Amusement fled from Pia’s features. She was probably thinking of the danger we’d face there, of how she’d have to protect me, how she’d try to succeed where she’d failed with Scilla. I took her hand. It wasn’t her fault Scilla had sneaked away.
“I understand,” said Raffar, his gaze turned casually to the window.
“Once we pass the Farnskag border, I will take it down.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t see Raffar’s expression. But after translating, Aldar winked at me and grinned again.
__________
So much for no unscheduled stops. By our fourth day of travel, we’d halted the carriages at least a dozen times to let Pia out. She said she needed air. But we couldn’t help but overhear her retching. I tried to talk to her about it, but she avoided the topic and kept falling asleep, and when she was awake, her glance skittered from mine more every day.
After the second stop today, Pia pushed her hair back from her face and waved off Aldar’s helping hand as she climbed back into the carriage. “This stomach bug’s awful. Don’t want you to catch it.”
Her palm rubbed over her belly.
And something in her movements and her exhaustion reminded me of Mother—months before Zito was born.
“Wait!”
Raffar’s head snapped up.
I grabbed Pia’s hand and turned to Aldar. “Tell King Raffar we need a minute. Pia, you’re coming with me.” I dragged her out of the carriage and off the side of the road, into a field of sweet-smelling grass.
Pia wrapped her arms around herself. She’d always been a formidable fighter, but suddenly, she looked very small. Standing there, I realized how little we’d been able to talk the last months. And about how not only my life had gone on.
“That’s not a stomach illness, is it?”
Pia’s jaw was tight. She stared at me for a moment and then shook her head as her eyes filled with water. My thoughts raced as I tried to figure out what to do next, but before I could decide, tears streamed down Pia’s face. “I’m so sorry. Everything’s going wrong. I was supposed to protect Scilla, but that didn’t . . . now I’m supposed to be there for you, but I–I keep trying to find a way. I just can’t.”
Can’t. Pia would give her life for me—not that I’d want her to. So, if she said she couldn’t, it was something else. Now was not the time for tact. I lowered my voice. “Pia, are you with child?”
She started shivering but nodded. “That’s why I’ve been away so long. From the palace, from training. First, it was just grief, and anger at myself for letting Scilla slip away. But then, once I was certain—I can’t risk the baby getting hurt. And I didn’t know what to do. I was trying to decide when the messenger came for me. I couldn’t disobey the queen, so I came when she summoned, but then it all went so fast: the wedding, the trip. We never had the chance to talk.”
I wrapped an arm around her. I wasn’t there for her then. I couldn’t be. But now? “How did it happen?”
“He . . . after Scilla . . . he was there for me.” She smiled briefly but wiped her eyes and sniffled every few words. “He was wonderful. We’d always been fond of each other, but we never . . . of course we’d never. And then he comforted me, and then . . . we weren’t thinking, and I needed to stop feeling so awful, if only for an hour.”
Mother and Father hadn’t gone easy on Pia for not being there when Scilla had traveled, when someone had attacked. Even I’d been furious with her. Grief had overshadowed logic. And we’d all been drowning in that grief. But with time came the realization to all of us: Scilla had her own mind and acted as she felt best. She was more than capable of giving even the best gurdetta the slip if she so chose. That was biggest reason they’d ordered Pia to accompany me to Farnskag. She and I were so close, I had no reason to try to escape her.
Now to the situation at hand. “Does the father know?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t certain until a few days ago. I was trying to decide what to do. I”—she swallowed—“would like to talk to him. The issues that once separated us, they aren’t the same anymore. And we’re not far away from his home.”
I threw a glance around me while I took a deep breath. “He’s from the north? He lives in the Riccardis’ province?”
Slowly, she nodded.
Mother had wanted Marro and me to avoid each other—as if meeting up would make any difference—but traveling through his province didn’t mean we’d actually see each other. And even if we did, I wouldn’t make a fuss, and Marro wasn’t the type for passionate scenes. We could handle a few awkward moments if our paths happened to cross.
