A Fortunate Woman

by Jennifer Lyndon

  “Your Grace,” she shouted in my face. “Your Grace!” Apparently my housekeeper had been trying and failing to gain my attention for some time. “Would you like the village healer summoned?” Haden asked when I met her gaze. My stalwart housekeeper appeared frantic. I reached out to squeeze her upper arm in an effort to reassure her.

  “No Vilken healer can help the countess,” I replied. “I’m the only one who might help my friend now, Haden,” I said quietly. “Please. Clear the room everyone. I’ll see to Emmuska myself.”

  As the guards and housekeeping staff reluctantly left the room, I went for the knife I had begun carrying in my boot. I cut through the countess’s filthy, tattered tunic to see that she appeared pregnant. The wound to her belly was already infected, and oozing angry yellow pus. Clearly neither she nor the baby she was carrying would recover from such trauma through conventional healing. I cut my wrist deeply across the veins as Lia knelt beside Countess Emmuska’s head, watching me with large eyes.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Pet?” Lia asked, startled. I shook my head. “You’ve injured yourself!”

  “It’s all right, Lia. I watched M’Tek do this once on a field of battle. She saved my life many years ago by using her Lemu blood in this way. My wound was far worse than this one. I had an arrow through my stomach and protruding out of my spine. It wasn’t infected, though, and I wasn’t pregnant, obviously,” I said, waiting as the dark blood pooled down into my hand.

  I tipped my hand to the side, pouring my blood on top of the infection. I watched as the angry hole filled, causing the yellow pus to foam and bubble up out of the wound, spilling down her belly. For only a moment what appeared to be molten silver pooled within the yellow pus, but then the countess was bleeding again, as if I’d reopened her wound. The countess’s blood began filling the wound. I reopened the slice in my wrist and waited. Countess Emmuska sighed, and her breathing became shallower. My efforts appeared to be making her worse. Still, it was all I knew to do, so I tipped my hand forward, spilling my blood into the angry hole again, and watching as the liquid silver appeared in the hole again and faded. The countess’s blood again rushed over mine.

  “Pet,” Lia called, interrupting my focus. “Talk to her. She knows you far better than she does me.”

  Lia took my knife from me, and I shifted over beside the countess’s head. I caressed her filthy cheek before realizing it wasn’t dirt but blood staining her face.

  “You’re safe with us, Emma,” I said, using the nickname I’d heard Earl Jestin use for her a hundred times. “You’re in Lauderdam. Lia and I will heal you, I promise.”

  “My baby,” Countess Emmuska mumbled.

  “Your baby is strong. He will be fine,” I lied, not wanting to upset her.

  As I stared at the massive wound in the countess’s belly, I couldn’t imagine her child still lived. Lia kept cutting her wrist as I had done, again and again, spilling blood into the gaping wound. When she went for her right wrist I stopped her.

  “Lia, you’ve done enough,” I said, not wanting Lia to weaken herself too much.

  “No, Pet, it’s not nearly enough. Can’t you see? The countess is dying,” Lia said, cutting her right wrist with determination.

  I took the knife from Lia and cut myself again, pouring my blood on top of hers. We continued in that way, taking turns but not speaking for what may have been an hour. Finally, Lia crumpled down beside me, her pallor ashen. I gathered her in my arms.

  “Enough, Lia. You can’t lose any more blood. Just sit with her. Hold her hand and I’ll do what I can,” I added, continuing to cut myself and dripping my blood directly into the countess’s seeping wound. After a few more minutes, I was as weak as Lia, and I sank down beside her on the floor.

  “Give me the knife, Pet,” Lia said.

  “No. We’ve done all we can do. I never saw M’Tek stand over a dying person draining all of her blood away,” I observed. “Emma will either recover or she won’t.”

  Lia reached for the knife again, but passed out before she managed to use it. I gathered Lia in my arms, leaning down to kiss her forehead, and then I gently lay her on the floor. I cut my wrist again, tipping the blood into the gaping wound in the countess’s belly.

  I must have passed out at some point, because I awoke with my head in Lia’s lap, her fingers winding through my hair. When I raised my head, Lia offered me a small glass of torppa. I sat up and gulped it greedily.

