God, what would the world be like without smut? ;)

Chapter 10

Everybody go read the 3rd (Merchant’s Bravery) chapter again, okay? It’s new, because I forgot to put it in before, but it is important.

Sisbia considered himself used to strange things. As a merchant’s son, he had met all sorts of people; those who avoided the sun, those who avoided people, plants, bees, what have you, and he had even come in close contact with a fair amount of human traders as well, had learned their ways which were simply odd by association. Over the years, he had made himself into the sort of gracious host required to deal with people who were unbalanced, or simply strange, and through his contact with Mestow’s wife Carren, who was rather eccentric in her own right. Sisbia had had a strange childhood, strange friends, strange family, for Fae’s sake, but he swore he had never seen anything odder than when Fæmen smiled, laughed, at him.

It was interesting, really. Fæmen’s cool, practiced, faint smiles made him look invincible, and beautiful as an expensive doll, the sad sort of beauty that was meant for shelves and to be in a case somewhere, not to be touched. It was something Sisbia had accepted about Fæmen, and he had thought it was something that could not change, that was as ingrained into his being as surely as hair or eye or wing color. Fæmen, when he laughed and truly smiled, looked…alive. Mortal. Like a husband, not a prince. And for a moment, it threw Sisbia off-balance…after all, he had considered himself a good judge of character, and Fæmen had never seemed like a man to truly laugh. Considering the trauma Sisbia had seen in his dreams and in his words, Sisbia was glad he could laugh.

Although Sisbia really had no idea what idea what in Fae’s name he was laughing about. He had the inkling that Fæmen was laughing about him, however, and that was slightly discomforting. Was Sisbia truly so amusing as that, to warrant laughter from a man who normally didn’t seem to care one way or the other? Sisbia wasn’t truly sure whether he should feel proud of himself, or wonder if Fæmen was going insane. Or maybe he already was insane…the servants had certainly thought so, after all, but Sisbia had been hoping to reserve judgment until he knew Fæmen a little better.

“Erm…Prince Fæmen? All you alright?” Sisbia asked because he was part concerned, part afraid. He was entitled to run madly for his life if Fæmen was dangerous, after all.

“But of course, dear. Why ever do you ask?” Fæmen queried, smiling gently and stroking Sisbia’s cheeks and jaw with a look of amazement on his face. Sisbia’s cheeks, surprisingly enough, began to heat, one of those uncommon blushes that he tried never to let show, especially not to Fæmen. It wasn’t like he could control it; it was a rare thing that Sisbia was admired by anyone but his over-dependant siblings or the occasional desperate teenager, but Fæmen…Fæmen was beautiful, wealthy, and frightening, what every spoiled aristocrat wanted their children to grow into. Fæmen was power personified, and entirely self-reliant…Sisbia had never thought his husband would actually admire him. And when Fæmen leaned over and kissed him, a too-passionate kiss for a staircase in broad daylight, Sisbia’s brain simply shut down.

Fæmen pulled back with another laugh, not as real as his last but still a laugh. He cupped Sisbia’s flaming face, and he smirked, back to his normal self, whatever wave of cheer he had been under disappearing rabidly.

“So warm. Are you getting overheated, dear?” The slightly smug voice filled Sisbia’s ears, and he determinedly looked down and away from Fæmen’s face, hoping that his embarrassment wasn’t as noticeable when he wasn’t looking Fæmen in the eyes.

“N-no.” The word had barely gotten out of his mouth when, curse of curses, he felt a sudden rush of heat flood his body, and the garb he wore, practical for cold weather, became stifling. He tugged at the fabric, trying to make it more comfortable, and he felt Fæmen grab the front of his clothes. Although the force was gentle, he had no choice but to look up into those caramel eyes, and his breath caught at the familiar sheen in them: desire. More than a little uncertain, he clutched at the opening in his clothes like a lifeline. Fæmen scoffed at the action, but his voice was gentle, and his eyes showed appreciation for Sisbia, and all his foolish little actions.

