Mother of All

by Jenna Glass

  Alys had been further heartened to discover that the precautions she and Kailee and Leethan had taken when crafting the spell had paid off, and women’s Kai was now the only remaining gendered element. What the three of them had done had only complemented the Blessing, not replaced it.

  A month after the casting, life was beginning to settle into its new routine, and Alys was…well, “happy” was perhaps too strong a word, but she could at least claim she had found a level of contentment that had seemed impossible not so very long ago. She had let down her guard so much, in fact, that when Chanlix requested a private audience, Alys suffered no inkling of alarm.

  Until Chanlix was shown into her office and Alys got a look at the tension in her lady chancellor’s face.

  “What is it?” Alys asked in alarm, rising quickly to her feet, her throat constricting with fear. She had allowed herself to grow complacent already, to believe that she would face no more crises in the immediate future.

  Chanlix patted the air soothingly and smiled, although that did not entirely erase the tension in her expression.

  “Nothing’s wrong, Your Royal Highness,” Chanlix assured her. “I’m sorry to have alarmed you. I couldn’t decide if this conversation was best suited for an official audience or a personal visit, and perhaps I made the wrong decision in the end.”

  Alys swallowed down the dread and tried to relax, although her pulse was still racing with anxiety. “Surely you realize I’ve known you long enough to see that all is not well.”

  Chanlix shook her head. “I assure you, there’s nothing wrong. I just…” She cleared her throat. “I have to make a difficult decision, and as it pertains to the governance of Women’s Well, I decided it was best to consult you before I let myself come to any conclusion.”

  “Please have a seat,” Alys invited, gesturing toward the seating area near the unlit fireplace.

  When they were both settled, Chanlix got right to the point.

  “Tynthanal has proposed. Again.”

  Alys smiled fondly. Tynthanal’s first proposal had come immediately after his official divorce from Kailee, and though Chanlix had not turned him down, she had not said yes, either.

  “I suspect he will do so on a regular basis,” Alys said. “And I suspect you will eventually say yes.”

  Chanlix’s eyes shone with sudden tears. “Even if it means leaving Women’s Well?”

  Alys sighed, for she knew just how terrible such a sacrifice would be for Chanlix. Aaltah had not been kind to her, and although with Tynthanal as prince regent, the kingdom would undoubtedly become a freer and more welcoming place for women—even former abigails—Chanlix could never enjoy the level of freedom there that she had found here in Women’s Well.

  “You love each other,” she said quite simply. “Would you have any doubts about marrying him if he returned here?”

  “None,” Chanlix replied. “But he cannot do that until King Tahrend reaches his majority. We both wish he could, but…” Her voice trailed off, and she dabbed at her eyes.

  Alys nodded, her heart breaking just a little for her lady chancellor. And for her brother. Chanlix had even more to lose than Kailee by marrying Tynthanal. She would go from being the first lady chancellor in the history of Seven Wells to being nothing but the wife of the prince regent, with no real power. And there was no question that her past as first an abigail and then an abbess would be held against her by the court. She would be shunned and isolated, and it was desperately unfair. Alys knew she herself could never agree to live like that, not even for love. But there was also little Chantynel to think of, who would grow up without a father if Chanlix turned Tynthanal down and remained in Women’s Well.

  “I hope my brother isn’t pressing you too hard for an answer,” Alys said, though the fact that he had issued a second proposal so soon suggested that he was, indeed, pressing. “There is no reason to rush into a decision.” She shifted ever so slightly in her seat, and Chanlix suddenly grinned at her.

  “Are we still talking about Tynthanal’s proposal? Or have we moved on to Duke Thanmir’s?”

  Alys’s face heated. “He has not formally proposed,” she hedged. She had expected him to tender a proposal the moment he found she was out of mourning, but apparently he had meant it when he’d promised not to put forth an official proposal until she told him she was ready.

  Chanlix snorted. “If I’m not mistaken, he and his daughter are due to arrive for a ‘visit’ later today. How many visits will that be in total?”

