The Women's War

by Jenna Glass

  “I can’t send him away,” she concluded, lying back down and pushing the sheet off her naked body. Even in his alarm and anger, Graesan’s eyes roamed greedily over her, and though the sheet still covered him from the waist down, she had no doubt he was stirring to life again.

  “Come here,” Ellin commanded, reaching out to grab Graesan’s shoulders and draw him to her. He could have resisted her easily had he wanted to, but he didn’t. “Let’s keep Zarsha out of our bed, shall we?”

  Graesan made a low growling sound of mingled frustration and need. The need won out, and his mouth came down on hers, sending a spark straight to her center. She was under no illusion that the subject was closed. But for now, at least, they would enjoy each other’s bodies without the interference of the outside world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Tynthanal’s home took Alys completely by surprise. He had lived in a barracks ever since he’d left home at age fourteen, and though his rank entitled him to a fair amount of luxury, a soldier’s version of luxury was a far cry from a noblewoman’s. Alys would have expected his home here in Women’s Well to have nothing beyond the bare minimum—a bed, a table, and a chair, with a trunk to store his belongings.

  Instead, she found a pleasantly comfortable two-room house with rugs on the floor and curtains on the windows. The first room was a living area, heated by an iron stove that clearly served more than one purpose, as evidenced by the rack of pots on the wall behind it and the kettle that sat on a table beside it. A table with four upholstered chairs was in one corner, and a small vase of cheerful yellow flowers sat on its center. There was even a cozy seating area by the window, with an armchair, a small sofa, and a delicate tea table.

  Tynthanal laughed when he saw the way Alys was looking around. “You were expecting a barracks?”

  She shook her head as she looked again at the flowers on the table. Flowers. “I wasn’t expecting this,” she admitted.

  Tynthanal picked up the kettle, opening it and peering inside. “Would you like some tea?” Without awaiting an answer, he put the kettle on the stove to heat, then directed her to the sofa. “You probably have about a thousand questions for me while that water heats.”

  She sat and smoothed out the skirts of her traveling dress, not entirely sure what to do with this new, domesticated version of her little brother. “At least two thousand, I should think.”

  He flashed her a boyish grin as he dropped into the seat beside her. “The answer to your first is no, I did not decorate this place myself.” He smoothed his hand over the back of the sofa, which was covered in a delicate floral print fabric. “Chanlix—the new abbess—and I have been spending considerable time together, and she couldn’t abide my decorating tastes.”

  Alys’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. While her brother was hardly celibate, his affairs with women had always been so brief and stormy that she rarely knew any of their names. Certainly none of them had the influence to cause him to change his living quarters. “The abbess, eh?”

  To her surprise and delight, her brother blushed. “It isn’t like that. We’re the unofficial leaders of Women’s Well, and so a great deal of the planning has fallen to us. It’s a lot of work, building a town from scratch, especially when we were expecting to build nothing more than a few rough shelters in the desert.”

  She was sure her eyes were twinkling with humor and disbelief. “I see. It’s all just business.” Which was why he blushed at her teasing. “And how old is this abbess of yours?”

  He glared at her, though there was no real heat in the expression. “Ancient. Older than you.”

  She snorted. “How much older?”

  He heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Stop matchmaking.”

  “How much older?”

  “One year.”

  She laughed. “Let me see if I have my math right. That would make her four whole years older than you. Right?”

  Tynthanal waved that off, and the expression on his face quickly sobered. “She’s a lovely woman, and we work well together. But Delnamal’s men brutalized her.”

  Alys felt her own face stiffen. “And that makes her unfit for a man of your high character?” She was a fool to have made anything out of his silly blush and the décor in his house. He had never once visited their mother in the Abbey, had been so disdainful of the women there that he would not cross its threshold. How could she imagine he would take up with one of its denizens?

  His expression turned to one of outright horror. “No! How could you think that of me? I meant only that she is…skittish. Understandably.”

  Alys reined in her outrage. It wasn’t fair of her to hold his aloofness toward their mother against him. He’d been barely six years old when she’d been sent to the Abbey, and he had not been allowed to visit until he was ten, by which time he had practically forgotten her. Unlike Alys, he had only vague childhood memories to link him to her, and it had no doubt been easier for him to let her disgrace keep the distance between them.

  “I’m sorry,” Alys said, meaning it. “I know you’re too good a man to blame her for what was done to her.”

  “I hope you do know that about me.” That he was still angry and hurt by the accusation was clear in his eyes, and Alys wanted to kick herself.

  “I do. And I look forward to meeting Chanlix.”

  “You will soon enough. She will join us after you and I have had a chance to catch up.” He rose to check on the kettle, giving both of them enough time to regain their composure as he fixed two earthenware cups of tea and brought them to the table. The fragrance of mint wafted on the air, and once again Alys was surprised.

  Mint did not love the soil of Aaltah, so it was either expensive because of its scarcity, or expensive because it was an import, depending on where it came from. While Tynthanal could easily afford it, she wouldn’t have thought he’d have access to it out here in this remote outpost.

