by A. M. Manay
Hatch blew a long breath out through pursed lips, then shook his head. “All right. Thank you. Go back to bed, and tell no one about any of this. Not one word. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, then yawned.
“Go on, then,” he told her with a crooked smile, and Shiloh gratefully obeyed.
She had one final thought before drifting back to sleep, warm in her bed.
I wonder who the blue jay is going to be.
***
“Why is she so cross today?” Shiloh whispered to Penn. The courtiers were playing wickets in the garden, and Zina had already reduced four of her ladies to tears, including Penn and her own sister, Gwin.
“The king has not given up his mistress,” Penn whispered, her nose still red. “He took up with Lady Gabri when her grace was in her confinement. Now that her grace is recovered from the princess’s birth, the queen expected his grace to discard her. They had a terrible row last night.”
It was Shiloh’s turn. She purposely knocked the ball into the bushes to give them another moment to converse in private.
“He has had many mistresses, yes?” Shiloh asked.
“Yes, when Mirin was queen. The final few years especially, or the times she was pregnant,” Penn acknowledged. “But this is the first time for Queen Zina.”
“She is so desperate to have a son,” Shiloh whispered. “The thought of him wasting his time with another woman must rankle.”
“That, and her pride. She needs to always be the most beautiful, the most desired,” Penn added.
“Are you two lost in there? Why do we even bother including you? You’re terrible at all the games,” Lady Hana griped from the path.
Shiloh held up her ball. “Found it!” she called cheerfully, smiling brightly in the face of Hana’s scorn.
As they rejoined the group, Shiloh saw King Rischar bend to pluck a flower and give it to Lady Gabri. Zina cast aside her club and upbraided the nearest attendant for spoiling her shot.
“Oh, dear,” Shiloh muttered. I almost feel sorry for her, she thought.
Almost.
Queen Zina stalked ahead, leaving behind Gwin, who fought tears. Shiloh and Penn caught up to the queen’s sister.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Penn asked gently.
Gwin shrugged. “You’d think I’d be used to it,” she managed, sniffling.
“Being accustomed to pain does not make it hurt any less, my lady,” Shiloh observed.
They were interrupted when Rischar waved Shiloh to his side. She hastened to heed him, leaving Gwin and Penn behind.
“Shiloh,” Rischar boomed. “I have been writing down all my dreams for you. You must get the book from Lord Kepler and tell me what you think of them.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” she answered.
Something caught Rischar’s eye over her shoulder. “Who is that over there, looking after sweet Gwin?
“Penn Warwick, Your Grace, the Gate’s niece, my first friend here,” Shiloh replied. “She is most kind.”
“Is she?” Rischar asked thoughtfully. Gabri scowled.
Shiloh shivered.
***
“The king wishes for the two of us to accompany Princess Loor south to Fountain Bluff,” Hatch informed Shiloh. They sat in the garden, watching the courtiers practice their archery. Every so often, a cheer went up.
Shiloh’s eyebrows arched. “Not just us, surely,” she replied.
“Certainly not. We’ll have with us a few dozen soldiers, three nurses, maids, ladies-in-waiting, Lady Esta, and Lord and Lady Mosspeak,” Hatch explained. “We’ll travel south by ship and then overland into the southern hills. The roads are good in the Southlands. Lord Mosspeak does not shirk his duty.”
“You’re expecting trouble?” Shiloh asked.
He nodded. “Probably. South is better than north, if Lord Redwood intends to strike. The north is obviously his stronghold. But one never knows. And Mirin has a head start with which to make trouble, situated as she is at Three Trees. I would have preferred to keep the Dowager Duchess here where I could keep an eye on her, but, alas . . .” he trailed off, tilting his head toward Queen Zina. “I was overruled.”
“If it’s so dangerous, why don’t they just keep the princess here where we know she’ll be safe?” Shiloh asked.
