Adria lay in bed, listening to the sound of Bree's breathing. In and out. It was a comforting sound, Adria decided, wiggling her toes against the warm feather bed. The whitewashed ceiling overhead was comforting, too. And very blank. She shifted to her side, careful not to disturb Bree. The window was far more interesting to look at. It had begun to snow that night, and the fat white flakes were drifting past the multi-paned window, swirling in patterns as the wind shifted.

Bree sighed in her sleep. The house creaked slightly as it settled. It was quiet and peaceful and, Adria reflected, very, very boring.

The noblewoman watched the snow, hoping that it would lull her to sleep. The quilts were warm and the bed was soft, but try as she might she could not keep her eyes closed. Dinner had ended hours ago and Bree had quickly escorted her upstairs into the guest room at Kasey's insistence, for fear that she would overexert herself.

Nonsense, thought Adria to herself. I feel as fine as . . . Well, truth be told she was weak, as one would expect from recovering from two weeks spend unconscious. Her own thinness had startled her, and it was difficult to move and realize that the muscles one expected to respond were not what they were the last time she was awake. It was odd to think that while she had only closed her eyes once, a fortnight had passed. Many things had changed.

Adria turned in the bed again and found herself looking at the ceiling. She stretched her arms over her head until she touched the headboard, and then she tapped her fingers against it lightly, feeling the grain of the wood. She was weakened, but she was not tired. There were too many things to think about to spend time sleeping when one had already slept through two weeks.

Her father was dead. Gone. Buried. Adria couldn't help feeling a stab of relief. She tried to temper it with some kind of remorse - the man was her father, after all - but she really didn't have any. The man was a dishonorable loathsome criminal and he got what he deserved, which was a bloody death in his own home. Adria grinned gleefully at the beams overhead and fought the urge to wriggle. No, she wasn't sorry at all. She was just happy to have served justice and been the one left standing, however slender her claim to that title. Without Rishala and Bree's skill, there would be two graves from that duel instead of one.

I didn't die, Adria thought, and found herself pleased. It seemed that for a long time her existence hadn't brought her much cheer. It was a burden or a chore, but never a pleasure. That could change now, and she was truly glad to be alive for the first time since . . The corner of Adria's mouth quirked as she remembered. Since Muin, almost a half year ago.

The duel had solved most of her problems, lifting a great deal of weight from her shoulders, but there was still one last knot to unravel. Her mind turned to her husband. What a strange puzzle. It wasn't long ago that she had yelled at him in Altspire, and then spent the trip back avoiding him. Thinking of him had only brought pain and confusion. She had hoped that resolving her family problems would take away much of the guilt she had felt over their marriage, and to her relief, it had. Waking up with him and the priests had put a good note on a new beginning. He hadn't left her in Portsdale, after all. It was enough to make her hope again after so much despair. Ah, but the future would bring what it would, and Adria would not put a name to her hope. She remembered Rishala mentioning something about fate, so she smiled to herself and left it at that. Bilbus' feelings were his, good or bad, and all she could do was be true to herself and see what came of it. The days of bending herself and being resentful were over. She didn't have the patience for those games anymore.

My life, she purred to herself, and for the first time it felt true. It brought with it a glimmer of her old restlessness. She turned her head and looked out the window to the snowy darkness beyond. There was a whole world there all by itself, steeped in muffled silence, with empty streets and sleeping houses. The urge to leave her warm bed, sneak out of Kasey's house and wander a little bit, perhaps to the King's Preserves to see the snow on the Vasmar, was a powerful thing. Adria sighed to herself, knowing that she shouldn't be out in the cold alone in her current state. Waking Bree and asking her to go with her would ruin the whole point. No one would really understand, except perhaps for Bilbus.

Adria watched the snow a little longer. The wind seemed to be dying down. Bree shifted and rolled on her stomach.

This is ridiculous, Adria decided. She pushed aside the quilts and slipped out of the bed. I could at least get something to read and perhaps that would put me to sleep. She found her wool dress and pulled it on over her sleeping shift. She snugged the lacings tight, but didn't bother to tie them. The dress fit looser than it should. She tugged at her shift to get it to lay right and found that the neckline was low enough to show part of the scar that angled between her breasts. Seeing it brought unpleasant memories of feeling the tip of her father's rapier skitter down her ribs and breastbone. By some trick of luck he'd missed her heart, and that scar was proof. Adria made a mental note to have a few dresses made with higher necklines.