  “You told me to stop, but you kept cutting yourself,” Lia observed.

  “How is she?” I asked. Lia smiled.

  “She looks as though she’s bled every last drop of her blood on the sheets, but the wound closed,” Lia observed. “When I awoke I checked. There’s an unusual silver sheen across a depression in her belly, and she still breathes.”

  “Good,” I said, my strength returning slightly. I reached for Countess Emmuska’s hand. It was warm, and I felt the slight sensation that she squeezed my hand in response to the contact.

  “What about the baby?” Lia asked, staring at the countess’s belly.

  I said loudly, wanting the countess to hear me, “The baby will be fine, as long as Emma lives.”

  Lia watched me, that crease forming between her eyebrows as her eyes became red. She knew me well enough to understand I was lying. After a moment struggling to remain calm, Lia stood, on unsteady feet, and left the room. A few minutes later, Lia returned with bath cloths and a pitcher of water. She began washing Countess Emmuska’s face and arms, cleaning the dried blood away, before starting on her belly.

  Finally, we left the countess with Haden and a couple of the housemaids, who were intent on changing out her blood-saturated sheets for fresh ones. Lia and I returned to our own sitting room to consume a dinner of roasted vegetables, olives, and bread, with a bottle of torppa. About an hour later, Haden knocked on our door to bring Astrid in to us. The staff had been looking after our child since Lia had run outside hours earlier when Countess Emmuska arrived.

  Later that evening, I left Lia with Astrid and went back to sit with the countess, holding her hand as the torppa worked through my weakened system, sedating me. I fell asleep beside my old friend, still clasping her limp hand. At some point Lia came and joined us, drawing a chair close to mine.

  I awoke early the following morning when the hand I was clutching twitched. I blinked awake to find two maroon brown eyes focused on my face.

  “Your Grace,” Emmuska said quietly.

  “Emma,” I replied without thinking. Her eyes became red for a moment. “I’m sorry, countess. I called you that when I was healing you,” I explained. “It’s more familiar.”

  “Please, Pet’Wyn. I want you to call me Emma,” she said, her voice sounding thin and distant.

  I gazed over at Lia, my beautiful mate, who was still curled up in her chair, her hand loosely clasping my forearm, in a gentle display of affection. Emma smiled at her.

  “I prefer to be called Pet,” I said. “My loved ones only call me Pet’Wyn when they’re angry with me,” I observed.

  “Princess Aurelia is very kind,” Emma said, her gaze on Lia’s sleeping face. “She rushed out to catch me when I was falling from my horse. I believe I may have landed on her.” I smiled at Emma and her eyes filled with tears. “They’ve killed him,” she said. “Jestin is gone.”

  “I’m so sorry, Emma,” I said as she started crying. “Who killed him? Who did this?”

  “Strangers, thousands of them,” Emma choked out as her weeping intensified. Lia awoke at the sound of crying and looked helplessly back and forth between Emma and me.

  “Pet, what’s happened?” Lia whispered. “Is she in pain? Can we do anything for her?”

  “Not this time, darling,” I said gently. “Jestin was killed by the ones who did this to her.”

  Lia’s eyes turned red as she focused on Emma. “I’m so sorry, countess,” Lia said, leaning across the bed to wrap her arms around Emma. “I can’t even imagine the pain you�
��re felling. He was a kind man, and clever,” Lia said. “You still have the baby. You’ll always have part of Jestin with you in your child.” I groaned inwardly at Lia’s words, wishing she hadn’t drawn Emma’s attention to the state of her unborn child.

  Emma’s tears kept sliding down her cheeks, but she grew silent as she gazed at Lia. Her focus shifted to me, as she tried to read the condition of her child from my expression. “Will my child live, Pet?” she finally asked.

  I glanced at her belly and forced a smile, remembering the gaping hole through her womb that nothing should have survived, and nodded. “Yes, I believe so, Emma,” I assured her; aware she had dealt with too much already to accept the death of her child as well.