“Silly dear. The solution to that is to remove all these clothes.” So saying, Fæmen’s hands covered the small, pale ones wrapped in cloth, and calmly unclenched them and pulled them away from the fabric. With the sudden loss of Sisbia’s hands, the dull green folds of cloth shifted, revealing a few inches of his neck, a shift which Fæmen watched with a rapt attention. They both paused for a few seconds, and then, without any prior warning, Fæmen began kissing the curve of his neck hungrily, and reaching his hands inside the cloth to stroke Sisbia’s bare shoulders. Sisbia made a sound not unlike a gasp, and somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that, if he didn’t say something, Fæmen would probably have sex with him on a flight of stairs.

“F-Fæmen! Not on the stairwell!”

Fæmen pulled away just far enough to look at Sisbia’s red, slightly dazed face, and grinned.

“Is that what it takes for you to use my name? A somewhat inappropriate but I assure you entirely deserved kiss on a stairwell?”

Sisbia didn’t bother telling him that he had wanted to call him simply “Fæmen” since their wedding night. He doubted he could speak at the moment anyway, and he thanked the Fae mother for not letting him be able to see the marks that Fæmen’s enthusiasm had left on his skin.

“But speaking of your exclamation. Don’t worry dear; I was about to make my escape with you to our bedroom before you spoke.”

“R-right.” Sisbia swallowed at the implications of that promise, but he couldn’t find the words to say anything else, nor did he have the time to. Fæmen, true to his word, grabbed Sisbia’s hand and tugged him back up the stairs, heading for their room quickly enough that Sisbia had to practically run to keep step with him. The entire time they were running, Sisbia watched Fæmen’s movements in a dazed sort of wonder, feeling drugged and heavy and knowing that Fæmen was the cause. He wondered if he was sick, or if he was supposed to feel this way, all twisted up inside with every nerve in his body fired alive, wanting…something. Was it a side effect of being married, he wondered, that made him stutter and stammer and forget his words almost every time Fæmen came near? Was it normal, or had some strange Southern sickness caught a hold of his Eastern blood?

Sisbia didn’t have much more time to wonder. Faster than he would have thought possible, he suddenly found himself bursting through the door and standing in the center of the room he had woken up in, their room. He barely had time to marvel at that, however, before Fæmen was kissing him again, and dragging him back to the bed that Sisbia had left not half an hour before.

So much for getting up early, he thought with a faint smile, a slight twinge of humor at the situation and the fact that Fæmen, who had more or less shown a distinct lack of awareness of his wife since the very beginning, was suddenly kissing him like he wanted to absorb him into his very being. It was the type of kiss that Sisbia recognized, not a gentle kiss (which would have quite simply surprised him anyhow) but one that was meant to entice…to distract. It was apparently effective, as well, because Sisbia was so distracted by the sensations that Fæmen’s mouth brought he hardly noticed the loss of his many layers of clothes, just barely felt rough skin, too rough skin, touch his flesh. He clung to his husband without thought or even his own knowledge, and, when he finally became aware of his surroundings, the pain of the initial intrusion and the rush of unexpected pleasure that followed blended together into a colossal wave that seemed to pull Sisbia out of reality completely. When he recovered, he found Fæmen staring at him with an unreadable expression in his light brown eyes, and the barest hint of a smile on his face. It was an odd smile, containing no real joy but almost seeming…disappointed.

“You have tears on your face, dear. Did I hurt you so badly?”

“W-what? No, of course not.” Fæmen hadn’t…or had he? Sisbia shifted, not missing the fact that he was still wearing some of his clothes. He was a little bit sore, a soreness that would probably increase as the day went on, but it certainly wasn’t anything worth crying over.

“Then why the tears?” Only Fæmen could ask that question without any concern in his voice.

“You…surprised me.”

Fæmen’s lips twitched just a bit before resuming their former sort-of smile position, and Sisbia couldn’t help but sigh. He’d thought that they’d gotten past the fake smiles, had thought that Fæmen’s smile on the stairwell had been a sign of change, but apparently he thought wrong.

Fæmen abruptly stood, standing in his full, naked glory while Sisbia only watched with wide eyes. Even though marriage should have partially changed the fact, Sisbia could admit that he was still quite the naïve Eastern boy, and he had never seen anybody naked…well, except for his siblings, but they didn’t count. It was a somewhat embarrassing experience, and he couldn’t help but duck his head.

Fæmen noticed the quick motion, and patted Sisbia on the head the way one would a child before pulling on his clothing, an action which Sisbia struggled not to watch. It was such a long process with the yards and yards of cloth, however, that Sisbia couldn’t help but peek out of the corner of his vision, and roll his eyes towards the end of the process. Royalty…even getting dressed was a momentous event for them. Sisbia wondered if he was supposed to wear that nonsense.

