by Wendy Wang
“Caius, what is it?”
He raised his head and leveled his gaze on her. “Trygg Weller is alive and recovering in Casilladin.”
“Why did he go there?” She asked. “Shouldn’t he have reported back here?”
“He says he was injured by the Bohrs. He was closer to home than he was to here.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” She said softly. “We’ll have to let Eryn know. She’s been going out of her mind with worry.”
Cai nodded. “He has the child with him. He’s asking permission to leave the child with his cousin, a healer who is staying with his mother. He wants to return to Ethavia for Eryn.”
“Jerugia’s crown,” Neala whispered. “What are you going to do?”
“I think he’s right, we should extract Eryn. It’s getting too dangerous and she’s being stubborn, she won’t leave without good reason.”
“And you think he will be good reason?”
“She asks about him every time she communicates with me. She cares deeply for him. So yes I think he is the perfect reason.” He leaned over his desk and took a sheet of paper and began scribbling.
“So you’re going to tell him to leave the child with his cousin?”
“For now. Until we can arrange safe passage for her and the child.”
“Safe passage to where?”
“To here of course. Where else would we send her?”
Neala gaped and she sat back on her heels uncertain of her feelings.
“Why the face?” Cai cocked his head, surveying his wife.
She scowled. “What is wrong with my face?”
“Well, you look as if Griselda’s ghost just presented herself. Are you all right?”
“Yes of course,” she said. Her fingers found the edge of her sweater and fidgeted with a frayed thread. “It’s just a big responsibility taking care of the child.”
“I know. But she’s our niece and we have help. We can employ a governess and tutors.”
“I know,” she said softly. “Just something Sorrel said. It doesn’t even matter.”
“So you are all right with me bringing the child here?”
“Yes,” she said. “Of course. Poor little thing. She’s been through so much. Sorrel seems to think the child was abused.”
“That corroborates Eryn’s reports. We’ll do what we can for her.”
“I agree,” Neala said. “And you know I’m not the only one that makes faces.”
“Oh really?” He said sounding amused. “And what face do I make?”
“Well to be honest you look a little mean when you’re serious. Your brow gets all heavy and your eyes intensify. It's a little intimidating…” she said enjoying the way his body straightened and his face became stern. “For other people.”
“You're not intimidated though, are you?” He truly sounded concerned.
“No, of course not,” she gave him a sly grin. “But I know how to handle you.”
“My troops should be intimidated by me, but I don’t want you or anyone in our family to feel that way.”
Neala couldn’t contain her smile and her heart swelled a little.
“Why do I know the name Cilla Beckett?” Cai asked.
“Probably because Sorrel and I have been looking for her. She’s one of the healers that helped Sorrel with her stutter. Why?”
“Evidently Trygg is related to her. He would leave the child in her care.”
“Well that’s fortuitous,” Neala said, watching her husband roll the paper with his orders and stuff it into the bottle. He re-corked it, and returned it to the marble pot. A slight spray of water shot up and the briny smell of the ocean filled the air for a moment. He closed the lid and turned back towards her.
“You’re making the face again. “What’s really going on?”
“I was just thinking they may be safer in Casilladin.” Neala folded her arms across her chest.
“Perhaps. But the child isn't their responsibility she's ours.”
“Yes,” Neala frowned. “But isn't her safety more important?”
“Why are you being so contrary?” He narrowed his eyes. Neala shifted on the couch to sitting.
“According to you I'm always contrary. Even though I think I'm a sweetheart,” she teased.
Cai rolled his eyes and walked over to his wife. He leaned down, tipped her chin up and kissed her.
“You are a sweetheart. And you're not contrary. You’re willful it's a totally different thing.” He chuckled. “Now tell me truly why you don't want the girl here.”
“I didn't say I didn't want her here. I mean you're right, she is family. It's just she's —” Neala took a deep breath. 1,000 years of darkness echoed through her head. “She's Harbee Fein's daughter. And Peter isn’t exactly known for his mental stability either. What if she’s like them? Mentally.”
“Move over,” Cai nudge her gently. Neala scooted and he sat down on the couch next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders pulling her close. He kissed her temple. “She's just a little girl. My hope is that whatever she's been through will be remedied through enough attention and love.”
Neala sighed and her cheeks heated with shame. He was right. Even Sorrel had said that the future could change with the right actions and how could loving this child not take them towards a different future?
“You're a good man, Caius Declan. It's one of the reason I love you so much.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You're gonna make a wonderful father.”
His hand tightened a little on her shoulder and she felt his lips turn up into a smile against her skin.
“And you will be a wonderful mother,” he whispered.
Neala pulled away for a moment to look him in the eye. “There's something I need to tell you.”
“All right,” he said, the serious look on his face returning.
Two sharp knocks announced Gordon's entrance. “Chief?”
“Here,” Cai said.
Gordon rounded the corner, his cheeks ruddy and his chest heaving for breath.
“We had another breach,” he said.
“Where?” Cai was on his feet before Gordon made it all the way to the couch.
