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It had been a typical day in the life of Kaddar Iliniat. Difficult decisions, determined counselors, and a very obdurate wife. Each was horrible enough in itself, but when combined, well…it was like throwing alcohol on blazebalm. Kalasin's reaction to the decision that he had made without consulting her had been almost as fiery. Actually, she had thrown a cushion at him. And yelled and screamed. There had been door-slamming involved, too.
Kalasin had been gone for a little over two hours now, and Kaddar had to admit that he was getting a little worried. But knowing her, she might have gone and hidden somewhere in one of the various libraries…
He flashed back to her furious outburst before she left, and winced to himself. More likely, she was riding outside somewhere, venting her temper on the elements. If that was the case, part of him wanted to let her get sopping wet, windblown, and then for her to come back with a severe cold. It served her right.
Knowing his luck, she might just get pneumonia and die. And Kaddar didn't want that on his conscience. Besides, if she died, he would be bullied into marrying…again. It was better to deal with Kalasin's known evil than an unknown one, at least.
With that thought, he saddled his stallion Westwind up, and went looking for his stubborn pig of a wife, feeling very benevolent. If it weren't for his compassion, she would probably be locked out and miserable for the rest of the night, after all.
Within ten minutes, he felt less benevolent, and more annoyed. He had scoured the entire east side of the courtyard, and no Kalasin.
Ten more minutes passed, and by that time, Kaddar was past annoyed. He was soaked through and through, his horse was making distinctly irritated noises, and he was feeling a headache coming on.
He sincerely hoped that Kalasin was more miserable than he was, and covered with mud, to boot.
Finally, he saw Kalasin's mare through the fog, and not too far from there, a huddled black form under a tree. Kaddar recognized the huddled black form immediately, and noted (with a touch of sadistic pleasure) that it was covered in mud. As he drew closer, he noticed that her head was buried in her arms, and that her shoulders were shaking.
That threw him a little. Kalasin never cried. She seemed more of the type to roar in anger instead of crying. After a few moments of internal debate, he dismounted and wrapped his cloak around her shoulders gently. She looked up at him, red-eyed. "What are you doing here?"
"No questions." Kaddar said sternly. "And don't protest—it won't do any good." Ignoring her squeak of objection, he lifted her up onto his horse before mounting the skittish stallion.
She buried her head in his cloak and sniffled. "Don't say anything."
Kaddar couldn't help but take a perverse pleasure in the situation. "Why should I? I can say 'I told you so' in eight different languages anytime; I don't have to say anything now." He fumbled with the lock on the palace doors, and then paled. "Ah, Kalasin."
"What?"
"We're locked out."
It was a very miserable imperial couple that sat under a tree, dripping wet, and silent.
"Kaddar?" Kalasin ventured timidly, both her ankle and her pride still hurting.
"Mmm?"
"Next time, if you ever win a debate, tie me up to the bedpost. It's safer."
"Tempting, but I wouldn't wish to harm you. Too much."
Kalasin looked as if she had a biting reply to make, but instead closed her eyes tight and rubbed her injured ankle with a small sound of pain.
Maybe he was going soft, but Kaddar couldn't help but pity her, just a little. "…Do you want to rest your head on me?" he asked abruptly.
She looked at him, her eyes unreadable. "I'd rather not," she said simply, leaning her head against the tree.
"Oh." They were silent again, and Kaddar realized that Kalasin had fallen asleep. She almost lost her balance and fell into a puddle of mud again, but he didn't try to pull her away from the mud.
He just moved her head slightly, so that she fell a few inches away from the mud puddle, one of her legs draped over his.
"You're like an irate zebra, except worse," he murmured.
Her leg twitched in her sleep, digging the heel of her boot into his leg.
"I almost like you this way. In the way one would 'like' their archenemy or the person who tries to kill them on a regular basis."
The boot heel dug further, and he winced.
"Almost."
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