“Of course. We’ll head to him now,” I said. I tried not to think of what the baby meant for me, for my new life in Farnskag, but my stomach churned all the same.
We returned to the carriage, and I said Pia wasn’t feeling well and we needed to reroute to find a doctor. “In Flissina.”
Aldar narrowed his eyes at me—did he know about my previous marriage plans? Was he misreading the situation?—but informed Raffar, and Raffar gave the order to turn around.
Three hours and one more stop to let Pia out of the carriage later, we reached Flissina. The smooth-as-glass Totti River gleamed in the setting sun. After rounding a bend in the river and passing a few tall speartrees poking up from the grassy plain, the land dropped in front of us. On the left, upon a majestic hill was the ochre manor that belonged to my former fiancé’s family. Below that, the bright river bisected a wild jumble of deep red roofs on white houses.
Freyad peeked into the carriage, her eyes full of concern, but whether for Pia’s “illness” or a fear that the group wouldn’t be secure riding into town unplanned, I didn’t know. She asked something.
“To the town center?” Aldar asked, his eyes flicking again to the Riccardis’ manor.
I opened my mouth to answer when Pia said something in Farnskag. And pointed up the hill.
“The manor?” I asked.
She nodded. Swallowed.
But the more I thought of it, the less it surprised me. When Marro or others in the family visited, they always brought servants with them. Raffar and Aldar conferred quietly, with occasional glances in my direction, and we headed to the Riccardis’. Considering how they watched me, perhaps there would be some awkward moments after all.
As we lurched to a stop on the semicircular drive, a deep red sunset reflected off of five decorative pools in front of the Riccardi home. We climbed from the carriages, and the scent of spring blossoms filled the air.
A young servant strode toward us.
“Please, let me,” Pia said to me.
“All right. It’s late though,” I said. “Can you ask them to provide shelter for us tonight?”
Pia intercepted the servant before he reached us, spoke with him, quietly at first, then more insistently. Finally, I caught the words, “Or do you want me to make a scene?”
I bit my lip to keep a very unqueenly grin from spreading across my face. As always, Pia did not hold back, did whatever it took.
The servant hustled into the house and Pia returned to my side. “I’ve asked the servant to prepare space for us. Tomorrow they can send a messenger to let the Seminna family know we won’t be stopping after all.”
“And?” I asked. What about the father?
“He’ll come. He’s—”
Marro bounded down the front steps, a train of several servants behind him. For once, he didn’t have a book in his hand. I turned to Raffar, to present him. But Pia ran to Marro’s side, grabbed him by the sleeve, and tugged him away from the others.
I coughed.
I blinked.
My former fiancé. Nice but boring, predictable Marro.
Within seconds, Marro was down on one knee, his hand raised to Pia’s.
Evidently, he was not as predictable as I’d thought.
“Yes!” she cried, her face glowing with happiness.
Raffar and Aldar rumbled in their throaty language, and A
ldar said, “I take it your companion is not actually ill.”
I answered with a weak smile. It wouldn’t do to give away their secrets. As the servants worked with Raffar’s guards to bring the elephant birds to stables, Raffar grinned at me and held out his arm. “I suggest we go congratulate the happy couple.”
Chapter 8
Pia and Marro disappeared into a sitting room, most likely for an important talk with Marro’s parents, and the rest of us were led to chambers to clean up from our journey. My head was still spinning from the news, from everything I hadn’t known about Pia, and Marro, for that matter. If I’d ever needed proof that I wasn’t emotionally attached to Marro, I had it now. I felt two emotions at learning of their affair: embarrassment that I was once again not enough—not for Marro, but also not for my friend, who had needed someone to talk to—and relief that Raffar had asked for my hand.
Which immediately made me feel guilty, as it was only possible because Scilla was no longer here. But what would have happened if Raffar and I hadn’t married? Would Marro have married me, never knowing about his child? Would Pia have stayed away, desperate not to make political waves?
