Hello again! Many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter and I appreciate your patience in waiting for this one—I've been applying to grad school and settling into (yet another) part-time job…But you can think of it as real time simulation because this chapter takes place a few weeks after the previous one, in which Penelope and Dalton moved and Rissa found a little vicarious revenge. It also contains themes, characters, and imaginative real estate belonging to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!
Penelope had been working at her desk in the Own's office for a few hours when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Realizing that Dom was absent, she answered it herself and was somewhat surprised to find Karyna standing outside, holding up a sheaf of papers.
"I have news," she said, her tone laden with opinion.
"I'm not going to like it, am I?" Penelope muttered.
"At least you won't have to live it," Karyna assured her before explaining the latest orders she'd received.
"Who decided it would be a good idea for the Own and the Riders to share a midwinter celebration?" Penelope asked when she'd finished. "And just what is the reasoning behind the plan to put two combat services with a long history of sometimes-beyond-friendly rivalry in a large room with lots of alcohol and candles?"
"I wouldn't like to name names," Karyna answered. "And I heard terms like 'cooperative spirit' and 'interservice unity' bandied about, but I suspect it has more to do with budget constraints—one party is cheaper than two."
"Which suggests that they haven't taken the potential—by which I mean inevitable—damage to property and egos into account."
"They have—that's the best part actually," Karyna told her. "Rider captains and Own commanders have all been ordered to attend in a 'sober supervisory capacity'."
Penelope winced. "You're going to have a spectacularly long evening."
"Is she?" Vina stuck her head through the open door, grinning. "Am I invited?"
"Only if you're feeling particularly saintly and patient on midwinter's eve," Karyna told her.
Vina shrugged. "I'll get there when I can."
Dalton rushed into the room without bothering to make any clever interruptions. Instead he hurriedly wrapped a hand around Penelope's shoulder and bent to murmur in her ear.
"Byrn and his mother just arrived."
"And?"
"He looks good in black." Dalton shrugged. "Even I could see that."
"We could have told you that without looking," Penelope muttered, trying to keep the worry from her voice. "Some people do."
"It's the stupid grey eyes," Karyna said, rubbing absently at her own.
"They aren't stupid," Vina protested. "Or not yours anyway," she added, realizing she was still rather angry with Byrn.
"Of course." Karyna agreed, wrapping her hand over Vina's elbow. "But intelligent grey eyes are arguably even more devastating than bovine ones."
"I wouldn't know," Vina murmured. "You never wear black."
"I have two white ponies," Karyna informed her. "It would be a disaster."
"Would you stop flirting," Dalton muttered, "and help us figure out how to tell Rissa?"
Vina bit her lip. "Don't," she said finally. "I mean, you can mention it casually, but don't sit her down and tell her. You'd never do that with any other guest getting here for the holidays. And she'll figure it out on her own as soon as she passes by the stables anyway."
Penelope nodded. "That's probably best. She'd really hate having to be told as though we expect her to react badly. But it is complicated and I'm not sure how much we should…er, hello Rissa." She wrenched her features into a smile as Rissa entered the now fairly crowded office.
"Hey." Rissa nodded back at her. "I didn't want to interrupt your work, but I was actually just looking for her." She tilted her head at Vina.
Penelope rolled her eyes and Karyna protested that she hadn't intended to start an invasion.
"Well," Rissa turned to her twin, "how did it go?"
Vina swallowed hard, stiffening as Karyna released her elbow and stepped away.
Dalton's eyes narrowed. "How did what go?"
"Lunch with Lord Stewart." Rissa answered for Vina. "Although," she added thoughtfully to Vina, "I could have gone in your place—he probably wouldn't have known the difference."
"He's not your type," Vina said lightly. "Actually, I think we're a perfect match. It only took us ten minutes to establish that neither of us is inclined to desert our present lovers and pursue matrimony, but that we're both willing to satisfy our families by smiling and making small talk throughout the season." She smiled as Karyna's fingers returned to her elbow. "And then he paid for the entire meal in the interest of keeping up appearances."
"That might make him my type." Rissa smirked. "And who's his present—"
"I didn't think it polite to ask." Vina grinned. "But Lord Timwell sat alone at the next table and spent the first part of the meal glaring at me."
"It sounds as though you and Stewart have just enough in common to be an excellent match," Dalton muttered.
Vina nodded but then sighed. "Which means I'm going to have to look up the nuances of cloud identification in order to have something to say to Stewart at our next encounter."
Rissa smiled. "Easy. The wispy ones are cirrus, which would bring good weather for a circus, and the puffy cumulus ones could cause bad weather."
