"Thank you."
"Lily, will I be able to nurse Gard by myself?"
"If your fever doesn't return... Let's wait for a month. As long as you do it carefully and the baby doesn't start to vomit or get a rash..."
"My milk will disappear!"
"Pump it out. The wetnurses will help."
Milia sighed.
"How do you know all that?"
"I was taught. I will teach you, too, if I don’t have to leave early. Don't worry; I won't leave you without help."
Milia smiled but didn't get the chance to say anything, as Count Chantaine walked into the room.
"Your Majesty. Your Grace."
"Count, glad to see you," Milia said from the bed.
"How are you feeling, Your Majesty?"
"The countess helped me a lot. I'm much better," she replied.
Chantaine took a closer look at her and smiled. True, the queen seemed much livelier. Her fever was down, too.
"I'm leaving you in good hands, Your Majesty."
"Yes, Count..."
"And this is my second-in-command. Leir Renard Loran, Your Majesty."
A dark-haired man behind the count bowed.
"Guarding you is an honor, Your Majesty."
"I hope we'll be safe with you," Milia said.
"I'm also leaving you a hundred men, Your Majesty. I trust everything will be fine."
Lily nodded. She would do anything to make it so. The dogs would stay with Milia and the children, Lily herself would sleep with one eye open, and the Virmans would guard the door, just in case. She would also get a taster to play it safe.
Horns blew in the distance.
***
Count Chantaine perked up.
"Alarm?"
Lily flinched. Milia raised her head and turned pale.
"Alarm?"
"Gael! Olav!" Lily barked loudly enough to shake the walls. The Virmans didn't have to be asked twice, thankfully sparing the doors in their path.
"Your Grace?"
"Be with the queen. If anything comes up, save her and the children."
Then she darted off behind Count Chantaine.
She didn't run far. The count had to join the troops; she simply needed a balcony. It was a good vantage point that also made it easier to escape in case of danger.
From above, Lily saw several people ride in and Count Chantaine dismount with a sigh of relief, followed by another man: a short hunchbacked guy.
They might have never seen each other in person, but Lily was willing to bet her emerald bracelet against a dead frog that that was Altres Lort himself. Whom else could the cat drag in? Figuratively speaking, of course. He clearly came on a horse. Giving silent thanks to Aldonai, she rushed to the queen at full steam.
The most interesting stuff was about to happen right in that room. Milia met her with an anxious look, but she didn't have to question her for long.
"Altres Lort, a dark-haired hunchback in his forties with a beak nose?" the countess fired away right off the bat.
"Yes."
The queen immediately calmed down and sank back against the pillows.
"I think he's just arrived."
"Praise Aldonai!"
Lily snickered.
"Should I leave? He must want to see Your Majesty."
"Lily, stop it!"
Milia even waved her hand. What kind of secrets could there be between them?
Lily was right. In less than ten minutes, she heard the clicking of heels on the stairs. The door flung open, and she finally saw the face of the man who used to write to her.
He wasn't tall and had light eyes, dark hair, clothes covered with road dust—and an incredible force of personality. Was it charisma? Nope! It was a concentrated solution! A commanding presence, fierceness, decisiveness...even Gardwig had less. He had been a lion, and lions were pretty lazy: strong, ferocious, needing time to get truly angry. That man, however, was no lion but rather a leopard. Not as big but dangerous, deadly, and completely devoid of mercy. He was a natural-born killer.
So that's what you’re like, King Gardwig's Butcher.
***
Altres Lort didn't risk riding into the palace with all of his men. First, he took a look: there were no banners. The king wasn't there. So he decided to approach Chantaine with five soldiers in his retinue: enough for starters. Later, after talking to the count, he would consider this question. Maybe Chantaine would send a pigeon himself.
What Altres hadn't expected was to see a locked gate and for everyone to...rejoice at his arrival? They didn't tell him anything, but the respect they gave him spoke volumes. What had happened?
That was the first hint. The second was armored soldiers ready to march out. The third was Chantaine himself, all dressed up in his uniform, running out to meet him and lighting up at the sight of the king's jester.
"Lort! You're just in time!"
Altres jumped down from the horse.
"What's wrong, Uncle Chant?"
They weren't related, but their age and their long friendship made that form of address fitting.
Chantaine didn't spare Lort's feelings and bluntly blurted out as if swinging a sword, "There's a mutiny in the capital led by Duke Alcine. His Majesty Gardwig is dead. The queen and the princes survived by a miracle. They're here. We were going to march out to Shedar and then the capital."
Altres flinched.
Fate, you're a cruel mistress.
He had raced, he made haste...and he was too late.
"When?"
Chantaine understood his meaning. He sighed.
"Two days ago."
"Two days?"
Aldonai!
If he just hadn't delayed. If he just hadn't stayed at the estate, if he just...
There was no "just." His brother was gone. Altres couldn't believe it; it seemed impossible. He had just said goodbye to Gardwig. He remembered him alive, cheerful, expecting a son; to return to his grave...
Why?
A wolfish howl tried to break away from his chest, and Altres clenched his teeth shut.
