∞
They found a very pregnant, very young woman lying in a makeshift bed of fir needles underneath a massive fir tree. The woman was evidently, and rather painfully, in labor. She stifled a scream when they came into sight and tried to crawl away, but her body was suddenly wracked with pain.
“Oh,” Peony cried. “Oh, my Lady Theo, she’s … she’s …”
“I know.” Theo swung down from her horse and slowly approached the sobbing woman, who was crouched, hugging her belly, as if just waiting for a chance, beyond the pain, to run. Hugh and Peony dismounted as well.
“No, no,” the pregnant woman pleaded. “Please just leave us alone.”
Theo looked around for the ‘us’.
“She means the baby,” Peony murmured, as she rather frantically twisted her fingers together. Davin and Georges, still on horseback, spread out a bit to watch for potential threats coming through the thick of the trees. Ambrose, in his seemingly natural state of disconnect, allowed his horse to meander and graze.
“We can help you. Won’t you let us help you?” Theo knelt by the woman but didn’t touch her.
“No, please. Please just leave me be.”
“There is something wrong with the baby,” Peony said, as she leaned over Theo to peer down at the woman.
“Well, help her then,” Theo said.
“I … I …” Peony stammered and stumbled back a step.
“What’s your name?” Theo returned her attention to the distressed woman, and received a nonverbal answer to her questions. Chelsey. “Chelsey. My friend here is a healer. She can help. Hugh, send Davin and Ambrose back to the castle.”
“No!” Chelsey cried. “Not the castle, oh, please, no.”
“Don’t be silly.“
“Please, please. They’ll take the baby. I have little magic and little money.”
“What does that matter? Where were you headed? We’ll take you there instead.”
Chelsey was wracked with pain again — a contraction — and didn’t or couldn’t answer.
“Look at her, Theo, this is where she was going, or at least as far as she got,” Hugh crouched to one side of her, so she could see his face.
“What? Why?” She turned back to look at Chelsey. By her clothing she was a servant of some kind; kitchen staff? Her hands were red and raw-looking. She’d hidden the pregnancy underneath layers of skirts and aprons. Hid it because she was unmarried? Hence her fear of having the child taken from her. “No one will take the baby, but you must let us help. We have to help the baby.”
“No, please.” Chelsey’s body lifted with another contraction, and Theo saw the blood seeping through the layers of her skirts.
“Peony! Why are you just standing there like an idiot?”
“I … I … cannot …”
“Your magic is reserved for the upper class, is it?”
“No, my lady. No. I’m for you. Your mother decreed —”
“That is absurd.”
“Not all of us cast off our destiny as easily as you so,” Hugh muttered and she gave him the glare he seemed to have been seeking.
Chelsey screamed with the next bout of pain. Theo clasped her hand, even though touching someone without permission was frowned upon.
Chelsey’s eyes flew open at the contact. “You,” she gasped through the pain, ”It’s you. I know who you are.” She reached a shaking hand up to touch a piece of Theo’s hair, which was tumbling out of her hood. “I don’t believe them, my lady. I don’t believe it when they say you are abnormal. That it is only those of us without magic who belong. That because of you, because of you — ” Chelsey screamed as if her life was being ripped from her.
“Peony! You will help Chelsey and anyone else who needs you. That is your destiny as I see it, that is what and why Spirit gifted you.”
“Yes. As you wish, my lady,” Peony rushed to Chelsey’s side as if she’d just been released from some sort of prison.
“Words have power. Your words,” Hugh murmured.
Theo ignored his comment to address her own concern. “What does she mean ‘abnormal’ and that ‘only those without magic belong’?”
“That’s always been the conflict, hasn’t it? Us verses them, since the Rising?”
“Yes, but my since my mother —”
“The baby isn’t facing the correct direction.” Peony, who’d previously laid hands on Chelsey and closed her eyes, blurted. “I’ve … I’ve never birthed a baby before.” Peony bit her lip in concentration. “Never even witnessed a birth … I’m not too sure I can … or how.”