  In theory, the teasing was better than the melancholy, but Alys didn’t allow it to distract her for long. “To answer your previous question, we are still talking about Tynthanal.”

  To Alys’s immense relief, Chanlix allowed herself to be diverted.

  “I would not call it pressure so much as persuasion.” She shook her head, her eyes going distant with some remembered conversation. “I don’t know how he’s done it, but he has somehow persuaded his grand magus—and by extension the royal council—to offer me a position at the Academy of Aaltah as an instructor. To teach those men who are interested—no doubt a handful at most—about what used to be women’s magic.”

  Alys suffered a small pang in her chest, for she realized now that even if Chanlix was not yet ready to voice her acceptance of the proposal, deep down inside she had already been persuaded. Alys had to admire her brother’s ingenuity, even as she dreaded losing the company of her closest friend. He had known that Chanlix could not accept a life of idleness, and he had engineered a way for her to have a purpose in Aaltah in addition to being his wife and Chantynel’s mother.

  “I suspect that offering you a position at the Academy was a prerequisite for being named grand magus,” Alys said ruefully. Draimel Rah-Draimir, the man who had served as grand magus under Alys’s father and Delnamal, had perished in the battle defending Aalwell’s walls, leaving the position open. Before the victory, Alys doubted Tynthanal would have been able to appoint the grand magus of his choosing without facing considerable resistance from his grudging council. But even though he had been forced to lead from a distance, the defeat of Delnamal and Draios—and the comparatively small loss of life that had resulted from the swiftly ended war—had gone a long way toward winning over those who had once branded him a traitor.

  Chanlix smiled fondly. “Yes, I’m sure it was. Just as I suspect he has already planted the idea in the grand magus’s mind that someday the Academy might want to consider admitting women as spell crafters.”

  Yes, Tynthanal had known exactly how to lure Chanlix out of the comfort and security of Women’s Well.

  “It won’t be easy,” Alys said, for she imagined there were a great many men in Aaltah who were appalled by the new reality and who would put a lot of time and energy into trying to reestablish their supposed magical superiority.

  “Nothing worth doing is,” Chanlix replied.

  Alys’s throat closed as she realized Chanlix had not countered her assumption that the decision was already made. “Words cannot convey how much I will miss you,” she said, her voice betraying a faint quaver.

  “I haven’t said yes yet,” Chanlix reassured her, but the shadow in her eyes said it was only a matter of time.

  “But you will,” Alys said with certainty.

  Chanlix seemed about to protest, then stopped herself with a sigh. “Most likely I will,” she admitted. “With your permission, of course.”

  “You know you will have it. As sorry as I will be to lose you, I want you and Tynthanal to be happy, which I don’t think you can ever fully manage if you remain apart. You are both too loyal to give your hearts to others, and you should not go through the rest of your lives alone.”

  Chanlix met her eyes. “And I would say the same to you.”

  Alys broke eye contact. “That’s not the same. I am not in love with Duke Thanmir, nor is he in
love with me.”

  “Maybe not yet,” Chanlix conceded. “But to an outside observer such as myself, there seems to be a certain…chemistry between the two of you. A certain spark when you are together. Neither one of you is yet prepared to feed that flame, but if you ever do…”

  Alys rolled her eyes. “You’re being a hopeless romantic. You know exactly what Duke Thanmir sees in me.” Although she had felt mildly guilty for breaking the confidence, Alys had shared the story of Thanmir’s daughters with Chanlix. “And for my part, I am considering our potential marriage as a business arrangement, not a romance.”

  “I’m not the one who’s hopeless,” Chanlix replied tartly, but there was a twinkle in her eye that took the sting out of her words. “Explain away the attraction all you like, but I know what I’ve seen.” She reached out and put her hand over Alys’s, peering at her earnestly.

  “I cannot tell you how happy I am that you’ve put away your mourning attire,” she said. “I hope someday soon you will find the strength and courage to put away the rest of your mourning, as well.”

