Mother of All

by Jenna Glass

  There was something about the Well that was immeasurably soothing, and as soon as Alys had slipped off her shoes and felt the gentle hum of the Well’s power in the soles of her feet, the clenched fist inside her chest had relaxed, and it had become easier to breathe. She dug her toes into the wet, sandy earth at the edges of the spring and breathed in deep the scent of greenery and budding flowers. The trees that grew around this remarkable, impossible Well had no business growing at all in the harsh desert sun, even though there were sporadic rain showers that quenched the land within the Well’s influence and then quickly burned themselves out when the winds carried them away.

  Her peaceful reflection was interrupted by the sound of men’s voices from behind her. With a small sigh, she glanced over her shoulder. Her honor guard had fanned out to block the path that led to this secluded spot by the spring’s shore, keeping as far back as possible to allow her some illusion of privacy. She saw now that Duke Thanmir stood on the other side of the guardsmen, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. He had stopped a respectful distance back, getting only close enough to the guardsmen that he could speak to them without shouting. Alys shook her head slightly, and was surprised to feel the hint of a smile playing about the corners of her mouth.

  By all rights, Thanmir should have had no idea that she was planning to leave Women’s Well for Aaltah, but it could be no coincidence that he had chosen yesterday, of all days, to pay yet another visit, this one unannounced and unexpected. She had been too busy with her travel preparations to play the part of a proper hostess, but she supposed since she was standing idly by the Well, she was rather short on excuses to avoid him at the moment. She gestured for her honor guardsmen to let him pass and walked gingerly out of the water so that she need no longer hold up her skirts. She did not, however, feel inclined to put her shoes back on just yet, even if there was an uncomfortable feeling of intimacy in being barefoot in his presence.

  Thanmir bowed elegantly. “I don’t mean to intrude on you, Your Royal Highness,” he said. “I am here entirely on a social call, and if you would prefer to be left undisturbed, I will leave without insult.”

  She smiled at him, for she believed him. Although it was impossible to miss his continued desire to convince her to marry him, he did a remarkable job of making it obvious without resorting to anything that felt like overt or uncomfortable pressure. Whenever she allowed herself to forget the prospect of marriage—and everything that went with it—she enjoyed his company immensely, and she was always aware of how well the two of them understood each other. Even the most empathetic and well-meaning of her friends and family couldn’t truly understand the pain and the guilt that burdened her, but Thanmir knew all too well what that felt like. With him, there was no need to hide or deny the pain of her loss.

  “Please stay,” she said. “I regret that you’ve traveled all this way only to have me vacate the premises so soon after your arrival.”

  Thanmir shrugged. “As you’ve no doubt already guessed, I had an inkling you would be going to Aaltah soon.”

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering just how much he knew. And how he knew it. By his own accounts—and by everything she’d learned about him through discreet inquiry—he was not an especially influential or well-connected member of the court of Grunir, despite being the king’s brother. He did not sit on the royal council, and she did not think he would be kept apprised of any but the most critical details of politics. Certainly the war coming to Aaltah was critical, but only a tiny handful had any idea that Alys might have some part to play before it was all over.

  “What made you think that?” she asked, trying not to sound actively suspicious.

  Thanmir walked to the water’s edge, gazing into the crystal clear spring instead of looking at her. He was silent for a long time, and Alys began to doubt he would answer her.

  “Grunir will be sending what support we can to Aaltah,” he said quietly, “but the forces my brother is sending are all volunteers and men who belong to the Citadel, so my son will not be among them. However, I can say for certain that if he were marching into battle, then I would be right on his heels. The thought of losing another child is…” His voice choked off, and Alys saw that his eyes were shining. He blinked and cleared his throat, then shook his head.

  Turning to her and meeting her eyes, he said, “I don’t suppose I have to put into words how unbearable such a thought is.”

  Something dark and enormous and hungry rose from the depths of Alys’s soul, and for a moment she feared she would be entirely subsumed by the grief and guilt that would never leave her. It was very likely that, even if she didn’t believe herself necessary to the effort to stop Delnamal, she would have found some different reason why she absolutely had to go to Aaltah. She could not march into battle by Corlin’s side to protect him, but she yearned to be close, to show him how much she loved him and to be there if he needed her.

  Was that the true source of her conviction that she alone could take down Delnamal? Was her belief in Leethan’s vision nothing but a thin excuse manufactured to convince others she had a purpose for going?

  She turned hastily away from Thanmir, unable to face him, and unable to speak as she battled her demons. She heard his footsteps approaching and tensed, fearing he would attempt to touch her and she would shatter. But of course he had too much sense to do something so foolish.

  “I was never an especially religious man,” Thanmir said softly, “and what faith I had was shattered after what happened to Zallee. But for you, I will pray once more. I will pray for the safety of your son, and for your own safe return to Women’s Well.”

