Voerell scowled. “The lords who answered his call will pay heavy fines. It’s not enough, but I can’t imprison half my nobility, not with Wonora and Hampsia both making threats. Their men will be pardoned. Kiellan is convening an ecclesiastical court to strip Vinhor of his priesthood. Captain Tennelan will be court;-;martialed.” Her face went hard and cold. “Nothing prevents me from executing them.”
“Oh.” Maryn gulped and looked away.
Barilan came off her breast and began to cry; Maryn propped him on her shoulder. After a bit of patting he released a loud burp. Relieved of his discomfort, he began to root at her shoulder. Maryn shifted him to her other breast and he resumed nursing happily.
Voerell watched all this business silently, an expression of both hunger and pleasure on her face. She waited until Barilan had been settled for several minutes to speak. “Carlich told us about his plan to remove Barilan’s soul from his body, and how he offered you the chance to replace it with your own lost child’s soul.”
Maryn couldn’t respond. She ducked her head, staring down at Barilan.
Voerell went on, her voice very soft, almost a whisper. “I don’t see how any mother could have refused that offer. Had it been me, I think I would have worked the spell. I am eternally in your debt that you chose not to, that you chose to sacrifice your own son for Barilan’s sake.”
Maryn didn’t want to speak, but she couldn’t let Voerell continue under such a terribly false impression. She turned her head away, and forced the words past numb lips. “Actually…actually, I did…try to work the spell. Carlich…he had his compulsion spell on me, that was part of it, but it was weak enough by then I could have fought it.” The words came easier and faster as she went along, until they tumbled out in a headlong rush. “But I didn’t want to. I wanted Frilan back, more than anything. So I let myself give in, and made the gestures. And the magic would have worked, except King Froethych’s spell stopped it. I’m Barilan’s milk;-;mother, you see; we’re kin. That’s how I knew the same thing would work with Carlich. I’m not as good as you think I am. You shouldn’t trust me with Barilan anymore, because I didn’t protect him. I would have killed him…” Maryn drew Barilan as close as she could without disrupting his nursing, tears clouding her eyes.
Voerell said nothing for a long time. When Maryn finally steeled herself to look up at her face, she found the princess gazing off into the distance.
Noticing Maryn’s eyes on her, Voerell shook her head and focused on her son. Her voice was rough. “If I can’t trust you, who can I trust? Didn’t I just say I would have made the same choice in your place? My father’s spell protects us all, from ourselves as much as from each other.”
Maryn could hardly believe it. Voerell had heard the worst there was of her, and yet was willing to overlook it. “You mean—you still want me to nurse Barilan? You won’t find someone else?”
Voerell took a deep breath and met Maryn’s eyes squarely. “Of course I still want you to nurse Barilan. Coewyn tells me the character of the wet nurse is imparted to the child through her milk. If that’s true, I couldn’t ask for a better nurse than you. If Barilan receives even a tenth of your honesty, your resourcefulness, your courage, he’ll be well served.”
Maryn blushed and looked down. There was nothing she could say to that.
Voerell was content to sit beside her in silence. Nothing further was said until after Barilan drifted off to sleep. Maryn eased her nipple out of his mouth and pulled up her shift. Voerell hesitated a moment, then reached for her son. “May I?”
Maryn wanted to refuse, but she couldn’t deny the princess. She gathered Barilan carefully, and they managed to transfer him into Voerell’s arms without waking him. Voerell settled back into the chair, cuddled Barilan to her shoulder, and rested her cheek on his head. She closed her eyes. Maryn looked away, not wishing to intrude on their intimacy. “If you don’t mind, your Highness, I’d like to get up and get dressed. I feel much better.”
“Go ahead. Speak with Litholl and let her check you over.” Voerell kept her voice quiet so she wouldn’t wake Barilan.
Maryn scooted to the far side of the bed and climbed out. At first her legs felt rubbery and blood rushed in her ears, but after a moment those sensations passed. Maryn went to the wardrobe and pulled on a fresh servant’s uniform as quietly as she could. Voerell didn’t stir or open her eyes when Maryn passed her on her way to the door. She pushed it open and slipped through.
