“She may well be past the age of childbearing,” her father said, finally. “But that is one of the things we will discuss.”
Alicia’s son made a gurgle. Alassa eyed the child, feeling cold hatred competing with an odd flicker of maternal instincts. Alexis was lovely, yet …
She looked away, wishing she could take Jade’s hand. Her father was sending her away for at least a month, perhaps longer. A formal state visit – princess to baroness – could take a very long time, particularly if both sides were trying to outmatch the other. She knew it had to be done, but she wasn’t blind to the real reason her father was sending her away. He’d invited his mistress – and illegitimate child – to the castle and he was sending his daughter away to make sure she didn’t interfere.
Damn it, she thought, angrily. Perhaps she should go see her mother. But what could her mother do? The Queen had no power, practical or formal. When the baby grows up …
Her stomach churned, again. She swallowed, hard. The sandwich tasted like ashes in her mouth. She didn’t dare touch the wine, yet if she called for juice or water … the castle water was safe to drink, she’d been assured, but very few people drank it. Her father would certainly start wondering what was happening if she ordered water.
She looked at Alicia. The older girl flinched. Alassa felt a flicker of pleasure, even though she knew it was wrong. Alicia hadn’t really been given a choice. Her entire life had been directed by others, first her parents and then the king and her husband. Alassa knew she should feel sorry for Alicia, but she didn’t. Alicia’s pregnancy had caused all kinds of complications and would cause others, as Alexis grew to manhood. The cute little boy was definitely a civil war waiting to happen.
“I trust life in Winter Flower is suiting you,” she said, tartly. It was hard to keep her voice level. “A barony requires your constant presence, doesn’t it?”
Alicia must have heard the ice in her tone. But she managed to keep her voice even.
“There is much work to be done,” she said. “But I feel that I have made a good start, even though vast numbers of peasants and serfs have fled north.”
“Oh dear,” Alassa said. She dared Alicia into a verbal trap. “Was the barony poorly managed before your return?”
Jade kicked her under the table, none too gently. The barony had been managed by one of the king’s agents, who’d reported directly to the king. Any criticism of the agent could easily be taken as criticism of the king. And who knew where that might lead?
“My parents invested poorly,” Alicia said, ducking the trap. “It requires a long period of good governance to repair the damage.”
Alassa scowled. Alicia probably had more experience with verbal duels. Alassa had never really had to learn to debate, even at Whitehall. By shifting the blame to her parents, Alicia had neatly avoided pointing the finger at the king’s agent – and, through him, the king.
Even though the agent deserves the blame, Alassa thought. Agents never had long tenures. It wouldn’t do to let one get too connected to the land. And so they took as much money and crops as they could in their year, even if it risked stripping the peasants of their seed corn and the estates themselves of any chance for long-term planning. The barony was probably weakened quite badly between the executions and Alicia’s confirmation.
King Randor looked amused. Alassa resisted the urge to glare at him. What had he hoped to achieve by inviting Alassa to share a table with her enemy? She and Alicia might have a great deal in common – they were both women in a man’s world – but there was no way Alassa could forgive Alicia for having her father’s child. Her half-brother was a potential threat to her power. She thought, grimly, about the spellbooks in her private chamber. There were ways to curse the little brat, ways that would leave no traces for investigators to find … she could do it, easily. She wanted to do it.
Father might have his suspicions, she thought, but …
“Winter Flower will regain its prominence soon,” King Randor said. “The Baroness and her husband have done a good job.”
The Baroness has, Alassa thought. Lord Burrows hadn’t said a word. Does he do anything apart from showing off his muscles and posturing?
She told herself, sharply, that she should be grateful. Lord Burrows had recognized the child as his own. It would be hard, perhaps, for the king to claim the babe, particularly as the little brat was heir to Lord Burrows as well as Alicia. And yet, it wouldn’t be difficult for something to happen to Lord Burrows. Alassa knew, all too well, just how ruthless her father could be. If Lord Burrows became a problem, Lord Burrows could suffer a tragic accident that would leave his son without a father. And then the king could step in …
Her stomach heaved, again. She swallowed.
