The Severed Realm

by Michael G. Manning

  “That’s easy,” I replied. “He’d break the wall down and carry me out of here like a sick child. Then he’d defeat the guards with one hand and walk out. He’d probably save a princess along the way somehow.”

  Rose chuckled. “Alright. Let’s amend the question. What would Dorian do if he were here and he couldn’t break down the wall or any of the rest of that nonsense?”

  I refused to answer.

  “How about Penny? What do you think your wife would do, Mort?”

  “She’d break down the wall and carry me out of here like a sick child,” I said immediately. “I’m not sure about the princess, though. She has mixed views on them.”

  Rose laughed harder than anytime I could remember. Not her usual restrained, polite laughter, but a genuine belly laugh. There was something odd about the sound of it, however. Is she crying? After she had recovered, she spoke again, “You’re probably right. That sounds just like her.”

  The feeling was beginning to return to my feet, sending a burning, painful sensation upward. I flinched as her efforts began to hurt.

  Sensing my discomfort, Rose stopped, but she kept her warm fingers wrapped around my toes. “They’re gone, Mordecai,” she said suddenly. “But I think about them all the time. I wonder what they would do if they were in our shoes. I ask myself whether there’s anything I have forgotten, whether I’ve done enough. When I die and meet them again, I don’t want them to tell me I disappointed them.”

  “That’s impossible,” I insisted. “They would never think that.”

  “Really, Mort?” she asked. She was definitely crying. I could hear the tears in her voice. “I’m not so sure. It’s never enough. I don’t know that I’ve been anything but a failure at raising Gram. He’s become exactly what his father asked me to avoid. And Penny—what would she think of me now? Would she say I’ve done enough? Or perhaps she would think I’ve done too much.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, but I did. “Penny loved you, Rose. She would never find fault in you.”

  “I’m not so sure, Mordecai,” she answered. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.” Then she sighed and reached into her basket once more, pulling out several pairs of wool socks. Slowly, she put them onto my feet, until each had not one, but three thick layers of wool around it. Rising to her feet, she pulled the basket closer and sat down beside me. “Let me in,” she said.

  “Huh?” I was confused.

  “Wrap the blanket around the two of us so I can help warm you up,” she explained.

  She was fully clothed, so it wasn’t nearly as improper as it felt, but I still suffered a pang of guilt. Stretching one end of the blanket wide, I settled it over her shoulder and she scooted close until she was against my side. As cold as I was, she felt like a warm stove beside me.

  Rustling around under the cover, she slipped her hands out and unwrapped the roast bird that my senses had spotted there several minutes earlier. It was messy and greasy, and my hands were so clumsy that I dropped it several times, staining the blanket and getting lint on the pheasant. I didn’t care.

  Eventually I gave up trying to hold it myself and let her feed me, choking down as much as I could hold. When my stomach started to rebel, I told her stop. “I can’t eat anymore. You brought too much.”

  “The rest is for later,” she explained. “I’ll leave it here.” Then she extricated herself from the blanket and brought the water pitcher over, making me drink from it. “Don’t spill,” she warned. “We’ll never warm you up if you get water on you.”

  “It’s almost time for you to go,” I told her.

  “I’ll leave when I’m ready,” she insisted.

  We resumed our huddled position on the bench, but it really wasn’t comfortable. My body was sore and aching in too many places to count. “I can’t stay like this, Rose.”

  She thought about it a moment, and then brought out a small cushion from her basket. “Use this as a pillow,” she said firmly.

  “How much stuff did they let you bring in here?” I wondered aloud.

  “That’s not your concern,” Rose reprimanded me. “Lie down.”

  I did as I was told, finding the cushion was just thick enough to serve as a passable pillow for my head. Rose put the second blanket over me and tucked it carefully in along my back and legs, and then, before I could protest, she lay down herself, slipping through the chain and resting her head on my arm. Easing back against my stomach, she pulled the blanket over herself and held it closed.

  “Uh, Rose,” I began cautiously. I was still holding my right arm out straight, the chain dangling from it in a long loop before it met with the manacle on my other wrist.

  “Shhh,” she responded. “Put your arm around me.”

  I lay still, frozen for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Where should I put my hand? It wasn’t my first time spooning, of course, but this was not Penny. Most of the good options would likely see the death of me. I had already resigned myself to a bad end, but I wasn’t ready to commit suicide.

  Apparently deciding that I wasn’t going to listen, Rose found my hand and pulled it across her body, setting it against her stomach and pressing it firmly in place. Then she repositioned her arm, using it to cover my own. When I let my arm go slack, she warned me, “Hold me firmly, Mordecai. I won’t break.”

  That’s not what I’m worried about!

  “Or bite,” she added, apparently reading my mind.

  Then again, if that was the case, I was damned, well and truly. I tried not to think. Fortunately, my body was still so cold there was little danger of embarrassing myself in a more direct manner.

  As usual, her hair was pinned up in one of her ridiculously complicated coiffures, so I didn’t have to worry about choking on it. Instead, I found my nose close to the nape of her neck. She smelled inordinately good. I didn’t want to think about that either, so I focused on the more negative aspect of our situation. I stunk.

