“Yes, but Jasper wants to turn it into a competition and then he gets angry when he loses.”
“You get angry when you lose, too.”
Rebecca scowled and picked up her book again. Willow shook her head in exasperation and pushed back from her desk, rubbing one hand over her belly. This one was riding high, and her maids all claimed that meant it would be a girl—but Ruthanne said it meant it would be a boy, and she had eleven children, so maybe she knew something Willow didn’t. Claudia knew, but wasn’t telling because Willow liked the surprise.
It had been more of a surprise to discover she liked children so long as they were her own. This was her fifth pregnancy, and she felt as comfortable as she had with all the others, had no morning sickness or any of the attendant pains her ladies-in-waiting told horror stories about. Even so, she felt more weary than in the past, and Claudia had suggested that thirty-seven was old enough not to have any more. Every time Willow woke in the middle of the night to get up and pee, she agreed with her.
She went to the window and stretched her back out, rubbing the small of it. Five months pregnant and she already felt heavy, though Claudia had assured her she was only carrying one child. Outside, the snow fell heavy on the courtyard far below, blanketing the stone that sprawled all the way to the distant wall surrounding the palace. How miserable the guards at the gate must be.
A fluttering motion in her belly startled her into spreading her palm flat against its surface. The tiniest prod as the baby kicked against her hand made her smile. “Rebecca, come feel this,” she said. Rebecca came to join her at the window, and Willow held her daughter’s hand against her stomach. Rebecca’s mouth went wide in astonishment as the baby moved again.
A knock sounded at the door, which opened without waiting for Willow’s assent. “Your Majesty,” Robert, her aide, said, “there’s a stranger asking to see you.”
“Tell her to make an appointment.”
“He is most insistent. I was told to tell you his name is Adam.”
Willow’s heart lurched sideways, and she closed her hand tightly on Rebecca’s, making the girl gasp. “Does he have a dog?” she breathed.
Robert’s brow wrinkled. “How did you know?”
Her heart started beating again, hard and fast. “Bring him here, right now. The dog too.”
“You don’t want—perhaps a receiving room—my lady, we don’t know him—”
“I know him. I wish to speak to him in private. Now, Robert.”
Robert shut the door behind him. Willow found herself pacing in front of the fire, clenching and unclenching her hands. Here, now, after all these years? You’ll know when it’s the right time, she’d said, but somehow she’d thought she’d know it was the right time, too. What did he look like now? Did he remember her? Did he regret leaving—was he here to reclaim his birthright? Of course not. That was ridiculous. She couldn’t stop pacing.
The door swung open. “Your Majesty,” Robert said, bowing.
A tall stranger entered the room. He looked Eskandelic, with dark hair and a dark tan, dressed for a Tremontanan winter. His shoulders were broad and his fingers were long and agile-looking. Sweet heaven, he looks like Kerish, how the hell did that happen? His eyes, deep brown and soft—his eyes she would have known anywhere. A brindled Kazhari sighthound stood at his side, perfectly still. “Close the door, Robert,” Willow said faintly.
“But—”
“Close the damn door and find something to do.”
The door closed. The stranger smiled. “Felix,” Willow whispered, and went toward him, her arms outstretched.
Felix’s smile widened. “Mother,” he said, and pulled her in for a hug. Her laugh turned into a sob, and then she was crying into his shoulder. He was so tall, taller even than Kerish, and his hands were enormous—she’d never seen Edmund Valant, but all Felix’s size had to have come from his birth father. The dog snuffled at her leg, friendly, not insistent, and Willow spared a hand to scratch the animal’s head.
“You’re pregnant,” Felix said. His voice was deep and soft, not at all the boy’s merry piping she remembered.
“I’m pregnant again,” she told him. “It’s something of a joke told where I can’t hear. Fertile Queen Willow, populating the House of North in a single generation.”
“I heard—” He stopped, and his gaze focused on a point beyond her shoulder. “Who’s this?”
