, Lady Vivianne.”

“I guess you can call me Vivi.” She seemed to dismiss him with that as she turned to her mother. “Mother, now that I’m finished with my piano practice, I have a book I’d like to finish so that I can return it to the library tomorrow.” She said.

Lianne looked at Squeak who shrugged. “All right, Vivi. Well, come in, everyone, make yourself comfortable.” She gestured around at the parlor.

Nathaniel took the chair that faced the fireplace, Lianne and Lynnette sitting down next to each other on the settee. Vivi walked out, without even a glance at Nathaniel. That had gone well.

“Well, how about a drink,” Squeak offered Hector by way of excusing them from the parlor. Hector nodded.

“Well, don’t get drunk. I remember all to well when that happened.” Lianne said primly. Lynnette nodded in agreement. Hector chuckled as they walked out of the parlor, into the hall and into Squeak’s study.

Hector paused in the doorway, looking around. “How is it that your wife never notices your paranoia? It never fails to amaze me.” He said upon closing the door.

“Whatever do you mean?” Squeak asked.

“Do you really think that I haven’t noticed that, while they are an excellent example of Sminese paper panels, that there are only two windows and they’re both up there?” Hector jerked his chin at the windows above the fireplace and the bookshelf nook. Squeak shrugged and snagged a bottle of wine at random from below the bar before uncorking it and pouring a couple of glasses.

“Or how bout the fact that there is no seat in this room that doesn’t have something behind it?”

“Paranoia keeps me alive, Hector.” Squeak shrugged.

“But in your own home, in your study?” Hector sank into one of the chairs by the fireplace and Squeak joined him, leaving the wine where it was, it was really only there for verisimilitude, they were working and only the sloppy drank while they worked.

“If you’re going to insist on sending me to live in dens of snakes, I’m going to probably continue to be paranoid.” Squeak told him bluntly.

“Is it that bad here?”

“I felt more comfortable when you sent me into Tower Prison as a prisoner to get to the bottom of that mess with Patron Cassidy.” Squeak said bluntly. “Jayson of Carico would slit his own mother’s throat if it served his purpose.”

Hector’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Anything I can use?”

“Unfortunately no. Hearsay, guesses, rumors, the fucker is damnably good at covering his tracks.” Squeak shook his head.

“So this thing with Rance?”

“Well, you know that brothel I told you about?” Squeak asked.

“The one they populate with slaves who probably aren’t as old as they’re purported to be and they call them after animals or something?” Hector asked.

“There’s no probably about it. I’ve been there, once, Hector. The average age of someone working there is somewhere between my Vivi and the twins. But they have kids as young as five or six working upstairs.” Hector stared at Squeak for a long moment.

“Surely you jest, Cousin.” Hector said almost pleadingly.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.” Squeak reminded him.

“I was afraid you were going to say something like that. Though I’m not sure joking about something like that is that much better than saying it in seriousness.” Hector passed a hand in front of his eyes. “Continue, obviously this has something to do with Rance.”

“He went there. I was actually at the tavern across the street watching Carico’s steward, who also frequents the place. Are you sure we can’t do anything about that place?”

“If I dared.” Hector sighed. “But with the new lord of Rance being a twelve year old boy, who I’m told they’re having trouble finding a guardian for the estate.”

“Doesn’t he have a mother?”

“Who is Reman-born, with family close to the border. The Remans are still none to happy about the fact that we are both currently sitting in Albion and not in Reme.” Hector sighed. “And with Rance being close to the border, there are advisors who truly think that if I let Adelina Rance guardian her own son, I might as well gift Rance to the Remans, they’d come in that quick.”

“And he has no relatives who aren’t Reman?”

“Rance has a brother–somewhere–but no one knows where he is. He’s been in the wind since graduating from Camford two years ago. He might have gone into Reme, he might have gone into Glasonland, he might still be in Albion under another name, he might be in Smina for all I know.”

“Hmmm, much younger brother?” Squeak asked.

