He swept his gaze around the room, looking at each of the Councilors and protestors in turn. They began to shrink away from him, lowering their heads in shame at his accusation. The tension didn’t disappear but he thought he might finally be getting the crowd under control.
Then a bedraggled woman pushed her way to the front, her clothes stained with blood. “If they can turn those monsters against us once, who’s to keep them from doing it again?” She pointed a dirty finger straight at Galenos. “If you can’t keep your own marewing from attacking us, they shouldn’t be allowed in our city at all! Get them all out!”
Charis leapt to his feet. “Yes, we can’t trust your monsters anymore! Get them out!”
More voices rose around the room, protesting the destruction and the betrayal of the marewings. Someone demanded that Galenos personally pay restitution to every person who had been affected by the attack; another called for an end to the defense contract and imprisonment for all of the riders who had lost control. They blended into an angry roar. Guards came forward to quell the crowds, but the feeling of tension lingered in the air.
Galenos stared in disbelief at them all. Did they have such short memories to forget everything he had done for them with the Storm Petrels? How could they ask him to punish soldiers for a horrific accident? He hung his head, feeling it all pressing down on him like a terrible weight. There was no way out of this without making a terrible compromise.
“Stop.” He got to his feet, holding up his hands for silence. “I have heard your complaints, and made a decision. I shall send all of the marewing riders out of the city. And to make sure that Kyratia stays safe, I will enact a ban on all marewings within the city walls.”
Diokles cleared his throat. “What about the pair of marewings owned by you and the duchess?” he asked gently.
Galenos tensed up, but refused to look at the Councilor. “All marewings,” he repeated. “I am no longer a rider. Now please, can we move on to plans for recovering from this incident?”
He was answered by quiet murmurs of agreement. He glanced around a final time to make sure there were no more objections, but he seemed to have shocked the audience into silence. He nodded once and resumed his seat.
“Very well, then.” He shuffled some papers on the table before him, prioritizing the most important issues. “The first order of business will be to make sure that everyone has the food and shelter they need for the time being. What is the status on—”
A messenger burst into the hall, gasping for breath. She dropped into a bow. “Forgive me for the interruption, Your Grace, but it’s an emergency.”
Galenos sighed. The word “emergency” seemed to be losing all meaning these past few days. “What is it this time?”
The messenger looked around at the crowded hall nervously, then stepped forward and held out a slip of paper to him. “I’m afraid it’s a… private matter.”
A private matter could mean only one thing: his wife. His heart leapt into his throat. Trying to keep from shaking, he reached out to accept the note. He unfolded it and glanced down. His eyes focused on a single word: “bleeding.”
Galenos swallowed hard and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. “I have to go,” he said, pushing to his feet. He looked around the room unsteadily.
Diokles nodded and waved him to the door. “Go, go. I’ll take over from here.”
“Thank you.” Galenos turned and headed for the door. He prayed that his feet would carry him a little further. Korinna needed him.
Korinna XII
Korinna stared up at the ceiling without focusing on any of the details. She was aware, distantly, that there were other people in the room moving around and talking, but she couldn’t focus on anything they were saying. The pain was gone, but it had left a numbness in its wake, an empty hollow in the middle of her body. She wanted to curl up around that emptiness and let it consume her.
A flicker of movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She spotted a small bundle of cloth being carried out of the room. A burning need seized her, and she lurched upright, reaching for that tiny form.
“Wait,” she croaked out, her voice harsh and unrecognizable. She realized that her throat was raw from screaming, although it felt like ages since she’d made any noise. “I want to see my baby. Can I hold him… or her?” She faltered, realizing that she didn’t even know the sex of her own child.
Hands pressed against her shoulders, urging her back down. She looked up and realized Galenos was holding her, sitting next to her on the bed—when had he arrived? And how had she gotten up into her bedroom? She barely remembered the last few hours, but she was sure that she’d been downstairs when… things had started to go wrong.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His eyes were downcast, refusing to meet hers. “That’s not—they already took it away. We thought it was best if you didn’t see it.”
Korinna looked around the room again, searching for the familiar face of the midwife or some other ally to help her. Instead she saw physicians, Egina the housekeeper, and strangely, Mage Ameyron, all looking concerned and fussing with various instruments. “Shouldn’t that be my choice? I want to see my own child!”
Galenos continued to hold her, tears filling his eyes, and simply shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Ameyron stepped forward with a small bow and cleared his throat. “If I may offer an explanation, Your Grace. The fetus was malformed—hardly even recognizable as human. We thought that such a disturbing sight would be detrimental to your already weakened state.”
Korinna stared at him in disbelief. “No, that can’t be true. Everyone said that my baby was healthy.”
Ameyron bowed his head. “There was no way to tell.” He glanced at the physicians, who nodded in agreement. “What I want to emphasize is that this was not your fault, or anyone else’s. It’s an unfortunate part of life, but sometimes these things just happen. According to our tests, there was no known cause—nothing that anyone could have done to prevent it.”