  He smiled at her expression. “I brought some with me from home,” he explained. “Then the abigails put together some growth potions, which we used on the last of my supply. Now, we have a mint garden. It actually seems to like the soil here.”

  Alys remembered the innkeeper’s comment about her carrots, which must have flourished under the same potion, and felt her excitement growing. What sort of spells had they discovered here already, and what more were yet to be uncovered? Perhaps that growth spell could be a base on which to build a spell to simulate pregnancy.

  Delnamal would be furious to see a flourishing town with plentiful supplies and naturally growing exotic herbs in a place he’d envisioned as a miserable prison encampment. “Are you selling it?”

  “Not yet, but come spring when it’s had more time to spread, I think we might.”

  “But you’re selling potions already. At least the abigails are.”

  He nodded. “Mostly we’re bartering them. The Well produces so many elements that the abigails can create growth potions by the gallon, and all the closest towns are thirsty for them. We give them potions, and they give us lumber and supplies in return. And also workmen.”

  “So that’s how you’ve built such a sizable town in so little time and with so few supplies.”

  “Yes. The people of the outer provinces are used to living with deprivation, but they are more than happy not to have to anymore. You can see their gratitude all around.”

  He was glowing with pride over their accomplishments, but though Alys was suitably impressed, she could not ignore the danger Tynthanal and the abigails were courting. “And what happens when word reaches Aalwell that this town is bartering potions for its own enrichment? By law, the Abbey’s profits are all payable to the Crown.”

  “It isn’t all barter,” he said. “Some potions we do sell, and those profits will make their way to the Crown’s coffers.”

  “Which might appease Delnamal if he nev
er finds out that you’ve built a town where he expected a prison, but you know he will. Word of a new town called Women’s Well is surely spreading toward the capital even as we speak.”

  “No doubt much to his chagrin, Delnamal is not the king, nor is he the lord commander. I send weekly reports to my commander, and he reports what he feels is important to the king.”

  Tynthanal had told her long ago that he was withholding information in his reports, but he had downplayed just how many details he had failed to include. “So the reports Delnamal receives are filtered once through you, once through the lord commander, and once through the king.”

  Tynthanal nodded. “There may already be conflicting information trickling in, but since the lord commander and the king both trust me, they will take my word above silly rumors.”

  “For now. But distance will not protect you forever, and when Delnamal learns the truth…”

  “I admit, it’s risky.” His lip curled in an ugly sneer. “Our brother will be most put out to hear we are not suffering as he had hoped.” He smoothed out the sneer and replaced it with an expression of cool confidence. “But do you honestly think the king will let him punish us for flourishing? When the town is fully built and equipped, we will turn a tidy profit indeed, and the Crown’s coffers will swell. Do you imagine our father will be anything but pleased?”

  “It’s not our father I’m worried about.”

  “I know. But Delnamal cannot act without the king’s permission, and much as he hates to admit it, I am just as much the king’s son as he is.”

  “And yet the king did not stop Delnamal from sending you out here.”

  “He might have if I’d asked him to. I came here willingly.”

  Alys’s jaw dropped. It had never occurred to her that Tynthanal was not being forced to escort the abigails to their new home. It was clearly a punishment detail, after all.

  He offered her a small smile. “I was not happy when Delnamal ordered me to guard the Abbey, but once my men and I took up that duty…” He shrugged. “I came because I knew my men could be trusted with the women’s care, and anyone else…could not. Can you imagine an ordinary company of soldiers escorting a gaggle of whores on a long journey and guarding them in their new Abbey without taking egregious advantage of them?”

  Alys shuddered. No, she could not. And in fact, although she respected her brother as a commander, it was hard to believe that his own men had been any more saintly than other soldiers might have been. “So your men are above such things?”

  He shrugged. “Well, they’re men. But I made quite the example of one who thought my orders did not apply to him, and everyone’s been extremely cooperative since.”

  “As far as you know.”

  He leaned forward. “But that’s just it, Alys. I do know.” He rubbed his hands together. “There are some developments that I deemed too dangerous to put in writing, no matter how many secrecy spells I employed.”

  Alys could do little more than gape as her brother told her of the previously unknown element that was women’s Kai.

  “Once I saw it in Aalwell and recognized it for what it was,” Tynthanal said, “I checked for it whenever I had a chance. It was…distressing how many women had it, though considering my admittedly rather cynical view on the self-control of men, there were fewer than I might have expected.”

  Alys thought of Shelvon and her loveless marriage with Delnamal. “Did you ever look at Shelvon?” she asked, then squirmed uncomfortably at her own question, as it seemed an invasion of her sister-in-law’s privacy.

  Tynthanal shook his head. “I didn’t, but I suspect it would never have occurred to her to refuse her husband’s advances, which, from what Chanlix and I have been able to piece together, is necessary for the generation of Kai. We have, of course, had to be very careful about which questions we ask and of whom.”

  “Do your men know about it?”