An hour later, we assembled in the dining hall. The Riccardis were not expecting guests, so dinner was a hodgepodge of dried fish and fruits we brought for the road, crusty bread, ham and small game, cheeses and grilled vegetables from the manor, washed down with wine and ice-cold well water. Marro’s parents had always been warm, friendly people, and they appeared to take Marro’s surprise announcement in stride. His mother beamed with happiness and kept asking Pia how she felt, if she needed another cushion, if she wanted another helping.
“You could not have picked a better family,” I whispered to Pia as a tray of grilled rabbit was passed around the table.
Marro sat on Pia’s other side, so I couldn’t see his face. I tried to remember every time he’d visited, and if I’d ever seen them share conversations, or wistful glances. All I remembered was reminding myself he was an acceptable husband, it was my duty to wed him, and it would be the best for Azzaria.
Pia bit her lip. “I know. I fear I’ll wake from a dream and find them screaming that a gurdetta isn’t good enough for their son.”
She laid her head on my shoulder, and whispered softly in my ear, “Marro told me he asked his parents to dissolve the engagement weeks ago. They weren’t thrilled at first, but they were going to petition the queen next week, now that the Time of Tears is over.”
I swallowed. So, I wouldn’t have wed Marro regardless of Pia getting pregnant or not. The clear and perfect future I’d expected had never been anything of the sort. I tried not to imagine the talk that would have swept through the palace like a brush fire. Probably not only the palace, but throughout the kingdom.
“And when Marro told them about the baby, and his father started to argue about whether I’d done it on purpose”—I clenched my teeth. It was all I could do not to skewer Marro’s father with a pointed look. Or worse.—“his mother slapped him on the chest and said, ‘It takes two to make a baby. You know that.’”
I rubbed her back. “Well, I’m sure they could tell Marro and I were never a good match. And they should consider themselves lucky. No man will ever be as safe as one loved and protected by you.”
She gave me a hard hug, then turned to answer a question from Marro.
From across the table, Raffar watched us as Aldar whispered translations from various conversations in his ear. My new husband smiled at me, but his eyes were sad, like he knew what kind of change was coming for me. Knew it, and couldn’t prevent it, any more than I could. Somehow that smile made me feel a touch less alone in what I had to do.
That evening, Pia and I lay on our backs on a fluffy bed in the guest wing, patting our full bellies. After a moment, her hand slowed, began circling, more and more gently. “I’m going to be a mother. Can you believe it?”
I tilted onto my side. “I can. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mother. Loving, and playful.”
Pia sat up on her knees and looked me in the eye. “I haven’t said it to you yet, I mean, I have, but you didn’t know what I meant then. I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking when it happened. Only feeling. I was drowning in misery, and Marro helped beat back that misery. I always knew you weren’t interested in Marro. He was only a duty to you. But that wouldn’t have prevented gossip if your engagement was canceled.”
I nodded. But Mother was nothing if not an excellent strategist. “You know the queen. Marro might have come out of it looking much worse.” Which made me sad too. “The way things turned out was for the best.”
Except for Scilla. And except for me going to a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language.
Pia leaned down to give me the best hug she could while I lay on my side. “Still. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this.”
Then she lay back down beside me and fell silent. So did I, because the thought of traveling to Farnskag expanded in my head until I could think of nothing else, and the time had come for one of us to say it out loud. I hadn’t noticed how she felt about Marro the last years. I hadn’t been there for her when she was dealing with Scilla’s passing. But I could be here for her now. I could set her free and give her the opportunity to have a happy home. And as her princess—no, I was a queen now—I couldn’t let her beg. I had to be the one to make the offer.
It would be impossible to find another gurdetta before we continued on, and leaving Pia here would mean being all alone in Farnskag, with no one to talk to but Aldar. Maybe safety should have been my foremost concern, but Mother trusted King Raffar, and I found, deep in my heart, that I did too. What I didn’t trust was how I would communicate. A picture came unbidden: myself in an austere bedroom in some cold fortress far in the north, my mind and heart graying and shriveling as I pined month after month for my family, my friend, my home.
