“Elee is napping in our wagon, with Nan and the twins,” Lady Thordike assured him. “Don’t worry, she wasn’t too frightened, she said she’d like to help again. I think being with her sister and I made her feel important.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Exactly what more do you think a five year old can do?” Thordike’s words held a note of warning.
“A five year old with magic in her voice,” Jovan reminded him. “The only one beside Melody we’ve ever seen.”
“Magic or no, she’s still a baby,” Lady Marina said. “There’s not much she can do beyond what she already has, Jovan. What are you suggesting?”
“The chants,” Jovan said. His gut clenched just saying the words. “She needs to learn them.”
“Against Semaj? Are you mad?” Duke Thordike’s words were a shout.
“You can’t be serious!” Lady Thordike turned in her saddle to look at Jovan, disbelief on her face.
Senna shook her head. “Jovan, there has to be another way.”
“Do you think I like the idea?” he snapped. “That I want this? Of course I don’t. That this is even an option—”
“It isn’t,” Thordike interrupted. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”
Jovan set his jaw. “If Melody … If she doesn’t … If she can’t—” He took a deep breath. “Look, no one else can lead those chants. And someone is going to have to.”
“Yes,” Thordike agreed. “Melody.”
“You weren’t there,” Jovan told him, his dark eyes serious. “You don’t know. You didn’t see it. It’s worse every time and the last full moon is tonight and even with everyone doing everything they can, I don’t think—” He broke off, refusing to say the words.
Seeing Jovan so upset gave Duke Thordike pause, and he looked at his wife. “Marina, was … was it that bad?”
She took a long moment to answer. “The baby’s just getting so big,” she said. “He almost … clawed his way through last night.”
“How far along is she?” he asked, exasperated. “Can’t she just have it? Can you get it out of her?”
“It,” Jovan reminded him, “is my son. And I’m pretty sure babies don’t work like that.”
“They don’t,” Senna agreed. “Especially this one. I’ve felt him growing from the beginning, but his development is far from normal. I have no idea how mature he actually is - only that he’s different when he transforms.”
“Has anyone ever been born a werewolf?” Lady Thordike asked, genuinely curious.
“Until ‘Vain brought Melody to me, Lady, I didn’t even think werewolves were real. I know he was bitten. He might know more about if it’s possible, but he won’t return until tomorrow.”
Duke Thordike persisted. “If it— If he can cut himself free, then he’s big enough to live out here, isn’t he? Aren’t there herbs or something to just make her deliver?”
“You act like he’s thinking,” Senna said. “He’s just a baby! When the change comes he’s all instinct and hunger - maybe as a werewolf he could make it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll survive once he’s human again.”
“At least Melody will,” the Duke said, almost under his breath.
“Donnel Thordike! Don’t you even think such a thing!”
“I’m not saying I like the idea, Marina, but I’m trying to be practical.”
“Practical? Killing my unborn son is more practical than teaching your daughter some poetry?”
Thordike sighed heavily. “There is no good plan, Jovan, I’m aware of that.”
“Then pick the one that isn’t murder.”
“I will not put my daughter in harm’s way!”
Senna held up her hand. “Wait, please. Duke Thordike, I understand. I do. And Jovan, you’re right. But what if we could do both?”
“There’s no way to keep them all safe, Senna. It’s just not possible.” Lady Thordike shivered unhappily.
“Elee can be in the twins’ shield,” Senna said. “That was already the plan for Sophie, right? So we can teach Elee the chants. She can lead the magic users in saying them, and then the twins will close the shield. Nothing can get through it, and they’ll have time to practice before then. They’ll all be safe inside it.”
“What about Melody?” Jovan asked.
Senna paused. “She’ll be in there with them, if …”
Jovan finished her sentence. “If she survives.”
“Jovan, I just don’t—”
“I know. Duke, please. Elee needs to learn, and fast. Whether she uses it or not. I’ve got to talk to Melody.” He reigned in his horse, letting the others pass him by, an idea forming in his mind.
