"It used to be one of his places," she snapped. "He gave up the rights to most of his holdings when he passed the title to Roge. He hasn't personally lived in this house for years. He hasn't lived in any of our holdings for years. You tell me where he's been. Tell me. Either at that little farmstead out in the middle of nowhere, or at the Principate itself. Not here. Not at the place up at Yarik. Not anywhere. For all those years, he could have had virtually anything he wanted, but could he have cared less? No, not in the slightest. No, I don't want him here. I don't want him at any of our residences. And, I might add, it's because of him that we don't have enough room to deal with him and his cursed entourage." She sliced her hand through the air with finality.
Yosset sighed again. For all her wit, for all her intelligence, for all the support she gave him, sometimes his lovely wife just made him feel tired.
"But he's your father, Karin," he said pleadingly.
"I don't care if he's the Prophet himself. He is not staying here." She spun back to face him. "Do you understand me?"
He nodded mutely.
"And as for you, get this through your fat round head," she said turning away and starting to pace again. "Leannis Men Darnak is no longer Principal. You do not have to cower and fawn at his every breath. Remember who your position depends on now, Yosset, and remember it well. It is certainly not my father. Who controls the Guilds now, my dear, sweet husband?"
He rubbed his lips one over the other, moistening them. "Why no one controls the -- "
She cut him off with another impatient wave of her hand. "Who is Principal?"
He hated it when she got like this, speaking to him like a child, no, rather speaking at him -- he was not her idiot brother -- but he kept his mouth shut.
"Well?"
"You know as well as I do."
"Fine. And who owns Roge?"
He stared at her for several seconds. She actually believed that...
Finally, he buckled under the intensity of her stare, the confidence in her stance, and he looked away. She was right. Just in the same way that she owned their landholding, that she owned her husband and she owned their servants, she also owned her brother. And through him, she now owned the Principate. Yosset turned back to face her, and slowly he smiled. By the Prophet, he loved this woman. What had he ever done to deserve her?
"Karin, I still think you are worrying unnecessarily," he said. "We have no guarantee that your father will turn up here. Last time we saw him, he was off to the mines, and that was before we did the move. He could go anywhere from there."
She rolled her eyes and paced behind the chairs. "Whose holdings are closest? Do you think he doesn't know that we're here? Use that fat head of yours for once, Yosset."
"I cannot see why it is such a problem."
She sat opposite him again. "Because I don't want him here. Because he will only get in the way. I don't want his presence confusing anything else."
He nodded, reconciled to playing along. "My love, what do you think we should do?"
"Go and talk to the staff. Make sure that it's clear he isn't welcome. Let them behave accordingly. And if he asks for me, or you, we're nowhere to be found. That's it. I have too much to think about without having to deal with him face to face again."
"Karin, I don't see what -- "
"I don't care what you see or don't see, Yosset. Just do as I tell you."
He bit off any further reply, and pushing his chair back, stood to do exactly that. He looked at her sitting there for a few moments, but she was off in her own thoughts again. Such determination, such focus, such innate power. There was just so much to admire in her.
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