by Erme Lander
He was delighted, “We need to tell father.” Mika wasn’t sure how she felt, she certainly didn’t want Ardi knowing yet. She looked around the room, suffocating, wishing she was back home and realised with horror that she would never go home again. Nearly in tears, she pleaded for him to wait, suggesting it would be a lovely surprise for his father when they came back. Rylan continued to fuss over her throughout the evening, constantly stopping his reading to look at her with pride.
On the morning Rylan was due to go away, Mika woke before he did. She lay for a moment, wondering why she’d woken when a horrendous feeling crept over her. A sleepy grunt was all she had from Rylan as she rushed to the privy retching. Nothing came up and she staggered back to their bed where he lay, still half asleep and blinking.
“What’s the matter?”
“I nearly threw up.” She was in no mood to reassure him.
“Should we get a Medici in? Are you ill?” He began scrabbling for his bedclothes.
Mika curled up, feeling weak and not wanting to talk. “I think we can agree that I’m pregnant. It’s something my mother told me about.”
He grinned, trying to hug her clumsily while she lay there wanting to die. A knock on the door indicated a servant coming in to remind Rylan to get up. A breakfast tray was in his hands. One smell set Mika running to the privy again to Rylan’s delighted laughter.
Rylan actually looked sad to leave, showing his concern for her as he said his goodbyes down in the yard. Ardi’s slitted eyes behind the trader’s back showed she’d noticed the change in his attitude. Mika watched him go with the lighter feeling that she was starting to make a difference.
The mornings continued with her retching. Mika tried to eat in small quantities. Ardi’s sniping grew worse than ever, she’d quickly worked out Mika’s condition. She didn’t miss her walks outside this time, she curled up in their rooms and looked at the books her father had given her. When she picked up the other one and discovered it was a book of love poems. Mika flushed when she read through them, wondering what Rylan would think.
Mika could vaguely remember her mother’s last pregnancy. The knowledge of being pregnant was very different to wishing. She was feeling vulnerable, her body changing, aching in odd places. She wished her mother were with her, but she couldn’t get any word to her. No way would Ardi allow her to send a letter. She comforted herself with the thought that she could tell her father when he next came.
Rylan had been gone for weeks, she missed their sessions with the books, the light in his eyes when he got something right. Her stomach had been feeling unsettled all day. During supper time, Mika felt a cramp twisting her insides. She wanted to lie down and curl up in bed. Ardi narrowed her eyes and in her most spiteful mood, refused to allow her to leave. Mika waited patiently through the long meal while her stomach complained further. At the first opportunity she escaped to her rooms.
On going to the privy, she discovered a few drops of blood on her dress. Her breath caught, this shouldn’t be happening – was this normal? She had no idea. Mika changed and the spasms got worse. The second time she went to the privy, there were more stains. She walked slowly around their rooms, stretching, trying to ease the cramps and failing. Worry tightened her stomach further. Finally, wiping the tears from her face and not knowing what else to do, she went to Ardi.
“I’m bleeding.”
Ardi continued flicking through her sewing basket, her face was turned away, “And? It happens.”
“Shouldn’t we call someone?”
“Nothing anyone can do.” Ardi’s voice plainly said she would do nothing. Mika had to get back to the privy and she sat there despairing at the blood. Tears rose, she wanted her mother, anyone.
She dealt with that night alone. The servants stayed away as she sat upright, unable to lie down comfortably. Finding rags that soaked through so quickly, wondering how much blood she could lose and if she would die. The pain, the long hours staring at the walls, the unreal feeling of the small circle of candlelight, the urgent rushing to the privy, the waiting and the sense of losing something she’d never really acknowledged.
Morning finally came through the shutters, the slabs of light hitting her bleary eyes. Mika was too exhausted to cry as she discovered she was finally able to lie down on their bed. She slept, dreamless.
