It was summer, and they all loved to sit out on a blanket in the gardens, letting Irea lay on her belly and grasp at toys and leaves and grass, though the latter two they took from her hands if she tried to put them in her mouth. She was so alert and responsive and curious now, and on top of that, she had doubled her weight and grown quite a bit longer—enough growth to require a brand new set of clothes and nightgowns commissioned by the seamstress. Veria could hardly remember the tiny baby of one month who mostly fussed and slept compared to the baby she knew now. How could they grow this quickly? She felt certain she would go to sleep one night and wake up to a girl of four, not knowing where any of the time went. Tanisca had started a warning of similar content a few days prior, but became so choked by sobs halfway through, she never finished the statement.
Irea had been on only goat's milk until now, but as she was now over four months of age, nearing five, Tanisca suggested introducing some soft foods. At dinner, one would hold her seated in their lap and the other would feed her. She had tried yogurt and enjoyed it, as well as the porridge they had given her to taste. She had also tried cooked, smashed caros and wasn't as impressed, dribbling them back out at Tanisca in protest and wearing a pout until they were out of sight. The cook had suggested they try some baked sweet roots, as they were her daughter’s favorite as a baby. Irea had taken quite well to the silken, burnt orange mush of the sweet roots, and Veria had noticed a correlation between the amount of soft food she consumed at dinner and the length of her stretches of sleep at night. Now that her belly was being filled more before her slumber, she slept in two long stretches of almost six hours each, only waking for goat's milk and comfort once a night most nights. Veria, Tanisca, and the nursemaid were all quite happy to have the return to more uninterrupted sleep.
On this particular morning, they had decided to give her a bit of porridge at breakfast, and it must have settled heavily on her stomach, as she fell asleep lying on the blanket in the garden after only a few minutes of playtime. Tanisca and Veria had chuckled at her and covered her with another blanket and tried to keep her shaded from the bright morning sun with their own shadows.
Veria absent-mindlessly twirled tiny rocks around in a rapidly swirling eddy. She had developed her powers to be able to move not only larger objects, but move objects quite quickly, and with much less energetic output on her part.
“Please, dear,” Tanisca muttered, scanning a book with reading spectacles perched on her nose, “you are making me dizzy.”
Veria let her invisible grasp on the earth energy in the rocks release and they clattered to the ground instantly with a series of pitters and patters that sounded like a very brief rain shower.
They both jerked their heads up at the sound of hoof beats approaching the house that seemed to dovetail seamlessly with the soft thuds from Veria letting the rocks fall.
“Are we expecting guests?” Tanisca asked, though Veria didn't know why she would ask her. She had never been in charge of the social calendar. She had never been any charge of any calender.
“I would not know, Mother,” Veria answered with a shrug.
“Go around front and meet them, whoever it is,” Tanisca ordered her, and Veria stood with a sigh, brushing dirt and grass from her skirt and smoothing it back into place. She had fit back into one of her waisted skirts today, and felt a rush of confidence every time she looked at it, long, black, and simple. She wore it with a plain, cream-colored blouse that buttoned in the back and ruffled at the end of the sleeves. Tanisca hated both the skirt and the blouse, saying she had seen the exact same ensemble on simple townsfolk. Veria didn't know when she would have seen it though, as Tanisca rarely went into any town.
Walking around to the front of the house, she recognized the carriage right away. It was Lord Rames.
She approached just as he was stepping out, and Veria noted he looked tired and unwell, almost gaunt. He had definitely lost weight, and he had been rake thin to start. Dark circles shadowed his large, normally inquisitive but now dull and saddened eyes.
What had happened? Veria wondered, her stomach flipping nervously. Surely, Lady Ambra hadn't...already?
“Good morning, Lord Rames,” Veria greeted him as he tipped his hat and then gave her cheek a quick peck. “You look ill,” she continued. “May I fetch you some tea, or soup?”
“I've lived on tea and soup for weeks,” he answered, his voice tired and drained. “I'd trouble you for a heavy meade and something sweet, however.”
“Of course,” Veria said. “Irea is in the back gardens with Madame Tanisca, napping, but you may wake her if you like.”
Veria turned to make her way to the kitchen, but Rames' hand shot out unexpectedly and grabbed hers. “Lady Veria,” he murmured softly, and she turned back to look at him, her stomach full of fluttering nerves. “I apologize, sincerely, for not giving any notice, and for not visiting the past few months. I...” he trailed off, his voice going tight.
“It is no problem,” Veria tried her best to comfort him.
“I thank you for your understanding,” he managed to utter, his voice hoarse and strained.
She squeezed his hand and gave him a nod, and he let go and walked past her on his way back to visit Irea. Veria entered the house through the kitchen door and instructed the cook to fix a plate of coacoa biscuits and the darkest meade from the cellar. She waited for a few minutes while her orders were obliged, and in the wait time, her mind pondered the possibilities of what had happened.
Veria never remembered specifically meeting Ambra, whom she knew was a few years younger than her, but Tanisca must have had some recollection of her, or at least a good gossip source, as her mother had always made comments to her frail nature. But even Veria couldn't imagine a young woman of nineteen dying of anything, let alone something as simple as a fever or cold, as her mother often implied. And she certainly couldn't imagine how much Rames must be hurting if his wife of only half a year had passed away...