“Apparently, Rance was older than you and his brother would be twenty-four or so.” Hector shrugged. “Why?”

“Just thinking about where he liked to spend his spare time. And–I’ve heard that he likes to break them.” Squeak told his king with a sour taste in his mouth.

“Wright. I hope it’s just a fight over money, I don’t know if I can handle knowing a man I saw on a regular basis raped his own baby brother.” Hector passed a hand over his eyes.

“I’m not sure that I think that raping someone else’s baby brother is any better, Hector.” Squeak pointed out. Hector sighed and bowed his head.

“As an answer to your question, the last thing I need to do is start prodding across the border right now. Is Henry black or white?” Hector asked.

“White as a bloody lily, cousin.”

“You’re sure?” Squeak looked at Hector flatly.

“If the whole thing doesn’t implode, which it admittedly might, I’m marrying my heir off to Henry’s eldest. Plus the rest of my kids are tight with two of his. I know him pretty well. He doesn’t have a devious bone in his body. I wouldn’t have thought that a good-hearted, kind, hardworking man could make it as a diplomat, but I’ve heard nothing but good things about him. His wife has the personality of a cow-demon, but he’s white as snow.” Squeak told him.

“Then if I slipped into a dispatch or two to let something like that fall in appropriate ears, he’d do it?”

“He’s got an eight year old daughter,” Squeak sighed. “Most fathers would.”

“Rance?” Hector asked.

“And Cox–and I’m sure more of those bloody bastards who frequent the place.” Squeak told him. Hector nodded with a sigh. “And that’s not even touching Jayson.”

“Oh–no. Okay, what about Jayson?”

“I’ve heard rumors, just rumors, mind, that Rance’s death might not have been an accidental lightning strike.”

“You fill me with dread–say on.”

“The official story is Rance was struck by lightning while riding. But his horse is fine. So he wasn’t on his horse when he was struck. He had guards in the park with him. But they were not by his side when he was struck. They didn’t get to where he was until he was already dead and I talked to one of the nuns from the hospital. Rance would have still been alive for probably five-ten minutes after he was struck. So his guards were, say ten minutes away. Why do you take guards with you and then go off on your own?” Squeak asked. Hector just watched him.

“Plus, again, according to the official story, the lightning startled the horse of Lady Elizabet, Carico’s daughter, and she was thrown. So why did Elizabet’s horse spook and not Rance’s horse who was, I’m told, calmly grazing nearby his body. And–this is hearsay because I haven’t seen the girl or the body, but I’m told, it looks more like Elizabet got in a fight, bruises where they’d be if someone hit you not where you’d get them if you were thrown. And Rance’s nose was broken and he looked kinda worked over himself. And nobody’s saying he was thrown.”

Hector steepled his fingers and looked into the middle distance for a minute. “Would Elizabet fight if someone attacked her?”

“Elizabet would punch out St. Robert if she had reason to. Someone attacking you sounds like reason to me.” Squeak told him.

“Is there any chance Rance could have come up with the harebrained scheme to attack Elizabet on her own?” Hector asked in a pained tone.

“Think about what you know about Jayson of Carico, then ask yourself would you want to be the one who raped his daughter?” Squeak drew his mouth into a hard line.

“Fuck. Me.” Hector said pounding his forehead with a fist. “Do you have any good news for me? Any at all?”

—

“So, did you solve all the world’s problems?” Lynnette asked as they sat down to dinner later.

“Nah, just drank and shot the breeze, mostly.” Squeak told her. “What are you looking at, Hector?”

“This book–what’s it doing in a display case?”

“I’m told that my ancestors brought it out from Underhill. I have no idea whether it’s true or not, after all, being sales people is kinda in the blood and we tend to exaggerate for effect, but that’s what I’m told.” Squeak told him.

“So why is it in a display case?” Hector repeated as he took a seat at the table.

“Well, I just thought it was the custom of the land to keep odd things on display. After all, our neighbor keeps a dead relative as a paperweight in his study.”