She pulled her hair free and combed her fingers through it. It was finally dry from the bath earlier that day. The loose ring on her finger caught her attention and she played with it absently. She hadn't worn a signet ring in months, and it felt odd. It was a new ring; the del Cartach signet ring Bilbus had given her. She'd worn it the first time for the duel. Somehow it had stayed on her finger during her illness, despite the tendancy for her signet rings to seemingly vanish into thin air. For a moment Adria considered removing it and placing it aside. It had served the purpose she intended, afterall, and the looseness was troublesome. Leave it, part of her responded. It did make her feel more whole, somehow. Adria shrugged and padded towards the door silently in her bare feet, the gold ring still on her finger. Bree slept on as she lifted the latch and eased into the dark hall, closing the door behind her.

Adria waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust, then continued on her way. She hadn't gone more than a couple of steps before the floor creaked beneath her. It sounded loud in the empty hall and Adria froze. Some assassin you are, she thought to herself. She was about to ease away from the offending floorboard when she realized that she wasn't sneaking out of her father's house and in all likelihood her friends would appreciate a little noise to let them know where she was. From the snoring she could hear from various rooms, she doubted they'd notice. Adria shrugged and continued on her way, still making her footfalls light but not wincing at the occasional creak. She took the stairs slower than usual, even using the handrail. A song popped to mind and she began to hum it softly to herself. It had been one of her favorites in Portsdale, and it seemed appropriate now. Some of the exact lyrics escaped her, but she knew the chorus and the melody. It was the story of a lady who left her newly wedded lord to spend a night in a field with a tinker, paired to a lively jig. Adria was on the second verse when she stepped off onto the landing.

Now to find a book, Adria thought, frowning. She knew there were no books in the sitting room, and she thought a few of her party members were sleeping on the couches. Perhaps there was an office or a den. Still humming to herself, she padded across the carpet in the short hall and poked her head into the door at the end. It looked to be an office, although not a well used one, and there was a short stack of books abandoned on the desk. Adria picked up the first one and flipped through it. An essay on Church history. She put it aside. The second was written in a language she didn't understand, and she would bet gold Kasey didn't know it either. Perhaps these books were well meaning gifts. Adria looked outside at the snow again. She hit the chorus of the song and sang it quietly under her breath, barely whispering. It conjured up memories of a few nights spent celebrating in taverns. Adria wasn't a singer, but she had learned to dance there in a fairly scandalous fashion. Good thing her father never heard about that. She did a couple of steps in the office for fun, just to see if she could still pull them off. It appeared she could.

Finding the other books were as boring as the first two, an irritated note crept into her humming. Well, there was always food. Adria headed for the dining room, knowing that the kitchen couldn't be far off. The fourth verse was her favorite and she found herself singing it quietly - the lord had finally hunted down his lady and had scolded her for her bad behavior, and now it was the lady's turn to respond. Adria quite happily did a quick spin in the middle of the hall and let her hips lead her into the dining room. She slid a little bit on the rug, flung her hair back, and was about to shimmy her way into the kitchen with the chorus when she realized that there was someone at the far end of the room she did not expect. Dropping into a combat stance automatically, she remembered that all her knives were upstairs. The sudden surprise jolted her heart and made spots appear before her eyes. She blinked and evaluated the situation. One person. No broken window. Looked to be coming in through the kitchen door. Familiar outline. No light. Feeling foolish but relieved, Adria rose from her fighting stance and immediately leaned on one of the chairs. The shock made her knees jittery and flushed her cheeks. Perhaps a little too much excitement for her first day back.

"Hells, Bilbus, you nearly scared me back into unconsciousness," she said with a chuckle. "What are you doing up?"

