by A. M. Manay
***
Shiloh stood at the prow of Lord Northgate’s boat as they crossed the Bay to get to his house in the Claw. She thought about the morning a year earlier when his ferry had carried her the other way.
Our boat, she corrected herself. On our way to our house. She wondered how long it would be until she believed it. She would certainly have some time to get used to the idea, as they were to set off for his holdings in the Frontier in a few days. Our holdings.
It felt strange to leave Greenhill Palace without the rest of the court. Saying goodbye to Penn had been difficult, but she felt assured that she would be back in the City well before the queen would give birth.
Silas slid up beside her. “Doing all right?” he asked with a tentative smile. “If you’re speaking to me, that is?”
“Yes, my lord,” she replied. He gave her a look. “Yes, Silas,” she amended. “I’m fine. The feast was lovely.”
“You didn’t seem to be eating much of it,” he countered.
“Well, so many people kept coming up to talk to me, and I was too frazzled and nervous to eat,” she defended herself.
“You mean too overjoyed, I’m sure,” he teased her. She rolled her eyes at him. “Lill will get us a snack, not to worry.”
“Lord Redwood was sweet. He gave me a necklace of his mother’s to wear today,” she told him. Shiloh touched the diamonds that lay on her collarbone. “Did you know? I was relieved. I was afraid he’d be angry.”
“He is angry. Just not at you,” Silas replied. “But he and I hashed it out the other night. I think we came to an understanding. He is still your friend; that I can assure you.”
“That’s good. Isn’t it?” she asked.
Silas nodded. He took her hand. She stiffened, then forced herself to relax.
“I’m still angry,” she told him. “It isn’t right. Forcing people to get married.”
“I know. But it’s the price of being part of the ruling of the kingdom,” Silas replied. “It’s politics.”
“I know. I still don’t like it. And I never asked to be part of that,” Shiloh countered.
“Neither did most of the rest of us,” Silas pointed out.
“May I ask you something?” she said, turning her head to look away from him. Her mind kept jumping from worry to worry, with little rhyme or reason.
“Of course,” he replied, tilting his head at her change in tone.
“Do you . . . do you have a mistress?” she asked, unable to look him in the face. “I know most men do, especially important men, but I don’t want to be surprised and humiliated in public, so I just want to know ahead of time so—”
“No,” he replied simply. “I don’t. It’s been some time since I have. And I’m not looking for one. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a difficult time trusting people.”
Shiloh nodded. “Very good. Thank you for, um . . . Wait! Will I have to drop out of school?” Shiloh demanded, suddenly in a panic again. “Lord Kepler made Lady Hana stop her studies when they got married, and Penny, I mean, the queen, had to stop, too.”
“No, no, of course not,” Hatch assured her. “You do whatever you want. I will need you to spend some time at Northgate Castle with me in the next month, to tend to our affairs, but it shouldn’t interfere too much with your studies. You can correspond with Jonn. I saw Jane packing you a trunk full of books. You mostly teach yourself anyway.”
“‘Our affairs,’” she repeated, and barked a laugh. “I’ve never been important enough to have ‘affairs’ before.”
“You’re a baroness,” he pointed out, lips twitching.
She shook her head. “Ridiculous,” she declared. “I don’t have any idea what to do. I’m barely grown. A year ago, I was destitute.”
“I have a feeling you’ll manage.”
Shiloh took a deep breath and looked at the lights growing larger on the other side of the water. The Claw was getting closer. The house was getting closer. The marriage bed was getting closer. She shivered.
“I know you didn’t want this, but I shall do my best to be a good husband to you, Shiloh,” Silas pledged softly. “Truly, I will.”
She looked up at him but couldn’t quite manage a smile. “I know.”
***
Jane helped Shiloh out of her finery, prattling away all the while. Shiloh could barely hear her over the sound of her own beating heart. She had faced down rebels and Feralfolk aplenty, but she was terrified of her own wedding night.
