diviners fate

by Nicolette Andrews

  I laid my hand over my swelling stomach. “No, she is Johai’s. I think she is calling out to your son. Maybe their destinies are intertwined.”

  “My son? How do you know it will be a boy?”

  I petted her brow and pushed back the curls that fell loose from her braid to frame her face. “I saw him in the waters long ago. I have known before you married Adair that you would have a son, and he would do great things.” I dared not tell her the truth. I could not bring myself to tell her that I saw dark road for her son as well.

  She let the tears fall onto the pillows. “I am glad.”

  We lay like that a while longer. We dozed for a while until the pains increased. I helped Sabine from the bed then, and we walked about the room. She would stop from time to time to lean against a bedpost or a chair and breathe through the pain. When the pain continued to increase, she kneeled on all fours on the mattress. The magiker came in the early hours of the morning, along with Duchess Magdale. I was kneeling on the bed beside Sabine, rubbing circles in her lower back, which was giving her some pain. She moaned, and I felt the ripple of pain as it constricted her abdomen. Her moaning grew in intensity, and she clutched at the coverlet and groaned. When it ended, she collapsed onto the bed, panting.

  The magiker examined her and said that the time was not ready. People moved in and out of the room in a blur. Servants brought cold cloths for Sabine’s brow. She sipped at water and twisted about in her sheets unable to get comfortable. I stayed near her and slept in brief snatches when I could. We walked around the room when she had the energy, and once I held her up as the contraction struck her. I felt the pains ripple through her skin, and they reminded me of the crash of ocean waves. I could hear the waves outside calling to her, begging her to hold on as the pain increased. The magiker came in and out to check her progress. The day passed by without me realizing it.

  When night came, the magiker pulled me aside.

  “She is not progressing, and the child is not in position to be born,” he told me bluntly. “She is growing weaker, and if the child does not come soon, she and the child will both die.”

  “What can we do?” I asked.

  “Pray.”

  I urged Sabine to rest, but the pains were close together, and she found little respite from her labors. Another night passed, the magiker checked again; the child was still not in position. The time to push was not yet upon us. I slept in snatches, mostly dozing sitting in a chair or once leaning against the wall while trying to fetch something for Sabine. The rest of the night faded by, and I found I could work with little sleep. Sabine’s head was burning up, and I did what I could to keep her cool. She was panting and moaning, writhing about on the bed sheets. She clung to the sheets and arched her back, looking for relief. I watched her, thinking of my own pregnancy. Is this childbirth? Somehow I had different expectations about bringing a child into the world. My hand drifted to my abdomen.

  Duchess Magdale noticed. “See what a night of pleasure gets you, nothing but pain, blood, and loss.”

  I ignored her snide remark and focused on Sabine. Each time the magiker came, he shook his head and the furrow of his brow grew deeper and deeper. Sabine was tired. Too tired to push when the time came, the magiker feared. I have seen this child; I know he will live. You must hold on.

  The morning came, and Sabine lay limp upon the sheets, which were soaked through with sweat. I did what I could to keep her comfortable, but the black circles under her eyes and her listlessness were concerning. Duchess Magdale had gone for the night, and the magiker was in between visits. I need to do something, or I will lose her and the child.

  “Sabine.” I tapped her lightly on the cheek. She had fallen asleep.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “I’m sorry. I was just so tired. I do not think I can do this, Maea. I love my son, but I cannot do it.”

  I held her hands. “You have to keep going, for your son.”

  “I am so tired,” she said, and her eyes began to droop once more.

  This is not good. She cannot give up. The fever has left her weak and delirious.

  I glanced about the room. We were alone at last. “Sabine, I have something to tell you.”

  “Hmm?” she said.

  “I brought Beau to court, and Adair imprisoned him.”

  Her eyes were rolling around behind her lids. “I know.” She moaned as another contraction left her panting.

  When it passed, I continued, “He loves you. He has fought by my side so he could return to you. He believed me when I said I would make a way for you to be together.”

  “Adair killed him because he knows I love him. I told him he should not have returned,” Sabine mumbled, then moaned. The pains were right on top of one another, it seemed.

  “Yes, but I have set him free. He is out there waiting for you, and once the child is born, I plan to free you as well so you can be together at last. You and the child and Beau can escape. You can be together at last.” It was all a lie, the very sound of it made me feel despicable, but I had to tell her something so she would not give up. The only truth was that I had helped Beau escape, or Elenna had. She and I had plotted to get him out of the palace, but he would never return here. He knew that Sabine and he could never be. He would not return here for her if he knew what was best.

  She did not respond at first, and I thought she had fallen asleep. “Is that true?” she said at last. “Will he wait for us?”

  “Yes.” I held back my tears. “He’s waiting for you.”

  When the magiker came back, it was time at last for her to push.