“I think it’s a bookend, daddy.” Vivi disagreed.

“What? Either way, how do you even keep a dead relative as either!”

“There’s a funerary jar–with ashes in it–on the console in the baron’s study.” Lianne told him. “There are all sorts of rumors, but the most persistent one is that one of his uncles sided with the Remans when the Baron’s father was trying to retake River Sulis, he was killed in the battle and because he was considered a traitor, he was not buried in the family crypt. And that is–supposedly–the ashes that Baron Jayson keeps in his study.”

“Has anyone ever asked him about it?”

“Of course. He just looks at you and asks if he really seems the sort of man who would keep a dead uncle’s ashes in his study and use it as a bookend.” Squeak admitted. “Then he just changes the subject.”

“Does he seem like the sort of man who would keep a dead uncle’s ashes and use them as a book end?” Nathaniel asked. Squeak and Lianne looked at each other for a long moment.

“Yes.” Vivi put in finally. “Yes, yes, he does.”

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

“Vivi?” The only response to his inquiry was his sister slamming the library door. Severus sighed. He was beginning to think there was something seriously wrong with Vivi. Most of the time she was her usual smart, funny self–until their brother sent a letter, then she turned into this raging ball of angst and moped and pouted for days on end. No door was ever safe when she was in this mood. And being around the FitzChivalrys, or rather around Caroline, exacerbated it to almost dangerous levels.

He glanced at the library door then sighed. His twin had a theory about what was happening and Severus didn’t like it. He and Leo weren’t that close, but there was something dangerously wrong with his sister and his eldest brother. But short of dragging Leo out into the gardens and beating him senseless, which he didn’t want to explain to his mother, he didn’t any way to solve that. Vivi wouldn’t talk about. Doubly so if Charlie were right. Unfortunately, the only person she’d probably talk about it with was the one that might have been the root of the problem.

So he moved in the opposite direction, onto the balcony. Maybe there was some other problem that he could solve. At least one that involved him personally.

Leo and Caroline were looking at each other as if they were both biting their tongues wanting–but not wanting–to blame each other for Vivi’s leaving. In Severus’ estimation they probably both were.

“So, Vivi cleared out of here pretty fast.” Severus commented to the person he was actually on the balcony to find. Marianne turned so fast that her plait swung almost around to strike her in the shoulder.

“Y-yeah.” She dropped her eyes and stared at her hands before shooting a look at Leo and an almost glare at Caroline. But her eyes came back to his face after a short moment and an almost smile hovered at the corner of her lips.

“Need to warn the baroness of the approaching Reman army?” He joked. She shook her head.

“Said that the air had turned rancid.” Marianne murmured.

“Oh, please. You don’t need to dredge up–muck, Marianne.” Caroline huffed and stood up from the bench.

“I asked, Miss FitzChivalry.” Severus remind her. Lord Wright Almighty, what did she do with her brain? She could store three months worth of scandals and gossip in there, but conveniently forgot when she caused anything worth gossiping about. She also forgot other things when forgetting served her purpose. Like the fact that the lady she was emulating in her costume was best remembered for being the member of the nobility who got there by getting knocked up before her wedding.

“I should probably go talk to Vivi.” Leo muttered toward his boots as Caroline huffed.

“…If she’s still here.” Severus told him. Leo looked at him sharply. “Given the look on her face when she walked past me in the library, she very well may be half-way home by now. Maybe you should let her cool down first.”

“If she’s that annoyed that she’d leave early, it’s all the more reason for me to go talk to her.” Leo bowed to Caroline and nodded at Marianne.

“We should probably get back to the party, I’m sure that Mother won’t like it if we come back soaked in perspiration.” Caroline linked her arm with her sister’s and half dragged her off toward the door. Severus shook his head and trailed after. Along the way, as she apparently had forgotten that Severus was right behind them, Caroline murmured a litany of things that Marianne had done wrong as a chaperone. If she had just suggested that Vivianne go with Elizabet back to the dancing then Leo wouldn’t have spent so much time paying attention to his sister.