“Senna’s right, you should drink something.” Bethcelamin offered the waterskin to her daughter once more, but Melody waved it away.
“Later,” she promised. Her voice was thin and tired. “I already have to stop too often.”
Bethcelamin smiled. It had been a long time, but she remembered the frequent calls of nature when she had been pregnant. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
Melody shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. “I wish people would stop asking me that.”
“We just—”
“You’re worried. I know. Everyone always is.” She sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. You had a long night as well, I shouldn’t be rude.”
“You’re hardly rude,” Bethcelamin said. “After what you’ve been through, I would honestly expect much worse.”
Melody didn’t respond, and Bethcelamin looked down at her hands, thoughtful. “May I ask you something?”
“As long as it’s not how I’m feeling, yes.”
“How do you … How do you do this? How do you keep doing it?”
Melody regarded her mother curiously, but Bethcelamin didn’t lift her gaze to meet her eyes. “Magic, you mean?”
“No.” Her voice was quiet and serious. “So many people died back there … people who came because you awakened them. Do you ... blame yourself?”
There was a long, heavy silence. “I do,” Melody finally said.
“Even though it’s all necessary?” Bethcelamin struggled to find the right words. “Isn’t defeating Semaj the most important thing?”
Melody saw the magic around her mother shifting restlessly, highlighting old wounds, old heartaches - and the insidious layer of dedication implanted with every version of her daughter’s song. Despite the pale green tint of her healing power, Bethcelamin still wore traces of Korith’s darker, clinging energy - it gripped her shoulders, encircled her neck, weighed on her chest…
“What are you really asking me, mother?”
Bethcelamin took a deep, shuddering breath. If she thought about it too much, she was certain she would cry. “Did I do the right thing?” she asked. “Leaving Jayden? Admitting I was a Healer?”
“I’d be dead if you hadn’t.” Melody was matter-of-fact.
“I … I know. And I wouldn’t change that, I couldn’t, but what if—” She did cry, then, covering her lips with both hands and blinking furiously to stem the tears.
Melody sat straighter, leaning forward and touching her mother’s knee. “It’s all right,” she said, curious. “What’s the matter?”
It all poured out - between hiccuping sobs and storms of tears, Bethcelamin told her daughter about Korith’s threats, how if she were to speak out against him, people she loved would be tortured and killed. She spoke of the letters her husband sent to stay the hands of those in place and waiting, ready to kill if they didn’t receive word, all because he didn’t trust her and never had. Her younger sister and her family … Bashara’s parents … Bethcelamin’s voice trembled as she admitted that Jayden had even threatened Lady Marina’s children, all to keep her silent.
“I disobeyed,” she said, wiping the tears from her face with shaking hands. “Now he won’t send the letters, and everyone—” She couldn’t continue.
Melody bit her lip, feeling the anger well up
inside herself. She hadn’t felt a thing when she saw Jayden Korith for the first time, even knowing that he had hunted her since before she was born. She knew he had ordered the attack that killed her Dweller family, but the knowledge left her sad and numb, not angry. This, though … Whatever Bethcelamin had - or hadn’t - done, she did not deserve this frantic uncertainty.
“Could he have lied?” Melody asked. “I don’t know him very well, but it seems like something he would do.”
Bethcelamin sniffled, shaking her head. “He would also hurt people I care about, Melody. He’d do it without hesitation. I saw him write the letters,” she said. “He made sure I saw.”
“Did you read them?” Melody pressed on. “The actual words?”
“Of course not, it’s not my place to—” She stopped as soon as she said it, realization dawning. “No,” she breathed. “It couldn’t be.”
“You know your husband best, Lady. Would he be more likely to write letters every week for years to save lives, or lie about them being in danger?”
Bethcelamin didn’t reply for a moment. She knew the answer, of course, it was beyond simple, but … She raised her head, meeting Melody’s eyes. “I ... I couldn’t take that chance. I couldn’t risk innocent lives.” Tears began to well up in her eyes again. “Only I just did. Oh Melody, how could I have been so selfish?”