The servants crept around her, unsure what to do. She ignored them, staring at the wall, her eyes swollen. She’d miscarried her baby. Now she’d lost it, she wanted it back badly. Tucked up inside her, safe. Only it hadn’t been. Her body hadn’t wanted it enough. She went through everything she’d done, wondered about every action. She had no one to talk to, she would have even been grateful for any crumbs of sympathy from Ardi.
Ardi remained separate from her. Mika wandered her rooms listlessly, waiting for Rylan to come home. With little exercise, she ate and slept badly. Ardi spitefully refused to let her eat in her rooms, food was only served at the table. Mika had the choice of sitting with Ardi smirking at her or not eating. More often than not, Mika chose to go hungry. She developed dark circles under her eyes, losing weight. Weeks passed and her body healed. She remained upset, worrying over how Rylan would react.
A noise outside disturbed her and she peered through the window into the courtyard. It was Rylan, she saw him dismount and Ardi go to him. She hunched away from the window. It was chaos out there, mules being unloaded, the cart at an angle. The shouting and calling came drifting up. She curled back up on the bed, the pain returning, sick at the thought of having to tell him.
A noise on the stairs, the door opened and he came in. Tears came into her eyes, she stood and reached out her hand, “I lost it.”
“I heard.” His voice was flat.
She felt pressure building up inside, “I wanted...”
“Stepmother told me.”
Mika stared, what had Ardi told him?
“You’ve been looking at father’s library,” He strode over and swept her books off the chest, kicked at them. “You’ve been going to places outside the market, lying to me about where you went. The servants have said you ordered them to take you. You probably caught something.” He was vibrating with anger.
“I’m sorry. I was bored, I didn’t mean...”
“You killed my baby.”
She gaped. His baby? It wasn’t his. He’d not been the one carrying it, he’d not spent the night losing it, the weeks crying and grieving. Something twisted in her, why did she bother? He didn’t care about her. Her voice came out thin and shrill, “It was my baby, not yours. I wanted it. I asked Ardi for a Medici, she wouldn’t help.”
His face set into an expression she’d not seen before and something caught her hard on the side of her head. She stumbled and without thought she swung back, fighting him in a way she never had, all her frustrations coming out at once. His outrage increased as he finally managed to pin her to the bed. She was hissing and spitting, he had nail marks down his face.
“You are a hellcat, I should have known better than to listen to you. I have been told that a women is more fertile straight after losing a baby. You will be pregnant again and this time you will keep it.” Mika saw Ardi’s smirk behind the statement, he wouldn’t know such a thing.
He held her down and she was shocked by his strength. Exhausted by the miscarriage and the weeks of not eating properly she could only fight him so far. Rougher than he had ever been, he left her on the bed, crying through helplessness and outrage.
Mika wrapped herself up in her sheets, hiding in the fragile security for a long time. Rylan had bathed and left the rooms without saying another word to her. She was aware of the distant tinkle of Ardi’s laugh and the murmurs as the guests came for dinner in the quiet of the upstairs rooms. The servant stood helplessly in the doorway when she ignored him asking her to come down and he left, not returning.
Eventually she pulled herself up, and wincing at the bruises, slowly cleaned herself. Her thoughts whirled around as she changed into her nig
ht clothes, how couldn’t he see what she’d lost? Why was he so blind? She’d looked to him for a measure of comfort, denied to her from everyone else and he’d believed his step mother. Everything they’d done together over the last few months had been lost.
She desperately sought sanctuary in her dreams, tried to bring them to her. She could only stare at the wall and the patterns in the plasterwork. Her mouth was dry and she ignored it, caught up in her misery. Rylan came up and lay next to her, bleary with wine. Mika tensed, wondering if he would try to touch her again. He seemed to take ages to settle down, snuffling and moving around in bed. She pretended to be asleep and eventually his breathing turned into a light snore that kept her awake further.