Quiet, Lort. Quiet. You'll survive. For your brother's sake, you'll survive.
"Milia..."
"She's alive and well. Her children are with her, all three of them..."
"Three?"
"She gave birth to a son. His name's Gardwig."
A stray tear nevertheless escaped his eyes, rolling down and getting lost somewhere around his collar. Even if Chantaine noticed it, he gave no sign of it and let it slide.
"May I..."
"See her? Come on. She'll feel better after seeing you, anyway."
"Tell me, how did it all happen?"
It was hard to talk through clenched teeth, but Uncle Chant figured out his question and patted Lort on the back.
"I don't know much myself, and it's all told by the countess. Her Majesty doesn't remember much."
"The countess?"
"Lilian Earton, have you heard of her?"
Altres almost lost his footing.
"H-how?"
"Gardwig invited her to examine the queen."
Lort gave a knowing nod, knowing who was to thank for his brother's leg.
"The countess was with her when everything started..."
Altres listened as they walked, and rage boiled inside of him.
I will kill you, he swore to himself. You will all drown in blood; I will tear you apart with my teeth and nails so you'll beg for death, pigs! You will pay! For this moment of weakness, for me being late, for...
For my brother.
I will rip out your insides and make you eat them!
Then the door swung open, and Altres saw Milia: pale, quiet, lying in a bed...and Aldonai be praised, alive. Her children were by her side, Ed and Cor, and loyal Bertha and a bundle wrapped in baby linen...
There was another woman there, too: tall, blonde, with bright green eyes. Altres had never seen her before, but he recognized her immediately—Her Grace Lilian Earton.
He bent his knee.
***
Altres didn't know whom he was bowing to. The queen? Lilian? At the moment, both of them were parts of a whole. Two women, one of whom he had been supposed to protect but failed, failing his brother as well, and another who was instrumental in saving the queen and her children, his nephews, Gardwig's life and legacy.
"Altres," the queen said happily.
The green-eyed woman narrowed her eyes but stayed silent, simply glancing at Lort, as if implying they needed to talk.
They did, Altres knew that himself. Of course, they did. But first, he needed to attend to the queen, who smiled at him and lowered her eyelashes, permitting him to come closer.
Altres stood up, reeling, approached the bed, and touched Milia's icy hands, warming them with his palms.
"Millie...forgive me."
The queen shook her head softly.
"I have nothing to forgive you for. Nobody expected—"
"I should have foreseen it."
"You're not to blame."
"Your Majesty," the countess interjected sharply. "I understand everything, but we'll have to release the count now. He'll be back as soon as he can."
Altres threw a surprised glance at the woman who dared to interrupt their conversation so boldly, only to be rewarded with an apologetic smile.
"Count, you've just arrived. You're all dirty, and here's a woman who's recently given birth. The room needs to be clean. That's first. Second, you need to march out for the capital with Count Chantaine. The king has to be avenged. I think you have better things to do than to deal with niceties. The time for them will come later when the enemies fall under the hooves of your horses."
Milia closed her eyes, agreeing with the countess.
"Yes, Alt. I beg you...don't let them get away! I don’t know who's there or what's going on, but make them pay!"
Fierce rage sparkled in her grey eyes. In less than a day, Milia had lost her love and almost lost her child and her life: enough to make a mother hen into a beast. She had her children to take care of and would show no mercy to her enemies.
That said, Altres was of the same mind. Death. Make them beg for it.
"Your Majesty, then we'll march out immediately..."
"And if you permit, Your Majesty, I will wave my handkerchief at the troops," said Lilian Earton, smiling. "I've always dreamed of it. Like the heroines of songs and sagas."
A shadow of a smile touched Milia's pale lips.
"Go, then, Countess."
"By your leave, Your Majesty." Lily returned a smile and left the room.
Everyone understood each other, but the etiquette was upheld, that nasty little thing.
Altres bowed and followed the countess.
***
Deciding not to drag it out further, Lily turned to face Lort as soon as they made two steps.
"We have a little bit of time, Count. What do you want to know?"
Her blunt delivery confused Altres. He was used to having to question people, not them offering him the answers on a silver platter.
He blurted out, "Why did you stop our conversation?"
"Because Her Majesty is still very sick," Lily answered truthfully. "I was afraid for her life. You see, delivering babies isn't quite what I'm used to, and then...she needs more rest. Learning about your arrival, about you intending to avenge her husband, about her being safe is all well and fine, but long conversations, apologies, and regrets should be saved for later. After we win."
"You're so confident in our victory?"
"I can always escape." Lily chuckled. "And I won't leave the queen here. But...for some reason, I think you'll do everything for you’re the sake of your brother and nephews."
Altres slowly lowered his head. Yes, the countess was truly a unique woman.
"To business?" Lilian offered, politely disregarding his state.
Well then. Altres tossed his head and moved on to his questions.
"How did it all start?"
Lily relayed the story for the... Which time was that? She had already lost count. Altres listened to her carefully, thinking and nodding to his thoughts. Then he summarized everything.