Litholl was sitting by the hearth with Semprell. She rose and came to take Maryn’s hands. “You look much better. How do you feel?”
“Fine. Hungry. The princess said you should check me over.”
“I’ll do that.” Litholl spent a few minutes examining Maryn, looking into her eyes and mouth, smelling her breath, feeling her pulse, and questioning her further about her condition. At length she nodded. “I’d say you’re well recovered from the aftereffects of your spell. Sit down. Semprell, could you have the servants bring her a bite to eat?”
“Thank you.” Maryn was glad to sit down in the chair Semprell quickly vacated. Her legs were still a bit weak. But she couldn’t fully relax until she knew more. “Litholl, there’s a soldier from the garrison in Ralo. His name is Tior. He stopped Priest Vinhor from hurting Barilan; Princess Voerell saw. Do you know what’s happened to him?”
“No, but I’ll ask her.” Litholl rose and went to the bedroom door. She stuck her head inside for a few minutes, speaking with Voerell in a voice too low for Maryn to understand. When she emerged she spoke quietly with one of the guards, who nodded and left the nursery. She returned to the hearth and sat down next to Maryn. “He’s being held until the princess can speak with him. Carlich could tell her nothing of his involvement, so she thought it best to wait until you could give the full story.”
Maryn jumped to her feet. “I couldn’t have done anything without Tior’s help! I’ve got to tell the princess—”
“They’re bringing him here.” Litholl beckoned to the servant who arrived at the door with a tray. “Sit down and eat first.”
Reluctant as she was to delay, Maryn devoured the bread and cheese gratefully. A full stomach dispelled the last of her shakiness. As she finished, the guard arrived back, accompanied by two others who flanked the bedraggled Tior. A rip in the shoulder of his uniform flapped open, a bruise spread across one cheek, and he walked with a limp. But he brightened when he saw Maryn and hurried to her side. “You’re all right!”
She rose and threw her arms around him in a quick embrace. “Oh, Tior. How can I ever thank you enough?”
He shrugged and pulled away, blushing. “It was nothing. But you—that was amazing! It was like you were on fire with magic. I’ve never seen anything like it!”
It was Maryn’s turn to blush. “I’m lucky it didn’t kill me.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the bedroom door. “Come on. I’ve got to tell the princess everything you did.”
She ignored his protests. The guards nodded and let her open the door. Maryn held up a hand to warn Tior to be quiet, and he stilled as she led him into the bedroom. Princess Voerell hadn’t moved since Maryn had left; her eyes were closed, her head bowed over Barilan. Maryn worried that the princess had fallen asleep and dithered over whether to wake her, but Voerell raised her head. Her eyebrows rose when her gaze fell on Maryn’s companion.
“Excuse me for disturbing you, your Highness, but this is Tior. You saw how he stopped Priest Vinhor. And before that, in Ralo, he helped me so much.”
Voerell edged her body around to face them, careful not to wake Barilan. “Ah, yes. Go on, tell me more.”
Maryn poured out an account of all that Tior had done. Tior hung back so she couldn’t see his face, but she was sure it must be bright red. Voerell paid close attention, but Maryn couldn’t tell from her expression what she was thinking.
When Maryn finished detailing how Tior had interrupted Vinhor’s spell just before he finished it, Voerell nodded. “Come here, Tior.�
��
Tior stumbled forward and fell to his knees before her chair.
“So, has Madame Maryn given an accurate account of your actions?”
Tior squirmed and sank into a deeper obeisance. “Close enough.”
“You’re one of Captain Tennelan’s men?”
“Yes, your Highness.” Tior turned pleading eyes up to Voerell. “Please forgive me, your Highness. I should never have followed Captain Tennelan when he turned against you. I deserve to be punished. And I broke my oath and disobeyed a direct order—” He stopped and looked at the floor.
Voerell freed one hand from its hold on Barilan and waved expansively. “All is pardoned. Rise.”
Tior obediently climbed to his feet, raising questioning eyes to Voerell.
“I saw how you nobly and courageously defended my son. Such devoted service deserves to be recognized. I wish to offer you a position on King Barilan’s personal guard. I plan to assemble a division of the finest soldiers in Milecha to be responsible for his protection; I want you to be among them.”