Pia smiled lopsidedly. She swallowed.
So, despite my breaking heart, I pushed out the words that had to be said. “Pia, I release you from service to me. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful home for the baby here. Warm and full of love.” My voice failed me. I cleared my throat. “And with all those books of Marro’s your child is bound to be intelligent too.”
She gave my shoulder a gentle shove but grinned as she did it. “Thank you, my friend,” she whispered.
I took a deep breath, annoyed that I couldn’t suppress a shudder. “Will you promise to write to me? Even if I don’t write back often? You know how—”
Tears spilled over her cheeks. “I know you don’t like to write. That’s all right.”
I nodded. “And you’ll have to describe the wedding to me. I’m going to want all the details. About the baby too. Every adorable moment.”
Her head bobbed up and down, her lips pressed together. Then I flung myself at her and hugged her as hard as I could. “If anything ever goes wrong, you know you and the baby will always have a place in Raffar’s court.”
She nodded against my shoulder.
I squeezed her even tighter, tried to store a piece of her in my heart for someday when I was feeling all alone. I had the sense I would need it a lot.
__________
We’d been traveling for six days, and we had almost reached the Loftarian border. Six days of waving until my wrist hurt and smiling until my cheeks ached . . . and sitting until my backside was numb. Now that we didn’t stop so often for Pia, I’d begged to let us walk a few times. It slowed us down, but both Raffar and Aldar seemed grateful for the change too.
It had been two days since I’d seen Pia, three days since I’d smelled the sea. And six since I’d sensed Scilla’s presence.
The long bumpy ride played cruelly with my imagination. In addition to the experience of the serving woman, famous stories of vengeful earthwalkers filled my head. Murder victims might not be able to prevent their deaths, but they could seek justice themselves, punish those responsible—as long as they knew who it had been. With Scilla’s
wounds on her back, she apparently hadn’t seen who’d done it. Her rage had already begun to turn to us.
Within a couple of years, earthwalkers grew so angry their families sometimes began dying out. Eventually, earthwalkers gave up. Perhaps they ran out of friends and family members they were linked to, or maybe they eventually soaked themselves so full of blood and death that they no longer needed revenge. My family couldn’t wait. We couldn’t afford to pay the price.
But it appeared the Servants of the gods were correct. Scilla must have remained in Glizerra. Over and over, I shook my head to clear it from thoughts of my sister and tried to enjoy the scenery passing by us. Each night, we’d resided in homes of Mother’s most trusted friends and relatives. Now that Pia was gone, Freyad shared my chamber with me for my safety. She was generally silent, more efficient than friendly. And she always had a javelin and a knife within reach.
Just before entering Loftaria, the carriages stopped. Raffar conferred with his guards while Aldar and I stretched our legs. I circled the carriages, then waded into the waist-high plants on the side of the road to pick wild zestberries. I offered some to Aldar, and his eyes lit up when he tasted them.
“These are delicious! Sweet and bitter at the same time.”
I nodded.
“Jiara,” Raffar said as he trudged over the thick growth at the edge of the road.
My head jerked up. Hearing his voice say a recognizable word burrowed a little hole into my heart, even if it was only my name. He motioned me out of the brush, his eyes dark, the blade of a dagger in his hand, the handle in my direction. When I’d made it out of the bushes, Raffar offered the weapon to me then handed me a holster also.
The knife was light in my hand, but awkward. In Mother’s court, the guards handled all our security. I’d never had a weapon, never been trained in their use.
After Raffar spoke, Aldar said, “I know your people think a Farnskager murdered your sister. But I cannot believe it was one of my own. We have an alliance with the Loftarians, but considering the years of bad blood between your nations, I won’t trust this new alliance to protect you just yet. Freyad will not be the only one guarding you. I’ll have two men posted outside your chamber each night. And I want you to have this dagger in case.”
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