“Greinoch village, and half of the southern border of the realm.”
Neala's heart dropped to her stomach and she jumped to her feet.
“Oh Gordon,” she said touching his arm. “Your parents?”
“Yes,” he said. “I don't know yet whether they were able to escape.”
“All right let’s go,” Cai said. Gordon nodded and they both stepped towards the door. Neala followed them, glancing down to check her weapon. Her dagger wasn’t there. She’d left it lying on her vanity table.
“Wait!” she said. They both stopped, looking at her. “I don’t have my dagger. I’ll have to stop at the palace.”
“No you won’t,” Gordon said his voice uncharacteristically stern. “You don’t need your dagger because you’re not going.”
Neala and Cai both gaped.
“Excuse me?” Neala said.
Gordon’s eyes cut to Cai and back to her. “I mean— Your Majesty, I am sure there are other things you can be doing that will not involve a risky and dangerous,” he said emphasizing the last few words, “trip to the front line. Where people are being killed.”
Neala narrowed her eyes. She knew exactly what he was doing. “I think I can judge a dangerous situation Captain. I had no plans of doing anything stupid and there is a refugee camp not far from that border if you will recall. We may need to move them into the city.”
“No disrespect Your Majesty —” Gordon said anger edging into his voice. “But your life is not your own anymore and it is not worth risking.”
“I think it is my decision not yours Captain whether I take a risk or not. I am quite capable of making my own choices.”
Cai folded his arms across his chest his eyes going from his wife to his captain and back to his wife again.
“All right that’s enough.
” Cai said sounding confused and stern. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but we don’t have time to settle it at the moment.”
“I agree,” Neala said. “Now if you would just give me five minutes to run home I will join you at the port stone.”
“I think Gordon might be right,” Cai said. “Now before you explode, please just hear me out.” He held up his hands and changed his tone. She had said she could handle him but in truth, she knew he was much better at handling her.
“All right I am listening.” She crossed her arms across her chest.
“Someone needs to go and retrieve Y'Ana. I think that should be you.”
“Can I go without Gordon?”
Cai glanced at his captain. Gordon’s jaw tensed and a small vein popped out of his forehead. “Yes I think you can handle yourself well enough to go pick up a child.”
“All right then,” Neala said straightening her spine. “I’ll take Sorrel.”
“Chief, perhaps I should —” Gordon started.
“Captain, I need you with me.”
“Yes, Captain. The chief needs you with him,” she said, trying not to sound like a petulant child, but she wasn’t sure it was working. Cai gave her a questioning glance and she smiled sweetly. “I’ll be fine. Without you.”
Gordon’s green eyes locked on to hers and she sent him a thought unsure if he was listening or not — you say anything about this baby and I will never forgive you. He rolled his eyes. He had heard her. Fine, resounded through her head. You be careful and do not do anything stupid, Your Majesty. Or I will never forgive you. Neala blew out a breath and gave him one short nod.
“I don’t know what is going on between you two —”
“Nothing,” they both said at the same time, Gordon adding, “Sir.”
Cai shook his head. “Fine captain we need to go. Time is of the essence. I will send you a message later.” He kissed her sweetly on the lips. I love you — echoed through her head. She smiled.
I love you too — she thought. He stroked her cheek. “Now go defend us.”
He gave a short nod and a wink. “Let's go.”
The two men who meant the most to her dashed off, leaving her behind for the first time since the war had begun. She pressed her hands against her belly. She would tell him when he returned. There was no need to worry him and she certainly didn’t want him stopping her.
Ten
Neala found Sorrel curled up in the chair in her room sketching. Sorrel's Raven cawed and fluffed its wings when she opened the door.
“Hope I'm not interrupting anything,” Neala said.
Sorrel shook her head and waved her inside. She pointed to the chair across from hers in front of the fireplace.
“What are you working on?” Neala asked pointing to the sketchbook. The girl's pale cheeks reddened. Often by mid-afternoon Sorrel's voice just stopped working and it was too painful for her to speak. Neala would forever feel responsible but maybe there was a chance she could make it right. “It's okay if you don't want to show me.”
Sorrel shrugged her slim shoulders and pushed her long dark hair behind her ear. She handed the sketchbook to Neala.
Neala's breath stuttered in her throat. The drawing was of her with her hands on a large rounded belly. Now it was her turn for her cheeks to burn.
“Did you see this?” She asked. Sorrel’s dark brown eyes widened. “It's all right I'm not mad. I was just — did you have a vision of this?”
The girls head slowly bobbed up and down.
“I see,” Neala said feeling a little sick. She took a deep breath and handed the sketchbook back to the girl. “Let's not show that to Cai just yet all right?”
Sorrel nodded in agreement.
“I do have some good news,” Neala said. Sorrel's eyebrows raised impossibly high. “We found Cilla. I'm not certain about Tahlulah but I know we found Cilla.”
Sorrel raised her hands, gesturing in a way Neala had come to understand. How?
“We received a message. That's all I can really say.” Neala shrugged. “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. To bring her here.”
