Mother of All

by Jenna Glass

  The suggestion startled a short laugh from her. “You mean bribe him?”

  Zarsha grinned at her. “I would never use so crass a term. Sounds terribly disreputable, and clearly something beneath the dignity of a queen. No, ‘persuade’ sounds much more noble.”

  “Hmm,” Ellin said, rolling the idea around in her head. “So far, I’ve had very little success persuading Lord Khelved of anything.”

  Zarsha’s grin remained firmly in place. “I have every confidence you’ll find a way.” The grin faded, replaced by something a good deal more tentative. “And failing that…” He cleared his throat, and squirmed.

  “Failing that, what?” she asked with no small hint of suspicion in her voice.

  “Failing that, and with your permission, I could approach him about some financial improprieties I’ve discovered.” The tentative look on Zarsha’s face was replaced with something more like a challenge. “I did not go looking for secrets among your council members, but thanks to my contacts and my habits, I do occasionally stumble upon things I’m not actively looking for.”

  It was on the tip of Ellin’s tongue to voice a quick and unequivocal refusal. What Zarsha was suggesting was flat-out wrong, and though she could justify using his sources to provide information about the workings of other kingdoms and principalities, it was much harder to justify using them against her own people.

  “It may not be necessary,” Zarsha reminded her. “You can be more persuasive than you give yourself credit for, and Khelved is obviously not entirely overjoyed to serve on your council. If you give him a graceful and dignified way out, he might jump on it.”

  Ellin turned to him, catching his gaze and not letting it go. “Do you swear to me that you will not make any attempt to interfere unless I specifically ask you to?”

  Zarsha put his hand over his heart. “I swear.”

  She let out a long, tense sigh. “Then I’ll see what I can do.”

  * * *

  —

  Tynthanal returned to the royal apartments almost an hour earlier than usual, and Kailee could not decide if she was relieved or distressed. She’d spent the entire evening battling a combination of nerves and indecision, and she felt as if telling Tynthanal of her conclusion would make it irreversible.

  Her husband noticed her state of agitation immediately, taking her hand and giving it a supportive squeeze. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and she knew he was already bristling with the suspicion that someone at court had been unkind to her.

  As usual, she had spent the entire evening after the tediously long dinner banquet alone in her apartments, for though she should by rank be the most important lady of the court, she had ceased accepting even the pitifully few invitations that came her way. It was less unpleasant to decline than to attend an event at which she would be pointedly ignored. No one had as yet had the nerve to be openly rude to her—hence the continued insincere invitations and the ridiculously convenient, but technically plausible, excuses given when declining her own—but she was very much aware of the constant subtle snubs and the too-loud whispers whenever she entered a room. She could not claim those did not hurt—no matter how used to them she might be—but that was not at all what troubled her tonight.

  “I’ve decided to try the potion Mairah made for me,” she blurted out, impatient with herself for dithering. It was not like her to be indecisive, and she sternly ordered herself to stiffen her spine and find her bravery.

  “Oh?” Tynthanal asked, giving her hand another squeeze. “What brought this on?” He guided them both to the sofa, and she saw his head turn toward the pair of vials she had set out on the coffee table. One held Mairah’s potion; the other, an antidote that she could quickly quaff if she found she did not like the effects.

  Kailee shrugged. “I just…thought it was time I made a decision.”

  “Yes, but why?” he asked again, and she could hear the frown in his voice.

  Kailee blinked, for this was not at all the reaction she’d been expecting. Surely he was eager for her to try it. He had never treated her as though he felt she was a liability, but clearly she was, in her current state. She was a nonentity at court, when she could—no should—be his most dependable ally. And if she could only close her Mindseye, she could be…well, not accepted. Not really. It wasn’t as if everyone would suddenly forget she’d been walking around with her Mindseye open all her life. But she could perhaps not be so steadfastly excluded, and might eventually come to have some small fraction of the influence the wife of the prince regent ought to.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, flummoxed.

  Tynthanal chuckled. “It’s a simple question, Kailee. You seem to get along well enough without physical eyesight, and I have the impression you would be…bereft if you lost access to your Mindsight.”

  Kailee squirmed, for somehow she had not prepared herself adequately for this conversation, despite having mentally rehearsed it about a thousand times. “But I am…an embarrassment as I am.”

  Tynthanal scoffed. “That is your stepmother talking. It certainly isn’t me. Have I shown any sign that I’m embarrassed by your eyes?”

  Kailee clasped her hands together in her lap, for it was true that he never had. He’d been uncomfortable with her when they’d first met, but that had been because he was in love with Chanlix and was being coerced into marrying Kailee instead. But even then, what she had sensed had never been anything like distaste or embarrassment, and he had made it abundantly clear his resistance to the marriage had nothing to do with her. He would have been equally resistant to marrying any woman who was not Chanlix.

  “You’ve been very kind to me,” she said softly. “But surely you must want me to try the potion so that—”

  He reached over and squeezed her hands again. “Please do not concern yourself with what you think I might want. The only thing that matters is what you want. So, do you want to close your Mindseye?”