  The countess was clearly tired, but healing. Lia and I left her to rest, and headed to the kitchen. Haden had a large breakfast of poached goose eggs, toast, and fruit brought to us in the drawing room. We paired our meal with one of my sweeter berrywines, which was chilled. Little conversation occurred to me as I considered the condition of Emma’s unborn child. Lia was likewise preoccupied, shifting her fruit around on her plate without eating, and focusing out the back windows into the garden.

  “Do you think her baby might survive?” Lia finally asked, whispering in Fae.

  “How could the poor child?” I replied. “I’m surprised Emma was able to reach us. She lost a tremendous amount of blood. Infection had already set in. Her internal injuries were probably horrific.”

  “But maybe, if her baby was still alive, just barely, when we began healing her, maybe it healed too,” Lia said, gazing at me hopefully. I nodded. “The wound in her belly was closed when I washed her last night,” Lia observed. “There’s a large silver scar, but other than that, she looks to be healing well.”

  “We’ll know soon enough,” I said, stating the obvious. “I’ll send for the village midwyfe. If the baby is lost, she’ll be needed to help Emma,” I said.

  “What do you think happened?” Lia asked, still whispering. “Did she tell you anything?”

  “You needn’t whisper, my darling. The countess is not Fae,” I reminded Lia. “Emma won’t overhear us talking. Even if she did, she probably doesn’t understand ten words of Fae.” Lia nodded. “All she managed to say was that they were strangers, and that there were thousands of them,” I said, answering her question. Lia stared out the window again, her eyes getting red. “We should eat,” I observed. “I’m as weak as a kitten.”

  “May I see your wrist?” she asked solemnly.

  I reached my hand out to her so she could examine my new scar, and then watched as she traced, with her fingertip, the deep silver A I’d cut in my palm during our joining ceremony. She lifted my hand to her cheek, and then turned her face to kiss the scar on my wrist. “I wouldn’t survive it,” Lia said softly. “If something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t want to live on.”

  “Lia, nothing will happen to either of us. I’ll see to that,” I said, smiling at her, wanting to reassure her. “Besides, you have Astrid to think of,” I pointed out.

  “The countess arrived without guards, and riding a peculiar horse. There’s a horrible tale there. Whoever attacked her might attack us,” she said, squeezing my hand. “We should take precautions.”

  “I already have,” I assured her. “No one, not even M’Tek, could get through our walls. I saw to that after you appeared in the night on my front step. If anything, we’re too protected. Our level of security is excessive.”

  “Can we ever be too protected when there are such people out there?” Lia asked. “The countess probably felt safe in her home.”

  “Lia, I don’t want you to worry about this,” I said evenly. “Emma’s estate was an agricultural property, without a wall, whereas Lauderdam is an impregnable fortress. Emma possessed nothing that should have attracted violence. For that reason, she had only a half dozen guards, and few household staff. The majority of her workers were field laborers. In contrast, we have a small army of guards devoted to protecting us. I’ll never allow anything bad happen to you or Astrid. We’re safe. I promise you.”

  “I believe you, Pet,” Lia said, offering a sad smile. “What about the rest of Baneland? The Vilken people are defenseless against these vicious strangers.”

  “There’s little I can do about it at this point. I’ll send a message to Lore advising her the territory is threatened and request she protect us. If she doesn’t act, I’ll have to step in. After all, I’m still the Prime, and I have built the framework for an army. Though I’ve never been tried, I’m well trained in combat arts and strategy.”

  “We’ll send our guards to help the Vilkerlings, but you’re not going into battle,” Lia said firmly. “Whatever happens, you’ll remain here, with Astrid and me, safely behind these fortress walls. Do you understand me, Pet?”

  “Relax. It won’t come to that, Lia. Lore will see to these strangers. You’ll see,” I assured, not wanting to upset her.

  Emma slept the remainder of the day, only waking to eat in the afternoon before slipping away again. Lia and I looked in on her convalescence, but really there was nothing more to do but wait. As for the baby, I was concerned about giving Emma tragic news, so delayed the arrival of the midwyfe for the next day.

  Emma was awake and feeling stronger the following morning when I went to check after her condition. In fact, she appeared healthier than she had for the past several years. Her skin was clearer, and tighter, and her eyes somehow brighter. She was doing justice to the morning meal delivered to her only moments before my arrival, eating with a strong appetite.