Tior stared at her, his face pale. Maryn wondered if his weak stomach could stand the shock. He took a deep breath, and swallowed. “Your Highness, I’m not worthy of such an honor. Surely others—”
“I disagree. Your actions have proven you more than worthy. I know of no other I would trust as much with my son’s welfare. Will you accept the appointment?”
Maryn was unhappily certain that Tior would refuse, but he surprised her. He glanced at Barilan, gulped, took a deep breath, and drew his stout body to its full modest height. “Your Highness, I would be most honored to accept.”
“Excellent. I’ll inform the Captain of the Palace Guard. You can begin your duties tomorrow.” Voerell tilted her head, regarding Maryn and Tior. “I’d like to invite both of you to dine with me in my private quarters this evening. I think it would be wise for me to become personally acquainted with those to whom I trust my son’s safety.”
The prospect dismayed Maryn. She would have much preferred a quiet evening with Barilan to collect herself after all the chaos. But she dared not refuse the princess. And she was glad for the honor to Tior. “As you wish, your Highness.”
Tior brushed at his torn and dirty uniform. “I’m afraid I’m not in any fit state to dine with Milecha’s regent.”
“That can be taken care of.” Voerell gestured at the door. “Have the guards escort you to the garrison so you can get cleaned up and properly outfitted.”
Tior bowed to her and turned to leave. He gave Maryn a crooked grin as he passed. But he carried himself with a tentative assurance that made Maryn confident he’d rise to his new position admirably.
Maryn curtsied to Voerell. “Thank you, your Highness. I know you won’t be sorry.”
“I have every confidence in Tior.” She sighed. “I’ll spend a few more minutes with Barilan, and then I must leave.”
Maryn nodded and slipped through the bedroom door. Tior was following a guard toward the main entrance of the nursery suite. Maryn hurried over to him and clasped his hand. “Thank you again, Tior. I’m so glad we’ll be serving Barilan together. I promise, the worst you’re likely to encounter in this duty is a few smelly diapers. And they’re not even that bad. Though after he starts eating solid food they’ll get much worse.”
He grinned at her. “Well, I know how to deal with that.” He mimed putting a perfumed cloth to his face and inhaling. Maryn giggled.
Tior stepped back and saluted her formally. “I welcome the opportunity to protect my king and his nurse.” He turned on his heel to follow the guard out. But at the last moment he spoiled his official facade by glancing back and winking at her.
Maryn smiled to herself as she returned to her seat by the fire. She spoke quietly with Litholl for a while, expecting Voerell to emerge from the bedroom at any moment. But more than half an hour passed, and the princess remained within.
Litholl rose from her seat. “I must be going. I have several mothers I promised to check on today before Voerell called me. I think you should be fine, but if you have any difficulties, don’t hesitate to call me.”
“I won’t.” Maryn walked with her to the door.
After Litholl left, the nursery was quiet. Maryn stood for a moment, uncertain, looking at the bedroom door flanked by its silent guards. Finally she took a deep breath and nodded at them as she went to open it. “Your Highness?” she called softly. “Are you ready to leave?”
“No,” Voerell said. Maryn was about to withdraw, but the princess continued. “I must, though. I have official business to tend to that I’ve put off too long already.”
Maryn entered the bedroom and went to stand beside Voerell. Barilan was still deeply asleep, his head lolling on his mother’s shoulder. Maryn held out her arms, but Voerell made no move to surrender him. Maryn dropped her hands.
After a moment Voerell spoke. “Is there anything else you need, Maryn? Anything else I can do for you?”
Give me Barilan and go away. But Maryn certainly couldn’t say that. Instead, she thought for a moment. “The midwife in Ralo, Siwell Narila—I mentioned her when I was telling you about Tior. She risked a lot to help me. She’s the one who taught me to fight off the compulsion spell. If you could find a way to reward her…”
“It will be done. Do you wish me to bring her to Loempno to attend you?”
“Oh, no. Not unless that’s what she wants. I’ll be fine with Litholl if I need any help of that sort.” Not that she’d need a midwife’s expertise any time soon, Maryn reflected sadly. If a second marriage and more children awaited her somewhere in the future, it wouldn’t be for a long time yet.