  She licked her lips, unwilling to voice the immediate “no” that came to her mind. Tynthanal let go of her hands, and she found herself unable to keep them still, picking at the rough edge of a fingernail in a way that would have earned her a sharp rebuke from her stepmother. Lady Vondelmai had always meant well and was not an unkind woman; however, Kailee could only imagine how she might have reacted had she heard Kailee had access to a potion that would close her Mindseye and had not yet even bothered to try it. Smelling salts would for certain have been necessary.

  “I want to see,” she said, but it might as well have been Lady Vondelmai speaking through her voice. “How can I not want to see? Without physical eyesight, I cannot read, I cannot see art, I cannot walk without danger of tripping over things…” She let her voice trail off. Vondelmai had always made those shortcomings seem appalling, and though Kailee had to admit to a certain curiosity as to what it would be like to have physical eyesight, there had never been any great yearning in her heart. No matter how much people told her there should be.

  “There are ways to get around those inconveniences without stripping you of your Mindsight,” Tynthanal said, then reached into his doublet and pulled out something that was packed full with the feminine element, Rai. “I wasn’t going to show this to you just yet, because I have a long way to go before perfecting it, but it seems now is the time, after all.”

  “What is it?” she asked, taking the object when he handed it to her and finding it was a small glass vial filled with liquid.

  “I’d been thinking it might be nice if you could read Mairahsol’s notes for yourself,” he said. “So I’ve been working on creating an ink into which I can bind elements. The vial you’re holding is regular ink with powdered ruby mixed in. It’s pretty dreadful to write with, and I was planning to meet with the grand magus to see if he has a better suggestion. I think we will have to mix the ink with some kind of metallic or crystalline powder so that it can hold
enough motes to be legible, but I believe it is possible. When we have something that will write more smoothly, I’ll write out a primer for you and teach you how to read.”

  Kailee clapped one hand over her mouth to try to contain a small sob as her eyes flooded with tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Tynthanal asked in alarm.

  Her throat was too tight and achy to answer, but she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed to signal that the source of her tears was not unhappiness. He hugged her back a bit awkwardly, for though he had on occasion touched her arms or hands, he almost never actually embraced her. If ever she needed a reminder that he did not love her as a husband ought to love his wife, all it took was one of these awkward, uncomfortable hugs.

  Kailee reluctantly let go of him and sat back, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

  “I hope it wasn’t presumptuous of me to work on this without asking you first,” Tynthanal said, and Kailee tried hard to get a grip on her emotions so she could reassure him.

  “That is the single kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she whispered hoarsely, tears threatening to burst from her eyes again as her heart squeezed in her chest.

  Oh, but his kindness was dangerous! She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his heart could never belong to her. He was a man of great loyalty, and having given his love to Chanlix, he would never have room in his heart for Kailee. She did not dare allow herself to feel anything more than friendship for him, or her heart was destined to be broken. And yet…

  “It is the least I could do after dragging you here when you’d finally found acceptance in Women’s Well,” he said.

  Kailee forced a tremulous smile. “You didn’t drag me,” she assured him. “And you needn’t worry about me. I knew exactly what to expect when I chose to come with you to Aaltah.” She wiped more wetness from her cheeks.

  There was a moment of fraught silence, and Kailee hoped Tynthanal was not seeing too much of what she was feeling. The last thing she wanted was for him to know she was in danger of losing her heart to him, for she feared that would awaken even more guilt than he already felt. The situation was not at all of his making, and he did not deserve that burden.

  “So, let me ask you again,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Do you actually want to try Mairah’s potion?”

  Taking a long, deep breath, Kailee admitted the truth. “No.”

  “Then don’t.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Alys was torn between joy and grief and guilt as she activated the talker that was linked with Tynthanal’s. Knowing he would never be available to talk during his busy daylight hours—and doubting that he carried the talker with him at all times—she’d waited until nighttime to contact him.

  She tried to wipe all hints of grief from her face as her brother’s image shimmered to life in the air above the talker. She did not want to frighten him even for a moment, and she knew he would instantly interpret any distress in her expression as meaning something had happened to Chanlix or their baby. Fearing her perceptive brother would see the shadow in her eyes no matter how hard she tried to hide it, she dispensed with any greetings and preliminaries and smiled broadly.

  “Congratulations,” she told him. “You are the father of a healthy baby girl. Mother and daughter are now resting comfortably, and the midwife assures us that Chanlix is exhausted, but otherwise well.”

  Tynthanal seemed at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as his knees buckled and he sat heavily on a settee. The image suddenly went blurry and indistinct, and there was a soft thumping sound, followed by a curse.

  “Sorry,” Tynthanal said, the image of his face once again appearing. “I dropped the talker.”

  Somewhere behind him, Kailee laughed lightly. She soon appeared in the image, her face alight with joy.

  “Congratulations, Papa!” she said. If she harbored any jealousy toward the woman who’d just borne her husband’s baby, there was no hint of it in her face or voice. She turned her head in Alys’s direction. “And to you, too, Auntie.”