"And how do you know this?" Vina demanded. She was usually the slightly more studious twin.
"I've been doing a lot of reading lately." Rissa's face tightened. "And riding and…by the way, Byrn's here."
"Is he?" Dalton tilted his head thoughtfully and nudged Penelope to keep her from smirking. "I didn't know he planned to be at the palace so soon."
PDPD
Penelope felt much more wholeheartedly welcoming towards the next week's arrivals, whom she waited at the front gate to greet. She smiled involuntarily and squeezed Dalton's fingers as his mother and sisters approached. They waved and grinned back at her.
"Hello dear." Dalton's mother, Meril, wrapped Penelope in her arms as Dalton helped Grania dismount. "You look lovely," she murmured, clearly meaning it. "And I don't think I've ever seen him so full of joy."
Penelope met Meril's eyes, realizing again that they were identical to Dalton's, and suddenly knew—in what she suspected Alanna would call a 'leap of intuition'—that her daughter would have the same green eyes. The thought made her want to laugh aloud. Instead, she hugged Meril back.
"Thanks," she whispered.
And then she was caught between Arielle, who was kissing her cheek and asking if Penelope would help her improve her archery skills, and Grania, who was kissing her cheek and assuring her that she had already made three blankets and would begin sewing baby clothes that evening.
This was the beginning of a whirlwind that lasted until midwinter's eve. Penelope spent her mornings with Arielle or the pages, her afternoons organizing materials for the Own, and her evenings at family meals that usually ended when she fell asleep against Dalton's shoulder.
She didn't see much of Vina or Rissa, but she scarcely saw Byrn either, so she assumed that they were alright. At least until everyone gathered for the ball on midwinter's eve.
PDPD
"She borrowed that dress from you, didn't she?" Grania asked Vina as Rissa appeared. The rest of them had been waiting for several minutes at the point where their paths to the grand hall intersected.
Vina, who was wearing a simple green dress, blinked. "You can tell?"
Grania shrugged. "It's probably perfect on you. But it doesn't suit your sister at all."
Vina nodded in agreement and giggled softly at Dalton's bewildered scowl.
"They look identical," Dalton informed her.
"It went over my head too," Penelope assured him.
"But dresses are for people," Grania lectured, "not just bodies. For instance"—she gestured to Penelope—"many women with her complexion look lovely in pink, but I would never even dream of suggesting it for her."
Penelope nodded in sudden insight and gratitude.
"That dress," Grania continued, pointing at the one Rissa was wearing, "is elegantly subtle and modest and obviously Vina's. Rissa does better in bright colors."
"Alright," Dalton muttered affably, "if you say so."
"I do," Grania assured him in a whisper, before lifting her hand to greet Rissa, who nodded back at them and smiled a little too fixedly as they strolled into the ballroom and scattered amid its festivities.
PDPD
Byrn approached stealthily enough to make Penelope start when he tapped her shoulder.
"Might I have a dance?" His voice was confident but he glanced guiltily away.
Penelope nodded somewhat reluctantly and took his hand. She'd never been one for letting discomfort get in the way of awkwardness.
"So," Byrn said once they'd established an easy rhythm, "I understand congratulations are in order."
Penelope nodded again before she stifled the slow, involuntary smile sweeping across her face. "And I wish to offer you my condolences," she told him, realizing she meant it.
"For which loss?" He grimaced briefly and then drew his face back into a formal smile. "But I really do wish you all the best," he said. "You and Dalton were always good to…us." He swallowed and his eyes darted around the room as though seeking Rissa.
Penelope dipped her head in acknowledgement and they were silent for another minute.
"I know you'll raise a wonderful child," he said finally. "I hope to have the honor of meeting her someday."
"I'm sure you'd be a good influence," Penelope said.
Byrn smiled. "In any case"—he shrugged and gestured towards Neal and Alanna, who were watching them with interest—"I should let you get back to enjoying your evening." He squeezed her fingers and spun around, hurrying away.
PDPD
"You've done enough," Rissa told Dalton when they reached the edge of the floor. "I'm not really in the mood to dance anyway." She shrugged sadly.
Dalton nodded at her, sighing under his breath, but did not release her hand.
"Really, go on." She glanced back towards where they'd left Penelope and saw her dancing with Byrn. "Enjoy your evening." She nudged him away. "I think I'll just get something to drink."
"Alright, Rissa." Dalton squeezed her fingers. "Take care of yourself."
She forced a smile and started away, making it about seven steps before she started hearing whispers.