If Marianne had just come up with a topic of conversation that didn’t have controversy attached to it, then Caroline never would have had to point out that Benoit had all the brains of a stone statue or that their father didn’t have the best costume at the party.

Or you could just bit your tongue for once. Severus thought sharply at the back of her head as the litany tapered off sharply off. As Caroline explained, it wouldn’t do to give a litany of flaws that Marianne possessed in front of all of the young men in the card room. After all, their father did still need to find a her a husband. That was proving difficult enough even without them knowing all of Marianne’s flaws.

I’d imagine so, he thought. When you have a shrew with the all the faults of a cow demon and none of the virtues of ‘em for a mother and a catty bitch-in-training for a sister, it probably would scare off a few of the fainter-hearted. Oh well, if they’re that stupid, not my fault. Less competition.

“Oh, Leo felt that he needed to check up on his sister, I gather she was in a bit of ill-humor.” Caroline said taking  her seat on the end of the settee, having dropped her sister’s arm and hurried a few steps ahead to proceed Marianne into the card room.

“I hope it’s not serious.” Nadine murmured, looking concerned. “She did seem a bit pale and out of sorts when she left the card room.”

“Well, ill-humor if you consider temper a humor.” Caroline huffed and raised her shoulder in a shrug. “So what did I miss?”

“Oh, you know, Caroline, the light goes out of the room when you leave it.” Audrina smirked. “What could possibly happen without you around to witness it.”

“Other than Lord Joshua was in here for a while playing billiards with that handsome friend of his.” Babette told her.

“Which friend?”

“The scholarship boy. As I was telling Babette while you were gone. I don’t care how nice his rear looks in that leather tunic, he’s still a scholarship boy. You can scrub them up, but you can’t clean them up.” Audrina said. …And Charlie sorta likes her. If I didn’t know my twin better, I would swear it has more to do with the size of the dowry Earl Ravenway is offering for his daughter. It’s like “liking” a shark. Aye, they look impressive from across the way, but I wouldn’t want to marry one.

“What?” Speaking of Severus’ twin, Charlie looked up from his cards when Severus dropped into the empty seat at one of the card tables where Charlie had been fleecing people most of the evening.

“There is no crime in looking.” Babette huffed from across the room.

“You know all those bizarre theories that our baby sister has for–certain people?” Severus asked. Charlie nodded. ” I know where she gets them.”

“You’ll have to explain that one to me–later. So you wanna contribute to my fund here? I think I might be able to buy a new horse before the night is out.” Charlie ran his fingers over the stack of chips.

“Only if you want to cover my drinks at the pub.” Severus batted his lashes at his brother.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Charlie sighed. “Besides, how shall I afford it and the new horse?”

“Fleece more idiots like us?” Severus asked tossing a stack of coins onto the table and gesturing for some chips.

When Edouard was too drunk to hold his cards steady and Constantin had excused himself to go find Jeremie so they could pour Edouard into a carriage to get him back home, Severus also excused himself as well. He figured he should probably check on when they were expected home. Not that he thought he and Charlie would stay any past the end of the party or that they would go out after it. But he didn’t know if his mother expected them to escort their parents home or if whenever they got there was good enough.

But apparently the ball room had emptied entirely, as he should have known. His father–and all the other fathers–were probably outside smoking and talking. The ladies–well, by this point those still mostly sober were probably helping to pour their less sober friends into carriages just like Dell was helping Jeremie do for his brother.

Well, not quite entirely. Standing at the far end of the room, blonde plait with the caul slipping just slightly to the side contrasting against the teal and gold silk dress.

He’d been standing not far from this spot earlier in the evening, when the ballroom was more full than not, when his father had called him over. The musicians above in the gallery had just struck up a slow song and around him, couples drawn to each other to ask for a dance.

She’d been sitting in the chair not far from where she was standing now, hands folded in her lap, eyes more on them than anywhere in the room.