The marriage had to be consummated in order to be valid. Failure to do so would be grounds for annulment. And an annulment would mean the risk of being passed along to someone worse, or endanger her life if no suitable marriage could be made. She knew that. Besides, she had long since decided that keeping Hatch close was the safest course of action. And what could be closer than in the same bed?
If you let him love you, when the crown turns on you, he will hesitate. And that may make all the difference.
Truth be told, she was a little curious. As a country girl, she was well aware of the mechanics, but she got the feeling that it was about more than mechanics.
She’d asked Penn what to expect. The queen had blushed furiously and told her in a whisper that it hurt a bit, and was messy, but that it wasn’t so bad. That did not exactly leave Shiloh comforted.
Jane pulled Shiloh’s new nightdress over her head. A gift from the queen, it was beautifully embroidered and terribly itchy.
Well, at least I won’t be too reluctant to take it off. She snorted a laugh. I wonder if Penny did that on purpose.
“Your hook, my lady?” Jane asked, reaching out to unbuckle it and put it away.
Shiloh shook her head emphatically. “No, I’d rather keep it on for now.”
She knew it must look odd, the green leather straps visible through the white nightgown, but she didn’t care. Without her prosthetic, she felt too vulnerable. She hated the idea of being seen as weak, crippled. Especially by Silas Hatch. Especially that night.
Jane finished putting away all the clothes and jewelry. “Have a good sleep, my lady,” the maid said with a grin and a wink. Then she slipped out into the hallway.
It was all Shiloh could do not to cry out to ask her to stay. A few moments later, someone tapped on the door.
“Shiloh,” Silas called softly. “May I come in?”
Oh, Gods help me.
***
Silas stood in the doorway for a moment. She looked lovely sitting on the edge of the bed, glowing in the warm light of the lamp. Lovely but frightened. He realized he had never seen her with her hair down and uncovered. Even after she’d arrived at court and had been forced to discard her hood, she’d always styled her bright pink hair in braids pinned close to her head, covered with as much ribbon and lace as she could get away with. Now it fell in loose waves halfway down her back.
He padded across the floor to sit next to her, barefoot and clad in his own nightdress and dressing gown. She flinched when he sat down.
“Am I really so terrible as that?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Don’t take it personally. I’d be terrified no matter who it was.”
“How reassuring.” He reached out and took hold of her chin, turned her face, and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Shiloh, I’m not going to lie. The first time is always rather awful. I will try to make it as less awful for you as I can manage.”
She barked a laugh. “With that silver tongue, I can’t believe you have trouble holding onto mistresses,” she teased, then covered her mouth with her hand as she realized she’d said it out loud.
Silas laughed. “Shiloh, do you trust me?”
“Mostly,” she replied. “Sometimes.”
He winced. “I deserve that. I do. Look, Shiloh, in this bed, and in our house, you can trust me never to hurt you on purpose. I’m sure I’ll do it by accident. Gods know, I can be a hard man. But not on purpose. Not with you.”
>
She relaxed slightly.
“Shall we do this thing so we can get some sleep? Because I’m not sure about you, but I am exhausted,” Silas admitted with a yawn.
She laughed, “All right, my lord husband. Let’s get this over with.”
Silas leaned over and blew out the lamp.
***
Shiloh woke at dawn, curled up on her side. For a moment, in the unfamiliar bed, confusion reigned. Where am I?
“Good morning, little bird,” Silas greeted her.
Oh, right. I’m married. To Silas Hatch.
She sat up and turned to face him, clutching the sheets to her chest in an effort at modesty.
“Good morning, Silas,” she said stiffly.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
She nodded. “You?”
He smiled. “Like a baby. Here, I got you a present. I’ll be right back.”
He stood and put on his dressing gown then slipped out into the hallway. Shiloh could hear him in his bed chamber next door opening and closing a cabinet.
When he returned, he bowed and held out a wooden chest of dark mahogany, its lid heavily embellished with inlaid gold filigree in a pattern she had never seen before.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” she breathed as he placed it in her lap.