Hatch gave her a thin smile. “I advanced the same notion. The king feels that to alter a tradition of so many years’ standing would be taken as a sign of weakness. Fountain Bluff has been site of the royal nursery for over a century.”
Shiloh’s face betrayed her skepticism. “Well, he is the king. I take it that I’m traveling more as a member of the Order of St. Stex than as a maid-in-waiting?”
“That is a fair assumption,” Hatch allowed. “I hope you still remember your wards.”
“I have some new ones, even. I suppose I’d better get some appropriate clothes made.” She looked down at her elaborate gown. “Wouldn’t want to ruin my fancy dresses fighting rebels in the mud.”
Hatch laughed. “I applaud your practicality. The rest of the ladies will be in carriages, but I’ll probably want you on horseback. Have a couple of riding habits made in dark colors, and some sturdy boots. Perhaps some of your mountain clothes, with the leggings. Folks will be scandalized, but needs must. You’ve been working on your riding, yes?”
Shiloh nodded. “Yes, sir. When do we depart?”
“Six weeks, weather permitting. Well after the Winter Solstice celebrations.”
“Wouldn’t want to miss that,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “They’ve got me teaching the children folk songs from the Teeth. They’re planning on dressing them up in rags or something. Gods, I don’t know. I just do as I’m told.”
“You’d rather guard against rebellion than lounge in luxury in the finest palace in the kingdom?” Hatch teased.
“Any day of the week, and twice on Lordsday,” she confessed. She lowered her voice to add, “Her grace has been moody. None of us can do anything properly. Lady Gwin is threatening to leave court and go home to her husband.”
“Perhaps she should,” Hatch admitted. “If the royal marriage deteriorates further, it is possible that neither she nor her brother will be safe here.”
“Do you really think his grace will throw the queen over after going to so much trouble to be able to marry her in the first place?” Shiloh asked, brow furrowed.
“I think the divorce taught him that he can do whatever he wills,” Hatch replied. “And that he grows impatient.”
Chapter 13
You Already Know What It Is
“These are the proposed terms of surrender. They will not become more generous if she refuses,” Mirin declared.
“I will convey that to the Usurper, Your Grace,” Silas pledged with a bow. He slid the parchment into his bag. “Her officers are eager for a truce. I pray they will press her to accept.”
“There is something else, Silas,” Mirin continued. “I need you to get rid of something for me on the way.” She handed him a small box.
“What is it, Your Grace?” the boy asked.
“That is not your concern. Don’t open it. Bury it. Bury it deep,” she ordered him. Her voice softened, and she reached out to touch the boy’s dark hair. “You know that you have been a great comfort to me all these months, while I have had to carry a man’s burden to help my lord husband. I don’t know what I would have done without you, my dear boy. How I would have borne it.” She ran her thumb over his lips before drawing her hand away.
Silas blushed and looked bashfully at his feet to cover his real feelings. “I am so pleased you think so, my queen.” He caught a wisp of her thoughts. Get this filthy thing away from me. I couldn’t even bear to look at it. Get it away.
Silas’s hands shook as he strapped the box to his saddle. Once he was well away from the castle he began to dig, desperate to postpone the moment he would have to open the box. He had to o
pen it; he knew that. He had to be able to tell Edmun what was inside of it.
Just get it over with. You already know what it is. You know it’s probably yours. She hasn’t laid eyes on Rischar in a year. She’s pulled you into her bed a dozen times or more. You’ve seen no one else in her thoughts while you let her, while you wished you were anywhere else.
Silas broke the seal and opened the lid. By the light of the moon, he saw the corpse of a baby boy with pale blue hair and no legs at all. He wondered if the child had been stillborn, or if Mirin had killed him herself. Perhaps she’d killed the baby and whoever had helped her birth him, too.
She killed him. You know she did. Tears rolled down his face.
She killed your baby.
