Willow let out a slow breath, trying not to reveal how tense she’d been. “Willow, I didn’t know,” Richard said rapidly. “I would never have agreed to it. I hope you believe me.”
“I do. It’s all right, Richard.” Though I sort of hope your father has a heart attack and leaves me dealing with a new Count of Waxwold. Willow resumed her seat and clasped her hands in front of her.
“Congratulations,” Lady Harcourt said. “Though you wouldn’t have given in to him even if you weren’t married the Tremontanan way, would you?”
“I absolutely would not. This was just ideal timing.”
The ceremony had been unexpectedly beautiful, Claudia instructing Willow in how to restore her family bond, then witnessing her and Kerish’s vows, the darkness of the bethel’s arched ceiling blending with the lanterns illuminating the statues of the lost gods. “It was something I could do for you, finding out about your family bond,” Claudia had said, “and this way you don’t have to worry about a huge marriage ceremony in addition to the funeral and coronation.” Willow had nodded, but all her attention had been for her husband, whose bright eyes told her he was as moved by all of it as she was.
“All of this drama has made me hungry,” Lord Frazier said. “I’ll have someone bring us food, if you don’t mind, your Majesty.”
“Call me Willow,” she said. “I think I’ll have enough people calling me ‘your Majesty’ that I’ll appreciate the ones who don’t.”
***
Willow folded the last shirt, woven of coarse linen and fraying at the hem. It was Felix’s favorite, probably why it was so worn—and why Willow hadn’t insisted he discard it for something more befitting a King. She laid it atop the others and closed the trunk, fastening the straps. Instead of lifting it to carry it to the wagon, she ran her fingers across the smooth leather. It was unexpectedly warm despite the chill in the air, as if it were alive. What an unsettling thought.
She hefted the small trunk and carried it out of the tent, trudging through the accumulation of snow that was growing higher by the hour. Fat puffy flakes drifted from the sky, blanketing the camp in cool silence. She tucked the trunk under the canvas covering the wagon bed and fastened it down. This would be her last trip in blessed anonymity. From now on, she’d travel like a Queen. The thought gave her a twinge of dread she immediately suppressed. She’d made her choice, and she was going to live with it. No matter how it broke her heart.
“Ready to go?” Kerish said. He wore a heavy black cloak and handed another one to Willow. “It’s getting colder, and we won’t be back before nightfall.”
“Let’s not keep them waiting any longer,” Willow said. She climbed up to the wagon’s seat and wrapped the cloak around herself. The horses stepped out smartly as she cracked the reins over their ears. They were no doubt even colder than she was.
The wagon lurched and jolted over the frozen ground where the Eskandelic camp was pitched. Ahead, the straight brown line of the road south from Aurilien was a dark gash in the landscape. Willow squinted through the snowflakes and tried to come up with reasons to be grateful. It’s not a blizzard. I’m not in my shirtsleeves. I’m not walking. All of them bumped up against the frozen core that was her heart and were absorbed by it, leaving no trace. I’m abandoning Felix. I’ll never see him again. He’ll hate me for what I’ve chosen.
“I sent word to the palace that we’d be there well after suppertime, and they weren’t to go to any trouble to prepare an elaborate meal,” Kerish said.
“I don’t think I’ll have much of an appetite, anyway.”
Kerish’s warm hand covered hers where they gripped the reins, white-knuckled. “Willow. There’s no other way.”
“That doesn’t make me like it.”
“I didn’t say you should like it. But you need to learn to live with it.”
“I will eventually. But not today. Please, Kerish, don’t try to make this better.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t like to see you suffer.”
“It doesn’t seem to bother you at all.”
He withdrew his hand. “Is that what you think?”
“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“Willow, I love him too.”
Willow didn’t reply. Of course he did. And people experienced grief differently. It just made her angry that he didn’t seem to be miserable—and her anger was irrational, so she kept it to herself.