Willow had completely forgotten Rebecca was in the room. She’d called him Felix, hadn’t she? She closed her eyes and cursed silently. “This is Rebecca,” she said, stepping away from Felix. “Rebecca, this is your big brother, Adam.”
“Hi, Rebecca,” Felix said. “Oh. Rebecca. I remember. You named her after—”
“The doll, yes, though I couldn’t bring myself to name her twin brother after Ernest. That’s not Ernest, though.” Willow pointed at the dog.
“No, this is Tessala. She’s one of Ernest’s get. He’s getting a little stiff and I didn’t think it was fair on him to make this journey in winter. But I had to come.” Felix guided Tessala to Rebecca’s side. “Put your hand out for Tessala to sniff, Rebecca.”
Rebecca tentatively extended a hand to the dog, who nuzzled it, then licked her palm. Rebecca’s face brightened. “I like her,” she said.
“She likes you,” Felix said.
“If you’re my brother, how come I never heard of you before?”
“You feel his presence every Wintersmeet and Solstice. You know your father and I told you about him, how he was studying in Eskandel,” Willow said.
“He’s bigger than I thought. Are you going to be King later?”
Willow drew in a breath. “No,” Felix said, “I am definitely never going to be King. But you might be Queen someday.”
“Mama says I have to have more self-control before that happens. I think I’ll be better at it than Jasper.”
Felix laughed. “I’ll have to take your word for it, since I’ve yet to meet Jasper.”
“Rebecca, take your book and go back to Martha. Fe—Adam and I have so much to talk about. Adam, let’s find Kerish.”
They were stared at by everyone as they passed through the north wing in silence, for despite Willow’s words, she couldn’t think where to begin. “How long have you been planning this?” she finally said. “Gianesh didn’t say a word in his last letter. And you’re a terrible correspondent.”
“I asked him not to. I wanted to surprise you. Though after the grilling I got from everyone I encountered in the palace, I think that might have been a mistake.”
“You could have told them who you were. We let it be known privately that we had a son living in Eskandel.”
“I wasn’t sure what you’d said about me, whether I was a secret or not. Another thing I might have learned if I’d been more forthcoming about my arrival.” Felix smiled ruefully.
“We try not to talk about you much, for your protection. We don’t want anyone doing the math and coming up with the right answer. But the other children can’t help but know, and one of them was bound to slip up if we tried to keep you entirely a secret. So your arrival won’t be a complete surprise.”
“Well, I’m here now—I’m so glad you were happy to see me. I was afraid…”
“My heart is full to bursting with joy. I’ve missed you, all these years. Missed seeing you grow up and turn into your father’s twin—such a shock!”
“I’m glad I don’t look like a Valant. I could never have come back otherwise.”
“Your features are like Terence’s, a little—you’re not as thin as he was. Mostly you look like yourself.”
They passed through the long gallery of portraits of the Kings and Queens of Tremontane and stopped at the end. Felix regarded the portrait of his birth father. “He looks happy,” he said. “I like to remember him as happy. And you look stern.”
“That’s because I had to sit for hours for the damn thing and wasn’t thrilled about it.” Willow scowled at her portrait, whi
ch stared forbiddingly back. “Come along. Kerish will be in the Scholia, this time of day.”
“Is it really a Devisers’ scholia, like you wrote?”
“He’s tried to bring in experts in many different intellectual fields, but his chief love will always be Devisery, and it shows. Maybe someday we’ll have several of them, but for now there’s only one Scholia.”
The door to the Scholia looked like the door to a broom closet, the knob worn shiny from generations of hands. Willow didn’t know what it had been before Kerish had appropriated the rooms for his pet project, but it had high ceilings and narrow windows and plenty of space for desks and lecturers. One of Kerish’s students saw them enter and hurried to greet them, but backed off when he saw Tessala. “Your Majesty, we don’t allow animals in the Scholia.”