***
Shiloh sat on a window seat with Penn, watching the others. Benjamin, the lute player, was in attendance in the queen’s apartments, along with a half-dozen of the king’s young men. They were competing in crafting poetry in honor of their queen, and Benjamin, in turn, worked to set them to music. The room rang with laughter and flirtation. The queen, enjoying being worshipped, seemed in better spirits than usual. The musician seemed particularly taken with Zina, never more than a few paces away. Lord Kepler glared at him.
“What’s got her so happy today?” Shiloh whispered to Penn.
“Rumor has it that her courses are over two months late,” Penn whispered back.
Shiloh raised her eyebrows. “Good news indeed. She’s hidden it well. I suppose she wanted to be certain.”
“Good enough news that the king has discarded Lady Gabri, my cousins say,” Penn shared. “She’s gone home, claiming illness.”
“We could all use some peace and good cheer, with the Solstice celebrations coming up,” Shiloh replied. “I assume it will be terribly elaborate.”
Penn laughed. “Oh, yes. The men will put on pageants. Verjell will be king for a day. There will be a masked ball.”
“Am I invited to that?” Shiloh asked with some trepidation.
“Usually the mixed-bloods aren’t, but you aren’t usual,” Penn answered. “I suppose you will have to see if you receive an invitation next week.”
“Pray for me that I don’t,” Shiloh murmured.
Penn laughed, shaking her head. “No one will want to dance with us anyway,” she assured her friend. “We can be wallflowers and gossip while we drink wine and eat candies all night.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Shiloh admitted, “when you put it like that.”
The door opened, and everyone leapt to his or her feet to bow or curtsey as the king strode in, smiling from ear to ear. He went straight to Zina, swept her into his arms, and planted a kiss on her mouth.
“My lord husband, pray tell what cheers you so,” she laughed.
“She’s dead,” he told her gleefully. “Mirin is dead.”
Shiloh looked around for Esta. She realized that someone must have warned the poor girl, because she was nowhere to be found, to Shiloh’s relief. How difficult it must be for her, to know how much her father celebrates her mother’s death. How cruel they are.
The musicians struck up the music again, and the king and queen began to dance. Shiloh slipped out the door, unnoticed.
***
Shiloh knelt next to Esta in front of the shrine to the Mother in the Temple. The king’s daughter was utterly alone, no ladies-in-waiting to accompany her in her sorrow. Her nose and cheeks glowed bright red from crying, but her eyes were now dry.
“I thought I might find you here,” Shiloh said softly. “I am so sorry for your grief.”
Esta looked at her in surprise. “No one else is,” she declared, her bitterness escaping like steam from a kettle.
“I know. Her death makes things easier for everyone else, and no one will show any regret over her passing for fear of being thought a traitor. But I know what it is to lose a parent, and I am sorry you have to carry this alone, my lady.”
“They poisoned her. I feel it in my bones. The queen’s people, or Hatch’s minions. Only the Gods know who. No one will ever admit it, nor will anyone ever face justice for the act, at least not in this life. I will never be able to speak of it to anyone who matters, not so long as that woman is queen. But I will not forget. I will never forget,” Esta swore.
“When my father was murdered, I lashed out at those who had taken him from me. But it didn’t make me feel any better. It made me feel worse,” Shiloh sighed. “I’m not going to lie and tell you that the pain of missing them goes away. You just get used to it, and it dulls to an ache. It’s as though the Gods didn’t make us to suffer entirely without respite. It does help to talk about them.”
Esta snorted. “With whom? I trust no one, not even my confessor.”
“Even if only to the Gods, then,” Shiloh suggested gently. “Everyone says that time helps. And it does, in a way. But I resent it passing. It’s like a river that carries me further and further away from my Da. And to me, it’s like it just happened. But the water just keeps on flowing,” Shiloh concluded, then glanced over her shoulder toward the door. “I need to get back before I am missed. I’ll pray for you, my lady.” She rose to leave.
“My priests tell me you are in here twice a day,” Esta told her, halting her departure. “They say that you are a faithful woman, Unclean or not.”