She shuddered, and was glad that the cook was done with the tray because she did not want to think about it anymore. There were three full glasses of meade and the rest of the original bottle on the tray along with the biscuits. Veria drained one glass in a few large gulps, and then refilled it from the bottle so Rames and her mother wouldn't know. She knew it was early for meade, but she hated thoughts of death. And if Rames was here for the reason she thought he might be, she was definitely going to need it.
Laughter erupted from the blanket in the gardens, a mix of Tanisca's sing-song trills and Rames' rich, nasally bellows. As she approached with the tray of meade and biscuits, she heard a third laugh, a high-pitched squealing giggle coming from Irea, which exploded from her each time Rames hid her face with a blanket and pulled it off quickly. Veria couldn't help but smile and laugh at the sound of it.
When she reached the blanket, she set the tray down between the adults and watched the interaction that continued to send her daughter into adorable hysterics. It carried on for some time, while everyone partook of the refreshments in between rounds of 'where's the baby?' and uncontrollable laughter. Then, after almost an hour of giggles and games, Irea decided to show off for her visitor by rolling over from her back to her belly, for which she received uproarious applause and approval from her captivated audience.
But the play and exertion must have made her tired and hungry again, as she rubbed her eyes and started to fuss.
“I should get her some milk and put her down for a nap,” Tanisca said, scooping Irea up in her arms and bidding Rames farewell with a polite wave.
Veria sighed as she turned back to Rames. “Irea really likes you,” she said politely.
“I'm glad of that,” he replied. “This visit has lifted my spirits in many ways, and I'm feeling quite foolish that I put it off for so long. It's just that...”
He trailed off and sought the liquid courage of meade. Veria braced herself for whatever he was about to say.
“Ambra is with child,” he said,
his eyes not able to look straight at hers, his voice tightening again, and filling with concern. “She is not fairing well, and it is still so early.”
“I am so sorry to hear that, Rames,” Veria said softly.
“She can hardly eat, and what she can usually comes back up,” Rames explained. “She is weak and listless and sleeps half the day. I've sat with her day in and day out as much as my schedule will allow, eating soup with her, trying different teas with her. I've even called your Water Mager, Turqa, for a second opinion on whether there was something to be done for her.”
“What did he say?” Veria asked, cocking her head.
“He said this happens and is not uncommon, but Ambra was at a disadvantage already, not having more meat on her bones to start with to counteract the starvation and sickness,” Rames said. “I am afraid to even touch her, let alone hug her or kiss her, and I'm just afraid...there's no way she will make it through this if it's this bad now, right?” he asked.
“I don't know, Rames,” Veria sighed. “Maybe it will turn around. It's a long process, and if she's still early, there is plenty of time for things to get better, perhaps.”
“How did you do it?” he asked, grabbing her hands, his eyes begging for answers.
“I haven't the slightest clue,” Veria said, shaking her head. “I felt queasy from time to time, but tea and biscuits always helped me. Honestly, I have lost most of the memories of it. As soon as she arrived I just sort of...forgot everything I went through to bring her here.”
Rames sighed. “That's what my mother says.”
“You should take care of yourself, Rames,” Veria suggested in a comforting tone, though she never really felt she was all that great at comforting others. “Come visit Irea often it lifts your spirits, and I can have something heartier than soup made for you next time you visit. You shouldn't be just eating soup, Rames. You are withering away.”
Veria had to suppress a cringe as she realized her 'sage advice' voice sounded just like her mother's.
Rames' face changed, went soft, as his head tilted and his eyes locked with hers.
“You are a wonderful woman, Lady Veria,” he murmured, and Veria noticed him angling toward her. “So wise, and understanding...so beautiful.”
He leaned in the rest of the way and abruptly took her into a pressing kiss. She tried to pull away, but Rames did not yield, continuing his urging kiss until she fell onto her back on the blanket. He quickly positioned himself over her, pinning her down with this weight.
Veria tried to pull her mouth away from his, but could not, and she squirmed under him, looking for a way to get free of him.
He pulled away for a moment to say, “I should have chosen you.”
“Rames—” she started to protest, but his lips attacked hers once again, cutting off her plea for him to stop.
She managed to place her hands against his chest, and she tried to push him off of her. But all her actions seemed to do was flip a switch inside of him, from fervent to rabid. A scream broke from her throat as he ripped the skirt from her waist with a pop of the seams, but the sound was muffled by the kiss he had locked her into. Her heart pounded in her chest, full of fear, as Rames ran his hand up her leg, across her bare skin, finding her undergarments. She felt a sob form in her throat, and she was about to give in, feeling her resistance was hopeless. All she could hope for now was someone to walk out into the gardens and find them.
But suddenly, she remembered what she had told Andon. She didn't need anyone to take care of her. She could take of her herself. And she knew what she had meant when she had said it...