“You’ll make an exception for this one,” Willow said, staring him down with her best withering glare. The student gulped and stepped back farther.
“I’ll wait here,” Felix offered.
“Where’s Kerish?” Willow asked.
“He’s in the Library,” the student said. “I can fetch him—”
“That’s all right, I can find him,” Willow said, striding across the cluttered room toward the ten foot tall oak doors that looked impossible to move, like a couple of trees rooted to the ground. But it was an illusion; the doors were perfectly balanced, and swung open at the lightest touch.
Beyond lay a landing from which descended stone stairs with no rail jutting out from the wall, and beyond those were the bookcases of the Library. Kerish had planned for expansion when he started collecting books, so for now the shelves looked bare, but Willow could imagine a time when the shelves would be full, how the room would smell deliciously of paper and leather. Carefully balancing with one hand on the wall—she was as graceful as ever, even pregnant, but her center of gravity was off, and it made her wobbly sometimes—she made her way down the stairs, calling out, “Kerish?”
“Be right with you,” Kerish said from the far side of the room, and from her position halfway down the stairs, she could see his dark head moving through the bookcases toward her. “You shouldn’t come down those stairs, they’re dangerous. I really need to have a rail installed.”
“Kerish, we have a visitor,” Willow said, tugging on his sleeve.
“A visitor? But the Scholia’s a mess—”
“Not a visitor to the Scholia. A visitor for the two of us.” Willow smiled. She couldn’t help herself; the smile bubbled up from within her, lightening her heart on the way.
“You’re hiding something,” Kerish said. “Is my mother here? Or my majdrani?”
Willow shook her head. She felt as if Felix’s presence were tangible, and the news of it might leap from her lips, spoiling the surprise, if she spoke of anything else.
Kerish didn’t even notice Felix at first. “Well, it must be someone wonderful if you’re this excited about it.” He glanced at Felix, then looked away. “Though I can’t think…”
His voice trailed off as his eyes met Felix’s. “Who is—” His mouth fell open. “Dear heaven. Adam.”
Willow was impressed that Kerish had more presence of mind than she did, not to call him Felix. Felix grinned at his father and walked toward him—yes, he was an inch or so taller than Kerish, but other than that… Willow felt herself begin to tear up as the two men embraced tightly, not caring what the rest of the Scholia teachers and students thought. Her son, home again after so many years…it felt like a miracle.
Kerish shooed them all out of the Scholia and petted Tessala’s brindled head. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but why now?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
That hadn’t even occurred to Willow, but Felix was shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “I looked in the mirror a few weeks ago and saw no trace of Felix Valant. And I said to myself, I want to go home.”
“To stay?” Willow said.
“Not forever. My life is in Eskandel now. But through Wintersmeet, if you don’t mind.”
Willow put her arms around him again. “Of course not.”
“What should we tell people?” Kerish said.
Willow eyed the two of them, so alike. “What we’ve said all along—that our son, who’s been studying in Eskandel for the last ten years, has returned for a visit. They don’t need more detail than that. And if anyone starts speculating about the succession, just glare. Like this.” She demonstrated, and Felix and Kerish burst out laughing. “Seriously, if we brazen it out, no one will question us. And I guarantee you no one will think Valant when they look at the two of you together.”
Felix and Kerish looked at each other. “I don’t see it,” Kerish said. “The skin color, yes, and the hair color, and the eyes…all right, I guess I do.”
“Kerish, go tell the children who’s here, and have Ruthanne prepare Adam a room,” Willow said. “I want to have a talk with my boy.”
The chilly halls were better lit than they had been when she’d become Queen, but they were still dim, their lamps casting strange shadows over Willow and Felix. “I was going to ask if we could climb Old Tower,” Felix said, “but I think that might be too much for you in your condition.”
“It leaves me seriously winded, yes,” Willow said. “Kerish can take you this evening, and you can light the brazier.”
“Light it? For a signal?”