  “You look well this morning, Emma,” I observed as she slathered cloudberry jam on a piece of toast.

  “You’re a gifted healer, Pet. I feel remarkably well, but famished,” she replied. “But I’m being rude. I’ll put this aside,” she said, shifting her tray away from her. I reached forward and shifted the tray back in front of my guest.

  “Please, you need to eat, my friend,” I said gently. “Your body is still healing.”

  “I feel stronger than I’ve felt in ten years,” she argued. “This pregnancy has been a particularly difficult one,” she added. “I’ve been sick for months. This is the first time I’ve actually found I have an appetite.

  “I was surprised to find you’re carrying a child,” I observed.

  “I’ve had twelve miscarriages,” Emma said solemnly. “In recent years they happen in the first three months, but I actually carried one eight months before I lost him. That one was the hardest,” she explained. “It may not be proper form, but I don’t announce my pregnancies anymore.”

  “I see,” I said. “I only knew about the one.” I shook my head. “I didn’t know you kept trying.”

  “The House of Marinella needs an heir, not only for Jestin and me, but for Vilkerland,” she replied firmly. “I’m sorry. I meant for Baneland. It’s not a topic for refined conversation, though,” Emma replied, diverting her gaze. “That’s one of the differences between us, or what’s left of us Vilken nobility, and the peasants. The peasants can cry and fall apart and mourn their losses in a way we aren’t allowed to do. We’re supposed to carry on when our hearts have been torn out.”

  “I’m Fae, and Lia is half Fae. We’re an intense race. There’s no need for stoicism in my home. Don’t pretend you’re not in pain for our sake,” I replied. I knew she was talking about Jestin, and so I sat down in the chair beside her bed to wait for what she needed to say. “Can you tell me who killed him?” I asked her. “You mentioned strangers before.” She shook her head.

  “They were unlike any people I’ve ever seen. Their eyes were peculiar,” she observed.

  “Could they have been Fae?” I asked, my heart sinking at the idea. “We have unique eyes.”

  “These savages were not your brethren,” she assured me, reaching to pat my arm. “Your eyes are beautiful, and kind, my friend. These people had tight, nearly closed, pink eyes, and looked almost as if they were squinting at us. Their hai
r was wiry and vibrantly colored, worn in long, thick, mats that hung down their backs. Their skin was covered completely with bright images. Their horses were dyed to match them.”

  “Like the horse you arrived on,” I observed. “How many of these people did you see?” I asked, growing uneasy as I remembered a nursery story my mother told me when I was a child.

  “A few thousand, all on horseback,” Emma said. “They had a peculiar rancid smell, and their weapons were strange,” she added. “They threw spears, that came back to them. I think there was a rope attached, or a leather thong. I was too terrified to really see the mechanism. They used thick, curved knives that fit around their fists like large saucers to sever the heads from the bodies after they brought my people down. That’s what they did to Jestin, at least.”

  “How did you escape?” I asked the obvious question.

  “I suffered a blow to the head when I ran back to Jestin after he fell. I was unconscious when they moved me, together with the female servants and field workers, into a makeshift pen near the edge of the property. The men I never saw again. When I awoke, the house, stables, two of the outbuildings, and the distilleries were burning, and my female workers were huddled together, terrified. I tried to comfort them, but when our captors noticed I was awake, they separated me from my people,” she said. “I was kept tied for a few days, in a tent made of strangely patterned animal skins, sewn roughly together. Throughout those days and nights I was in constant fear of what those creatures planned to do to me. My belly was of interest to them, and they kept touching it, and measuring my girth.

  “Then in the dead of night, when the moon appeared soaked with blood, a few of them came into my tent. They clearly were intoxicated, perhaps from the torppa they found in the remaining outbuildings. One of them clumsily cut the ropes binding me. I was then picked up and placed on the back of that strange, skinny horse I arrived here riding, and released. I took off at a run, fleeing them, but of course that’s what they wanted. They pursued, laughing, and making strange calling sounds. It felt as though I was being both hunted and mocked at once.