Lina went to open the door at the knock, and curtsied when she saw the Baroness there. It was, she thought, always something of a surprise when the lady arrived, and Lina never was quite sure how to behave. Her only true friend thought it was such an exciting thing, and always wanted to hear about the visits later, but Aunt Maeve, her father, and her new mother all treated Baroness Sylvia like any other guest. Well, maybe not any other guest all the time, but she did seem like just every other guest.

?Good afternoon, Lina,? Sylvia said to the shy young girl. ?I was hoping to find Maeve in today. Is she here??

?Yes?m, she is in the kitchen.? Lina closed the door behind the lady and then walked her back to the kitchen. ?Aunt Maeve, Baroness Sylvia is here.? At the first chance she got, she slipped away and off to find her friend to let her know another visit had happened.

Maeve turned with a grin, ?Your Excellency, what a pleasure to see you. Come, join me for some tea in the parlor. The tray is already set, I just came in to get a new spoon. I had dropped mine.? While she still used her cane for assured balance and support, she was able to move on her own.

?It is always good to see you, Maeve, and you look well.?

?You look tired, my lady, if you don?t mind me saying so. Now, now?sit down and let?s have a right proper visit.? Maeve let out a puff of breath as she sat in her chair. The cane rested against the arm of the chair, and she reached for the teacup once again, fresh spoon set to stirring.

Sylvia observed carefully, but at the comment to her own look, she sighed out a laugh. ?Beata had a bit of a fever coming back from Rhydin, but she is better. Just a bad night a few nights ago, and I do not seem to recover as well as I did in my youth from lack of sleep.?

?There are many things which we do in our youth that age takes from us,? Maeve chuckled into the teacup preparing to take a sip.

That was a truth no one could deny, and Sylvia did not dare try as she sat at the end of the couch nearest to the chair. She poured herself a half cup of tea, adding nothing, and sat back into the comfortable well used couch. In fact, the whole room had the cozy lived and loved in feel. It was not grand and large. It was no more than ten steps across one way or the other, and with the furniture, small tables, and knick knacks, the space was even less.

However, one did not feel shut in. No, it was more like a warm blanket, comfortable and soothing. Perhaps too soothing for Sylvia who was finding her thoughts drifting once more. The clink of Maeve?s teacup brought her around again, and the look the woman was giving her was curious and questioning. ?My apologies,? Sylvia smiled and leaned forward to set her teacup on the table once again. The lamp charm swinging free of its place against her collar into view for a moment as did the wheel charm on its bracelet. She wore both often when in Yransea.

?What a lovely charm, may I see it close?? Maeve set aside her own cup, one hand reached out to beckon the lady forward. Obliging, Sylvia held out her hand to lift the charm to view. ?I do not remember this from before.?

A soft laugh, Sylvia patted Maeve?s arm and sat back once again. ?Your memory is not faulty, Maeve, it is new.?

?The Wheel?? Maeve questioned. She knew the Baroness did her best to support and uphold the beliefs the Yransea people, even if she did not share them herself. So, it was surprising to see her wear such a charm.

?In a way, I suppose, but my brother, my heart brother,? she clarified, not wanting Maeve to feel any trick of memory there, ?gave the wheel to me in a custom of his own to help me find my way and guide me.? There was a conflict of smile on her lips and sorrow in her eyes.

Maeve was no fool and the contradictory signals stirred sympathy as well as the references to being lost and in the dark. ?You mourn him still,? she spoke soft, but the whisper carried certain strength.

?I remember you telling me of what it was like when your father went into mourning.? Sylvia sat in the sepulcher, her back against Kieran?s tomb. The cold of the stone sank into her bones where she sat and leaned. Dancing in macabre fits against the faint breeze from the doorway, the torch lights flickered. ?How deep his mourning was so that you took up the mantle of the baron long before he was truly dead. I do not want to do that to Cian, and I have worked hard to make sure it does not.?

Kieran was not there to hear her. Even his own faith took him into the Meadowlands away from her. Other faiths said loved ones lost could hear, watch from above, but not the people of Palendies. Their faith did not provide that lingering connection. She wondered if that is why some mourned so deep and long.

?Would you have done as your father did, dearheart, had it been me that left? Would you have mourned and never wed again?? It was an empty question, unable to be answered in truth, and the situation was not exactly the same. She had needed to ask the question to the stones and bones, though, letting her voice feel as small as she felt in the caverns of his people. ?I would have wanted you happy. I know you would want me happy. It is just a step in one direction or a step in another.?

A gust of wind haunted the corners of the tomb at the entry some good distance away so that by the time it reached to her torches, it was a whisper of air. ?It cannot last, so why pursue it? Or, as Maeve says, should I take this moment for what it is and treasure it while it is there? I miss your council, and yet if I had it, this question would not need answering.?

Fingertips lifted to trace the sealed edge of Kieran?s tomb, but she did not look at it. Just the caress of its sharply defined lines, the exact and certain solidness of it. ?It is just affection.? She tried to reason. ?Am I to be absent of it for the rest of my days? Am I to be only mother and baroness, sister and friend??

?Blazing pyres,? she struck her head back against the tomb and cursed herself, ?why can I not live in the moment? Why can I not just be glad of the kind honor of his attentions? Why must I make things difficult??

The throb of the strike did not shake loose her confusion or her questions from needing answers. A memory though did float up from its sheltered place in her heart and mind. ?Remember when we first met?? Her laugh was as hollow as the deep corridors of the cavern. ?The merchant ship I was protecting,? a snicker, ?I cannot even remember her name, but was in port. It was my first visit to here and I stopped a thief. They were going to drag me in for questioning, and you stopped them. I was surprised with as stubborn and argumentative I was being you thought much of me at all. Then, what was it, the next time you came to speak with the tavern keep and I happened to be lunching there? Yes, that was it.? Her head hung as she gave it a slow shake. ?We were meant to be. We both said so years later. I knew you loved me and you wanted me. You made,? she laughed, ?no mistaking of that. I thought I would never breathe again when you kissed me. Fate was doing her best to get me to see it. She knew that I needed more than an extra bit of effort to understand.?

?I think I may be just as much a fool now, but Fate has abandoned me to make this way on my own.? She rose from her seat on the tomb floor. Her hands moved over the top of the tomb in a loving caress.

She walked from the tomb into the shallow of twilight where stars started their early delights, and she listened to heavy sound of stone against stone as the guards closed it once more.