Ambrose stepped forward and directed Peony toward Chelsey’s torso, with a quiet, “Hold her.” Then he knelt beside Chelsey and, with surprisingly tender hands, rolled her onto her back until she was resting against Peony. “It’s all fine and well, little lady,” he crooned. “I’ve had calves in trouble before.” He looked to Theo, as if for permission.
“I can control the bleeding, ease the pain and tearing, but the baby won’t make it if we can’t deliver it,” Peony explained.
“No,” Chelsey moaned, now faint with pain and blood loss. “Please. The baby.”
Theo nodded to Ambrose, and he immediately spread Chelsey’s legs and tucked up her skirt. Peony pressed her fingers to Chelsey’s forehead and Chelsey relaxed a little, but didn’t let go of Theo’s hand or tear her eyes away from her face. “I know who you are,” she whispered sleepily.
“You know who I am supposed to be,” Theo responded, as kindly and firmly as she could.
“Yes.”
Theo glanced up at Hugh, who seemed to be watching her rather than the birth.
After what seemed like eons, but was probably only seconds, a baby squalled.
Peony and Ambrose fussed about and got the babe cleaned and wrapped in a swathe of hand-painted light wool fabric from Peony’s market binge that probably cost more than a year of Chelsey’s wages.
“It’s a boy,” Ambrose proudly announced, as he held the child out for Chelsey to wrap in her arms.
“He’s healthy … now … there was a bit of trouble with breathing, but look how nice and pink he is now.” Peony almost sparkled when she smiled.
“A boy,” Chelsey murmured as she gazed adoringly down at the newborn in her arms. The babe seemed content now that he was in his mother’s grasp. Chelsey then struggled into a seated position and, with a look of devastated determination, she held the baby out to Theo. “You’ll take him. You’ll keep him safe,” Chelsey declared, and when Theo just dumbly stared at the baby, Chelsey’s determination broke a little bit. “Please, they won’t let him stay with me in the kitchens. I was, I was going to run away, but really I have nowhere to go. If they find me, they’ll take him. I couldn’t bear for him to be orphaned. You know what happens to those children.”
“I do,” Ambrose whispered, and then they all, Ambrose, Peony, Hugh and even the guards, turned to Theo.
The baby, still held out in the space between Chelsey and Theo, began to fuss.
“He needs to be fed, and Chelsey needs to sleep and heal.” Peony spoke to Theo rather than Chelsey, and it was suddenly up to her to determine the shape of the child’s life.
It was a terribly overwhelming thought, but she somehow knew she couldn’t back away from this responsibility.
She reached out very shaky hands for the child. Chelsey began to sob, but still willingly passed the child to Theo. Hugh sighed somewhere nearby, but Theo only had eyes for the little creature in her arms. She wondered at the seemingly complex ability — the ability to bear offspring — the magic of it all, the magic of such a primary function of life.
Chelsey reached over to stroke the child’s head. “Do you see, my lady? Do you see the magic in him?”
“Oh, yes,” Theo answered readily enough. “He is magic.”
“Oh!” Chelsey laughed through her tears. “I was so worried for him, that he would be Lacking … you’ll take him,
my lady? You’ll keep him safe?”
“No, Chelsey. You’ll keep him safe.”
“But … but … how?”
“Where is the baby’s father?” Ambrose broke into the conversation, and Theo looked up to see all eyes on the babe in her arms. Even the horses seemed taken with this new life that had revealed itself before them.
“I … I don’t know,” Chelsey admitted. “He came with the servants of some diplomats from over the Great Sea. He was so charming. A valet, but he left. Before I knew.”
“A valet,” Theo mused. “If you didn’t already work at the castle we could have said you were widowed.”
“Lie, my lady?” Chelsey was aghast. “Under the very roof of the Apex?”
Theo sighed and looked to Hugh. He looked up from the babe, and shrugged his shoulders. “This is as it has always been, Theo. If you want to change the rules, you have to accept the position your birth has offered you.”