They reached the road and bumped over the verge to head south toward the forest. The snow fell more heavily, and the horses tossed their heads, one chestnut, one roan, shaking away the flakes before they could melt. Willow hunched into her cloak and watched the gray smudge of the forest loom up before them. How different from the last time she’d traveled this road, in the heat of midsummer, Felix’s small hand in hers… She cursed, and Kerish said, “What is it?”
She hadn’t meant that to be audible. “It’s nothing. Memories.”
“I was thinking about the last time I came this way, with a three-inch hole in my side and blacking out every hundred paces. By the time I reached the house, I was hallucinating dozens of people I barely knew, all of them poking me where I was wounded and asking me why I’d been so stupid as to let that guard at me.”
“I had Felix to worry about. I had to carry him some of the time. He’s…stronger now.” She laughed; it sounded forced even to her. “He’d never had candy before. Eight years old and never had a piece of candy.”
“Hilarion was strict with him. You know he stood up to the guards who came for Felix? I had the boy already, but I heard him talking to them, buying us time…I heard them kill him. I never liked him much, but I respected his bravery.”
“I never did tell Felix Hilarion was dead. Now it seems kind of pointless.”
The forest reached out its bare, prickly arms to welcome them. A few last leaves clung to the branches, trembling as the snow struck them. The branches arched overhead, weighed down by snow and darkening the already dim sky. The snowfall wasn’t as heavy beneath the trees, and Willow took a moment to brush snow off her shoulders and hood. The horses seemed to appreciate the cessation of snow, and stepped out more quickly. The sounds of their feet crunching the snow, the wheels creaking and the occasional thump as the wagon went over a rut, were the only sounds in the world. Surrounded by the forest, Willow felt as if she’d been swallowed whole, her and Kerish and the horses and the wagon, all taken by some monstrous beast, and they’d never find the way out.
“That’s the first turning,” Kerish said, pointing. “I was afraid they’d be harder to see in all this snow.”
“Keep count.” Willow didn’t want to think about the number of turnings. She didn’t want to think about anything, wanted to be numb, her mind frozen in contemplation of the horses’ ears. But she had to come up with something:
Felix, you don’t have to be King.
No, I can’t be your mama.
They wanted
It was the only
You’ll be happier this way, Felix.
How to explain to him that she had to be Queen to protect the country? Would he think she’d usurped his proper place? Tricked him and everyone else so she could have power? Surely he was too young to think that way. It almost hadn’t occurred to her that if anyone knew what she’d done in faking Felix’s death, they might believe she’d done it for selfish reasons. As if anyone sane would give up what she’d sacrificed only for the sake of power.
Her eyes felt warmer than the rest of her, and she realized tears were welling up. She blinked them away fiercely and went back to contemplating the horses’ ears. How would it feel to be able to swivel your ears independently of one another? Someone of human intelligence might be able to come up with a coded language of ear-twitching. Rufus would love that. Another pang struck her heart. More sacrifices. Six months ago she’d have laughed herself sick if someone had told her today she’d feel maudlin over Rufus Black.
“This is it,” Kerish said, putting his hand
over hers. She pulled back on the reins, and the horses came to a halt in front of a narrow trail she barely recognized. The only familiar thing was the fat, leaning trunk of the tree Felix and Kerish had slept under while she bought them a wagon for their trip to Eskandel.
She clambered down after Kerish and helped him unharness the horses. “I hope no one comes along to steal the wagon,” she said. “They’ll need it for the trip.”
“I doubt anyone traveling through this mess is going to be interested in stealing household goods,” Kerish said. He gently urged the roan along the narrow path. Willow led the chestnut on behind him.
The crunch of snow underfoot felt deafening in this silent world, filled with snowflakes and the great clouds of misty breath the horses exhaled. Willow imagined the plants they crushed underfoot coming back to life in the spring, malformed from being stepped on, and tried to tread carefully. Whatever had happened to the snake Felix had caught? She shuddered at the memory of its lithe green body sliding around the boy’s fingers. She hoped it wasn’t here somewhere, lurking in the undergrowth.