"Thank you, Your—"
"Lilian."
"Whatever happens in your life, Lilian, you will always have a brother."
Lily appreciated that. Not a friend, no, a brother. That was a much more serious claim. Whatever she did, whatever might happen in her life, Altres would always support her without asking any questions. Just like a sibling would.
Maybe it was an even stronger bond. Things happened between relatives, and love often turned to hate. Altres promised something more. What could she say to him?
"Altres, I will never use our kinship to harm Wellster. I swear."
She was rewarded with a grateful look.
"Are you going to storm Cardin?"
Altres shrugged.
"I don’t know yet. We’ll see."
Lily wasn't offended. What was the point in telling her the truth?
"I ask of you one thing: please send either birds or messengers back to us. It's easier for you, in a way: you're going into battle, and we're left here scared to death of waiting."
"I swear. Lilian, keep the queen alive for me, will you?"
Lily nodded.
"I'll do everything in my power. Forgive me my rudeness. I had no choice."
Altres waved his hand.
"Describe it again, where did the secret passage lead?"
The palace was a country within a country, of a sort. Closed territory, a castle, walls—just shut the gate and you could hold the ground for a long time. A secret passage might throw a spanner in the works.
That was good.
"It might not be so secret anymore," Lily warned. "But, I memorized that place."
She described the street and the house next to which they had exited, and Altres nodded.
"I know that passage."
"Good to have you back, Count."
Altres sighed.
"I was late."
"No. If Milia and the children were dead, then you'd be late. Right now, you still have a chance."
He lowered his head. It was hard to convince himself of that. Conscience was a beast scarier than any dragon.
Lilian ignored that.
"I think dinner's ready, and a hot bath. I won't keep you anymore, Count."
And she took off, not giving him time for useless words. Why'd he need them, anyway?
***
Altres Lort didn't permit himself to spend too much time resting or talking. He knew what had to be done, and he had the strength to do it.
He had a bath, feeling hot water relieve his fatigue, ate a meal, slept for three hours—no more than that, as he had a lot of work ahead—and paid the queen a short visit. After making sure that Milia was alive and well, he kissed Her Majesty's hand and left. They had a war to win: a small one, taking part entirely within Wellster, but that didn't make it any easier.
Lily caught up with him in a corridor. She hadn't been by the queen's side, having been called to attend to a cook who had scalded his hand with boiling oil. Still, how could she not see the men off?
"Count, wait."
Altres Lort slowed his pace without turning back. That was a bad omen.
Lily took a step forward and gave the embarrassed count a tight embrace. Chantaine also got a hug.
"Come back alive."
She was an officer's daughter. She knew how to give a send-off.
Just come back. After that, we'll pull you out, we'll nurse you, we'll keep death and sickness away from you. Come back safe. A kiss on the cheek, the sign of Aldonai, and a slight push forward—to victory.
Then she turned away and went to the balcony, her back straight, nary a tear in her eyes. The servants kept whispering something, but it didn't matter at that moment. Something else did.
The soldiers were lined up in orderly lines, their armor, helmets, and weapons gleaming in the sun. Bef
ore the day bowed, some of them might not be alive anymore.
Altres found her with his eyes and smiled.
A brother.
It felt so odd, yet so right. Who would ever think about that even a week ago?
Lily raised her handkerchief. The white silk fluttered in the wind, trying to break free of her fingers. She only let it go when the troops disappeared around the bend.
Gods, how had other mothers survived that? Sisters, wives... She didn't have family among those soldiers, but what did those who did feel? Those who had to see their loved ones leave to die? Where could one find the strength not to break? Where?
Only from those who could never return, remembering those who laid their lives in battle and drawing strength from their memory and their names.
Don't you ever shame those who died so you could live; don't you ever cry for those who march into battle now; don't you think of courting disaster! And as for our damp cheeks, we'll wipe them off with our sleeves—it's not like anyone can see them. The wind will dry our eyes in a minute, and the face will be as calm as ever.
That's how countess Earton walked back, her back tall, her smile confident. She knew that everything would work out. They left to win. There was no other option.
"Goodness gracious, how can it be..."
The whimpering came from the servants' quarters. It was a girl, still young, seventeen at most. She was crying in the corner, not wailing, but moaning, biting her hand to rein in a fit. Who had she lost? A brother? A lover? Did it really matter?
"Stop whining!"
The girl fell quiet, but another one, a bit older, but with a strong familial resemblance, chimed in.
"Your Grace, how can we not? I mean, they've gone off to their deaths..."
A stinging slap burned the maid's cheek.
"Silence! They've gone to bring victory. If I hear anything else, I'll order to have you whipped at the stables."
The maids recoiled. Still, Lily saw looks of approval in the audience, so she dealt the final blow.
"Don't you dare think any different! You'll invite trouble!"
Then she turned around and left. And only in the farthest room of the royal quarters, having locked it tight...
There are no atheists in foxholes.
Lily fell on her knees and joined her hands in a gesture that millions of wives and mothers back in her homeworld had used.
The Road of Kings: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 8) Page 10