  Swallowing hard, Alys turned back toward him, though it took all the courage she could muster. Even though he did not know about Leethan’s dream and the end it might or might not have foretold for Alys, he had to know that there was a reasonable chance she would not survive. Aaltah’s navy—even with the support of Rhozinolm—was no match for Khalpar’s, and though the ground forces should give Aaltah an advantage in numbers, it was hard to calculate how much Delnamal’s dark magic would affect the battle.

  “If I do return,” she said, “and if I have not been given some reason why I must mourn again…” Her voice failed for a moment as some panicked little girl inside her screamed not to put such a thing into words, even words so vague—but she fought that terror down and finished with something approaching calm. “I will put aside my mourning,” she promised him. “And if you care to make a formal proposal, then I will give it my earnest and sincere consideration.” She gave him the smallest of smiles. “I would like to promise I will accept, but…”

  He returned the smile, and it was impossible to miss the spark of hope in his eyes. “But it is hard to think clearly about the future when war looms so close on the horizon.”

  She blew out a breath. “Yes. Just so.”

  Alys wondered if even this half-hearted promise was made possible in part by her conviction that she would not be coming back. But it was useless to speculate, and she knew that if she did come back, the world would be a very different place. Maybe she would even be ready to fully rejoin the living in that new and different world. And if not…Well, Thanmir was a most understanding man.

  * * *

  —

  Kailee had not thought it possible, but as the preparations for war intensified in Aalwell, she saw even less of her husband than she had before. She tried to tell herself this was a good thing—the last thing she needed was to give herself even more opportunities to pine after the man whose heart could never be hers. Unfortunately, it seemed she was perfectly capable of pining without having to be in his presence, and she hated herself for it just a little bit. Hated herself for being foolish and sentimental enough to lose her heart even when she’d gone into the marriage fully prepared to defend herself against that possibility. She had always thought of herself—and hear
d herself labeled—as strong-willed, but apparently her will was not as strong as all that.

  So it was that her heart gave a treacherous little lurch of happiness when one cold and snowy night, when the weather was particularly atrocious, Tynthanal returned to the royal apartments as the sun was just beginning to set.

  “Most of the court is snuggled up safely in their own houses tonight,” he told her cheerfully, “so I thought we’d forgo the formal banquet and have a quiet dinner here, just the two of us.”

  Kailee turned away from him and held her hands out to warm them by the fire. Not because she was cold, but because she feared her face might tell him too much about how welcome the prospect of a quiet dinner for two was. She wished she could have discerned some hint of romance in his voice, then cursed herself for being a lovesick idiot. And she reminded herself of Lady Chanlix and Tynthanal’s infant daughter. She had no right to long for romance.

  “That would be lovely,” she said, hoping her voice showed nothing of her burst of melancholy.

  The dinner table discussion quickly chased away even a shadow of the romance Kailee wished she’d stop longing for, dominated as it was by talk of the war that was coming. Tynthanal was far more open and honest with her than she suspected most men of Aaltah were with their wives, and though the news seemed universally grim, she could not help appreciating his candor.

  “I suppose we must be grateful for the snow,” she said. “I always used to look forward to the spring, but now I am dreading it.”

  “As are we all,” Tynthanal agreed. “Even those who usually seem eager for war and its so-called glory feel the dread of this one. If the information weren’t coming from so many reliable sources, I’d suspect Delnamal of starting these rumors of his powers for the express purpose of sowing fear in his enemies.”

  Kailee clicked her tongue and gave him a teasing smile. “And if you respected his intelligence enough to give him that much credit.”

  She could not see his answering smile, but she heard it in his voice. “Well, yes, that too.”

  The moment of levity passed, although Kailee could not have said what it was that caused her to suddenly go on alert. She could not consciously see any change in her husband’s body language, nor discern a change in his breathing, but something told her he had gone tense. She bit her lip in anxiety and hoped she was imagining things. But she was not.

  After a brief, fraught silence, Tynthanal said, “I think we should revisit the idea of you going back to Women’s Well.”

  Kailee crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to flinch. Here she was trying to manufacture some hint of romance out of their cozy dinner for two, and he was once again talking about sending her away. “I thought we settled that months ago,” she said.

  He nodded. “Yes. When we did not know that Aalwell would face an invasion in the spring. Circumstances are different now. Many people are—”

  “No,” she said through gritted teeth. “Ours may not be a marriage of love, but I will not be cast off like some inconvenient—” Her voice cut off on a hiccup, and she battled to regain control of herself. She was letting him see far too much.

  He reached across the table and covered her hand. “There is no question of me casting you off,” he said. “I merely want you to be safe and comfortable, and you will be neither if you remain in a city that will soon be under attack and might even be subject to a long and grueling siege. You can’t have failed to notice how many wives and children are leaving the city whenever the weather cooperates.”

  Kailee urged herself to slow down and think before she spoke. Having Tynthanal realize how she felt about him would add yet another layer of humiliation, and she had already been far too unguarded.