“I need to be excused, Father,” she said, carefully. She was not going to throw up in front of her rival. Or her father, for that matter. He might have accepted her as his heir, but she was damned if she was showing him any trace of feminine weakness. “I’ll discuss the formal plans for the state visit tomorrow.”
The king eyed her for a long moment. “You are excused,” he said, gravely. “And take care of yourself.”
He knows, Alassa thought.
She rose carefully and nodded her goodbyes to the guests. Alexis giggled, damn him. She knew he was too young to know what he was doing, but still … the surge of hatred almost bowled her over. It was all she could do to keep her magic under control. Jade stood, putting out an arm automatically. Alassa took it and allowed him to lead her to the door. Perhaps it was a sign of weakness. Right now, she didn’t care.
I’ll have to tell him formally, Alassa thought. And then …
She shrugged. Right now, the important thing was not being sick. Everything else could wait.
Chapter Eight
“I THINK YOU SHOULD DRINK THIS,” Jade said, holding out a bottle. “It’ll settle your stomach.”
Alassa eyed it, warily. They’d barely made it back to their chambers before she’d thrown up, thankfully into a bucket. There hadn’t been much in her stomach, but the dry heaves had hurt more than the actual vomiting. She hadn’t felt quite so bad since she’d swallowed a tainted potion and been forced to expel everything, just to save her life. That time, she’d felt better afterwards. Now … her stomach still felt uncomfortable.
She took the bottle and eyed the label. “Will it hurt the baby?”
“No,” Jade said, flatly. “It’s just designed to make you feel better.”
Alassa frowned, then lifted the bottle and poured a small amount into her mouth. It tasted better than most potions, but the taste was still unpleasant enough to make her want to spit it out at once. She swallowed it instead, then replaced the lid. The taste of cloying milk ran down her throat, making her stomach churn angrily. But the unease slowly started to settle as the potion did its work.
“Thank you,” she managed. There weren’t many men who’d have stayed with her when morning sickness began to bite. But then, she supposed Jade had seen worse. “You’ll need to get more of this potion.”
“I think the sickness should go away in a while,” Jade said. He sounded unsure of himself. “But you really should see a healer before too long.”
“I will,” Alassa promised. She rubbed her forehead. It felt damp with sweat. “I’m sorry.”
Jade put an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry for what?”
Alassa shook her head. “Father’s playing games, again. That child …”
She bit down hard on her temper. “That child is a civil war waiting to happen.”
Jade gave her a sharp look. “He’s a little boy. Barely even a toddler.”
“He won’t stay that way,” Alassa pointed out, sharply. “Ten years from now, he’ll be old enough to lead troops. My father led troops when he was twelve. Fourteen years from now, he’ll be old enough to sit on the throne and rule as his own man. And then …”
Jade squeezed her, gently. “He’s not a recognized royal son, Alassa.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Alassa said. How could she expect Jade to understand? He hadn’t been raised amongst the aristocracy. “Father can perform a paternity test and recognize him at any moment. And then …”
She could see it, all too clearly. Her father had always wanted a male heir. Given a decade or two, he could train Alexis to take the throne … and put his daughter aside. He could do it too, she knew. The Assembly probably wouldn’t stand up to their king over her. And enough noblemen had their doubts about a female ruler that they’d be unlikely to lodge more than a handful of pro forma protests. She would be put aside and that would be that.
Magic boiled in her veins, threatening to break loose. She wouldn’t stand for it. She wouldn’t tolerate it. It was her throne, damn it! She’d worked hard to be worthy of being her father’s heir. She wasn’t going to stand aside for a little brat so young he was still in diapers, a baby boy who was nothing more than her half-brother. She would not stand for it.