“It’s for jewelry,” he explained, somewhat unnecessarily, his face full of hope and anticipation. “Do you really like it?”
“Of course I do. Thank you,” Shiloh told him, smiling warmly. “I’ve never been given such a beautiful gift. I love it.”
“Look at it one more time,” he urged her.
She obeyed, slightly confused, until finally the golden shapes leapt out at her.
“Oh!” she cried. “They’re hexmarks. They’re my scars.”
“I wanted to prove to you that they aren’t ugly,” he explained softly, watching her reaction closely. “Not to me.”
Shiloh put her hand to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Are those bad tears?” Silas asked, brow furrowed. “Because I can send it back or chop it to pieces. And if you never want me to return to your chamber, I won’t—”
Shiloh shook her head. Silas sat down next to her, exhaling in relief. He leaned over and tentatively kissed a scar on her shoulder. Shiloh inhaled sharply.
“Did that hurt? I’m sorry,” Silas apologized, pulling away from her in alarm.
She shook her head again. “No. No, that, um, wasn’t because it hurt.” She blushed as pink as her hair.
A slow smile spread across Silas’s face.
“Oh, how splendid.”
***
Shiloh knelt in the dirt. When she looked up from her labor, she could see Northgate Castle and the fortifications along the border with Gerne, the fortifications she and Silas now searched for money to repair. The late Lord Redwood had been neglecting them terribly in favor of funding his ill-fated revolution.
There will be more crops next year, she told herself. More tax revenue to pay to guard the fields that produce them. You just have to keep going. One day at a time.
Shiloh was determined to clear as much of the Deadlands in the Frontier as she could before she returned to Greenhill Palace for Penn’s confinement. The farmers had started planting winter wheat in the land she’d already restored. They trailed along behind her with their horses and plows and seed. Most of them had stopped casting signs at her once they’d gotten their hands into the rich soil her countercurse had left behind.
It was exhausting and monotonous work, but when the sun went down, and she stretched her aching back, she was always content with how she’d spent her day. She’d gotten to where she could clear about ten acres in an hour, circles of restored land rippling out around her kneeling form as she chanted, her wand touching the blackened crust the Siblings’ War had left behind. Then she would take a rest and begin again on another plot of land. She was still figuring out what to do once she got too far from the castle to return at night.
Jane was in despair about the stains and soot on Shiloh’s clothes from her kneeling on the ground, but otherwise, the maid seemed happy with the change of scenery. Lill had whipped the household staff into shape, which was fortunate, as Shiloh had no idea how to run a great house. Unfortunately, the maids could tell she was at sea. Earning their respect was going to be a challenge.
The steward, Gare, on the other hand, whom her husband had sent up when he’d received the land, was reliable, respectful, and kind. Shiloh suspected that Gare was sweet on Lill.
As for her marriage, Shiloh felt that she and her husband were beginning to settle into a comfortable, if sometimes awkward, routine. They were both busy, which kept Shiloh from thinking too much about the change in her life. She wondered if her relationship with Silas would ever feel like a romance, not sure if she wanted it to. Still, she smiled whenever she looked at her jewelry box.
All in all, the month since the wedding had passed without any major trouble, for which Shiloh was grateful.
Judging by the look on her husband’s face as he galloped toward her, that was about to change.
“What is it?” she demanded before he’d even dismounted.
His face was pale when his feet hit the ground. “The king is dead.”
“What? No!” she exclaimed. “How?”
“According to Mosspeak, his grace fell down some stairs after an evening of drink and wenching,” Silas explained, visibly distraught. “After everything I did to protect him! Everything you did. For him to die so stupidly.” His voice broke. “I am livid.” A muscle bulged in his jaw.
“I thought . . . I thought that I was meant to be at court to protect him. What was the point of my even coming to the City if he was just going to get killed like this? I thought I was . . .” She shook her head.