  On first blush, fleeing to Women’s Well before the attack was an eminently practical suggestion. As Tynthanal said, the wives and children of those who could afford it and had someplace to go were leaving the city at a steady pace. Not to mention that she had spent the happiest days of her life in Women’s Well and a part of her longed to return.

  So why wouldn’t she? She had the uncomfortable suspicion that her true motivations were far from logical, but her reaction to the very idea of fleeing was surprisingly visceral even so.

  With a little shake of her head, Kailee decided she would examine her true motivations later. What she needed now was a way to explain herself to Tynthanal. A way that would not make her sound like some lovesick female—and that would make enough sense that he would not take the decision out of her hands.

  “Do you honestly believe I would be any safer in Women’s Well?” she asked. “If Aaltah falls, then you can be certain Women’s Well will fall swiftly afterward. Fleeing might buy me another few weeks or even months, but the fact remains that my entire future rests on whether Aaltah can stand against Delnamal’s attack.”

  Although she was extemporizing, the words had the feel of truth to them. And that truth led to another.

  “I have spent all of my life being made to feel that I am useless,” she said, remembering having this same conversation with Oona. Only this time she had an actual solution in mind. “I cannot stand to be useless now when there is so much at stake, and I have an idea of how I can help the war effort.”

  Tynthanal sat back in his chair, and she imagined he was gaping at her in surprise. “What is it you have in mind?” he asked, and the fact that he didn’t dismiss the very idea that she might be helpful—and that his voice showed nothing resembling disdain or condescension—made her heart squeeze softly.

  “I’m going to suggest something shocking,” she warned him, and Tynthanal laughed.

  “I would almost be disappointed if you didn’t.”

  She smiled despite herself. “From everything you’ve told me, the Abbey of Aaltah is currently barely functional as a source of magic.”

  “That is true,” he agreed with a thread of caution in his voice. “All the more experienced abigails who used to reside there are now in Women’s Well, so they have no experienced guidance.”

  She nodded. “I am not an especially experienced spell crafter,” she said, for she had studied only briefly at the Women’s Well Academy before her marriage to Tynthanal had brought her to Aaltah, “but I do know how to make a good many different varieties of healing potions. I can teach the abigails how to make them, and we can stockpile them for when they are needed.”

  Kailee was surprised to find her pulse speeding with excitement at the idea. Her words tumbled out a little faster as she tried to forestall the most obvious objection she could see coming.

  “I know women’s healing potions are generally not as potent as the kinds of healing spells the Academy of Aaltah is no doubt producing even now, but surely in times of war it’s best to have as many healing options as possible. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t think my presence at the Abbey will do any further damage to my nearly nonexistent social standing.”

  Even with her perfectly logical arguments—and after his easy acceptance of her presence in the Women’s Well Academy—she expected him to be discomfited by her suggestion and to offer some form of protest. Even his silence in the immediate aftermath of her hurried rationalizations felt ominous, and his heavy sigh afterward had her shoulders drooping in anticipation.

  “I feel that it is my duty as your husband to see to your safety above all else,” he said, “and I expect your father will heatedly remind me of that fact if I don’t send you to safety.”

  Kailee bit down on her lip to stop it from quivering, for though his words sounded like the precursor to a refusal, there was something in his voice that made her hold her breath.

  “But it would seem hypocritical to accept my fifteen-year-old nephew’s decision to risk staying in Aaltah—and risk a great deal more than that as a cadet of the Citadel—and then reject my adult wife’s decision to stay. So if you are truly dead set on stayin
g, then I will not forcibly send you away.”

  “And will you let me train the abigails?”

  “As long as you understand that there might be unpleasant consequences. The court may snub you now, but they will likely be less subtle and polite about it if they feel you tainted by association.”

  Kailee snorted. “Most of those who’d be rude to me will be fleeing to their country estates anyway. And if I can teach the abigails how to produce potions and those potions save lives, then it is worth any additional slights I may have to endure.”

  Tynthanal leaned forward, and she could feel the intensity of the stare she could not see. “You do know that you could teach the abigails, then leave for Women’s Well afterward. Right?”

  “I know,” she said. “But I honestly don’t see much point in it. My fate and Aaltah’s are irretrievably intertwined. I will stay until my fate is decided, one way or the other.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Alys arrived at the royal palace in Aalwell late in the night, having spent far more time than necessary seeing to the delivery of all the magic items and potions she had brought with her from Women’s Well for the war effort. She knew herself well enough to recognize that her excessive fussing was an attempt to keep so busy with mundane details that she would not have to think about, nor even truly feel, the emotions her return to the land of her birth had engendered.

  But eventually, everything had been sorted out to the point that she couldn’t even pretend to have reason to linger, and she’d reluctantly accepted the need to go…home.

  It had been a long time since the royal palace of Aaltah had been her home. Most of her time in Aaltah had been spent in her late husband’s manor house, which Delnamal had long ago “confiscated” and no doubt sold to some other noble family. But she’d been born and spent all of her childhood in the palace, and there was some small part of her that would forever label it home, whatever her other feelings about it might be.