“I will strive not to surprise you then. Enjoy your day, dear: I have things to do.” Sisbia had a strange feeling in the back of his mind, like he should have been noticing something important, but he wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t simply a result of shock. He pushed it aside, choosing instead to stare at Fæmen, who was also silently watching him, almost thoughtfully.

Without another word, Fæmen turned around and left, again, just as he had done every time before. Sisbia scowled after him, would have stood up and chased after him had he not been a coward who was wearing nothing but the remains of his underclothes. As it was, Sisbia shook his fist at the (still) open door, and made a quick lunge for his earlier attire, somewhat surprised to note that it had a large rip down one side. Now, why hadn’t he noticed that, if nothing else? There was only one real explanation: Fæmen’s confusing nature was turning his mind to mush.

Sisbia shook his head, unable to resist the tiniest smile as he donned the outfit and attempted to make the garment serviceable again. If there was one thing to be said for Fæmen’s normally stoic attitude, it was this: when it came to sex, he was certainly enthusiastic.

After many attempts at intricate folding, Sisbia gave up and simply tied a harsh knot with the cloth surrounding the tear. Whereas it had looked like a nightmare before, after Sisbia was finished it simply looked weird, and he tossed his hands in the air in exasperation. Leave it to Fæmen to ruin his only cold weather outfit, and then expect him to calmly continue on with his day. If it wasn’t for the fact that Sisbia’s entire body felt strangely relaxed, satiated, then he would have probably been angry. He got the feeling that he should have been angry; after all, Fæmen had pounced on him without even shutting the door, and Sisbia, normally the main shareholder of commonsense in any group, had been to distracted to notice. He should have been furious at the loss of control over his own mind but, surprisingly enough, he still only smiled, a wave of unexpected happiness flooding him, making him feel almost like a giddy child.

Sisbia wasn’t sure why he was so happy, so content. He hadn’t expected to be that way at all, especially not when he was married to Fæmen, but yet he was. Was it the weather, perhaps, the knowledge that, for once in his life, Sisbia didn’t have to worry about money? Was it the knowledge that Sisbia could finally be of some help to somebody other than his family? Or was it, in a strange way, Fæmen himself? Fæmen more or less left Sisbia alone and, although Sisbia had always wanted love, he accepted that since a loving marriage was not an option then at least peace from an annoying spouse was possible. Maybe that was the source of Sisbia’s contentment: the fact that Fæmen simply didn’t care what he did, so long as they eventually had children to carry on the wretched royal line.

Sisbia frowned, and sat heavily on the bed, pushing crumbled blankets out of the way as he did so, reflecting almost guiltily on his own thoughts. It was not the way he had been brought up to view marriage, as simply two people who ignored each other, but maybe it was all that Fæmen knew. Sisbia had been raised to be warm and cherish a family regardless of the circumstances, but somehow Sisbia just couldn’t see Fæmen cherishing anyone, a truly sad thing. Not for the first time, Sisbia was reminded of the strangeness of Fæmen’s nights, the pain he must have been in, and he felt truly ashamed for his recent contentment at the man simply leaving him alone. Sisbia knew how to make sacrifices, knew better than most, and he could sacrifice a selfish sort of contentment if it took away someone else’s pain. After all, despite Fæmen’s oddities, he was still Sisbia’s husband.

Surely Sisbia had to feel a little bit of love towards him, if only for that reason.

Sisbia spent the rest of his day in irritated chaos.

After he had made himself presentable enough that it didn’t look like he had been viciously attacked (although, in a funny sort of way, he had been) he made his way downstairs, anticipating the work to be done that day. So much to change, a home to make, repairs and preparations to be made…he was certain that the day would hold many activities for him, and that come night he would be too exhausted to sleep.

After nearly an hour of running around, however, Sisbia was more than a little irritated, and if he was tired at all, he was tired of people treating him like a helpless young girl. Everywhere he went, everyone he asked, he always got the same response: as Fæmen’s wife, he wasn’t expected to do anything. Sisbia, used to being a busy merchant’s son, to caring for a family of gigantic proportions, couldn’t help but be irritated at being treated like some sort of…noble. He had not been born to royalty or privilege, he had grown up without either, and he swore (somewhat shamefully and with a silent plea for forgiveness) on his mother’s grave that he wouldn’t let them treat him like he was a dependant, delicate little thing when he had been the rock of his family for more years than he could recall without sitting down and seriously thinking about it. He deserved to be heard.