“The chosen one of the Gods?” Hatch finished. “Who would save the king from himself?”
“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous,” Shiloh admitted.
“No. It’s just the way Edmun raised us to think, that our gifts set us apart,” Silas replied. “The things I’ve done to protect the king . . .” He looked down at his boots.
“I needed to believe it,” Shiloh admitted softly. “I still need to believe it—that I’m alive for a reason, that I am what I am for a reason. That I haven’t suffered all these years for nothing.”
Silas reached out and pulled her close. “It hasn’t been for nothing,” he told her.
“Do you think . . . could it be the curse that killed him?” Shiloh whispered. “Kepler’s blood curse?”
“I don’t know,” Silas confessed. “I really don’t.”
“What happens now?” Shiloh asked, pulling away.
“A right mess. I have to get back to the City. If only the baby were born, it would be simpler.”
“Because if it is a boy, he is king. And if not, Esta is queen,” Shiloh deduced.
“Exactly,” Hatch replied. “As it is, no one knows who is in charge. Either of them would need a regent. And Esta and Loor are at Greenhill Palace. Queen Penn had invited them, so they could get to know her and would be included in the birth and Dedication. I have to get there to make sure things don’t fall apart, that no one goes after the princesses or the dowager queen. A power vacuum is a very dangerous thing.”
“Isn’t that perilous for you? I mean, if Esta grabs the reins . . . she has no love for you,” Shiloh warned.
Silas shook his head. “A chance I have to take.”
“Do I come, too?” she asked. “Penny, her grace, will need looking after.”
“No,” he declared. “Wait until things shake out. I’ll send for you when I am sure it is safe. Besides, you are needed here. The people need to see their lady hard at work for them in a time of uncertainty.”
“Their lady . . . I don’t think they have a whole lot of confidence in an Unclean sixteen-year-old girl from the Teeth,” Shiloh fretted.<
br />
“They soon will.” The bell at the monastery began to toll, over and over, unceasing. “They’ve gotten word,” Silas observed. “I must fly.”
She threw her arms around him, heedless of the dirt all over her garments. “Be careful,” she said fiercely.
He smiled. “I’m always careful. Be safe.”
He swung back onto his horse and headed toward the road.
Gods preserve us, she begged the Lords of Heaven.
***
Dear Shiloh,
I regret that is it necessary to send you this sad news in a letter. The queen’s pains began too soon, and her son died soon after birth. The prince lived just long enough to be named Rischar II and dedicated to the Babe. Esta will be crowned by the time you receive this letter. Mosspeak has been named regent to assist her until she comes of age, thank the Gods.
The dowager queen is, of course, despondent. I know that you will wish to come to console her, but I implore you, remain at Northgate. The dowager queen concurs with this recommendation. She intends, when recovered, to retire to Fountain Bluff to care for Princess Loor. I hope her role as stepmother will be a comfort to her. Perhaps we can arrange a visit there.
Her grace the queen has invited the Patriarch to return to Bryn, to his sovereignty over the Church here. In light of that, I do not expect you would be warmly welcomed at court. I anticipate that he will revoke most of the Reforms. What this means for you, I cannot yet say. He will be travelling by sea, I am told, so he will not be passing through our lands. A small mercy, perhaps. The queen has not yet asked for you to join her retinue. I do not know if she shall, but until she does, continue your work on the castle, the fields, and the battlements.
I am sending this letter with Brother Charls. He will be far safer as our household priest than he would be here in the palace Temple. I expect a purge of the priesthood as the Patriarch exacts a price on those who took King Rischar’s side against him.
By some miracle, Queen Esta has not yet had me clapped in irons. Evidently, she sees a use for my hatchet as she takes up her scepter. I am still Chief Minister, at least for today, and I remain Baron of Northgate. I will, however, have to give our house in the Claw back to the Patriarch. Not to worry. I’ve already got men packing it up. I suppose I’ll leave him the portrait of his mistress. I am not a man lacking in generosity.