“You think he’ll take the throne,” Jade said, carefully. “But he’s still a toddler.”
“Which makes it all the easier for someone to manipulate him,” Alassa pointed out. There had been a handful of child-kings over the past three hundred years. None of their stories had ended well. “Alicia might be plotting to put him on the throne too.”
Jade twisted, forcing her to turn her head to look at him. “You’re the acknowledged heir,” he said, quietly. “Your father can’t take that from you, can he?”
“He can, if he gets the Assembly to agree,” Alassa said. It wasn’t easy to remove someone from the line of succession – the noble families hadn’t wanted to set a precedent that could be used against them – but it could be done. “And he has enough clients in the Assembly to ensure the vote goes his way.”
“You’re also--” – Jade made a show of thinking about it “--twenty-two years old, with an education in magic, a growing reputation for serving as your father’s right hand and, last but not least, a loving husband and a child of your own on the way. Exactly how is a one-year-old baby going to stand against you?”
Alassa flushed. “He won’t stay one year old!”
“No, he won’t,” Jade agreed. “But you have a head start. Alexis can’t even be confirmed as heir until he’s … what? Fourteen? Fifteen?”
“Fourteen,” Alassa said, grimly. Her own confirmation had come at sixteen. Further proof, if she’d needed it, that her father had been reluctant to declare her his heir. “Before then, someone would have to appoint a regency council or a regent.”
“So you have thirteen years before the boy can become a genuine threat,” Jade pointed out, wryly. He kissed her, lightly. “You’ll have plenty of time to build up your power base and become untouchable. And you’ll also be the mother of the next monarch.”
“Unless our child is a girl,” Alassa said. Her cheeks heated as she recalled Harrogate’s snide remark. “The aristocracy might prefer a male child.”
She scowled as another thought occurred to her. Her child – their child – would be a year younger than Alexis, assuming there were no complications. Alexis might pose no threat to Alassa herself, but he might well threaten Alassa’s daughter. Or even a son. If Alexis’s paternity was an open secret, he might think he had a claim to the throne. She gritted her teeth as she realized something nastier. Alicia and her husband might have no choice but to push their son’s claim. They had good reason to fear for him when another monarch took the throne.
“But our child will be legitimate,” Jade said. “Doesn’t that make a difference?”
Alassa shrugged. “They’d still want a boy.”
“They have you,” Jade said. “And they’ll have our child.”
“They don’t respect me,” Alassa said. She tapped the space between her breasts. “They just see a silly girl.”
She kicked herself, mentally. If she could go back in time, she’d find her past self and give her the thrashing she’d so richly deserved. She could have spent her first decade learning everything she needed to know to run a kingdom, as well as forging ties to the younger aristocrats and building a patronage network of her own. Instead, she’d been a little brat who’d made everyone’s lives miserable. Any nobleman who knew her by reputation had extremely good reason to prefer an untested toddler to a bratty princess. And they’d be right, too.
And a toddler on the throne would give them more time to lay their own plans, Alassa thought. The Barons were nothing if not persistent. They’d recovered from Alexis III’s purge and built up their forces to the point they’d been able to gamble on a coup against Randor and Alassa. And they’d come far too close to success. The kingdom needs a strong leader.
“Respect is earned,” Jade said. “It isn’t given.”
“I know that,” Alassa snapped. She wished, not for the first time, that she’d taken advantage of the chance to learn from Lady Barb. “And no one respects me.”
Jade sighed, heavily. “Do you remember your first year at school?”
Alassa scowled. Whitehall had been an education in more ways than one. She’d learnt, the hard way, that some people just wanted to take advantage of her – and that they’d drop her like a hot rock if they felt they couldn’t use her. And she’d also learnt that some people were true and brave, even if they were commoner-born. And …
“Yeah,” she said. She leaned against him, silently grateful for his presence. “I remember.”