Bilbus jumped at the sound, nearly dropping the freshly baked bread that he had picked up from his friend the baker on his way back to Kasey's manor. He had been quietly kicking the snow off of his boots when Adria spun her way into the room. He bumbled with it for a moment before his soft-soled thieving boots slipped on the slush he had tracked in and sent him sprawling. Bilbus made a grab for the door latch, managing to catch himself from falling but not from dropping the nicely folded white garments that he had been carrying or accidentally tossing the bread into Adria's arms. She caught it deftly, her speed quickly returning now that she had finally awoke from her long sleep.

"Up," he replied in with a scratchy voice, "but barely." He grinned at her with his trademark lopsided smirk and bent down to pick up the now wet robe.

"Damn," he croaked, still sounding like he had been shouting all evening, "that was a gift."

Adria smiled at him as she took a deep whiff of the warm bread. It smelled like Francian Sourdough laced with a fine coating of honey--one of her favorites. Peeling a small chunk from the loaf, she popped it in her mouth, as much for the flavor as to see what her sometimes-unpredictable husband would do. He was busy laying out what looked to be white priestly robes on the rough kitchen table, muttering to himself as he tugged on the wet folds. Bilbus brought his hand up as if to weave one of his often-used cleaning spells, but stopped short--clenching his hand into a fist instead.

"It's good to see you up," he said cautiously, turning his head to look over his right shoulder at her. "I'm glad that you're enjoying breakfast, but isn't it a bit early for anyone around here to be up and about?"

"Probably," Adria agreed, wandering into the kitchen, "but why sleep when I can eat?" She grinned and hefted the bread. "After my fortnight long nap, I'm not terribly interested in sleeping. Besides, you're the one with a barge to catch in the morning - why aren't you snoring like the rest?"

She was mildly curious about what the robe was for, but she figured he'd tell her if he wanted her to know. Adria picked another piece off the bread. It was very good, but it needed something. She began to rummage in the cupboards, still humming under her breath.

"Well," he began, smoothing out the robe to dry, "as you well know, you can always sleep on a ship."

"Besides," he continued, rubbing his throat, "I had a command performance of sorts."

Adria raised a dubious eyebrow at that, continuing to rummage for whatever it was she was looking for. Bilbus moved towards an open cupboard that she had just abandoned, pulling out a large sealed jar marked cider. Fiddling to open the thick wax seal with his black knife, he leaned back against the cold stove to watch Adria. He realized that the house staff hadn't even gotten up yet to begin Kasey's traditionally large breakfast, giving them a little time to talk in private.

"When I lived here in town, Pete and I would occasionally attend services at Cathedral Treasa. Old habits die hard. Sometimes we'd use it for small time money laundering, as the Church never cared so long as you left a tip, but you'd be surprised how religious most pirates are."

Popping off the top of the cider, Bilbus took a long draw before continuing. His voice sounded much better for doing so, and he happily finished the jar off.

"I guess that it's all tied into sailor's superstitions or something. Anyway, the priests usually perform choral chants and songs during the services. Not to give too many details, but I once had to sneak into the chorus to hide from some more unsavory types that had been after me that previous night. The Head Mother caught me pretty quickly, but was impressed with my singing What can I say, I did a lot of a cappella vocals back at the Church Orphanage."

Bilbus smirked, waving a playful finger at Adria. "If you tell anyone that I was in the boy's choir I'll be forced to do something drastic--like telling Eric you're having another moral dilemma and need his advice."

Adria twisted her face at him with a 'you wouldn't dare' expression, finally coming up from the lower cupboards with what was left of a wheel of cheese. Openly grinning and humming to herself, she proceeded to take one of the kitchen knives and carve ragged slices from the wedge.

"Too make a long story short--"

"Too late," she interrupted, hacking at another chunk.

"I was asked by the priests that were tending to your wounds to come back and audition for a seat on the regular choir. In the event the we actually end up surviving any of this."

Having dealt with the cheese, Adria turned her knife on the loaf of bread. "Well, that explains the robe. Don't worry choirboy, your secret's safe with me." She smirked at him, amused by his dual nature. "I may not even blackmail you. Much."

She took some of the bread and cheese and headed for the large kitchen hearth, where the glowing embers of last night's fire lay banked. She avoided the melting slush that Bilbus had tracked in and settled herself on the warm stone to eat. It was nice to speak with him so easily, but she knew from prior experience that their camaraderie was a fragile thing. Unwilling to break the mood, she was content to keep quiet rather than drag up uncomfortable questions, at least for now.