“Severus, go ask Miss Marianne to dance.” For a man whose whole career was focused around beating around the bush, he didn’t have any patience for it when dealing with his kids.

“Why?” Severus had asked, though there was a puppy dog eager twitch in his feet that had wanted to immediately trot over there, even without looking for where Lord and Lady Henry were. He knew that with Leo’s and Caroline being promised to each other, there really wasn’t any reason for him to look at Marianne. That and she was his sister’s friend. But there was something about the way she had looked, the very first time that he had met her–at one of his mother’s garden parties–the year that they’d first moved to River Sulis.

She’d been–oh–ten or eleven, wearing a soft rose and white striped dress, twisting her hands just like she was doing now, standing shyly at the edge of the hedgemaze. And something in him had decided right then, without any consultation, that he wanted to marry her. He hadn’t–at the time–even known her name. A lot of things had changed in those four years–but the way he always found himself looking at her–that hadn’t changed at all.

But he couldn’t tell his father that, not even when his father started talking about a marriage between Leo and Caroline. How do you say that. No, dad, you can’t marry Leo off to Caroline. I decided at a garden party I was going to marry her sister. Yeah, that’d have gone well.

“Because she keeps looking at the dance floor with a wistful expression that says clearer than words that she’d like to dance–and obviously no one has asked her.” That twitched at something inside of  Severus, that was both good and bad. If she had a suitor–then he’d have some reason to move on–but he would admit to being very glad that he had no competition. If Leo and Caroline would just implode like they were threatening to…

… Maybe?

“But why me?” Severus had asked as his heart declared him a traitor.

“Because you’re a gentleman and a Ferreira–and the only time we leave a lady in distress is when attempting to rescue her will cause her more distress–and besides, you’re the only one in the room that I can order to go do it. Now go.”

He’d sidled past the couples between him and Marianne and slipped into one of the chairs to her side.

“My father seems to be under the impression you’d like to dance.” He had placed his elbow on the arm of the chair and batted his lashes at her when she looked at him.

“Your father is asking me to dance?” She’d looked at him bewildered before peering past him to where his father was dancing with his mother.

“No! No. He–he wanted me to ask you to dance. I mean if you wanted to.”

“Oh–I–well.” Her eyes flickered down to her hands. “The floor is pretty crowded–except over there.”

“Aye, but if we go over there, we’ll have to see Captain Cox’s tunic up close, I see your dilemma.” Severus had joked to keep his shoulders from drooping dejectedly.

“Oh, don’t–don’t think that I don’t want to dance with you, Severus. Please. May–maybe at another dance–one not so–you know–crowded.” Her eyes, always a brilliant unclouded teal pleaded with him to understand.

So later he had agreed, then retreated after a long moment, to the card room where he hadn’t had to worry about the next dance and if there were to be one. But the musicians had already packed it in for the night apparently as the gallery was empty. Still his heart was pounding a beat of its own.

“You know, Miss Marianne.” He almost swallowed his own tongue when she turned to look at him. “You still owe me a dance.”

“I-I do–don’t I? But–” She glanced up at the empty gallery.

“It’s always going to be something then, isn’t it?” Severus sighed, hoping to keep the tone jocular. Maybe it was all for the better, the way his palms were sweating.

“No. If–if you don’t mind the lack of music, I–I don’t mind it.” She admitted toward her hands. He extended one cold clammy hand to her and she took it. The other he settled at her waist before beginning the first steps. But even with only the sounds of their dance steps echoing off the dark marble and up through the empty ballroom for accompaniment, it was better than he could have imagined any professional musician could have played it.

It was allowed to just be, a spin here…

…faster here, slower there…

… until reality reasserted itself and he brought her with one final twirl to a stop.

“Thank you, Mr. Severus.” Marianne giggled as he brought her hand to his lips as the stepped apart.

“Wait, one last thing.” Severus said, the words out of his mouth before he even could think about them. She turned back toward him from where they had started to drift apart. He caught her hand, turning her around in one last twirl.