Unfortunately, the craftsmen who had been hired for the duties concerning the villages and the castle did not listen to him. Even the servants, cold, harsh men and women who Sisbia had never seen but were supposedly Fæmen’s personal staff, treated Sisbia with something close to disdain, and shooed him away with words about not worrying his pretty head. Sisbia gave them orders, simple tips about décor and how things should be done to save money, and they ignored him. Even Byron, the somewhat bored seeming young man in charge of the village repairs, the man who Sisbia had once been able to work through, would not listen to him, spouting off the excuse that Fæmen had come by a few minutes earlier with the strictest instructions not to let Sisbia near the list of renovations. It was enough to make him angry, and his eyebrows dipped down in an expression of scolding that cowed any siblings who dared appose him. Byron was more than a little startled at the change in his expression, in his entire demeanor, and he saw the fury flashing in Sisbia’s cerulean eyes. Only years of experience with temperamental royals kept him from backing away slowly...

“Where is he?”

Sisbia was not known for having an unpleasant disposition. Other than those (rare) occasions where he had to discipline one of his multiple siblings, Sisbia was cheery, compassionate, and let nearly everything slide past him without any discontentment, or even true notice. However, there were times when a person, however mild-mannered they may be, could only handle so much.

“Where is who, milord?” Byron’s pretended ignorance for the sake of decorum only made Sisbia angrier. Blasted royalty! Sisbia could never remember merchants wasting time by that annoying almost-politeness that everyone even associated with Prince Fæmen seemed to have…in exception, of course, to Fæmen himself.

“Fæmen!”

Byron apparently had some sense of self-preservation, because he took a step back before answering.

“In the woods, milord. He said that he was looking for something, and was not to be disturbed for anything short of war. If you’d like to tour the forest, however, I can arrange an escort-” Despite his polite-seeming words, Byron had already half-dismissed him, choosing to look over the list that Sisbia wasn’t allowed to see rather than deal with what must seem like a temper tantrum from a petite blond.

“Don’t bother. I can do it myself.” So saying, Sisbia marched off, the hurried, angry movements making his body noticeably sore once again, both the action and the tenderness it caused things that were purely Fæmen’s fault. Sisbia made an irritated sound in his throat, practically jogging to the make-shift stables where the bestias were kept. The old stable, luxurious and a great deal larger than Sisbia would have expected even for royalty, had collapsed due to inattention, and now a barely big enough shelter made of canvas was set up for the poor creatures until the stable could be repaired. And, since Sisbia wasn’t allowed to look at the list, he wasn’t entirely sure when that would be.

There was a young girl watching the creatures, probably not more than ten by human standards, and she was grubby enough that Sisbia recognized her as a villager. It calmed Sisbia’s anger just a bit to see her obviously given an important job, but his fury came back tenfold when he saw how thin she was. The chubbiness of youth was gone from her cheeks, and she looked like little more than bones…just like the rest of the villagers. Sisbia fully intended to raid the royal food supply when he got back, and may the Mother help anyone who tried to stop him.

Sisbia smiled at the girl, and she smiled back hesitantly, her left front tooth missing, but the sincerity in her shy grin made it seem a thousand times more beautiful than any of Fæmen’s cold smiles. Sisbia sighed in relief, happy to know that at least the villagers thought of him as someone worth acknowledging. He bent just barely at the waist, making them eye level.

“Hello honey. My name is Sisbia, and I need a ride. Are you the stable master here?” His words were gentle, but he couldn’t help the shred of wickedness in them. Nobody would leave a child to guard valuable animals, which meant somebody, one of Fæmen’s cold-blooded servants no doubt, was about to get fired. Sisbia couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for them.

The girl giggled, a bubbly child laugh, before covering her now-mischievous smile.

“No-o. Mister Darnel is, but he was hungry.”

“Perfect. And if I borrowed a bestia, would he notice?”