"That's her there…in the brown…I thought she was supposed to be pretty…Well, she was also supposed to be somewhat faithful and we all know how that…"
Rissa elbowed past the gossipers and got herself a glass of wine only to wander into another cloud of scandal chasers.
"I do pity poor Byrn…but this is probably for the best…She'd have been a disaster as duchess…now he can find a proper wife and forget about his little adventure with her…"
Rissa's hand wasn't actually shaking, but she dropped her full wineglass just for the satisfaction of watching something shatter. Then she turned her back on the blood-colored puddle and stalked blindly away, rushing for the back doors without even stopping for her cloak.
PDPD
"Vina?" Byrn held out his hand to her.
Vina took it, still oddly glad that he could tell them apart.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Dancing with you."
"Here, I mean." She swerved to avoid being elbow by the neighboring couple.
"I could ask you the same," he said.
"I'll be leaving soon," she informed him. She'd already danced with Neal, Dalton, Wyldon, and Lord Stewart and the food in the Rider barracks was likely to be simpler and better than that laid out for the nobles. "And you haven't answered my question."
"Do I need to?"
She raised an eyebrow at him.
""I'm supposed to be representing Briarwood during the courtly festivities and finding a wife this winter season." He sighed. "But I'm not about to propose to you just because your sister turned me down," he assured her. "I can think of a few frighteningly capable women who might want to kill both of us if I did that."
"It wouldn't end well," Vina agreed, grinning slightly.
"But I don't—" he sighed. "You aren't just Rissa's sister to me. You're good company in your own right. And I'd hate to lose—I just want you to know that you—and Karyna—will always be welcome at Briarwood."
"I…thanks—you too." She winced. "You know what I mean."
He grinned. "I'd also like to know if you can tell me where Rissa is?" He swallowed. "And how she is?"
"We don't actually have supernatural senses, you know." Vina spun lightly in time with the music. "I'm not privy to her every experience—a fact you of all people ought to appreciate."
"I do," he assured her. "But you are often uncannily aware of one another's moods and whereabouts," he said. "And you probably saw which door she left through."
Vina nodded.
"So, will you tell me where she might be?"
Vina smiled. "She took the door near the back garden. She—we, actually, often pace near the willow when we want to think about something."
"I see." The music came to a stop. "And would you like a partial escort in the direction of the Riders' barracks?"
"I think I might," Vina said. "If it isn't out of your way."
"I hope not," he said, offering her his arm.
"Let's collect Selena too then. She'll want to return to her scene of domestic bliss."
Byrn nodded. "I envy her occasionally."
"I know." Vina smiled. "Me too."
PDPD
"Back so soon?" Jeck took Selena's cloak as she stepped through the door.
"Well, my handsome husband refused to come and be flaunted," she said, "so I didn't have any reason to stay long."
"It wouldn't have gone over well," Jeck muttered, but he was already pulling her into his arms.
"I don't care." Selena kissed his cheek. "Anyway," she added in a louder voice and for Jason's benefit, "I know the food will be better here."
"I don't know. The cooks look a little distracted this evening." Jeck glanced back at the stove, where Jason was taking his time about wiping a splatter of sauce off Sara's cheek as they argued about whether or not they should add more salt to it.
"I don't mind waiting," Selena said, taking Jeck's hand and leading him to a workbench where they could sit together. She grinned as Shadow came to drape her head over Jeck's knee. "I'm fairly confident this will be worth it."
PDPD
Penelope was rather surprised to find herself standing beside the king at the buffet table when she and Dalton paused from dancing to gather with his family and their friends. She was rather more surprised to realize that Jon—somehow Alanna's presence made it easier to think of him by name—shared her addiction to ginger biscuits. This knowledge, unfortunately, made him easier to talk back to when he became the eighteenth person to accompany an innocent enough question with a meaningful nod.
"How are you, lady knight?"
"Sick and tired of being asked such a boring question, sire, especially when everyone expects to hear only one answer—"I'm fine"—regardless or its truth or relevance." Penelope shrugged. "Otherwise, I am, in fact, in a state of reasonably good health and happiness." She winced thoughtfully. "And, erm, aware that I probably ought not to offer such cheek under other circumstances."
"Well," Thayet observed, "she's obviously enjoying the excuse to say whatever she damn well pleases."
"Probably a little too much," Penelope admitted gleefully.
"That was always my favorite part of being pregnant," Alanna added.
"This from the woman who's been recklessly speaking her mind since she was a ten year old boy," the king observed.
"And most certainly did not stop after giving birth to her children," George muttered.
Alanna shrugged. "Well, after a certain age you can say what you want anyway."