  “If I believed in such things, I would call it a miracle. The baby has turned and is in the right position. We must prepare her to bring the child into the world.”

  Sabine seemed so weak lying there on the blankets. I sponged her brow and coaxed her to drink water. She drank small amounts before another pain hit her and she was writhing in anguish. Sabine was exhausted, but there was a new determination in her eyes that my lies had given her. The magiker instructed her in how to begin. I held her hand while Ester helped hold her legs.

  She pushed for several hours before she collapsed back onto her pillows. “I cannot push. I am too tired.”

  “If you want your child born alive, you must push!” the magiker shouted.

  We were all exhausted; even the magiker showed signs of fatigue. It had been a trying couple of days. We were near the end; I could feel it. Very soon the child of two crowns would be born, and the prophecy’s final stages would be born with it. Sabine pushed again and clutched so tight onto my hand I thought she would break my fingers. The sheets were torn from Sabine clutching at them, and her hair clung to her forehead in tendrils.

  The magiker had her push. Then we waited. Push and wait, it seemed to go on for an eternity when in reality it must have been a few hours. Then finally she pushed with all her might, and the magiker stopped her.

  “I can see his head,” the magiker cried.

  Sabine’s face was beyond pain. Her skin was pale and stretched. Sweat was running down her fevered flesh in rivulets.

  “Push, just once more,” the magiker instructed.

  She scrunched up her face and pushed. She screamed as the child finally broke free of her womb. There was a deafening silence as the magiker cleared the child’s airway with a towel, and then he cried out. Sabine sobbed.

  I helped the magiker with the tiny squirming infant. He was covered in blood, and his face was bright red. He screamed loud and long. He is healthy. I was flooded with relief. After such a long labor, I feared the worst. His head was covered in thick dark hair. The magiker cleaned him up and brought him to Sabine in blankets. She held out her hands. Dark circles rimmed her eyes as she took the child into her arms.

  She smiled down at him. “He is beautiful, my son. Welcome to life.”

  I looked over her shoulder. The baby was crying but was soothed when he was in his mother’s arms. He opened his eyes and stared up at Sabine with large liq
uid blue eyes. They looked just like his father’s.

  I touched the soft down of his head. When the child of two crowns is born so is the destruction of all things. How can this innocent be the harbinger of such a dire prophecy? I gazed down at this baby. I was overcome by a feeling of affection for him, despite everything. I want to protect him, to prevent the future I foretold for him.

  “I will make a world you and my daughter will be proud to live in,” I whispered only loud enough for him and his mother to hear. Sabine smiled at me, then back at the child. The time of the prophecy was upon us, and there was much I needed to do in order to prepare.

  Chapter Twenty

  ADAIR CAME TO SEE HIS son the next day. He brought Layton and a few other high-ranking dukes; among them were my father, Duke Wodell, and Dukes Quince and Nanore. I had helped Sabine dress in a white nightgown. She was weak from a loss of blood during the birth, and a fever still left her skin aflame. The magiker had been plying her with different remedies, but nothing seemed to bring the fever down. Though her eyes were fever bright, she sat with the assistance of some pillows and held herself with dignity when the council came to inspect the child. Adair only had eyes for his son. He lifted the child from his bassinet and held him aloft.

  “My son,” he whispered. The baby looked at him with passive blue eyes. Adair turned back to Sabine. “Thank you for this gift.”

  She bowed her head to him, but there was no love or affection there.

  Adair noticed me watching him and beamed back in my direction. He cradled the child close to him, rocking him back in forth, speaking nonsense burble to him. When I see him holding his child, I can almost forget what a monster he is. Even I could not deny his love for his son. Layton peered over Adair’s shoulder at the baby. Now is not the time to have second thoughts, not when we are so close to the end.

  “A fine boy, he has your eyes, I think,” Layton said.

  “He does!” Adair laughed and twirled him about.

  The baby cried.

  “Adair, be careful with him. He is newly born and fragile,” Sabine scolded him.

  Adair’s expression fell like a chastised child. He sat down on the edge of the bed with the baby still in his arms. Sabine was looking down on the life they had made together. Her love showed through even the exhaustion she must have felt and the dark circles under her eyes.

  “He is a miracle.” Adair pressed a kiss to his son’s brow.

  I unconsciously touched my stomach. Will Johai ever get the opportunity to dote upon his daughter? I hope so. I shook myself. I know he will. My plan cannot fail. It set me ill at ease to think about taking a life while looking upon a new one. I turned away from the small family and found Layton watching me. My father was talking with Duke Quince and Nanore, and the trio did not seem to notice as Layton came close to me. I turned to face the royal family once again, pretending to be enamored by the scene. Layton’s hand brushed against mine, and I felt the point of parchment hidden within his grasp. I took it from him and pressed my hand to my abdomen once more, where I hid the parchment in the folds of my sash. I fidgeted with the sash for a moment, pretending to be straightening it.

