Has it really been over a year since I’ve written? Arien, what have I been up to?
…well, that’s a foolish question. What have I been up to? Being married and having a child, of course. Why would I have time for something like a journal, of all foolish fripperies?
But I find myself wanting to talk to someone again, in this little lull, about things I daren’t say to anyone.
My honors (and responsibilities) only increase. The Keeper of the Seal, now, as I so badly wanted to be years ago. Yet it feels so strangely… unchanged from how matters used to be. Before, as Lord Secretary, I would simply do as I wanted as if I were the Keeper anyway. It’s bloody amazing how much you can get away with thanks to acting as if your authority’s unquestionable. I know I’ve said it before, but I never cease to wonder. I simply had to ensure I wasn’t conflicting with Cellan and Gavin, as my superiors at Court – and that’s exactly the same as it ever was.
It bothered Marisa, my promotion; I know that it did. Well, that and the Poet Laudate’s idiotic dismissal of her as merely my wife, the mother of my child. I don’t know what drives people to underestimate her. Her beauty, perhaps, and her attention to fashion… but those are foolish considerations, as they’re merely tools in her arsenal. Perhaps it’s that she so clearly is a child of privilege, or that she is at best an indifferent fighter. Ah, I can’t figure it out. From the moment I met her I knew that a woman with a mind like hers would always be a danger… it’s part of what I’ve always liked about her.
And now my first real task in the position is to deal with Casimir. Arien. I constantly worry that I’ve been too optimistic, too hopeful. Perhaps what I’m seeing in him is what I -want- to see in him, out of gratitude for his preservation of my life. How many times have I been deluded by wanting to trust people who proved unworthy of it? Julea, Bryne… It will be a bitter pill to swallow if this plan fails. More bitter than many I’ve choked down in my time in Lithmore.
No, I know I’m right. I know there is something of goodness and worth in him. Even if it fails – even if nothing can be redeemed – I know it was there. I’ve seen it in his eyes, witnessed it in his actions. There is something there.
Perhaps that will make it all the worse if I do, in fact, fail.