She looked down at the child. His spirit was such a tiny little spark next to Hugh’s brilliance or Peony’s glow … she could walk away … she should walk away, for who was she to be making all the decisions. But this babe with his tiny spark would get so lost beneath all the other bright lights. This little spark so needed a safe place to grow and blossom.
Ambrose rubbed the child underneath the chin, and the baby tried to curl its tiny hand around his work-worn finger. “What about me, my lady?” he asked, and she instantly picked up on his thoughts.
“You offer yourself, Ambrose?”
“I would my lady, if not for this scar, if not for my past. I have no money, but I can work.”
“Peony can take care of the scar over time, if Chelsey would have you.”
“Oh, my lady, a traitor’s mark … it would be illegal.”
“My mother has assured he’s paid those debts a thousand fold now.”
Ambrose took this as permission to offer himself to Chelsey. “Would you have me if I promised to be true and help you raise the babe?”
“I … I …” Chelsey stammered.
“That is a big offer, between two people who barely know each other,” Hugh observed.
“I know I have a lot to atone for,” Ambrose said, “but I figure under the Lady of Light’s protection we’ll be well.”
“Perhaps we can find a place, a little out of the way, but nearby, for you to get to know each other, as Hugh has pointed out. Peony could visit to check on the babe and hopefully fade the scar, and maybe in a few months we will have a wedding to celebrate.”
“You are thinking of a farm, a friend of Ambrose’s, and a lady who grows lavender,” Hugh added.
“I am. I am thinking that a couple of more purses of coin will be welcomed along with two able-bodied people to help on the farm. Plus, who could turn away this babe?”
“Not you.”
“No, not me.” Theo started to hand the baby back to Chelsey. “Are we well settled then? For now?”
“Oh, my lady. I must ask … I must ask —”
“You’ve asked more than enough, haven’t you?” Hugh cautioned.
“Let her ask, Hugh.”
“Will you bless and name my baby, my lady? He needs your blessing, before anything else. Will you bless him?”
Theo looked at the baby she so carefully held in her arms and realized it was the first time she’d ever held a baby at all. He was so innocent. She started to speak —
“No.” Hugh, who was now standing behind her, placed a hand on her shoulder. The contact was startling. “Now is not the time or place.”
“This is exactly the time,” Peony interjected.
“Words have power. Theo has proven that twice in the past hour alone. She hasn’t trained.”
“She has!” Peony insisted. “Haven’t you, Theo?”
“Ten years or so ago,” Theo murmured, still looking at the child in her arms and trying to ignore Hugh’s warm hand on her shoulder. Oddly enough, she felt more certain of herself after he’d cautioned her, and she was concerned that this was some part of his magic. Like before when he’d steadied her in the west wing. Something in his spirit settled hers … she wondered if he felt it himself …
“Theo remembers ten years ago like it was yesterday,” Peony smugly retorted to Hugh, who sighed.
“Words have power. Your words. Remember the candles.”
Theo brushed her fingers lightly over the knuckles of Hugh’s hand, which he reflexively squeezed, and then released as if he’d forgotten it was there. Then she passed the baby back to Chelsey, and knelt more formally before mother and child.
“Do you see him, my lady?” Chelsey asked again in a reverent whisper.
“I have no gift for fortune telling. There are things in this world I am only beginning to understand, but yes, I can see him. He is brave and strong, for look how he has already fought his way into this world. He is intelligent, for see how he listens so carefully, and tries to understand what is happening around him. And he is well loved, by a mother who would have willingly given up her life for his. Not everyone is so naturally blessed. Those are the blessings I, too, would bestow upon him. The ones he has already claimed to be his.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the babe’s forehead. “I name you Carwyn, and I so bless you with your mother’s love as witness. Be brave, strong, thoughtful and true to yourself.”
Chelsey sighed contentedly and held her hand up to Ambrose, who lifted her to her feet and then carried her and the baby over to his horse.