Sorrel nodded her head madly and jumped to her feet. She threw her arms around Neala’s neck, hugging her.
She laughed and hugged Sorrel back. The girl had become like a sister to her in the months since coming to the palace. She almost told her about the baby but thought better of it. Cai should know first. He would be hurt if he learned he was the last to know.
Sorrel stood up, and wiped away the tears wetting her eyelashes. She beamed for the first time since she’d been rescued and it made Neala’s heart lighter to see the girl really beginning to heal. She’d been through so much in the last several months, lost so much. It made her so happy she could bring Cilla here. Hopefully the healer was as excellent as Sorrel believed. Neala had a feeling they might all need her skills.
******
Neala communicated with Trygg over the next two days coordinating the best way to transport the child to Tamarik. It was determined that Neala should meet the child in person, bond with her and then take the child back. The idea of making this child trust her in just a few days seemed almost impossible, but what choice did she have? She was glad Sorrel was going with her. The girl had such a calming presence. Hopefully it would help.
Neala laid out two of the new outfits she’d bought. Her favorite was a pair of indigo wool pants that fit loosely at the waist and tucked nicely into her favorite black boots and a creamy colored linen blouse with a short collar and pleats around the cuffs. She paired it with a soft, cream colored sweater with a split neck and pearl buttons. It was nice to have clothes that fit and even though she wasn’t quite showing, she felt her hips and backside had spread and the sweater covered it all. Making the clothes waterproof had proved challenging, but after some practice her intention was set and she’d done the same with Sorrel's clothes since they would be traveling by water.
Sorrel had been less convinced that water was the best mode of transportation. The girl only had an affinity for metal and though she could swim, she was so apprehensive she’d awoken Neala last night, screaming her voice even more ragged than it already was, talking about drowning. Neala had tried to reassure her that she would not let that happen, but Sorrel would not be convinced.
Neala rolled up the second outfit and packed it into her messenger bag, unsure how long bonding with the child might take. She rolled up a pair of olive colored wool pants — which she’d also waterproofed — along with a black blouse and coordinating sweater.
A quick knock on her bedroom door announced Sorrel and the girl stuck her head inside the room without waiting to be invited. Deep purple shadows beneath Sorrel’s dark eyes gave away the girl’s lack of sleep. Her dark hair hung in two long braids down her shoulders, making her look even younger than her eighteen years. If it weren’t for her womanlier body she could almost pass for Raemah’s age.
“Did you bring the extra clothes?” Neala asked.
Sorrel nodded and pointed to the bag slung over her shoulder.
“Did you get Raemah settled? I know she’s upset she can’t go—”
“She’s fine. We talked about it. She has her warden’s studies to keep her busy.” Sorrel whispered. She sat on the edge of the bed, placing her large felted wool bag across her lap.
“What have you got in there?” Neala pointed to the odd shapes pressed out against the sides of the bag. Sorrel shrugged her shoulders. Neala laughed and shook her head, holding out her hand out. “May I?”
Sorrel’s pale cheeks pinked but she nodded and handed the bag to Neala.
Inside, Neala found three pairs of pants, two lumpy sweaters, a pair of shoes, a sketchbook and charcoal, and a tiny framed picture of Raemah and her brother Jorgen, Sorrel had drawn. How she’d gotten it all into the bag, Neala couldn’t even guess. She rubbed her thumb over the carved picture frame. The image of the young girl with the black eyes and her brother smiling tugged at her heart
. They had not been in time to save him. Tears prickled her eyes, and she blinked them back. She didn’t like the easy emotion this baby seemed to bring out in her. She tucked the picture back into the bag. “You don’t need all this.” She sniffed. “Just one extra pair of pants, one sweater and you can use the shoes you’re wearing.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sorrel whispered but Neala heard an edge of sarcasm. She suppressed the urge to smile. It made her happy that Sorrel felt comfortable enough to show her true feelings.
“You know,” Neala cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
“What?” Sorrel said, rolling up one pair of pants and shoving it into the bag a little too forcefully.
“I don’t like the way you treat me.” Neala narrowed her eyes and jutted her chin, fighting to keep a straight face.
Sorrel blanched, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I know you’ve had a tough time, but something around here has to change.” Neala shook her head.
“W-what?” Sorrel said, her stutter rearing its ugly head. It only happened these days, when she was really upset or scared.
Neala suppressed her urge to wince. “I think you’ve become really comfortable here with me and Cai.”
“I have,” Sorrel’s whispered. She swiped at her face, brushing wetness from her long black eyelashes. “I’m so grateful to be here.”
“I know.” Neala tapped her finger tips against her hips. “Which is why I think you should no longer call me Your Majesty.”
“What?” Sorrel’s face filled with confusion.
“I think you should call me Neala. You and Raemah are my family now. And sisters don’t use such titles when they’re together.” Neala smiled and shrugged her slight shoulders. “What do you think?”
Sorrel’s tears fell in earnest and her nose began to run but her lips stretched wide. “I think that’s how I feel too.”