“Yes, my lady, I try to be,” Shiloh confirmed. “I was raised that way.”
Esta nodded. “So was I. But it is no longer in fashion.” She turned her attention back to her prayer beads, and Shiloh took that as a dismissal.
***
Shiloh stood in her room, gazing at herself in the mirror. She shook her head, incredulous. Jane had curled her wavy hair with a hot iron, and it fell in perfect ringlets to rest on her bare shoulders. The neckline of her pale pink ball gown was decorated with scattered pearls, and a hidden pocket in the full skirt held her wand.
“You look a vision, Miss Shiloh,” Jane declared.
“All thanks to you,” Shiloh replied, smiling. “You have the mask?”
Jane nodded and carefully tied the ribbon that would hold the half mask over Shiloh’s eyes, not that the hook and pink hair wouldn’t give her away regardless. Penn had explained that everyone merely pretended not to know each other, as part of the fun.
Shiloh shook her head. “Pray for me,” she told Jane.
“You’ll be fine,” Jane countered with a laugh. “Make sure you dance with Master Hatch!” she called as Shiloh disappeared out the door.
Supper was a splendid affair, full of elaborate dishes, costumed waiters, and freely flowing wine. The skits and performances followed, once the tables had been cleared away. The children’s rendition of folk songs of the Teeth came off reasonably well, much to Shiloh’s relief. Her terrible track record at dance lessons had spared her inclusion in the group dancing featuring most of the courtiers. Finally, the men of the chamber began to perform a comedy Shiloh hadn’t seen being rehearsed.
With a surge of anger, she realized that the men were mocking Brother Edmun. Her ears blushed bright red as Lord Kepler scornfully portrayed Edmun’s devotion to the Usurper during the war by implying they’d had an incestuous affair.
“Take deep breaths,” came Hatch’s kind voice from behind her. “Don’t let them see it distresses you.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded, drawing as much breath as her corset would allow. She fixed her eyes on the wall behind the players and plastered a smile onto her face.
“That’s the way,” he encouraged her, his own face alight with false merriment. “All you can do is make note of who mocks him and remember it. You never know when the moment might come to repay them for their cruelty.”
“Vengeance is sinful, Master Hatch,” she reminded him.
“I’m quite certain I’m already amongst the damned, Dame Shiloh,” he replied, “so I might as well make the most of it.”
At last, the play concluded, and
Shiloh made a show of clapping her hand against her hook. “What’s next?” she whispered.
“The marriages for the year will be announced,” Hatch replied. A crier began calling out names, to cheers and clapping.
The happy couples gathered for a special dance. Shiloh caught sight of Lady Hana dancing with Lord Kepler. “Well, there’s a perfect match,” she muttered, causing Hatch to nearly choke on his wine as he followed her gaze.
He bent to whisper in her ear. “Can you imagine what their children will be like? They’ll go through a new nurse every week.” Shiloh tried to swallow a giggle.
The king and queen danced next, the picture of romantic bliss for once. The queen’s pregnancy was now common knowledge, though her waist was only just beginning to thicken. Once their dance had concluded to much applause, the floor was open to all. She was about to search for Penn and a plate full of candies when Hatch took her by the elbow.
“May I, my lady?” he asked.
Shiloh was too surprised to object, and he swept her onto the floor. As she gazed out over Silas’s shoulder, she caught sight of Lady Esta sitting quietly with her minders, no one brave enough to dance with her. Her gown was done in mourning white—a visible little rebellion, Shiloh supposed. Penn swept by on the arm of one of her cousins and offered Shiloh a wink, prompting a snort of laughter.
“What? Is my dancing as bad as that?” Silas asked.
“No, my friend was teasing me,” she explained.
“Penn Warwick?” he asked.
Shiloh nodded.
“Your friend has caught the king’s eye,” he informed her.
“I know,” Shiloh replied. “I saw.”