Roland's lineage

"Wait a moment. What was that?" Mayra finally couldn't stand it anymore and interrupted. "The line of succession... what?" Her eyes demanded answers of Cora, Haf, and Caspian in turn. 

"The eldest child, whether male or female, is the leader of the Cetoans." Cora explained.

"Since the men are gone so often and so long, the women lead primarily on land, and the men at sea. The spouse of the leader takes up the lesser position and leads in their absence. If the line of succession rested on me, then I would lead all the time, with Haf leading only on the ships. Since he has been the heir, I lead when he is gone." 

She was the only one of the three to have found her voice, though her eyes warily examined Roland. 

"Haf's oldest sister would have been the heir, had she not been presumed dead. Since Songslet died childless, Liberty would have been next in line... and therefore, her child, after her death." 

All eyes turned to Roland, who swallowed heavily. 

"Obviously, I could not accept such a heavy responsibility nor such a high honor." 

"We do not have to discuss that now," Haf said. 

"Of course not," Mayra couldn't help intervening. The mood was very heavy for such a happy discovery. "Roland! You have more family! This is worth celebrating!" 

"Yes, yes!" The Commodore shook off the melancholy which had settled on him thinking of his sisters and rose. Roland did the same, and the elder man embraced the younger. "My nephew! My sister's son! Welcome home." 

He wept openly, gesturing Caspian to join the familial embrace. Mayra averted her eyes, unused to men displaying emotion so openly. It seemed an invasion of privacy to be here during this sensitive moment. 

She made a gesture to Riley, who nodded that she could go, then she slipped out the door and took a deep breath of fresh air. 

The revelation of Roland's origins, or rather, his mother's origins, was quite a curious one to her. She thought back to the slightly disheveled but charming young man who had knocked on her door back in the village two and a half years ago. 

An orphan, a street urchin, a doctor's apprentice, really a prince of two kingdoms, and ambassador of another? She shook her head. It was more than even her fanciful books would have said. 

A movement in a shadow caught her eye, and she sighed. 

"You're terrible at hiding, Peter." 

"Who's hiding? I was waiting in the shade for the meeting to be over." The young man stepped out from where he'd been leaning against a tree. It was true that if he'd been trying to hide, it was a terrible choice of place. 

"Well then you're still waiting. The meeting's ongoing, I just slipped out." She waved him off. 

He was undeterred, and fell into step beside her. 

"You seem..." He paused as if searching for the right word.

"Pensive?" She supplied. 

"I was going to say 'anxious', but that works." He replied. 

Mayra came to a large rock and sat down on it. Haf had promised to take her to get a sample of the nets Edmar had soaked in the herb mixture, and she didn't want to go too far. When the family reunion was done, there was work to follow up with.

Then again, she didn't know how long that would take. Perhaps she should continue her work with the brides for a while. Another boatload was due to arrive any day, by her best reckoning. 

Peter had just taken a seat beside her when she popped back up, ready to engage in the next task. She should compare her list of brides to the waiting list of grooms and see if anyone stood out to her, or if the brides had their eyes on anyone after the last wedding and subsequent mingling. 

"Hey! What's the problem?" He said, jumping up to join her as she walked. "For a second it looked like you were going to sit down and rest. I should have known better." 

"Probably," Mayra agreed readily. She had been frantically active almost since their arrival at the seaside; certainly since the brides began arriving in earnest. 

"Want to talk about it?" He asked casually. 

"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to," Mayra had been called to the meeting because of her herbal knowledge, but was all that confidential? If it was going to upset the line of succession, perhaps it should be... but Peter was trustworthy. 

"You don't have to, you just seemed like you might need to." He was walking by her side, and bumped her playfully. 

"Thanks, Peter. I'm sorry you're assigned to babysit me all the time. It must be incredibly boring for you," She gave him an apologetic glance. He always seemed to be hanging around, waiting for her to complete something or go somewhere. 

"You're all grown up, why would you need a babysitter?" He chided. "I'm more of a bodyguard." 

Mayra gave him a sidelong glance. 

"It wasn't all that long ago that you were telling me I needed to grow up." She reminded. 

"I thought we put that behind us," He frowned.

"I apologized, you apologized, we danced, we're happy now!" 

"You're right," She conceded. 

"And then we danced again, and flirted to get back at your brother for some reason, and now we spend all our time together making weddings happen!" 

"Woah, back up," Mayra stopped and glared at him, "Who was flirting?" 

He looked at her with a too-innocent gaze, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

"Well, you did practically drag me onto the dance floor for a song that fated us to be together forever." He pointed out. 

"I... did do that, yes," She started walking again, a little faster than before. She could feel her face turning red. "I mean, I don't believe the song did that, but I did make you teach me." 

"Mmm," He nodded. She wondered what had put him in such a good mood. It seemed that whenever she was particularly sour or anxious, he was usually chipper and teasing in response. 

"It's to lighten you up," He replied. 

"What?" She was startled as he answered her thoughts. 

"Your glare. You're wondering why I'm teasing you. I'm not being mean. You just needed a distraction." Peter winked. 

Her brow furrowed. When had he gotten the ability to read her thoughts? 

"I'm sorry, I'll stop," He said. 

She almost panicked, until she realized that he was talking about the teasing. He hadn't actually been reading her thoughts. A couple of deep breaths later, and she realized he had fixed her with a quizzical stare. 

"Are you all right, Mayra? You looked scared for a minute." 

"Will you... you know what? Never mind. It's nothing." She focused her eyes ahead of them as they neared the bridal hut. 

"If you say so. What's on the agenda for the rest of the day? Did the meeting change anything?" 

"Not for now. I'll need to go with Haf later to check on something, but at the moment I need to get back to matchmaking. I asked the girls this morning to write down the names of any men they were interested in so that I can cross-check them against the grooms' requests." 

"Wise. Do you need some help?" He smiled encouragingly. 

"Ashley and Dierdre should be there already, helping the girls with their clothing. She got a crash course in Cetoan fashion and is helping the Rhone alter their dresses to be more in tune with the climate and style here." Mayra ticked through her mental list of tasks and her limited options for delegation. 

"What do you need me to do?" Peter tried again. 

"I guess you can help me with the lists. There are so many girls now. I'm bound to hurt some feelings, and it'll help to have another set of eyes on it all." 

"Hurt feelings are to be avoided, got it." He winked at her, and Mayra resisted the urge to duck her head. She'd probably hurt his feelings more times than she knew. 

At least he was forgiving. She was thankful for that. 

Mayra went into the bridal hut to collect the lists, and returned laden with paper. Her head was already aching from the task of going through it all, but Peter's dramatic shudder when he saw them made her smile. 

Warming to the routine, he comically sighed and took half the pile from her, pretending to be weighed down by it all. She giggled, feeling much lighter than she should have from the mere absence of half the papers. 

"All right, let's see if we can stir up some love," Peter grinned, and his mischievous look did strange things to her heart. 

"... for the Rhone brides." She finished as firmly as she could. 

"Of course! Who else would I be referring to?" His smile widened as she intentionally ignored his question. There was work to be done.