  Alys pulled back, affronted, but before she could voice her protest, Chanlix continued.

  “You deserve to be happy once more,” she said. “And you’re allowed to be happy, despite your losses.”

  Alys shook her head, her eyes suddenly swimming. “You don’t understand.”

  “Of course I do. And I am not claiming you can be happy all the time. Nor am I claiming the grief will go away. But we are all better off leaving the past in the past and getting on with our lives. I have every intention of being happy with Tynthanal, and if I can find happiness after the life I’ve led, then so can you.”

  Those words pierced Alys’s defensive shell and sank deep into her soul. Chanlix had lived most of her life imprisoned in Aaltah’s Abbey, forced into prostitution and constant degradation and deprivation. Then she had been raped by Delnamal’s men and sent on what was meant to be something of a death march out into the Wasteland. Surely in those long and terrible years, she had believed she would never find happiness again. Surely she had believed herself broken beyond repair. And yet here she was, whole and ready to reach out and seize the life she wanted.

  “I don’t know that I have your strength,” Alys said, tears trickling down her cheeks even as she fought against them.

  “I know,” Chanlix said firmly.

  Alys sniffled discreetly and dabbed at her eyes, moved by her friend’s confidence.

  Could she find happiness with Duke Thanmir?

  It was hard even to entertain the possibility without suffering twin pangs of guilt. When Sylnin had died, she’d been certain she would never love again. And when Jinnell had died, it had seemed a betrayal of her dear daughter’s memory to set the grief aside for even a moment.

  “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met,” Chanlix said, reading her doubts.

  Alys scoffed.

  “You are!” Chanlix insisted. “Don’t think that I don’t know that you and Kailee and Leethan are responsible for the new magical equality.”

  Alys grimaced, wishing she could be open and honest with her best friend. But Kailee and Leethan had both insisted that the fewer people who knew the truth, the safer the three of them would be, and the fact that none but the three of them had been able to see the motes of sacrificial Kai had made the secret far easier to keep.

  “I haven’t the first idea how you did it,” Chanlix said, “and I doubt I would have guessed if you hadn’t told me the whole of Leethan’s dream long ago. But I have no doubt that I am right, even if you won’t confirm it.”

  “Even if it were true,” Alys argued, “Leethan and Kailee deserve just as much of the credit as I do.”

  “Leethan and Kailee did not create a new principality where women could live as equal citizens, and they did not make that principality thrive against all odds and at great personal sacrifice. You did that. Then you found it in your heart to let go of your hatred for Delnamal when you needed to, and I have no doubt that you will also find it in your heart to let go of the grief.”

  “I will never truly let go of it. Not completely.”

  Chanlix made a sound of impatience. “No, of course not. No one does. But you can let go of its constant burden.”

  Alys took a slow, deep breath. Letting go of the burden sounded like a splendid idea. Even with the threat of war now all but extinguished, being a sovereign princess would always entail more than its fair share of burdens. Especially as Women’s Well continued to grow, which she had no doubt it would. Over time, the other kingdoms and principalities of Seven Wells would become more kind and hospitable to women, but until then there would be plenty of women who fled oppression and had nowhere else to go.

  The thought of bearing that burden alone was…daunting. And even if she chose to marry Thanmir, he was no replacement for Chanlix. Not that Alys was selfish enough to ask Chanlix to stay just to make her feel less lonely.

  “Have I mentioned how much I’m going to miss you?” Alys asked, nearly choking on the tears she was once again holding back.

  Chanlix rose from her chair and spread her arms in an unmistakable invitation to a hug. Wordlessly, Alys accepted.

  “Remember that it won’t be goodbye forever,” Chanlix said, although her own voice sounded a little rough. “I will visit regularly, even if Tynthanal cannot get away as often as he would like. And we will have talkers.”

  Alys nodded mutely even as her heart gently broke.

  “You must promise to take care of Kailee,” Chanlix continued. “She deserves happiness, too.”