“Are you sure that’s what it was? Let me ask - why did you stay? What made you stand up to him?”
“I needed to help.” There was no hesitation. “I’m a Healer. There is real good I can do in the world, especially now. You needed me. Those Hunters would have died defending us if I hadn’t healed them when they fell.” She paused, remembering. “Jayden never even stood up to fight with them.”
“You saved their lives. You saved my life.” Melody looked again at her mother, seeing her anew. “Everything you’ve ever done has been for others,” she realized. The words in Solus’ journal came back to her. “You gave up Solus because your father wanted you to marry Korith. You hid your magic because Korith hated and feared it. You left me with the Dwellers … because Solus said you must. You supported Korith to protect the people you loved. You did it all for them.”
Bethcelamin sat silent, staring at her fingers as they twisted restlessly in the edge of her cloak.
“How much more have you sacrificed along the way? You’re far from selfish,” Melody told her. “Korith took advantage of that. But the lives he’s threatened are not yours to save.” She reached out, taking Beth’s hands in her own. “You aren’t responsible for him,” she said. “Your choices can be your own. They are.”
Bethcelamin squeezed Melody’s cold fingers. “Even if others suffer?”
Melody gave a small, sad smile. “How many people died at the Crossing because I refuse to give up my son? How many more are at risk if he kills me tonight?”
“He won’t.” Jovan swung up into the covered wagon, shaking snow from his cloak. “Lady Bethcelamin.” He greeted the Duchess politely before placing an icy kiss on Melody’s forehead. “I had an idea,” he said. “Rhodoban says it will work.”
“No, Rhodoban says it might work,” the mage corrected him, climbing into the wagon as well. “I just don’t know how to test it before we need it. Come on up, boys.”
Christoph and Belor piled in, bringing still more snow with them. “Hello, Melody,” Christoph said, trying to bow politely but bumping into Belor, who was doing the same to Lady Bethcelamin.
Melody grinned. “Should we bring this outside?” she asked.
Jovan offered her his hand. “We’ll make room,” he said, pulling her upright and sliding into her vacated seat in one fluid motion. He settled her back on his lap gently, and she balanced herself with an arm around his neck. “There. Plenty of space now, see?”
Lady Korith moved to one side, making room for Rhodoban, and the twins perched on the bench seat beside Jovan.
“Can I tell her?” Belor was leaning forward eagerly, bouncing his snowy boots on the wagon floor. “Jovan, can I?”
“Tell me what?” Melody couldn’t imagine what had everyone in such a good mood, especially with moonrise so close. She could feel it coming, and the sensation was anything but hopeful.
“We’re going to trap the baby,” Christoph blurted out, too slow to duck his brother’s indignant swat. “Ow, stop it!”
“He said I could tell!” Belor cried, his cheeks reddening.
“I didn’t tell the whole thing!”
“You spoiled it!”
Melody felt what little color she had drain from her face. She almost didn’t hear the boys fighting, or Rhodoban and Jovan trying to calm them, insisting they hadn’t ruined anything. The shield, she thought. It kept everything out. And it kept everything in. Of course. Her hand drifted to her swollen abdomen, and Jovan put his hand on hers.
“You really think it could work?” she asked him, softly. His answering smile was more hopeful than she’d seen on his face in weeks.
The twins finally hushed under Rhodoban’s threatening eye. “Belor,” the mage said. “Why don’t you explain it to Melody?”
“We’re going to do the thing, but little. It’s like when we trapped Arik, only inside your belly.”
“And no fire,” Christoph added.
Melody nodded. “I remember you told me you did that.” Nothing had penetrated the shield, she recalled. Not her hand, not snowballs, not fire— Jovan’s sword had, but that was magic none of them understood. If they could enclose the baby, it could keep him from hurting her when he transformed. “He’s a very small target,” she cautioned. “Have you tried something tiny before?”