The soft silence was broken by the sound of a dog yapping, whether in warning or greeting Willow couldn’t tell. Shortly afterward, they emerged into the clearing. The dilapidated house looked less ruined in its blanket of snow, though the hole in the roof was blacker in contrast to it. A fire burned near the house, next to which was pitched an Eskandelic tent. A horse that didn’t appear to be tethered at all browsed the snow near the edge of the clearing, looking for winter grass.
Ernest came frisking up to them, whining and panting to be petted. For an Eskandelic dog, he seemed remarkably unfazed by the snow. Willow crouched to scratch behind his ears. “You are earlier than I expected,” Gianesh said, rising from his seat next to the fire. “He is asleep. The Lady Claudia explained that he would likely sleep much for the next three days.”
“Can we…should we wake him?” Willow said, though her heart quailed at the thought of leaving without saying goodbye.
“I think—”
“Willow!”
A small figure darted out of the tent and flung himself at her. Willow caught Felix up in a hug, lifting him into the air. “Willow, I feel so much better!” Felix said. “Lady Claudia said I won’t ever get sick with that again.”
“No, you won’t,” Willow agreed. She began to set him down, then exclaimed, “Felix, you’re barefoot! Back into the tent, immediately. There’s no reason you might not come down with some other sickness.”
“Lady Claudia says being cold doesn’t give you a cold,” Felix said, but he let Willow carry him back to the tent and deposit him on a camp bed piled high with blankets and an enormous fur rug Willow thought might have been a wolf’s skin. “But she didn’t say what does. Besides, my feet are cold. Are we going to the palace now?”
“Um…” Willow looked back at Gianesh, who shook his head. So it was down to her to explain it. “No, Felix, we’re not going back to the palace. Lady Claudia and I…arranged things, and…everyone thinks you’re dead. You don’t have to be King.”
Felix blinked at her, his mouth falling open in an O. “I don’t have to be King?”
“No.”
A brilliant smile transformed his face. “Then you can be my mama for real!”
Surely no heart could take this kind of abuse without cracking. “No, Felix. I planned to, yes, Kerish and I were going to adopt you, but…things have changed. The ruling lords want me to be Queen.”
The smile fell away. “How can you be Queen?”
“It’s complicated. But if I don’t become Queen, Lord Quinn will go to war to make himself King, and Tremontane will suffer. You understand that, don’t you?”
Felix shook his head. “You can still adopt me. You can be Queen, and I can be your son—”
“They think you’re dead. If I adopt you, if you stay with me, they’ll want you to be King. And I don’t want that for you. You remember I told you once that sometimes parents want things for their children that their children don’t want? This is different. You’ll be miserable if you have to be King, and I want you to be happy.”
“But—” Felix’s eyes filled with tears. “But—Mama!”
Willow opened her arms and let Felix hug her, held him while he cried, and didn’t try to stop her own tears from falling. Distantly, she felt Kerish put his arms around her, filling her with his strong presence. She sobbed, and clutched her son to her heart, trying desperately even in that moment to find a way to stop this happening.
Felix’s sobs turned to great shuddering breaths, but he buried his face in her chest and refused to let go. “Felix,” Willow said, wiping her eyes, “Gianesh is going to take care of you now. He’ll teach you all about animals, and you’re going to be able to learn anything you want, and train Ernest for the sheteshi—”
“I don’t want to!”
“Felix. Look at me.” Felix raised a tear-streaked face to hers. “This is going to be hard. And it will be better someday. Just not today. But now you have to go with Gianesh. You’ll spend the night in Perelton, and in a few weeks you’ll be at the Serjian Principality, and after that you’ll be in Umberan.” And if Gianesh loves you at all, he’ll keep you too busy to grieve.
Felix sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “But I’ll miss you and Kerish.”
“It will be all right. I promise. Someday we will see you again.” He looked as if he were on the verge of crying again. Willow felt that way herself.
No. I’m not letting him go forever.
She tossed back her cloak, shucked her coat and pushed up her sleeve. “Give me your hand—no, your right hand,” she said, rolling up that sleeve too. She took his wrist in her left hand and awkwardly helped him put his hand around her wrist. It was easier to do this if both people were right-handed.