  I was used to my own stench, of course, being unable to escape it. But I couldn’t imagine that she found it pleasant. Why is she doing this? The answer was obvious. To keep you alive, dunderhead. But I still couldn’t help but feel she was doing too much. As well as I knew Rose, I knew this had to be humiliating for her.

  “What’s happening out there?” I said at last. “Are my children alright? They haven’t done anything stupid, have they?”

  “Moira and Irene didn’t take it well,” she answered. “I told them to stay home and they almost mutinied on me. Conall has been suffering as one of your guards, but every time I look at him he makes a guilty face, as though I’ve just accused him of murdering you. Matthew and Gram still don’t know. They haven’t returned from Lancaster.”

  “Good,” I muttered. “I was more worried about them than the others. They’re liable to do something stupid.”

  “Hah,” said Rose, then she gave a knowing chuckle. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Your daughters are in quite a state. I wouldn’t be surprised if Moira decided to enslave the entire city to set you free.” Then she shifted, pressing her hips backward against me.

  Oh, no. “Rose, you have to stay still,” I protested weakly.

  “Lift your knee a little,” she replied, ignoring my remark. “If you’re going to get the most out of this, you can’t be a prude. Your legs need warmth too.”

  I was already feeling warmer, and I managed to blush, but I did as she suggested, sliding my right knee up until it was across her left thigh and up against… I stopped my thoughts there. Of course, we had two skirts, my trousers, and the gown I was wearing between us, but that was little barrier to my imagination.

  “About Moira,” I said, wrenching my thoughts back into line. “What did she say?”

  “It wasn’t so much what she said,” explained Rose. “She wasn’t satisfied with what I told her. She threatened to root around in my head
to get the answers she wanted.” She described the brief argument, with Elaine and Irene coming to her defense, then she stopped.

  I felt terrible, for her and for my daughter. I also worried what would become of Moira if I died. I hoped that in time she would find a balance with her new abilities and her dark compulsions, but if I was gone, she might start down a path she couldn’t return from. “So they stopped her?” I asked.

  “No, she did something, and Elaine fell unconscious,” said Rose. “After that, I struck her and gave her a short lecture on proper behavior.”

  I choked. “You what?”

  “I’m sorry, Mordecai. I was overwrought, and I lost my temper. I’ve never done that with Gram and Carissa, but she was out of control. I even brought Penny into it.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You realize how dangerous she is, don’t you?”

  Rose was emphatic. “She’s a child, Mordecai. Yours and Penny’s, and very much like a daughter to me. She may be grown, but I won’t let her make that sort of mistake, not while I’m there.”

  To my knowledge, Rose Thornbear had only used physical force twice in her life. Once accidentally, when she brained her own father to escape from house arrest, and once when she had struck Dorian to snap him out of a murderous rage. “Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I’ll worry less if you’re watching over them after I’m gone.”

  Her hand tightened over mine, her nails digging into my skin painfully. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ll see you exonerated at the trial.”

  “Even the greatest counsel in the world can only do so much,” I told her. “Don’t blame yourself if it doesn’t turn out how you hope.”

  “You’ll be free the day of the trial, Mordecai,” she insisted. “No matter what it costs.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, and I started to say so, but the wall shimmered and became translucent. Our time was done. Rose bolted upright and was on her feet as quickly as a startled rabbit. She gathered her basket, leaving the food behind, took up her lantern, and without another word, she was gone.

  With a sigh, I pulled the blanket closely around myself and settled back down. After they hang me, I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do when I see Penny. The chill settled around me once more, but for the first time in days I felt warm, and the blankets were thick. I could last another day.

  ***

  Tyrion chuckled as the wall became solid behind her once more. “Have a nice time?”

  “A visit to a friend in a freezing dungeon cell can hardly be described so,” Rose retorted.

  The archmage gave a look of surprise. “Really? The way the two of you were snuggled together in there almost made me think you were planning to spoil my reward before the evening had arrived, but after seeing how chaste you were I began to feel sorry for you.”

  Startled, Rose looked at him in alarm. “You could see through the walls?”

  Tyrion nodded. “When necessary, the enchantment allows magesight to work in a one-directional fashion. What better time to observe him than when he has a suspicious visitor?”

  Furious, Rose stepped closer. “I don’t like you, remember that. No matter what I do this evening, I do it for him.”

  Tyrion grinned, and a shiver ran down her spine as she smelled the mint on his breath. “We’ll see how you feel about that after my visit. We didn’t have ladies in my time—didn’t have whores either, for that matter.” Leaning in, he breathed into her ear, whispering, “We just had sex.”

  Rose nearly dropped the basket, but she recovered it at the last second. Stepping back, she turned and began walking quickly away, her legs taking the longest strides possible. Tyrion laughed behind her. “Make sure you brush off your clothing before you take the stairs. There’s dust all over your skirts. You don’t need any more rumors going around.”