  “Of course,” Alys agreed. “She is young, and she is healing.”

  Chanlix met her eyes. “We both know that she grew to love Tynthanal, even if she would never admit it. Especially not to me.”

  “But she chose to leave him anyway,” Alys said. “That is a step in the right direction.” She smiled faintly as she imagined setting herself the problem of mending Kailee’s broken heart. Of course it would not be easy, but it seemed pleasantly achievable after everything else they’d all been through. “When she is ready, I will search high and low for any eligible bachelors I think are worthy of her and invite them to Women’s Well for a visit.”

  “Yes,” Chanlix said, frowning thoughtfully. “I think that will be good for both of you.”

  “Good, but hard,” Alys agreed, for she knew the effort was bound to remind her of the days when she’d frantically searched for a husband for Jinnell.

  “I have every confidence that the effort will be worth it.”

  Alys smiled through the prickle of tears. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  EPILOGUE

  When Elwynne was directed to a cozy parlor rather than an audience chamber or even Princess Alysoon’s office, she instantly wondered whether the sovereign princess had made an unexpected assumption about the purpose of her visit. Crown Prince Corlin was twenty-five now and sure to be looking for a bride. At fifteen, Elwynne was as yet too young to be on the marriage market, but that would not be true much longer. Ostensibly, Elwynne was visiting Women’s Well to spend time with Lady Leethan, who was ailing, but it wouldn’t be completely unexpected if Princess Alysoon thought Ellinsoltah was in the early stages of planning a marriage for her foster daughter.

  Elwynne lowered her head and curtsied, hoping she wasn’t blushing at her own line of thought.

  “Please do come in and make yourself comfortable,” Princess Alysoon invited. She and Prince Corlin sat on the opposite ends of a sofa, and she indicated with a sweep of her hand that Elwynne should sit across from them.

  “Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” Elwynne said as she took her seat. She couldn’t help a quick, surreptitious glance at Prince Corlin. He cut a rather dashing figure in the military-style shirt and trousers he wore despite the fact that he’d officially left the Citadel to concentra
te on his education in politics and diplomacy years ago. And he had a nice-looking face, to boot.

  Her blush deepened when he raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, showing he was aware of her scrutiny.

  “How fares your foster mother? And your sisters?” Alysoon inquired politely.

  “Everyone is well, thank you.” She smiled. “It isn’t public knowledge yet, but the queen gave me permission to share the happy news that she is expecting again.”

  Alysoon’s face lit up. “Happy news indeed!” Her eyes twinkled. “You will never be lonely.”

  Elwynne held her smile, although she suspected the path she had chosen for herself would be very lonely indeed. “In a way, that’s what I wanted to speak with you about.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have another, more private confidence I’m here to share with you,” Elwynne said. “One that I am trusting will not leave this room.”

  Alysoon shared a look with her son at that, and it was Corlin who responded.

  “As I’m sure you are aware,” he said, “we are unable to promise to keep a confidence if it might somehow be detrimental to our principality.”

  “I am aware,” Elwynne responded with a bow of her head. “But until I am ready to share this confidence with the world, I can promise you that it will have no effect whatsoever on Women’s Well.”

  Another shared look between mother and son.

  “Go on,” Alysoon prompted.

  And so Elwynne admitted—for the first time to anyone—that her foster parents had lied when they’d declared her to be Zarsha’s daughter. “Sovereign Prince Waldmir was my true father,” she said. “And as such, I plan to claim my rightful place on the throne of Nandel one day.”

  Elwynne braced herself for any number of unpleasant reactions. Ellinsoltah had proclaimed with great confidence that Alysoon would not laugh at her. But then, Ellinsoltah had not guessed her ward would be forced to share the admission with Prince Corlin, as well. Elwynne had requested a private audience with the sovereign princess, but she could hardly protest the presence of the crown prince. Elwynne didn’t know a whole lot about him, but she hoped that as the Crown Prince of Women’s Well, he had an enlightened view of the role of women in society.