“As a symbol of our victory. I had it lit the night of my coronation, then on the following Wintersmeet, then it became a habit. Now it’s lit every night. I don’t know how long we’ll do that, but it’s become a tradition.”
They found a long hallway lined with windows, from which they could watch the snow fall over Aurilien. The city looked like a model of itself, its dirt obscured by the drifting white. From their perch high above the city, Willow could see the Zedechen Bethel, where she’d gotten married—remarried—over ten years before. Speaking of the signal fire had stirred old memories. She drew an imaginary line from the bethel to a spot in Lower Town she’d never forgotten. “I never saw Rufus Black again,” she murmured.
“He was the man who let the army into the city, wasn’t he?” Felix said. “My memories of that time are fuzzy, but then I was dying, so that makes sense.”
“I’m so sorry, Felix. I couldn’t explain without risking you giving everything away. It was devastating, watching you suffer. I had to trust Claudia completely, that she was telling the truth, and I can’t tell you how many times I nearly told her to stop.”
“Don’t cry, Mother. It was worth it. I missed you so much, but I’ve been happy in Eskandel—happier than I could have been as King. You made the right choice.”
“For years I had nightmares of you coming back, accusing me of stealing your Crown.”
“I never once thought that.” Felix put his arm around her. “Whatever happened to Mister Rafferty?”
His words sent a dread chill up her spine. “Executed two years ago,” she said, “for the murder of an Ascendant and her former dowser.”
“I never really understood him. I was grateful for his protection, but I always felt he was watching me for signs that I was a Valant, after all.”
“That’s a wise insight. And Gianesh is well? He never talks about himself in his letters.”
“Very well. He’s been like a second father to me. Well. Third father, I suppose. I barely remember Edmund Valant.”
Tessala leaned against Willow, the weight of her body making her take a balancing step toward Felix. “And you have all the animals your heart could desire.”
Felix laughed. “The zoological collection is tremendous these days. We’ve made it semi-permanent and set it up so the public can visit. Including…” His voice dropped to a bass rumble. “The reptile house.”
Willow shuddered. Felix goosed her in the side and laughed like a madman. “I knew you were scared of snakes,” he exclaimed. “Not at first, but when I looked back over everything… and I dragged you through the collection…
I was so proud, and you were probably terrified the whole time. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not going to let a little thing like a ten-foot-long python keep me from appreciating what my son finds interesting,” Willow said, swallowing to still the tremor in her voice. “And I notice you didn’t bring one with you.”
“Not during winter. Far too cold.” Felix laughed again. “But I’ve seen najabedhi give birth to cubs. That was the most extraordinary experience.”
“I can imagine.” The baby kicked again, then executed a barrel roll that made Willow feel about to float off the ground.
“I brought Tessala for you,” Felix said after a long, silent moment. “Not you specifically, but for my siblings. If you want her.”
“That’s a princely gift, Adam. The children will be thrilled.”
“I’m excited to meet them. Brothers and sisters…it was something I comforted myself with, when I was lonely. Not that I was often lonely,” he hastened to assure her.
“Ah, Adam. We’ve missed you.”
Felix took her hand and squeezed it. “And are you happy?”
Willow looked out over her city. Wind whipped snow against the window, making it ring like a muffled bell. She thought of where she’d been ten years before, midnighting and alone, and how her whole life had changed one summer night, with a small face asleep on her pillow.
“I am,” she said. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
About the Author
Melissa McShane is the author of more than fifteen fantasy novels, including the Crown of Tremontane series, beginning with Servant of the Crown, The Extraordinaries series, beginning with Burning Bright, and The Last Oracle series, beginning with The Book of Secrets. After a childhood spent roaming the United States, she settled in Utah with her husband, four children and a niece, two very needy cats, and a library that continues to grow out of control. She wrote reviews and critical essays for many years before turning to fiction, which is much more fun than anyone ought to be allowed to have. You can visit her at her website www.melissamcshanewrites.com for more information on other books.
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