Searching around the garden for the sources of earth energy, there was the obvious pile of smaller rocks she had been practicing with before, but they wouldn't do...something larger, something heavier. She felt it, from near the pathway. It felt substantial, large, and as she locked onto its earth energy, she felt its sheer volume of elemental weight. She didn't know what it was, but she lifted it into the air and sent it flying toward the back of Rames' head.
With a sickening thud of bone and stone, he was knocked out and his body went limp and slumped over hers. A shower of dirt and flowers fell over her as she broke his lips from hers, and used all of her physical strength to push his dead weight off of her.
Panting and shaken, she surveyed the scene. She appeared to have hit him with a rather large stone flower planter. He was completely unconscious, and that was for the better, because Veria knew if he woke up now and had any idea of what happened, she would be in an immense amount of trouble...
-V-
Panicking, Veria ran around to the stables on the side of the house. Her breath was choppy and heaving. Rames' carriage driver stood with their driver, Tomley, chatting casually, until they saw Veria running toward them, holding her ripped skirt around her waist, her hair disheveled and her face frantic.
“My Lady,” they both said with concern.
“What's wrong?” Lord Rames' driver asked. “Is Lord Rames alright?”
“There's been...an accident,” she lied, and her own lie fizzled and snapped in her ears. The driver tried to walk past her to go check on his master, but Veria stepped in front of him. “He will be fine, but...but go into Bermedge and retrieve the Villicreys. Immediately,” she ordered.
“The Villicreys?” Rames' driver asked, cocking his head at her in confusion.
“You dare question the orders of a Lady of the Regalship?” Veria snapped, though her exhaustion and panic undermined the strength of her tone a bit.
“No, my Lady,” he said, and both drivers bowed. Rames' driver hopped onto the carriage bench and took off toward the town with a cavalcade of hoof beats.
“Are you sure you are okay, my Lady?” Tomley asked, surveying what she knew was a troubling sight.
“I will be fine,” she answered curtly, spinning on her heels and rushing away from him, back to the rear gardens where Rames lie, hopefully still unconscious. “Send the Villicreys back here as soon as they arrive,” she ordered over her shoulder.
It was about a quarter of an hour into town, and a quarter of an hour back in the summer and autumn when the roads were relatively dry. The muddier the roads were, the longer it took the horses to slop through it. But it had been bone dry for a few weeks now, so the horses should be able to traverse the path into town at their best potential speed, Veria figured.
She sat on a bench near the blanket, waiting, though she couldn't say she waited patiently. Her knees bounced rapidly and she bit her lip nervously, sometimes too hard, but the taste of blood wasn't a concern. Her only concern was getting Rames, whom she never took her eyes off of the entire half an hour of waiting, away from her house calmly and quietly, with as few people knowing as possible. And in her panic the only person she could think of to call was Andon. She didn't know what meant, and right now, she didn't care.
Her heart flipped as she heard the carriage return. Tanisca must have laid down for a nap with the baby, because usually she would have checked on this level of commotion out front, especially if she thought it involved more visitors.
Veria had never been so relieved to see anyone in her life as Willis and Andon approached her. Her breath caught in her throat, she felt sobs forming knowing she'd have to explain herself soon—knowing her secret, the one she felt more important to keep hidden than even her illegitimate child, was about to be revealed...and she had no idea how they would react.
She knew with the rows of flora bushes, they wouldn't be able to see Rames' body until they were on the garden path walking toward her, and she saw their cordial smiles drop in unison as they did, catching glimpse of the issue they had been called to Longberme to deal with.
“Veria...” Willis gasped as he laid eyes on Lord Rames, crumpled on the blanket, surrounded by chunks of gray stone and a layer of dark brown dirt, and scattered leaves and blooms of rusty orange, the name of which Veria always forgot, but at this moment she certainly didn't care.
“What in Fire h
appened!?” Andon yelled, rushing toward her.
“Shhh!” she shushed him.
He placed his hands on her elbows and surveyed her closely, his scrutinizing eyes spending plenty of time on the state of her skirt.
“Did he hurt you?” Andon asked, his voice more grave than she'd ever heard it.
She shook her head.
“Did he try?” he questioned, arcing his body down so their faces were level and he could look at her eyes, which she was trying to keep angled at the ground, away from his.
“He...he tried to...” she swallowed hard, her voice too tight to finish.
“You don't have to say, sweet girl,” Willis assured her in his most comforting tone, and she knew it was just because he couldn't bear to hear about it.
Andon pulled her in close and held her against his chest. She heard his heart pounding loudly and rapidly. He was angry. He was furious. And he was scared. Certainly not scared of Rames, she thought. So, scared she might have been hurt? she wondered.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, pulling her away from him just enough so he could look her in the face.
Veria swallowed hard and prepared to recount the events, when Willis interrupted her again.
“He was hit with this planter, but...I saw this planter last time I was here,” he murmured, as if to himself, piecing together the scene. “You could not have lifted it—it must weigh half as much as you Veria.”
She locked eyes with Willis, her face hard and stern, trying to lead him to the inevitable conclusion without having to say anything.
It worked. His face went from confusion to utter shock, eyes and mouth going wide in unison.
The Second Talisman: (Book II of the Elementals Series) Page 4