Theo rose and turned to Hugh and Peony. “Peony, will you see them to the farm with Davin? Hugh, have you Ambrose’s coin?”
Hugh handed the bag of coin to Peony, along with the remainder of his own. Theo added her own coin to the bag, and Peony, still sparkling with smiles, quickly returned to settle mom and babe on the horse.
“And you sneered at destiny this morning,” Hugh said, without looking at her.
“Circumstance is not the same as destiny.”
“With you around, isn’t it?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The horses’ hooves bit into the dirt-packed road as their group moved out of the forest and back on to the mountain pass. Peony and Davin, leading Ambrose, Chelsey and the babe, turned south back to Sammy’s sister’s farm, while Theo, Hugh and Georges continued north toward the castle. Theo would have liked to smooth the request for shelter with Florrie herself, but didn’t want to overly influence her. Peony and the purse of coins would communicate well and fine.
The sun, which had been indecisive about shining, joined them on their journey homeward. Theo caught the sound of Peony’s laugh though she was behind them now, as if it had been carried by the slight breeze that urged them forward. She noticed the tenor of sound was different than it had been. Not that Peony hadn’t meant the emotion before, but now she was actually, fully happy.
Theo threw her head back and lifted her face to the sun. The light wind lifted her hair and her horse danced underneath her, full of life and energy. When they’d parted ways, everyone had been smiling, mostly at the mewling babe in Chelsey’s arms, but the joy was infectious and Theo relished the warm easiness of it.
She glanced over to Hugh to find him watching her. His seat on his horse was effortless and sure. The sun played havoc with the lighter gold streaked through his hair. Even with his eyes squinted against the sun, the admiration in his gaze was unmistakable, and she allowed herself to express the smile that rose from her fluttering belly in response to his open look.
Hugh’s smile widened, and Theo threw back her head and laughed. She laughed like it was the only thing she could, or even wanted to do. It was, in this moment, a good life.
She let her stallion have its head, laid forward over its neck, and cast a grin at Hugh. The horse’s muscles bunched underneath her thighs as the animal sprang forward into a rapid gallop.
She gathered the horse’s mane in her hands and tried to mold herself with the mighty beast, so not to
impede its joyful run. She could feel Hugh alongside her, his horse matching hers stride for stride without effort. He laughed a low, deep rumble that she swore she heard in her belly more than her ears.
She turned her head, her cheek practically pressed to the horse’s neck, to look at Hugh, and he reached for her, reached to run his fingers through her hair, which streamed out like a red sail loosed from its winches and pulleys.
Her horse shied away from Hugh’s beast, and Hugh slipped back a few paces to play follow the leader once again.
The road fell off to the right as they climbed the mountain, racing for home. As they veered around a tight corner, Theo could have touched the cliff face if she’d wanted to, and the castle appeared.
She glanced back to see that Georges had tried to keep pace with them, but as the grin faded from the Corporal’s face, she quickly brought her attention back to what was in front of her.
The gates to the castle were closed, which was odd. And, looking closer, she saw crossbowmen on the walls.
She reached for the reins to slow her horse’s pace as Hugh surged forward.
Something was wrong.
“Open the gates,” Hugh yelled, as he approached them and then circled his horse back toward her. “The princess returns!”
Hugh, all the laughter completely drained from his face, galloped back to her. His beast still danced as if trying to entice his rider into further flight.
The gate began to open. The guards on the walls slid into defensive positions, but they were not aiming their bows at her and Hugh.
Hugh returned to her side and all but pressed his horse against hers. Georges was already occupying her other flank.
“Look east,” Hugh murmured, as they continued to trot toward the opening gates.
A small army seemed to be setting up camp in the fields that lay to the east of the castle walls. She hadn’t felt them, which was odd, until she reached out to test the ward that protected them from mind mage detection.
A trio of soldiers was raising a flag, a standard of a line-drawn fox on a solid green background, but they had stopped to stare at her.
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