Lady Bethcelamin frowned, nervous. “It’s a wonderful idea,” she said, “but will it hurt either of them? Mothers and babies share so much …”
“Does it have to be a circle?” Rhodoban added. “If there’s any room between her and those claws…“
“They can practice before moonrise,” Melody said. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Not while we’re moving,” Christoph said. “We have to sit still for it to work.”
“Mother says that’s her favorite part about it.”
Melody grinned at Belor. “We’ll see if we can stop soon. I’m sure it will work, it’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Jovan thought of it,” the boy said, grinning. “Can we go tell father to stop? He’ll do it for us.”
“Why don’t I go with you,” Rhodoban suggested, holding the canvas open for the boys to climb through. “Lady Bethcelamin?”
The Duchess looked over at Melody, cradled against Jovan’s chest. If the twins’ magic didn’t work, she thought, this may be the couple’s last hour together. She stood up and accepted Rhodoban’s aid. “I’ll gather the other Healers,” she said. “Explain what the boys are going to do.”
When the wagon was empty, Jovan made no move to unseat Melody. She wound her fingers in his hair, placing her lips against his temple. She closed her eyes.
Jovan, if this doesn’t work—
“It will,” he promised. “It has to.” He put his hand on her belly once more, feeling his son shifting beneath her skin. “Even if they can’t shield him all night, they can give the Healers time to rest. You can give me the pain again. We can do this, together. All of us.”
Melody took a deep breath. What if we don’t? I know you don’t want to think about it, but Semaj is still out there. He’s not going away, no matter what happens to me.
“They’re going to teach Elee the chants,” Jovan admitted. She stiffened against him. “I don’t like it either, Melody, but the chants are the answer and she’s the only magical voice besides yours.”
They can’t! Her eyes were wide and disbelieving. She’s a baby!
“So is he,” Jovan said, pressing gently against her abdomen. He smiled once as the baby kicked against his hand at the motion, but it quickly faded to a serious expression. “No one is safe in this, Melody.”
But it has to be d
one.
Jovan nodded. “You can do it,” he assured her, wishing he was as confident as he sounded. “The twins will do their thing, and you’ll be fine, and the baby will be fine. We’ll be in Cabinsport before the next full moon.”
With what army? She asked, her heart heavy. Do you expect Korith to bring soldiers?
“One problem at a time,” he beseeched her with a kiss. “Please?”
30
“Christoph, Belor - walk with your sister, please? Hold her hands and help her focus.” Lady Thordike called ahead to her children as they walked with the other mages, lending their magic to Melody’s to cast the circle around their encampment. The camp was smaller now, much smaller, after the incident at the Crossing. No one discussed it.
“I’ll get her, mother.” Sophie left her place between Marina and Bethcelamin, jogging up to take Elee’s hand as the youngest child crouched in the snow. “It’s not time for snowballs, Leelee,” she said. “We have to do magic so we can be safe, all right? Here, walk and say it with me … Please let us be safe. Please let us be safe.”
“Please let us be safe,” Elee repeated, taking steps in time with the words. “Please let us be safe.”
Lady Korith smiled. “Children are so remarkable,” she observed. “I wish I was half as relaxed about this as they are.”
“They’ve grown up too fast,” Marina said. “I wish they didn’t have to, but …”
“Melody wouldn’t have survived without them.” Bethcelmin looked ahead to where her daughter, Senna, and Rhodoban led the procession. “In truth, I feared she was lost last night even with their help.”
“I think we all feared that.”
They walked for a few moments, focusing on the circle, whispering the same prayer as the others - “Please let us be safe.”
The plan to use Christoph and Belor’s shield to protect Melody from her unborn son’s transformation had worked, to an extent. The twins had difficulty keeping the magical barrier in place between mother and child consistent. They’d discovered when they practiced that small shields were more challenging than big ones, and holding any shape besides a circle was a strain. Add to that the fact that they were working blind, and it was a miracle there had only been two dangerously close calls.
Arise Page 19