"And what age is that?" Wyldon asked.
There was a long silence during which Kel frowned pensively, Thayet stifled a laugh, and Neal, George, and Dalton made some rapid calculations based upon the distance between Wyldon and Alanna and the length of time since their last argument.
"I believe the number of years required is inversely related to the degree of outrageous eccentricity one is willing to exhibit in dress and personal habits," Grania explained finally.
"I see," Wyldon murmured. "Mindelan may have a long wait ahead of her then."
Kel smiled. "I think I can handle it."
PDPD
"I should have known," Rissa muttered when Berin strolled up beside the willow tree that she thought of as hers.
"As should I," he said. "You clearly enjoy your moonlit strolls. Who are you stringing along tonight?"
Rissa couldn't think of a witty reply so she stayed silent, hating him for intruding upon her sulk.
"Can't interest the lads anymore?" he continued.
"You're still interested," Rissa remarked. "Unfortunately, I don't find you interesting."
He smirked. "Your sister seems to have the same problem."
"Say another word about her," Rissa snarled. "And you and I will be 'dancing' on the dueling grounds tomorrow. At dawn. I don't care if it is midwinter."
"And what makes you so sure you'll win that—"he caught sight of something behind Rissa and paused, a horrible smile creeping across his face. "Well, look who's come to witness for us."
"You never do anything worth watching."
It was Byrn. Rissa swallowed hard but could not bring herself to glance back at him. She'd carefully avoided encountering him since his arrival, even when it meant taking long, roundabout paths from her room to the stables. This was partly because she didn't think he'd want to see her and mostly because she didn't like seeing, whenever she glimpsed him, that he looked as miserable as she felt.
"You just don't like seeing her with me," Berin said.
Rissa heard the scuff of Byrn's boots as he shifted his stance.
"I couldn't care less, actually, but she's easier on the eye than you are."
Berin took the bait, shoving Byrn out of his path as he stormed away.
PDPD
Penelope planted her forehead against Dalton's chest, slumping lazily against him as they danced.
"Time to go home?" he asked.
She nodded, her eyelids already drifting downwards. "Remind me why we moved so much farther away from the great hall."
He chuckled. "For the same reason you're too tired to want to walk there," he murmured, hauling her upright and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Mmmmph." Penelope settled her head against his arm and shut her eyes again.
"Our young people have absolutely no sense of decorum or merriment," George observed as they passed him and Alanna. "It's positively shameful the way they're deserting the festivities."
The king shrugged in agreement. "I suppose at this rate Wyldon will be the last one dancing."
"He still has the lungs for it," Thayet remarked. "But he's never been one for trends and patterns."
"In any case," Alanna added, "he's a little too old. And they're—"she waved towards Dalton and Penelope, but included Neal, Dom, and Kel—"a little too young. Our generation has always had the best sense of fun."
Neal tapped Dom's shoulder. " I do believe, dear cousin, that we've been challenged."
Dalton slowed his retreat just long enough to offer a little tactical advice. "Don't drink anything from George."
"And expect your opponents to be ruthless," Penelope added, stifling her laugh against Dalton's arm.
Afterwards, the walk didn't seem quite so long and she was soon curled comfortably against Dalton, a heavy quilt keeping them warm and a happily snoring dog at their feet.
PDPD
Rissa waited until Berin's footsteps had faded entirely away before turning slowly around.
"Evening," Byrn said lightly, nodding as though they had only just encountered one another on a leisurely stroll.
"Evening," she repeated. "It's rather chilly tonight," she added stupidly. "I've forgotten my cloak." She winced, realizing this was not the thing to mention given the rumors that were still circulating from the last time she'd left her cloak behind. "I should go back in." She nodded awkwardly and started down a different path than the one Byrn had used.
"Rissa, wait, I want to apologize."
Startled, she turned around again, feeling that she was the one who ought to be apologizing.
"Why?" she whispered.
He stepped close enough to set a hand on her shoulder before answering. "I still love you."
She swallowed hard, staring at the fingers he'd left on her shoulder.
"And I want you to know that I regret—"he paused—"what happened at Briarwood. I'm sorry about what I said. I was watching my father die and I felt I couldn't bear slowly losing someone else. I pushed you away because I just had to stop hurting. But I wish…" He sighed and then pressed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss.
Rissa blinked breathlessly at him as they drew apart.
He smiled crookedly at her. "We never did kiss goodbye."
"Me too," she stammered, her mouth finally catching up with her mind. "I mean, I still love you."
He grinned ruefully and then they were kissing again.