  Chapter 22

  By the time she had reached her rooms, Rose was already breaking down. She closed her bedroom door and stripped off her dress as quickly as she could manage, which wasn’t very quickly. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She fumbled with her hair, pulling out pins and undoing the braids frantically, as though by doing so she could dispel the feeling of suffocation that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Staring into the mirror, she wasn’t happy with what she saw. Follow the ritual, she chanted silently in her head. Going to her wardrobe, she selected a simple blue dress and put it on. She had no intention of dressing in her finest for what lay in store. That done, she began redoing her hair, choosing a simple style since her hands weren’t up to the task of anything more complex.

  When she finished, she looked in the mirror again. Her hands were still shaking, and a tear spilled unwanted down her cheek, spoiling the powder she had just applied. Rage filled her, and unable to stop herself, she unleashed a shriek that by all rights should have shattered the silvered glass in front of her.

  The bedroom door flew open, revealing Elise Thornbear’s worried features. “Are you alright?”

  Rose’s scream cut off, only half-done. Her mouth formed an ‘o’ as she stared at her mother-in-law in surprise.

  “Don’t just gape at me, girl!” demanded Elise. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why—why are you here?” she said, tripping over her words uncharacteristically.

  “I wanted a bath,” snapped Elise. “I probably won’t get a chance at one for a week or two after this. Now tell me, what’s going on?”

  Rose got to her feet and began pushing her mother-in-law out the door. “No, you have to go. You can’t be here when he comes. Please, Elise, don’t ask me anything else.”

  Elise refused to be herded. “When who comes?” She caught Rose’s hands in hers and her face grew more concerned. “Why are your hands shaking like this? Has someone done something to you? Talk to me, girl!”

  With her emotions already out of control, Rose began to cry. Forgetting her usual reserve, she told Elise everything, spilling her secret arrangement with Tyrion to the last person she wanted to know about it, Dorian’s mother. The confession was cathartic, while at the same time she knew it would forever destroy her in the eyes of her mother-in-law.

  Elise Thornbear’s eyes grew hard as she came to understand the situation, but her anger wasn’t directed at Rose. “It always comes back to this, doesn’t it?” she muttered. Absently, she reached out and stroked Rose’s half-braided hair. “Stop blaming yourself, girl. This isn’t your fault.”

  Dejected, Rose sat next to Elise, her head down. “I won’t let him die, Elise. Even if it costs me everything.”

  “Of course you won’t,” agreed the older woman. “Don’t think I’m looking down on you for this. If anything, you should have come to me sooner.”

  “I didn’t want you to think—to know—that I’m…”

  Elise shushed her. “Know what? That you’re a strong woman, willing to do anything to protect her loved ones? I already knew that. If ever I misjudged you, it would be in thinking that perhaps you valued your ideals above practicality. I’m more impressed with you now than ever. My son chose wisely when he married you.”

  That ushered in a new round of tears from Rose.

  “That’s enough, girl,” said Elise calmly. “Crying won’t solve anything. Let me help you. This doesn’t have to be as bad as you think.”

  “But I’ve never—you don’t understand—Dorian’s the only man I’ve ever…” said Rose, half mumbling.

  Elise clucked. “They’re pretty much all the same, once you get right down to it, from a functional standpoint. The trick is keeping your heart out of it. That’s where all the real pain comes from.” Getting carefully to her feet, Elise headed toward her own bedroom. “Wait right there. Let me get something for you.”

  When she returned, the older woman was carrying a small satchel. She reached into it and drew out a smaller pouch; from that she took out what looked li
ke a tiny bundle of leaves rolled together.

  “What’s this?” asked Rose, puzzled.

  “Nothing exotic,” said Elise. “It’s an old whore’s trick, barely a secret at all. You chew it, but don’t swallow. Use it when he gets here and spit it out right before the work begins.”

  Curious and faintly hopeful, Rose asked, “What does it do?”

  “It’s a stimulant. I use it now and then to give me energy, but more importantly for you, it produces euphoria and a mild sort of numbness. The euphoria will help keep you from weeping and the numbness will keep any pain at bay, if he turns out to be the rough sort.”

  “Will it help me forget?”

  Elise shook her head. “If anything, it makes you more mentally alert, but you won’t hurt, and you won’t care as much.” When Rose didn’t look entirely convinced, she added, “Trust me. When I was a Grey Lady, I helped a lot of the other girls get through this.”

  “I don’t want to get through this,” Rose protested.

  “Then you only have two other options,” Elise informed her. “Poison him or drug him. Both are risky, and I wouldn’t suggest using poison to an amateur like yourself. If things go badly, he’ll force you to take the poison in his place. Potential victims are vengeful like that.”

  “Drugging sounds better,” answered Rose. I can’t believe I said that.

  Elise left again, returning with an unopened bottle of wine. “This is your best bet then.”

  Rose recognized the vintner’s label, for it was a respectable wine she’d had many times before. “What will you put in it?”

  “Nothing,” said Elise, chuckling. “It’s already in there. I made this myself years ago, when my husband was still alive. I only have three bottles left. Don’t believe the label or the vintner’s mark on the seal; it’s a fake. The only drawback is that if you try it on an experienced wine connoisseur, he might notice the difference in flavor.”

  Rose smiled faintly. “I don’t think Tyrion’s developed a taste for wine.”