Staring at the ceiling, she watched the moons glow through the slats of the shutters, moving slowly across the room. The light changed in her tired eyes, morphing into the flickering of moonlight through leaves at the edge of the forest. She paced through the undergrowth, her Mika-self only a dream of being trapped elsewhere. Her upset and frustration coiled tight, pushing her down a tunnel. Dreams of the night she’d lost the baby turned into dreams of blood, channelling her upset into anger. They’d forced her into a mould she couldn’t cope with, chained her, caged her. She dreamt of lashing out, of hunger, her mouth filled with blood, claws catching flesh, rending it, red flesh tearing and exultant.
Chapter 6
Mika woke, feeling strangely tired and stretched, her muscles aching. Warmth suffused her, it was early morning, no one would be up yet. She stopped her stretch, remembering last night. Her thoughts turned dark and she wondered what would happen this morning. The weak sunlight filtered through the slats and turned the pillow red.
She rolled over, still half asleep and stopped. The pillows were cream. She looked back at the pillow and along. Rylan was lying next to her, eyes open, staring upwards. His throat had been ripped out, tattered flesh shaking from the movement of the bed, mimicking life. She stared, stupid in shock, seeing how the blood had dried in detail, the splattered wall, how his mouth was hanging open idiotically. Last night she’d wanted him dead, had no longer cared, had wanted to get away from him, this morning…
Her gaze widened, there was blood everywhere, on her. Her hands were coated in it. They came up to her mouth as she smothered her screams. Took them away as she tasted the iron. Whimpering, she wondered how she’d slept through this, why she’d not been killed as well. Her face felt strange. She pulled the covers back and tottered to the mirror he’d been so proud of. The smeary reflection looked back at her. Her face was masked with blood, her hair stringy with it.
Looking at the floor she could see half a bloody print leading to the door. She went cold, it wasn’t hers, it wasn’t human. Without thinking, she knelt to measure it with her hand. The palm of her hand only just covered the print. Some kind of animal, how had it got in here? Why had she been spared? She vaguely blamed Ardi, had she let a dog in here? Did she dislike Rylan that much? Ardi had always been nice to him, to the point where Mika had wondered if she’d had designs on marrying him after the trader had died.
The only thing she could think of was that she had to get away. She knew she’d be blamed for this. Ardi had blamed her often enough for things, loudly and in public. They wouldn’t believe her. They held her people in contempt. Mika scrubbed the blood away, dried blood even coated the soles of her feet. Washing was hard in the cold water. She dared not summon a servant for hot.
Creeping around, trying not to look at the bed, she considered her options. As a woman she wasn’t safe, she could barely move in the clothes she wore. She’d seen other women outside, they were always escorted by a man. But what if she were dressed as a man? If she cut off her hair she could pass. She knew her height and slim build would work for her. People had often assumed she’d been a male twin to her brother when her hair had been hidden.
Decision made, she went through her husband’s clothes, finding those that were old, simple and not too big. Her hands shook as she fumbled with haste, she had to get away before anyone woke. Again, her height helped, while she had to wear a belt, nothing was too long for her. She re-tied her corset to flatten rather than emphasise her breasts, she was lucky they were small. Coming across one of the sachets her mother had made from the vineflowers, she pressed it to her face and then tucked it into her pocket, desperately needing a reminder of home.
She pulled her hair into a tail at the back of her head and cut it with her husband’s dagger. Her husband, she tried not to think of the mess left on the bed. Letting her hair fall around her face, she stared, confronted by her brother in the mirror, then stuffed her cut hair down the privy. Her hair, she’d still have to disguise it. Although dark for her country, she was still far too blonde for Fenin. She couldn’t wear a hood all the time. Frantically thinking, she remembered Mekhi had some dye in his rooms. Ardi would dye his hair, he was going grey and didn’t like it. Ardi would fuss over him, fawning, coyly teasing him in the simpering tones he liked.
Rylan had left the door jammed open from last night, not bothering to close it in his stupor. Mika slipped through, avoiding the paw prints and crept out on to the landing. She went cold. The paw prints led to Mekhi’s rooms. Had it been Ardi? She listened carefully, ear pressed against the door, listening for the sound of a large animal.