"Byrn," Rissa murmured, reluctantly pushing him away. "I love you. I missed you. But I'm still not sure I can—"
"So that part hasn't changed either," he muttered, his face still close against hers.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered and felt a sob rack her body.
"Shhh." He stroked her hair. "Sit and talk with me anyway." He gestured towards the nearest bench.
She managed a puzzled sniff.
"Please," he added. "We left so much unsaid."
She nodded, shivering, and did not protest when he pulled her into his cloak as they settled on the bench.
"Before we—"she swallowed. "About me and Berin…"she bit her lip. "Did you mean what you said back there?"
He sighed thoughtfully before answering. "It was meant to be a lie—the first part, I mean—obviously you are indisputably prettier than Berin—that's just a fact, by the way, don't count it as a compliment."
"Duly noted," Rissa murmured. "But the first part."
Byrn absently took one of her hands in his. "I've tried to care less," he said. "I've told myself that I can't expect you to just stay faithful to a bunch of memories…But I can't seem to stop myself from caring what happens to you. So, yes, I hated seeing him near you." He looked away. "I guess George was right," he added hoarsely, "the best lies are true."
Rissa swallowed in agreement. "Whatever you've heard, I didn't sleep—"
"I know," Byrn cut in. "You have better taste. Even if you had—"he squeezed her fingers so tightly she almost yelped—"it wouldn't be fair for me to hold it against you since I'll be marrying someone else."
"Who?" Rissa tried to keep her voice neutral and failed miserably.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked.
"No," Rissa admitted. "And it's not as though I can challenge her to a duel or anything."
"More's the pity," he muttered.
"But," Rissa whispered, echoing his words, "I can't seem to stop myself from caring what happens to you."
"Alright." He noticed that she was still shivering and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close, but resisted the impulse to kiss her. "To be honest, I haven't actually paid much attention to the raging debate—my aunts and uncles have all kinds of opinions to offer my mother, who nods politely at them but probably has an opinion of her own."
"And I doubt any of your relatives will be able to alter it," Rissa murmured. "She's always…How is she doing these days?" Rissa asked, to distract herself from the realization that she wouldn't have minded having Baroness Amicia as a mother-in-law.
Byrn sighed. "I don't think I ever quite appreciated how strong she was—I mean she's never let it stop her from doing whatever she thinks must be done, but I can tell that she really misses him. I think maybe she's only just realized that she might have loved him a little—I mean their marriage was arranged, but they were accustomed to one another—they got fond of each other over time. And now she's alone and…"
"It isn't easy," Rissa finished. "For either of you." She wrapped her fingers over his arm. "I should say something along the lines of 'hopefully you'll eventually grow that accustomed to your wi—"
"Don't," Byrn snapped. Then he silenced her with a brief, fierce kiss. "I have the real thing right now. I don't want anything less."
"Oh," Rissa murmured. "I know."
"Sometimes I think that if my father had…"He broke off, swallowing down a sob.
"Shhh." Rissa ran her fingers gently through his hair.
He pressed his forehead to her shoulder. "Enough about me," he muttered shakily. "Tell me about you."
"I don't want pretend with anyone else either," she whispered.
"I shouldn't be glad to hear that," he muttered, tracing a hand down her arm.
"But I think I should move on geographically." She drew a deep breath. "I'll be—maybe this will make things easier for you—I'll be leaving soon."
"Where to?"
"The desert," she said, deciding on the spot. "I might stay for a few years—give us both some space."
"Will you write?"
She swallowed. "If you want me to."
"No matter what…I'll need to know you're alright."
She nodded and kissed his cheek. "And will you write back?"
"Of course." He managed a smile. "I think I'll always love you. Even if it has to be from a distance."
"This isn't exactly," Rissa murmured. "I'm practically in your lap."
Byrn pulled her all the way into his lap and sighed against her shoulder. "I know. And I probably should…but it's not as if I've brought you back to my room…and I just." He bit his lip to keep from kissing her. "Tell me, why the desert?"
"For one thing, it'll be warm." Rissa smiled and settled back against him. "And for another, Alanna went there when she…" She let her eyes drift shut as she shared her plans with Byrn and listened to her murmured replies. He'd always been easy to talk to, to be around—it was why she'd fallen in love with him in the first place. And it seemed to do him good to take his mind off his own troubles.
I'll leave everyone as they are for the next week or so of Real Life and we'll pick up again the next morning for the final (I think) chapter (before the really long and extra fluffy epilogue). As you might expect, there's plenty of drama still to come…
"You're a fine one to be lecturing me about duty and marriage," Rissa shouted, "since you've been happily neglecting both of them."