“You did… tests?” Korinna looked around at the surgical instruments in the room with growing horror. “By the gods, what did you do? I never agreed to let you touch my baby!” She glared up at Galenos. “Did you tell them they could do this?”
Galenos stroked her face soothingly. “Shh, it’s not what you think. They’ve all been here working hard on saving you.” He glanced up at the mage. “She doesn’t need to hear all of the details. Just tell her that she’s going to be alright.”
Ameyron coughed and pulled himself up straight. “Yes, well, as your husband says.” He gestured to the physicians. “It’s all of our expert opinions that you should make a full recovery. In due time, you will be reexamined to see if you are fit to bear future children, but I may venture so far as to say that I believe that will have a positive outcome.”
That last statement knocked the wind out of Korinna. She sank back against the pillows, struggling to regain her breath. She could be unfit to bear any children at all? Could the gods be so cruel?
Egina pushed the mage out of her way and bustled over to the other side of the bed. “Hush, all of you, you’re scaring m’lady.” She took Korinna’s hand and patted it soothingly. “Don’t worry so much, dear, you just need to rest. I’ve lost a few babes of my own but you’ve seen that I have five healthy children, too. Be patient and it will all go right, I promise.”
Korinna squeezed her eyes shut and felt hot tears trickling down the sides of her face. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Leave me.”
Galenos brushed the tears off of her cheeks. “Do you want to try eating something? You need to get your strength back.”
The mere thought of food made her stomach churn with revulsion. “No,” she whispered, keeping her eyes clamped firmly shut. All she wanted was for all of them to leave her alone.
There were a few more whispered conversations around the room, but Korinna ignored them. Eventually, she heard them gather up their tools and shu
ffle out of the room. The door closed at last, and she let out of a sigh of relief.
When she was sure that no one was coming back to bother her again, she opened her eyes and looked down at herself. She must have been blacked out for much longer than she realized, because all evidence of her tragedy was gone. Someone had washed her clean and dressed her in a nightgown.
She placed her hands over her belly. It was plump and swollen as if she were still carrying, but she felt no life stirring within, only a dull ache. The baby was truly gone. She whispered a prayer to Meyrissa, the Goddess of Death, to guide her child’s spirit through the Dry Lands, but the words seemed to be no more than a hollow echo.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “This is all my fault. I never meant to hurt you, but I brought you to harm. I failed as your mother. I’m so, so sorry.”
Whatever the physicians and the mage claimed, she knew what had really caused her to lose her baby. Even when she sensed that the wyld magic was hurting her, she had continued to use it to speak with the marewings. Wyld magic had turned her baby into a monster, twisting it until it could no longer live.
The city was safe, but at a terrible price. It was true what everyone said, how dangerous wyld magic was, but especially to those who wielded it. She could try to pretend that she didn’t know what she was doing at the time, but she had set aside her doubts and tried to play the hero, and this was the consequence of her choice.
She clenched one hand into a fist and raised it above her head. “Never again,” she swore, to gods and spirits and anyone else who might be listening. “I will never use magic again, no matter what I think I might be able to do with it.”
Tatiana VIII
When Tatiana woke up in the middle of the afternoon, she found most of the other riders were gone. Rows of empty beds filled the dormitory where she’d slept. Why had no one woken her up to go with them?
She splashed water on her face, which did nothing to smooth away the bags under her eyes from crying herself to sleep. Last night, she’d felt like she had an endless fountain of tears for Philagros, Lilywhite, and the destruction of the city. But today, she was numb. Off in the distance, the heartache was still there, along with the physical aches and bruises from fighting, but they seemed not to touch her. She went through the motions of getting ready and walked mechanically down to the mess hall.
The mess hall was also deserted, except for Orivan, who was hunched over a table full of food. He waved for her to join him.
Tatiana slipped into the seat across from him and looked around. “Where is everyone?”
“Gone back to Fort Ropytos. The marewings have been spotted near there, so they hope we can capture them again without much fuss.” He picked up a teapot, poured a steaming mug of a dark liquid, and slid it across the table to her. “The healers said you should have at least one cup of this before you start on the food.”
She picked up the mug and smelled bitter herbs—one of the healers’ vile concoctions. “That’s less than appetizing.” She put it down again and grimaced at the food, none of which looked very appealing in her current state, even though it was a spread of everything from fresh fruit and rolls to cured meats and cheeses. “I’m not hungry, anyway.”
Orivan held up his own mug with a rueful grin. “It doesn’t get any better, and I’ve had three helpings already. But you need to drink it, which will help settle your stomach, and then eat whatever you can. Get your strength back.”
She held her nose to block out the smell and swallowed. She could still taste it faintly, a tang like rotting seaweed left behind by the tide, but after the first sip her tongue was too burned to taste more. She dutifully drained the contents and braced herself to keep it down. “Fine. Why didn’t the others wake us up to go back with them? Shouldn’t we go see if our marewings are there, too?”