Perhaps a similar thought passed through Voerell’s mind, for her face was pensive for a moment. Sighing, she rose to her feet. She stroked Barilan’s head, then extended him toward Maryn. “I must be going. But I look forward to seeing you in my quarters at suppertime.”
Maryn wasn’t looking forward to it. She was afraid the meal would be terribly stiff and awkward. What right had a simple servant like herself to socialize with the princess and regent of Milecha?
After she transferred Barilan into Maryn’s arms, Voerell paused, looking at the two of them. “Be sure to bring Barilan with you, of course. I want to spend more time getting to know him. My duties will never allow me the kind of relationship with him that you have. I accept that. I’m tremendously glad he has someone who can give him the love and attention he deserves. But I want to be closer to him than my father ever was to me, to any of us. Maybe if he’d spent a little more time with us, Carlich wouldn’t…or maybe not.” She shook her head, a quick, convulsive movement. “In any case, I’d like to make it a custom to share supper with you and Barilan whenever my duties permit.”
Maryn ducked her head. “Whatever you wish, your Highness.”
Maryn thought that was the end of the conversation. She expected Voerell to turn and go, but the regent just stood looking at her. Maryn shifted her feet. “Your Highness?”
Voerell reached out and put her hand on Maryn’s arm. “Would you…would you call me Voerell, please? When we’re in private?”
Maryn stared at her, scandalized. Voerell hesitated, then rushed on. “My family is gone. My husband, my father, both my brothers…I’m alone now. There’s no one I can relax with and be myself, not the princess or the regent. I know you lost your family, too, your husband and your child…Neither of us can make up for what the other has lost, but maybe, if you’re willing, we could try to be friends. We both love Barilan; that’s a place to start.”
The hurt and loneliness in Voerell’s words and voice resonated strongly in Maryn’s heart. But she resisted it and turned away, a bitter lump in her throat. “I’m your servant. Do I have any choice?”
“You do.” Voerell’s voice was fierce. “It’s not as princess or regent I ask this; only as another woman who’s suffered some of the same sorrows you have. You are free to refuse, if that’s your wish.”
Voerell to
ok a step back. Curtains began to veil again the openness and vulnerability that had shone momentarily from her eyes. Maryn felt a pang of regret to see the offered hand withdrawn, stung by her rejection. She found, suddenly, that she believed Voerell. The princess really did want to try to be a friend. To reach out, perhaps for the first time in her life, to another person based not on rank or status or wealth, but only on what their hearts shared.
Would the princess really be able to put those things aside? Maybe not, but Maryn realized she was willing to take that risk.
Maryn put out her hand. Voerell’s eyes widened, and she slowly reached to grasp it. Maryn drew a deep breath. “I think…I think I’d like to be your friend—Voerell. I’ll be happy to join you for supper, tonight and every night you’re able. I think Barilan will benefit greatly from spending as much time as possible with you.”
Voerell broke into an uncertain, uncharacteristically shy smile. “Well, in that case…I’ll see you then.” She gave Maryn’s hand a brief squeeze, released it, and strode quickly from the bedroom. Maryn trailed after her into the nursery. The guards converged on Voerell and ushered her into the hall. The door shut behind them, and all was quiet.
Barilan stirred in Maryn’s arms. He opened his eyes and began to fuss, chewing on one fist. Maryn hugged him close. “Hungry again already? Are you trying to grow as big as your grandfather before you’re a year old? Just because you’re the king now doesn’t mean you have to fill his shoes for quite a few years yet. Your mother will do that very capably until you’re ready.”
The infant king squirmed in her arms, showing her in every way he knew how that he was hungry, and thirsty, and needed the closeness and comfort of her breast. Maryn didn’t mind. Barilan would have to grow up far too soon, with far too many responsibilities thrust upon him at a very young age.
Who would he become, as the years passed? Would he grow to be as strong as his mother? Or might he choose to follow the same corrupt path as his uncle?
Maryn didn’t know. Nor did she know if anything she or Voerell could do would alter that outcome.
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