"Thank you," he replied, looking fairly serious for once, "It's bad enough that they saw me at the festival in Armagh, if they knew I was in the Kells Boys Choir I'd never hear the end of it."

"What?" he asked jokingly, pulling up a chair and flipping it around backwards before taking a seat in front of her. "You didn't think that my entire childhood was spent conning marks on the street did you?"

Adria arched an eyebrow at him, her mouth full.

He chuckled, happy to see her crack a smile in response. Bilbus took a deep breath, hearing the serving staff begin to stir in their nearby rooms. They didn't have much time before the house, and this kitchen in particular, would be a buzz with activity.

"Adria," he began, realizing that someone better get the horse running, "I'm glad that you're back. You've always been with us, but never really with us until now. Sure, you traveled with this group, but you were never really there. Hells, perhaps you've been gone since before we ever met."

"No," he stopped, pondering slightly as if to remember a long forgotten event, "No, the first night we met you were there. We were both there, both being our true selves that night. As true as a thief and an assassin could ever be at least. When I found out that you were really nobility it changed things between us, and for that I apologize. Like I said, old habits are sometimes hard to break."

Bilbus paused, folding his arms over the back of the chair and resting his head upon them.

"A lot has changed since then hasn't it?"

Adria contemplated his words, and the tone that went with them. It was a far cry from their other recent conversations, wonderfully devoid of the anger and bitterness, and the urge to find fault. "Quite a lot," she agreed. She wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about, but he seemed to be moving in the right vein. "We've both changed. One might be pressed to tell what our true selves are anymore. You're a con artist that takes time to sing in a church choir, and I'm a noblewoman with an odd hobby or two." She shrugged. "Neither of us fit our respective molds."

The hearth was pleasantly warm, but Adria was not interested in staying when the servants would soon be bustling about. This morning, she preferred someplace quiet. With a sigh she got to her feet, the remains of her bread and cheese in her hand. She dusted the crumbs from her dress. There was only one thing left remaining to do.

"Well, it's certainly been interesting, Bilbus the Great," she said with a grin. "I wish you the best of luck on your trip. Perhaps I'll stop by Portsdale when you return. I'm sure Rishala will have some terrific stories to tell. Thanks for the bread, by the way. I'll let you try to get some sleep before Kasey drags you off to the barge." She held out her hand for a simple handshake, figuring the least she could give him was a decent goodbye. "Well met, Lord del Cartach."

"What in the Nine Hells are you talking about?" Bilbus said as he stood up from the chair, taking her hand more from habit than intent. "Stopping by Portsdale? You're coming with us aren't you?"

Looking into her eyes, he was unsure of what he saw there. Hints of fear and swirls of uncertainty, but there was always the steadfast resolve that he was very familiar with.

"We've had our differences, and Gods know we've fought. Actually, that's pretty much the basis of our relationship when you get right down to it. But I always figured that you'd be with us to see this thing through."

He stammered slightly, a very disturbing feeling for a con man whose livelihood depended on never having a lack for words. Not even the Dark One threw him off as much as his wife regularly managed to. There was only one thing left to turn to, something that he rarely used, and only as a last resort: Honesty.

"It's just that I always thought that someday we'd figure it out between us--despite the differences. How can we do that if you're hiding from everyone in Portsdale?"

Adria blinked at him, sensing she'd caught him off guard. It surprised her, as did his words. There was a genuine quality there that had not shown itself before. That, and feeling his hand against hers revived a stir of emotion she had all but forgotten. There was something about Bilbus that had caught her attention the first night they met, and for all her protests and fighting, she had never been able to get rid of it. As history showed quite plainly, she had a weakness for this particular thief. She liked him, as pure as that. During those rare occasions when things were right between them . . . well, her track record spoke for itself.

Adria realized she had precious few expectations as far as her relationship with her husband was concerned. The ability to have a civil conversation would be a nice starter, which they seemed to be accomplishing. But after that . . .? She'd assumed they'd have time to develop an arrangement after he and the others got back from defeating the Dark One. He didn't expect her to come along, with things as they were, did he? Adria studied his face, her head cocked to the side. She released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Amazing to think, perhaps he did.