He shook his head. “No, we’ve been given the day off to rest and recuperate.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “More, if you need it.”
She looked away. He meant well, but she didn’t want sympathy or time to brood over what had happened. “I just want to get back to work. Is there an officer I can speak to about my next assignment?”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Don’t push yourself. You need downtime to recover, physically and emotionally. Besides, we still have an invitation to visit the duchess.” He held up a note. “The duke says she’s been confined to bedrest, and a visit from friends might help to lift her spirits.”
Despite herself, her head snapped up at the mention of the duchess. “Why? Was she injured?”
He looked down at the floor. “I’m afraid she… lost the baby. There’s not really an explanation, but I don’t think she ever got close enough to the fighting to be injured. It just happened.”
“Oh. That’s awful.” She tried to muster up some sympathy for this latest tragedy, but she still felt nothing. “I guess if I can’t get an assignment, I’d rather be alone. I don’t really have the energy for a social visit.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to brood alone.” He handed her a roll. “This happens after battles sometimes, especially if you knew one of the soldiers we lost. It’s hard, but you won’t feel any better by curling up into a ball and ignoring the rest of the world. Life goes on. Would Philagros want you to fall apart without him?”
She clutched the roll reflexively, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. “I don’t know what he would have wanted. He probably didn’t have a chance to think about it. Neither of us thought we would die soon—we’ve barely even been in a battle.”
She closed her eyes, seeing wave after wave of gryphons flying into the city. She thought she’d been in battles before, but she realized now that the real thing was far, far different from a small fight. There had been no rage to sustain her, no thrill of vanquishing a foe—just so much death around her, the cries of innocent citizens that she was helpless to save, and the ache of her arms as she tried to fire one arrow after another without stopping to see if they hit their marks.
The warmth of Orivan’s touch on her arm snapped her back to the present. Her eyes flew open. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled without really knowing what she was apologizing for.
“It’s alright. It’s over now.” He pushed more food toward her. “Don’t think about it, just eat.”
He wasn’t going to leave her alone, so Tatiana forced down enough food to satisfy him along with another cup of the vile tea, and then let him drag her along to the duchess’s house.
She was startled out of her dim thoughts when they stopped in front of an unassuming house in a quiet neighborhood. “This can’t be it,” she said, staring up at the two-story home. It was nicer than any house back in her home village, that was true, but there was nothing to set it apart from all of the other buildings in the neighborhood, and she’d seen much more elaborate residences in the city. “Isn’t there supposed to be a ducal palace or something?”
Orivan shook his head. “The palace has been in ruins for generations,” he said in a low voice. “They’ve been spending money on rebuilding the city instead of themselves.” He knocked on the front door.
A small boy opened the door and stared at them. “Are you the riders?” He stood up on tiptoe and craned his neck to peer around them into the street, a mixture of fear and curiosity on his face. “Where’s your marewings?”
Orivan smiled down at the boy. “We walked here. Is Duchess Korinna available?”
The boy sank back on his heels with a sigh of disappointment. “Yeah, she’s expecting you. I’ll take you to her.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside to let them in.
Tatiana looked around as she followed Orivan and the boy. The inside matched the plain exterior: there was a small ancestors’ shrine in the entrance with portraits of a man and a woman lit by a few candles, open rooms with plain furniture, and a courtyard with plants and a waterfall fountain. Several children looked up from tending the garden, but she saw no oth
er servants. It fit with what she’d seen of the duke and duchess in person, but shouldn’t there be some perks that came with ruling a city?
The boy led them upstairs to one of the bedrooms. The duchess herself was sitting upright in a four-poster bed, the nicest piece in the whole house, but the rest of the room didn’t match with a plain wardrobe, a trunk that looked well-traveled, and riding tack hanging on the walls.
Korinna looked up with a faint smile, but her eyes were dull and sunken into her head. “I’m so glad you came!” She beckoned to the boy. “Ask your mother to send up some refreshments for our guests. I owe them a meal.”
The boy nodded and dashed off again.
Orivan bent over the bed and kissed Korinna on both cheeks warmly. “Thanks, but the healers wouldn’t let us out until we were both stuffed, so we’re not hungry. I’ll take a drink, though, anything as long as it’s not the healers’ nasty tea.”
Korinna let out a weak laugh that ended in a cough. “Don’t mention them to me! I’ve had more than my share of healers, and you don’t want to know what kinds of horrible concoctions they’ve been forcing me to take. I think the last one was actually fertilizer from the garden.”
Tatiana hovered awkwardly near the doorway, not sure if she was supposed to bow or salute or something, and tried not to stare at the duchess’s middle. “I’m sorry for your loss, Your Grace.”
Korinna shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d rather not talk about it.” She gestured to some nearby chairs. “But please, sit down, I’m sure you’re both still tired. Galenos told me how brave you both were.”
The chairs were wooden but covered in cushions. Tatiana moved aside several pillows from one before sitting down, leaving the chair closest to the bed open for Orivan to take.
A Pride of Gryphons Page 33