“I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do for the longest time,” Jade said. “There were times when I thought I’d go into Charms, then days when I just wanted to learn enough to ensure a good living and spend the rest of my time having fun. It wasn’t until Fourth Year that I decided I wanted to be a combat sorcerer, then I had to spend most of Fifth Year preparing for Martial Magic. My father was quite scathing about me not being ready for the class.”
Alassa lifted an eyebrow. She hadn’t met Jade until he’d already been in Sixth Year. She’d never realized that he’d had problems deciding what to do with his life. But then, she’d always known what she’d be doing. Either she’d take the throne or she’d be married off to someone her father chose. Common-born or not, Jade had had far more options than she’d ever had.
“I worked hard,” Jade said. “I mastered the magics. I marched up and down the hills until I was fit and healthy. I walked onto the field, back when class began, in the certain knowledge that I had done far more than the bare minimum. And, on that field, there was a scrawny girl who was a little firstie.”
“Emily,” Alassa said.
Jade nodded. “She wasn’t ready for the class,” he said. “We had Aloha, of course, but Aloha was a freaking genius. Everyone knew she’d go far. Emily … well, it was painfully clear that she wasn’t remotely ready for the class. She didn’t know the spells; she certainly didn’t have the strength or endurance to fight bare-knuckled against a man or march for twenty miles without stopping. We thought her … her father had arranged for her to take the class. She certainly couldn’t have gained admittance without someone pulling the strings.”
He smiled, humorlessly. “The smart money insisted that she’d be gone within the month. She’d either quit when she realized she just couldn’t fake it or Sergeant Harkin would kick her out. The old bastard wouldn’t have stood for someone joining his class who didn’t have the potential to succeed, no matter who was backing her.”
“And yet, she persisted,” Alassa commented.
“Exactly,” Jade said. “She never complained. She never whined to the sergeants. She never even quit. She just carried on; studying hard to fill in the gaps in her knowledge, exercising hard to build up her strength and endurance. She’d won a little admiration and respect even before Shadye attacked Whitehall and she saved us all. And Alassa, she deserved it.”
Alassa smiled. “I know.”
Jade’s face lit up as he smiled back. “I’m not saying she was perfect, because she wasn’t. She was almost always at the bot
tom of the class. There were just too many gaps in her knowledge for her to do more than scrape through the exams. And … and she was weak and untrained, at least at first. But her determination to just keep going won her a great deal of respect. She made mistakes, yet she learnt from them. I’ve known more experienced magicians who couldn’t do that.”
“I know.” Alassa giggled. She’d met her fair share of fools. Magicians were rarely idiots – magic killed stupid magicians – but they tended to have their own set of blinkers. “She deserved success.”
“The events in Tarsier proved that,” Jade agreed. “She killed a third necromancer.”
Alassa nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed. She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your point?”
“My point is this,” Jade said. “You cannot demand that the noblemen respect you. That’s bratty behavior and, more importantly, it implies that you don’t deserve respect. Emily wouldn’t have won any respect if she’d demanded it or cried when she didn’t get it. You may be your father’s acknowledged heir, but you need to earn respect for yourself.”
“Which isn’t easy when I can’t lead troops in battle,” Alassa said, sourly.
“Respect doesn’t just come from leading troops,” Jade countered. “You can start, perhaps, by being a firm, but fair ruler. Your father is already sending you out on state visits. You can parley them into a power base of your own, if you try. And your judgements are already winning you respect.”
Alassa’s lips twitched. “The noblemen won’t be pleased if I keep ruling against them.”
“They’ll respect someone who stands her ground,” Jade told her. “And someone who is prepared to change her mind if she is proved wrong.”
Alassa made a face. Too many aristocrats were reluctant to ever admit they could be wrong, seeing it as a sign of weakness. Their enemies would jump on them the moment they even hinted that they might be wrong. But anyone with a brain knew there was no point in playing out a losing hand. The problem lay in changing one’s mind without coming across as weak and indecisive.
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