Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

the door. When he wanted to, the man could say more with a look than most people managed with a whole speech.
    She’d searched through the clothing still in her closet, trying to find a long-sleeved dress that would cover the scars on her arms. The dresses were all in beautiful condition (many having never been worn), but the fashions of ten years ago had tight sleeves that she could no longer fit into thanks to a decade of weapons drills. She’d settled for a narrow-skirted, short-sleeved dress and ignored the scars.
    The room was crowded, and for a moment she didn’t recognize anyone there. Ten years had made changes. Some of the crowd were tenant farmers and gentry who held their manors in fief to her father; but from the number of very tall, blond people in the room, Aralorn thought most of them were her family, grown up now from the ragtag bunch of children she remembered.
    Wolf received some odd looks, but no one asked about him. It seemed that mercenaries would be allowed their eccentricities.
    She smiled and nodded as she waded through the crowd, knowing from experience that the names would sort themselves out eventually. Usually, she was better at mingling and chatting, but this wasn’t just work, and the black curtain that hung in the far corner of the room held too much of her attention.
    In the alcove behind the curtain, her father’s body was laid out in state—awaiting the customary solitary visits of his mourners. Visits where the departed spirit could be wished peacefully on his way, old quarrels could be put aside, and daughters could greet their fathers for the first time in a decade.
    She’d seen him now and again, the last time at the coronation of the new Rethian king. But I was working, and he never recognized me under the guises I wore.
    “Aralorn!” exclaimed a man’s voice somewhere behind her.
    Aralorn gave herself an instant to collect her scattered thoughts before she turned.
    The young man slipping rapidly through the crowd wasn’t immediately identifiable, though his height and his golden hair proclaimed him one of her brothers. She hesitated for a moment, but realized from his age and the walnut-stained color of his eyes who he had to be—the only other boy near his age had blue eyes. When she searched his features she could see the twelve-year-old boy she’d known.
    “Correy,” she said warmly, as he came up to her.
    Wordlessly, he opened his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and returned his hug. The top of her head was well short of his shoulders in spite of the torturously high heels on her shoes.
    “You shrank,” he commented, pulling away to reveal a twinkle in his dark brown eyes.
    She stepped back so she wouldn’t strain her neck looking at him. “Back less than a day, and already I’ve been insulted twice for my size. You should have more respect for your elders, boy.”
    “Correy—” A female voice broke into the conversation from somewhere over Aralorn’s left shoulder. “Mother’s looking for you. She says you forgot to get something that she needed for something else, I forget what. I can’t believe that you are wearing a sword; Mother will pitch a fit when she sees that you’re wearing a weapon to Father’s wake.” A tall, exquisitely groomed woman of somewhere around thirteen or so tripped past Aralorn without so much as a glance and stopped at Correy’s side.
    Correy rolled his eyes, looking for a moment much more like a boy of twelve than a grown man. With a smile for Aralorn, he reached out a brotherly arm and snagged the immaculately clad girl around the neck and pulled her to his side. “You won’t recognize this one, Aralorn, as she was only four when you left. Lin has set herself up as the mistress of propriety at Lambshold. She wants to go to court and meet the king. I think she envisions him falling desperately in love with her.”
    The girl, only inches shorter than her brother, struggled out of his hold and glared at him. “You think you’re so smart, Correy—but you don’t even know that you shouldn’t wear swords at a formal gathering. Mother’s going to skin you alive.”
    Correy smiled, ignoring her wrath. “I meant to tell you that black looks exceptionally well with your hair.”
    “You really think so?” Lin asked anxiously, suddenly willing to listen to her brother’s previously dismissed judgment.
    “I wouldn’t say so else, Lin,” he said with obvious affection.
    She kissed his cheek and drifted off,