  Alys laughed in delight, for that was a title she’d never thought would be hers. “I look forward to spoiling my niece atrociously,” she said.

  Tynthanal still looked like he was in shock, as if it was only now sinking in that he was a father.

  “I know Chanlix and the babe must rest for a while after the birth,” Kailee continued, “but I hope Tynthanal may meet his daughter via talker as soon as possible. Tomorrow, maybe?”

  Tynthanal looked briefly terrified, but then a tentative smile appeared on his lips. His eyes were suspiciously shiny, and Alys thought that she had never seen her brother look so open or so vulnerable in all his life. It wasn’t hard for Alys to guess what was going through his mind.

  “Of course Chanlix wants to see you,” she assured him. “I spoke with her briefly earlier this evening, and she specifically said that you and she needed to talk about the babe’s name.”

  It was considered bad luck to decide upon a baby’s name before the birth, though many parents did so, satisfying the superstition by assuring themselves they were merely “discussing” rather than “deciding.”

  “She did make it clear that the baby will be Rah-Tynthanal rather than Rai-Chanlix, unless you or Kailee objects,” Alys said.

  Alys was certain Tynthanal would have no objection himself save the worry that his wife might be offended. The name would be a source of gossip, of course, and there would be those who deemed it pretentious and inappropriate, but Tynthanal would never allow his child to be treated as a bastard.

  “Of course the child is Rah-Tynthanal,” Kailee said without a moment of hesitation. Her lower lip stuck out in an exaggerated pout. “I do wish everyone would stop treating me like a cuckold.”

  Tynthanal winced at Kailee’s indelicate choice of words, but Alys laughed. Kailee had never been one to use polite euphemisms.

  “We’re just trying to protect your honor,” Tynthanal said, but Kailee made an unladylike sound of frustration.

  “My honor is my own to protect or not as I see fit,” she said tartly. “I have spent all my life as my father’s embarrassing, poorly kept secret, and his love for me never lessened the sting of it. I will not have this baby suffer the same fate for the sake of my vanity.”

  Alys smiled wryly. “You’d better abandon your argument, Little Brother,” she advised. “Kailee is a force of nature, and it is as useful to argue with the rain as to argue with her.”

  “There!” Kailee said, without awaiting a response from her husband. “It is decided.” She patted Tynthanal’s shoulder. “The women in your life have spoken.”

  Tynthanal shook his head, but he was smiling now, too. “Far be it from me to offer my own opinion when the women have spoken.” But despite the rueful words, it was clear he was relieved with the decision. He’d been perhaps a bit of a reluctant father when he’d first heard that Chanlix was pregnant, but he would throw himself into the role with his whole heart, and he would never wish to deny his daughter his name.

  “And now,” Kailee said, “it is time for you to tell us what else has happened. Clearly Chanlix and the baby are well, but there is something not quite right in your voice.”

  Alys grimaced. She’d been afraid of what Tynthanal might see in her face, but she’d never thought to fear what Kailee—perceptive, insightful Kailee—might hear in her voice.

  Tynthanal, still distracted by the joy of being a new father, shook his head and looked momentarily confused. “Is she right? Is there something wrong?”

  Alys sighed, hating to deliver the news.

  “One of the seers at the Academy, Lady Grunamai, tested the potion you sent us. She used it with a seer’s poison she told us was well within her tolerance.”

  “Oh!” Kailee exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth, for she could n
o doubt tell from the grimness of Alys’s tone what had happened.

  “She recovered consciousness long enough to tell us of her vision,” Alys said, “and there is no denying its accuracy. She saw something that happened to me as a child, something that I never told anyone about. However, she drifted away after telling us her vision, and she never woke again.”

  Chanlix would be devastated when she learned the news, for of course no one was going to tell her as she recovered from nearly twenty-four hours of labor. Kailee started crying quietly, and Tynthanal’s eyes were shadowed with pain and guilt. Alys knew exactly how he felt.

  “The potion worked exactly as Mairahsol claimed it would,” she said. “And her notes did warn us it exacerbated the side effects of the seer’s poison. I had the healers examine Grunamai after she’d passed to see if we could determine what happened, and they found she had some abnormalities in her heart. They believe that, without those abnormalities, she would have eventually recovered from the poison.”

  Tynthanal nodded, though the guilt was still obvious on his face. “We all agreed the potion had to be tested,” he said. “And I’m certain that Lady Grunamai volunteered to perform the test.”

  “Of course,” Alys confirmed, though Grunamai’s acceptance of the risks did little to assuage her own guilt. “She was fully aware of the dangers of testing the potion, and she believed it was necessary. She said she still had family in Aaltah she cared about, and it was important to her to do anything she could to help you repair the Well.”

  Tynthanal closed his eyes for just a moment, and when he opened them again, his expression was grim. “She verified for us that the potion works as Mairahsol claimed it would. However, we will be no closer to repairing the Well until we find out what damaged it in the first place. Which means we need another seer to take a dose.”