  He shook his head. “Eventually, the knowledge will get out. Most women won’t open their Mindseye to see the Kai, and many who do won’t know what it is or what to do with it. But ours is not the only Abbey where women practice magic, and those who do will see and understand what is happening. Neither Chanlix nor I feel certain whether it will be an advantage to women or not, so we’ve chosen to keep it to ourselves for now.”

  “Is it like men’s Kai? Can only the woman who produced it use it?” Belatedly, she realized that was not something a well-brought-up lady should know, but Tynthanal showed no sign of being shocked by her knowledge.

  “Yes. No one else can touch it, and it can’t be bound into a magic item.”

  That, at least, was good news. Alys didn’t want to imagine a world where men could get hold of Kai by raping women and stealing it. “Have any of the women used it?”

  “Only once,” Tynthanal replied, telling her about an abigail who had created and tested a nasty Kai spell against a man who’d done nothing to deserve it. Although Tynthanal did not come right out and say it, Alys had the impression the test had not been sanctioned by the abbess.

  “And after learning of this, none of the other women has used her Kai?” she asked disbelievingly.

  “Chanlix promised that neither she nor any of her women will use Kai against an innocent victim again, and the guilty men are all back in Aalwell.”

  “Which is how you know they can’t bind Kai into a magic object—because they’ve been trying to bind it into a spell they can send back to Aalwell.”

  “We, not they. I hope this won’t shock your delicate sensibilities, but I’ve been working with Chanlix and a couple of her most skilled abigails to craft new spells. Spells using both masculine and feminine elements. I tried to help them bind the Kai—not without reservations—but we’ve had no success. It seems it can only be used to activate a spell and refuses to be bound. Just like men’s Kai.”

  She nodded and gave her brother a long, assessing look. There was no law against men and women cooperating to craft magic together, but she could only imagine the horror polite society would react with if they knew what the king’s favorite son was up to. “You’re taking some big risks out here.”

  He took a sip of the tea, which he had so far ignored, and stared into the cup as he answered. “These are dangerous times for everyone in Seven Wells.” He raised his gaze back to hers. “Father can threaten and bluster all he wants, but our mother’s spell will not be reversed. When that fact becomes abundantly clear, everyone here in Women’s Well will bear the brunt of the king’s anger. I hope he still loves me enough not to order us all wiped out, but with Delnamal trying to poison him against us…” He rubbed his eyes as if suddenly tired. “We need to prepare ourselves for the worst-case scenario. So I’m helping Chanlix and her abigails as much as I can.” A wry grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “And several of my more magically gifted men are, as well. One cannot have this many unattached men and women sharing one another’s company for so long without attachments forming. There are already a couple of babies on the way. We have much to defend.”

  “Which brings me to why I’m here.”

  He lifted a brow. “You mean it’s not to help reverse our mother’s spell?” His tone said that he had never believed that lie, even though for a time Alys had believed it herself. But for her entire journey to Women’s Well, she’d thought about Jinnell’s selfless insistence that she didn’t want the spell reversed, and by the time she’d arrived, she’d decided her time would be more wisely used if she tried to craft an illusion spell that would help fake a pregnancy. She was reasonably certain Shelvon would agree to use such a spell if it would spare Jinnell a forced marriage.

  “I hope this won’t shock your delicate sensibilities. But, you see, Mama left me this book…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ellin was just starting to drift off to sleep when something woke her—a soft, rhythmic tapping sound t
hat barely penetrated the fog in her brain. She blinked in the darkened room, stifling a groan of annoyance. Ever since becoming queen, she’d found it difficult to surrender to sleep, her mind always whirling and worrying at problems the moment she lay down at night. It was easier when Graesan was there to take her mind off everything, but there was a risk whenever he came to her bed. They limited their trysts as much as they could both bear, and that meant she spent most nights alone.

  The tapping went away for a second, and she entertained the brief illusion that she could now safely sink back into sleep, but the moment her eyes closed, it started up again.

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Between the moonlight that shone through her windows and the amber glow of the banked coals in the fireplace, Ellin could see well enough without having to light a candle. As she came fully awake and her mind sharpened, she realized the tapping sound was coming from behind the tapestry on the far wall.

  Alarmed, she swung her feet out of bed, grabbing for her dressing gown as she shivered in the chill air. The embers in the fireplace kept the worst of the cold at bay, but not until fuel was added and flames coaxed out in the morning would the room be comfortably warm. Sliding her feet into a pair of slippers, Ellin hastily tied the sash of her dressing gown and hurried toward the tapestry and the secret passageway it concealed. Not having expected Graesan tonight, she’d bolted the door, and her heart was in her throat with worry as she lifted the tapestry and started fumbling with the bolts in the dark. She couldn’t imagine what would bring Graesan to her in the middle of the night unexpectedly, but she was certain it couldn’t be for anything good.

  Fear and cold made her clumsy, and it seemed to take forever to work the three bolts that held the door secure. Finally, the last one released and she pushed the door open. She gasped and covered her mouth when she found it wasn’t Graesan standing outside that doorway.