"I don't really think it's hiding if I tell you where I'm going. And I'm not planning on staying in Portsdale."

"Bilbus, I just want to live my own life as I choose. You ask me to come with the group, but as what? An extra archer? Do you want someone to protect you from Bree and Eric?" She chuckled, shook her head. "I don't have the patience I had before. That's not good enough."

"We don't need each other," she said with a shrug. "Maybe we've both spent too much time alone, but that's what it boils down to. I'm not going to follow you around so I can make myself sick worrying about you every time you throw yourself at the enemy. It's just not my idea of fun. I'm not going to go with you for the sake of family loyalty, or wifely duty, or because I'm trying to make up for old debts. No offense, but I've had about enough of that. Even if the Dark One himself were to come through that door on a cloud of black smoke and command me to go with you, I wouldn't."

"We don't need each other, you and I," Adria repeated softly. "We are too practiced at saving our own skins. You'd do just fine without me - I've no doubt of that." She smiled - it was intended as a compliment.

Adria found herself at the edge of the very abyss she had skirted during the past several months. Rather than the conflict and uncertainty that had plagued her, she was perfectly calm, even relaxed. Either Bilbus could forgive her, or he couldn't. At least she had made peace with herself. "There's only one way I'm going with you. For purely selfish reasons, Bilbus, do you want me to come with you?"

"When it comes to selfish reasons my dear wife, you have certainly asked the right man. I do want you to come with us Adria. Besides the fact that the world is falling into the Fourth Hell faster than you can knee a Dwarf in the face, the Gods have somehow seen fit to make sure that we found each other after all the years that I was separated from my family. I don't ever want to be separated from them ever again-you've all I've got left."

Adria blinked. That moment she knew, deep in her core, that all would be well. Through trial and blood, she had found a new family. The realization crept over her slowly, and she stood frozen, absorbing the moment.

He looked her in the eyes, fully expecting her usual onslaught of spite. When the inevitable failed to arrive, Bilbus' hardened face slowly began to melt its' way into his charmingly devious grin. Maybe things might work out between us after all. She hasn't decided to kill me yet…

"Of course we don't need each other. Hells, my life would have been rather a lot happier overall if we'd never met. Well," he pondered, remembering drunken nights spent cursing the nobility and the Javik for the death of his family and the ruining of his life, "maybe not. But for all the pain we've put each other through in the last few months, I can't imagine facing down the Dark One without you there to taunt me."

Adria couldn't help grinning at Bilbus, feeling her reservations fall away. The old friction was still there, warm, oddly familiar, and with a hidden strength that supported rather than provoked. It felt wonderful. She resisted the urge to tackle him and squeal with glee. There was one last matter to settle, afterall, and that was getting what she wanted. "Then I'll come, on two conditions. I want my honeymoon now, and I'm calling on my favor."

The first thing that went through Bilbus' mind was a phrase that he had heard Sturm use on occasion. It was a simple phrase, but one that was ultimately true in its brutal honesty: Awww crap…

"Honeymoon huh?" he asked while rubbing his chin, buying time until he could bring his mind to accept the possible consequences of her unspecified favor.

"Now," Adria said stubbornly, realizing that she was still a spoiled little rich girl at times. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest and stamp her foot. "I don't like barges and I don't want to wait for Armagh. I want one day with you, by ourselves, and we can leave for Armagh tomorrow." She tried to sound diplomatic, even though she really wasn't willing to budge an inch. "I don't think that's too much to ask."

"Well, we'll have to reschedule the Pirates of Marinas routine that Sturm and I we were planning on showing along the way, but I'm pretty sure that it can be arranged."

He chuckled, realizing that he was only half joking, his working relationship with the morose Sun Knight really had come a long way since the days of being held up against the wall and interrogated.

"But just one day? I'd bet with the river as low as it is that we could simply ride to Armagh and still arrive at the same time the rest of them do. Besides, a few days away from the increasingly nervous couple will do wonders for my health. Any special plans for this honeymoon? Knowing you, you've already planned this down to the smallest detail. I won't end up getting stuffed into any pine boxes by the end of this plan will I?"