“He doesn’t count ‘em, but Mister Alom does.” Which meant that Alom would deal out the proper punishment. If was a relief to Sisbia, because, although he had been through a nightmare that day, he didn’t actually wish anything truly bad to happen to anyone, nothing more major than getting a scolding really. With Alom, at least it was assured there would be no violent punishment.

“Wonderful. Thank you honey,” Sisbia said, standing again and patting her on the head, stopping himself as he was about to walk by. “And what’s your name?”

“Penelope.”

Sisbia was a bit taken aback at the large name for such a small child, but he shook it off. She’d grow into it eventually…provided her growth wasn’t permanently stunted from starvation.

“Well Pen, while I’m gone, why don’t you name the other bestias?” Sisbia asked, coming up with a simple job that seemed to suit “Pen” perfectly.

Her eyes widened. “Name them?”

Sisbia paused at the surprise in her voice. Did bestias get named? Sisbia knew that human horses were named, and since bestias were the strange equivalent, didn’t it make sense that they would be named as well? To Sisbia it did, and he nodded once, strongly.

“Of course. Everything deserves a name. And-” Sisbia looked around for the bestia he had been riding upon his first visit to the villages, remembering that it had seemed more willing to accept a novice like him than the snobbish ones Alom and Fæmen had rode. He finally spotted it, a kind of blue-green, somewhat fat creature sitting off in the corner, and he pointed to it.

“And you can start by naming that one.”

Pen seemed to put serious thought into it, much more thought than Sisbia would have expected from a young girl.

“Azure Amaretto.” The words sounded strange coming from a child’s mouth.

An odd name by horse standards, but it suited the animal, who was currently eying them with a look in its eyes that reminded Sisbia of paranoid old man.

“Azure Amaretto it is. I take it that’s a male name?” Sisbia had no idea how she could tell the difference, really didn’t want to know, but it struck him that she could.

“Yep.”

Sisbia shrugged, and approached the creature again, feeling a sense of urgency that he really couldn’t explain. He was unsure whether he should actually risk getting on the creature without Alom or Fæmen around. He was brave enough, and Azure seemed calm, but Sisbia was hardly stupid.

“So…I’m going to climb on your back, and we’re going to find Fæmen and explain a few things to him.”

The creature more or less ignored him.

“And when I get back I’ll give you some alfalfa. I know there’s some around here somewhere.”

While the words probably were not familiar, Sisbia’s tone promised treats, and suddenly the bestia seemed a bit more eager than before. Sisbia used the opportunity to make a clumsy jump, and land half on, half off the scaly back. It took a fair amount of struggling to get himself all the way up, and it wasn’t exactly comfortable without the saddle that he had forgotten. However, it would have to do.

Sisbia barely had time to wave in thanks to Pen before the bestia took off, heading in some random direction that he could only assume led to his elusive husband, wherever he may be. Stopping Azure once he was in motion was hopeless, and Sisbia could do little more than hold onto the cold, dark mane in front of him as wind whipped through his hair and stung his face. He probably should have remembered the hat he had borrowed from Alom, although he wasn’t sure if it would do any good with the speed at which the creature under him was moving. In the name of the Mother Fae, for as fat as Azure seemed, he sure could move when properly motivated.

Sisbia wasn’t sure how long they rode, only that by the time they stopped near a not-particularly-unique section of the forest, he had come to relish the feel of the wind, and his legs had gone almost completely numb. Naturally, when he tried to dismount, he fell in a heap on the ground, his dignity saved only because there appeared to be no one else anywhere nearby. When Sisbia stood, he looked around, and saw only a dark forest awaiting him. Well, it was as good of place to start as any, and he hadn’t really expected Azure to lead him to Fæmen. Those sort of things required training, a recognition of the words ‘find Fæmen’ and-

Sisbia’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop when he saw a familiar figure in the darkness, a dark-haired shape that appeared to be digging through the snow. Fæmen.

What the- Sisbia looked back at Azure, who was quietly nosing around in the snow, searching for more food, oblivious to Sisbia’s suspicions, an innocently unaware animal. Sisbia narrowed his eyes at the overweight mount.

Yeah right. You’re a quite bit smarter than you look, and I’m on to you, friend.

Sisbia shook his head with a wicked smile, and resolutely brushed the snow from his clothes, dismissing the bestia’s eerily high intelligence as something he’d look into later, after he had had this discussion with Fæmen. Sisbia ran through his mental list of problems, of all the things Fæmen was guilty of, and started walking resolutely forward.