“Now.” She drew in a breath. It was probably stupid, but this was her family, and she wasn’t going to let it disappear. “Felix Valant, do you of your own free will give up all claim to the Valant name, to take the name of North to you and your children?”
“What?”
“Say yes. But only if it’s what you want.”
“Yes.”
A cool breeze, one that smelled of springtime, swept over Willow. Felix closed his eyes in surprise. “That felt nice,” he said.
“Don’t let go yet. Felix North, do you accept Willow North as your mother and Kerish North as your father, binding in blood and spirit?”
Felix’s eyes were wide. “Yes!”
It felt like being struck by lightning. For a moment, Willow felt her marriage bond to Kerish as she had the night before, only overlain upon it was her sense of Felix’s laughing spirit. She realized she was smiling and crying at the same time, and let go of Felix’s wrist.
“There,” she said. “Now you are a North, and our son. And twice a year, at the solstices, you’ll feel us no matter where we are, and you’ll remember that we think of you every day. And someday we’ll see you again. You’ll know when it’s the right time.”
Felix smiled through his tears. “Yes, Mama. Papa.”
“Let’s help Gianesh pack up camp, all right?” Kerish said. His voice was rough and deep with emotion, and Willow impulsively took his hand and squeezed it.
Half an hour later, the tent was bundled on the back of one of the horses, the fire was extinguished, and three horses and four people made their way back down the trail. Felix stuck close by Willow, who again led the chestnut. “Can I be Adam again?” he said in a quiet voice.
“That’s a good idea. Adam North. And you’ll have to dye your hair again.”
“Black hair makes me look more like Papa. Will you write to me?”
His voice trembled, like he was trying not to cry. Willow took his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll write to Gianesh, and he’ll give you my letters. Is that all right?”
“Yes. And I’ll write to you so you know all about Ernest, and the animals.”
“I look forward to hearing about
them.”
“I wonder if the snakes have had babies yet. You know they lay eggs?”
Willow shuddered. “No, I did not know that, Felix. Adam.”
They harnessed Gianesh’s horse and the roan to the wagon and loaded the tent with a minimum of fuss. Then Willow hugged Felix one last time before passing him to Kerish. “Gianesh,” she said, “this may be the biggest favor anyone’s ever asked of anyone. Look out for my boy, please.”
“I will care for him as if he were my own,” Gianesh said. “Care for yourselves.”
Kerish hugged Felix, then set him on the wagon seat. “Safe travel,” he said. The wagon trundled off into the growing darkness.
Kerish mounted the chestnut and helped Willow sit behind him. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“It still hurts. But it’s less painful. Kerish, was I wrong to adopt him? He’s going to live in exile for the rest of his life.”
“That’s why it was the right thing to do. He’s not alone, no matter how far from home he goes.”
Willow sighed. “I suppose home is the palace now.”
“I spoke to the chatelaine and asked her to choose rooms for us. Not in the east wing, what with all the deaths there recently. I don’t know how long it will take for the palace to feel like home.”
She rested her cheek on his broad shoulders. “My home is where you are, love.”
“Then we’re already there,” Kerish said.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The white linen shift came first, sliding neatly over her head, which was still damp from her morning’s wash. Kerish’s tinkering with the cistern had left it producing icy water, something he assured her was progress, so she’d washed as she had nearly every day for twenty-seven years, with lukewarm water from a pitcher she’d fetched from the kitchen. Or, at least, she’d fetched it the first time. The horrified expressions she’d gotten from the kitchen staff, horrified and embarrassed, had convinced her to send a maid after that.
Willow’s three maids—three maids, to do the job Caira had in Eskandel!—dressed her in silence. Willow thought they were intimidated by her, and all her gentle nudging hadn’t been able to break their reserve. She didn’t even know their names. Well, that wasn’t true, she knew their names, just not which woman belonged to which name. It disturbed her that they didn’t seem to expect her to learn them.
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