"Only if you keep that up," Adria replied dryly. "You've always had the most irritating personality. I don't know why I married you." She smirked and spun on one heel, heading for the door to the dining room. "I'll meet you outside in a few minutes. I've got to get my things. And then we'll see to the second part of this arrangement." Resisting the urge to giggle to herself, she walked calmly out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and then made a mad dash down the hall to the stairs. Behind her she could hear her husband laughing heartily, no doubt waking up most of the household staff in the process. At least he had kept his sense of humor; he was probably going to need it.

Adria managed to get her things together without waking Bree, even though she almost fell over trying to get her boots on. Most of her things were already packed for travel, so she crammed in the loose items, grabbed her cloak, and headed back downstairs. Leaving a note might be good, she thought, and went back to the room to borrow Bree's scribe box. She'll get some more parchment before she leaves, thought Adria, taking the last sheet.

Meet you in Armagh. Gone on honeymoon. Don't worry, I won't kill him.

Adria

(Rishala - pawn to eighth rank)

She snuck back out of the room, closed the door behind her, and then hurried back to the kitchen, leaving the note drying on the dining room table.

It was still snowing outside. Adria bounced down the stairs and dropped her bag.

"So, are you ready to complete your favor, my lord? If it amuses you, that is."

Bilbus was just finishing putting on his new mittens and unhitching Acquisition when Adria had bounding out of the back door. He didn't know what she was up to quite yet, but anything that featured his noble status had yet to be a good thing.

"Amuses me huh?" he asked, preparing to mount up onto the back of the racehorse. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to die laughing by mid-afternoon?"

"That's not in the plan. Then I'd be bored. Now come here." Adria waited for him to comply, grinning to herself. "Do you know what I've wanted to do for the past four, five months?" Bilbus obviously didn't know, so Adria didn't give him time to answer. "I've wanted you to take off those stupid necklaces for ten seconds so I could give you a good punch in the nose. So that's the favor. One punch. To the nose."

One eyebrow went up, and the expression was nothing more than perplexed. Bilbus immediately figured that the girl was obviously an agent of the Dark One sent here to kill him. Why else would Adria be up in the morning, and nice? Glancing around for archers on rooftops, he was a little surprised not to see any. He knew deep down that it really was Adria, but that didn't do much to calm his apprehensions any-she was an assassin after all. Figuring that he'd never know the difference if it was either a legitimate request or another one of Adria's convoluted plans, he decided he might as well go out in style. Taking the necklaces out from under his jacket, he held them in his left hand as he approached her with his arms held out to his sides.

"Gimme your best shot sister."

She'd halfway expected him to run away. But he didn't. Adria shrugged and stretched her arm to limber it up. He really was getting a fair deal, considering she was still recovering from her long sleep. Feeling determined, Adria cocked her fist back and punched him as hard as she could. It didn't drop him, but she hoped he'd get a nice bloody nose out of the deal. A fine sense of satisfaction flooded her. Not that she wanted to admit that she was taking glee in her husband's pain, but gods he had that coming!

"And don't you ever break your word to me ever again," she said, shaking her aching hand.

"You hit me!" Bilbus stammered back with a nasally voice, rubbing his nose and subconsciously checking for blood.

Adria grinned at him like he was a slow child, enjoying his theatrics. "As Bree said once, that's considered a kiss in some lands. Think of it that way if it make you feel better. Of course I hit you!" she exclaimed. "I've wanted to do that for ages." She sighed, took the necklaces out of his hand and put them back around his neck. "Here, let me see." Adria smacked his hand away from his face lightly, then rolled her eyes. "Oh hells, Bilbus, it's only bleeding a little bit. And I was so hoping to break your nose. You're damn lucky I've been sick, you know that?"

"You actually hit me," he said as he got up on his horse. "I swear to you, someday, somehow, I'm going to whop you upside the head with a snowball for that. Now where in the Nine Hells are we going?"

"Armagh, eventually. But right now . . .?" Adria looked over her shoulder with a grin. "You'll see."