Their door was ajar. Carefully she pushed it open, tense in the expectation that she’d have to pull it shut quickly. Peering around, she found blood everywhere here as well. Mika caught a sight of a soaked bed, the pillows and sheets torn, a mess on the bed and another on the floor. She tried not to look at the white bones gleaming as she ran into the room. No sound, the same deathly silence as she snatched the packet she’d come for. She ran out and into the corridor and slammed the door shut, retching dryly.
Worse than she’d thought. All of them dead. She felt very alone in the big house. The very stillness seemed to accuse her. She hadn’t done anything! No one else alive, someone must have brought the animal in. Mekhi made sharp deals, she’d seen that, but he’d always left his rivals with something, no one had hated him this much that she knew of. She tried to think if the servants would do something like this and shook her head, she couldn’t think, she had to get away.
Shivering, she tiptoed down the stairs to the main rooms and took some money from Mekhi’s drawer in his study. The servants had their own place on the bottom floor, the top was locked away from them. For once she was pleased that they were kept separate. The steward had a key, they all knew the trader slept in late most mornings – his deals were done late at night while drinking. She took the key from the alcove and locked the door to the courtyard steps behind her.
The morning was fresh, the city just waking up. The horses snuffled in the small stable kept in the courtyard. Mekhi wouldn’t walk anywhere if he could ride. She longed for the companionship of another living being, even a horse. She shook her head, she’d be more obvious if she rode. People would notice a horse with a boy on it, they’d ask questions and it would cost to feed it.
Still feeling too conspicuous, she pulled the hood of the cloak over her head, hiding her blonde hair. Mika wandered the streets, trying to head towards the gates. She bought bread from the bakeries opening for the workers. Getting lost more than once, she asked several tradesmen who pointed her in the right direction, pretending she was a boy looking for items for her master.
The gate was just opening when she got there. There was a queue of people waiting, she joined them and kept her head down. In the rush of wagons coming in and out, she slipped through without notice and walked hurriedly away.
Mika slowed, panting with exertion and the panic of getting out. Her eye was caught by the small stone buildings on the sides of the road. She wondered what they were for. A statue of a woman weeping caught her eye. She wondered if it was a shrine to a goddess, she’d not seen any female statues before. The emotion caught her, echoing how she felt as curiosity penetrated her dullness. She touched the inscriptio
n and whispered a prayer before bending to read it. “For my beloved Andres. Taken too soon.” She walked to the next one, a similar inscription. It was a grave marker. They were all graves. Cassai bodies were burned, the ashes scattered in the small fields. She gazed about, so much land to spare simply for burying people, how far did the graveyard stretch?
She remembered the bodies left in the house and hurried on, wanting to be as far away from the city as she could before they were discovered. A slum started at the end of the graveyard, tiny shacks, not much bigger than the tombs. This time, absorbed in her own troubles she didn’t notice the children and dogs roaming the slums and apart from a few catcalls, she too was ignored.
Mika stopped as the slums abruptly came to an end. A filthy stream trickled past, the banks coated with effluent from the city, figures of children played in it further down. She jumped as a cart driver yelled at her to move out of the way. Mika pulled over, gazing at the road and the hills beyond. She didn’t know which gate she’d gone through, or where she was heading. She turned to look, the jagged mountains to Cassai were on the other side of the city. The range twisted further into the distance and marched across the horizon to face her. They were less high, but further away. She still had no way of getting over them. Not enough food or money. She shrugged and trudged along the road without a choice.
The sun came up as she walked, making her hot in the cloak. Pulling it off, she remembered her hair and the dye in her bag. She found a stream and used a strip torn from her cloak to dab it onto her hair, trying not to get it on her skin. It was certainly darker, but she wasn’t entirely sure how successful she’d been, it was impossible to see her reflection clearly in the stream.