He starved the villagers, stole what little authority I had, he keeps showing up and making me lose my mind, and he took me from all that I knew with no warning. He ignored me, he’s rude, he’s heartless, he’s probably insane, and he stops me at every turn when I try to be a wife rather than just a breeding machine. To hell with him, his parents, his servants, and anybody else who feels it’s okay to treat people like this…

By the time Sisbia was within a few feet of an unaware Fæmen, he could scarcely remember everything he wanted to complain about, the list stretched so long. He was shaking with anger, with humiliation, strongly negative feelings that Sisbia had rarely felt at all, and more than anything, he wanted to scream. He didn’t, however. Screaming was for private time, for pillows to muffle the noise, and as much as Sisbia disliked Fæmen at that moment, he wasn’t going to embarrass himself further. He still had some sense of good behavior, after all, even if this was one time when he desperately wanted to ignore it.

Sisbia continued slowly walking towards Fæmen, freezing only when the snow crunched noticeably beneath his boots and Fæmen stiffened, turning with a predatory gleam in his eyes and his hands raised to strike. He looked like a dangerous animal, dark and wild and angry, and just like that, Sisbia’s words and anger fled again. As angry as Sisbia was or had been, Fæmen radiated power and demanded admiration, and Sisbia felt a peculiar feeling in his gut, his irritation gone and replaced with that same almost giddy feeling he had had before he remembered what a horrible person Fæmen was.

Oh no, not this again…Sisbia wanted to slap himself out of it, however much good it would do. Every time Fæmen came near, looking wonderfully dangerous and untrustworthy, Sisbia’s bravado faded and he found himself stammering and whispering and acting more childish than he could ever remember being personally. He was acting, dare he think it, like one of the children from back home, like a schoolroom baby with their first crush.

That wasn’t it, of course. For one, Sisbia may have been naïve, but he didn’t have those sort of romanticized views of the world, or hadn’t since his mother died; happy endings just weren’t possible in the real world. For another, having a crush on Fæmen was downright foolish under the best of circumstances, and so, so stupid when someone actually got to know him. Besides all of that, Sisbia was married to him…what would be the point of having a crush when he was already stuck with Fæmen for the majority of his life anyway? It simply wouldn’t make sense, and Sisbia had always made sense. Maybe he was losing his mind. Maybe whatever Fæmen had was contagious. Yes, that was much more logical.

Or at least as logical as one could expect when dealing with Fæmen.

Fæmen lowered his hands, looking almost irritated to find Sisbia behind him rather than some unknown assailant, and Sisbia could have sworn that Fæmen would have been glaring if he had been the type to express outward emotions. As it was, he smiled his royal smile, and spoke in a detached voice.

“Yes dear? Did you need something?”

Sisbia took a deep breath, prepared to spout off the list of things he had been meaning to say since the beginning, but the words did not come.

“I…N-No. I was touring the forest, and saw you, is all.” The it was again, that feeling that something wasn’t quite right, and this time Sisbia knew that it meant something more than just a result of shock. He just couldn’t place the source…or he couldn’t until Fæmen spoke again.

“I see. I do not want to keep you from your tour, dear, so please continue.”

It was that ‘dear’ that Fæmen always referred to him as. Just days before, it had almost always been accompanied by his name, but now…Sisbia had a very bad feeling about this, and his desire for it not to be true gave him the moment of courage needed to ask.

“Fæmen, what’s my name?”

Fæmen, who had been prepared to go back and dig in the snow again it seemed, looked at him oddly.

“What a strange question. Your name is…Sissa.”

Sisbia waited, waited for him to correct the too-similar address, but Fæmen took his silence as an affirmative and turned back to whatever he had been doing. Sisbia gaped at his back, stared at him like he couldn’t trust any of his senses, before finding the strength to climb onto the back of Azure and speed away as fast as he could back to the castle. While Sisbia had thought and worried about Fæmen constantly since their first night on the road to Elian, Fæmen had clearly not done the same. Sisbia was just a Fae broodmare after all, it seemed. Not a wife, not a friend, not even a true acquaintance...Sisbia just couldn’t bring himself to believe it, even though the fact of the matter was staring him straightin the face.

His husband hadn’t bothered to remember his name.