  “The child is beautiful.” But will he be a fair ruler? I wondered. I had been thinking about that all afternoon. If Arlene agreed to make Sabine’s son her heir, it would heal the wounds between our countries. It’s what Adair wants, but when he is gone, can the child become a different person, one not in my vision?

  “He will be a fine king, I am sure,” Sabine said with a sigh.

  The tension in the room was palpable. Duke Quince cleared his throat, and Duke Nanore muttered beneath his breath. I caught my father’s gaze from across the room. He shook his head, telling me to keep my silence. Only those in the Order acknowledged Adair’s want to bring the kingdoms under one rule. Sabine must have been mad with fever to speak so openly in front of a mixed company.

  “He is my sister’s heir,” Sabine elaborated, “until she has a child of her own. Of course, it is possible he may never be king.” Sabine took the babe from Adair’s arms and rocked him in her arms. She stared down at him, cooing as he fidgeted and wiggled, nuzzling at her breast.

  Adair laughed. “My wife has grand ambitions for our son. He may or may not be a king in a foreign land one day. However, I can promise he will want for nothing.”

  The tension ebbed, and the dukes took turns looking upon the child one by one. When they were finished, the baby’s nurse came and took the baby away so Sabine could rest. She dismissed me for the time being with the promise of calling me again soon to talk more. I felt weary beyond measure. Now that the birth was past, I felt my exhaustion weighing me down like a stone. I don’t even recall how I made it back to my chamber, but when I arrived, Elenna was waiting for me.

  “A message came for you from the Jerauchian ambassador.” She handed me the missive.

  I flipped it over, reading my new title scrawled across the front. Maea Diranel, Duchess of Diranel and House of Slatone.

  I sighed. The mechanizations of court do not rest, I suppose. “I’ll read it in my chamber. I’m feeling tired.”

  “I’ve left a pitcher of water by the nightstand and a bit of bread and cheese if you wish to eat,” Elenna replied.

  I nodded and headed into my chamber. Light was coming from the double doors beyond the curtain, and the shafts of light were speckled with dust. I sank down on the edge of my bed and then flopped backwards, the missive from the ambassador still clutched in my hand. I thought to close my eyes for just a moment. When I opened them again, the chamber was dark but for a fire which had been lit in the fireplace. Elenna’s work most like; she was fastidious with her duties.

  I lit a candle and read the missive from the ambassador. It was simple enough. He wanted me to perform a reading the next day. I wrote a reply, which I would have Elenna deliver in the morning. Next I extracted the message Layton had given to me in Sabine’s chamber. It had been folded over quite a few times, and I had to place my ink pot and the jar of sand on it to keep it from folding back on itself. His message was direct.

  I have made inquiries, and there are many that are sympathetic to our cause. Should we bring the matter of succession before the council, we should see matters settled in our favor. Tread carefully; Adair grows more suspicious every day.

  When I finished reading, I tossed the note into the flames of the fireplace. I watched as the paper curled and burned. My arms were wrapped around my waist. My daughter fluttered in my womb. It was still the lightest touch, almost small enough to disregard, but I knew by instinct that it was her and she was reacting to my emotions. Do not worry. I will protect you, I thought. It felt strange to be the puppet master for once and not the puppet, and it left me with a constant feeling of unease. Is this how Damara felt when she was trying to stop Adair and Sabine’s marriage? The water only gets deeper from here. One wrong move and I will lose it all. I could not think these things. I had to be confident that I was doing what must be done. All I do is for the benefit of the kingdom. I have to believe that. Then why did I feel like I was more a traitor than a savior?

  I sought out the Jerauchian ambassador the next day, on the pretense of a dream reading. Johai’s grandfather was just as I remembered him. His dark brown eyes were shrewd and assessing as I greeted him in the receiving room of his palace apartment. His white hair was receding, and he had an angular face that seemed incapable of anything but scowling.

  Refreshments were laid out for us, and when I took a goblet and a bit of mutton and cheese, the servant left the platter, and we were alone at last. I had expected the priest of Mrawa to join us, but it seemed the ambassador wanted to speak alone. It was for the best. What I had planned needed as few ears to hear it as possible.

  “Thank you for coming upon such short notice,” he said as he took a seat across from me. He held his goblet in his hand tightly enough that I thought he would crack the stem.

  “I appreciate you contracting my services once mor
e. There are many at court who would scorn me after what I have been accused of.”

  He nodded. “Yes. The whispers paint you as a sorceress. They think the king is besotted. It does not help matters that you attended the queen’s childbed, and now she is said to be weak with fever after a long difficult delivery.” He took a sip of his wine.

  I swallowed my pride and the insult he hid behind his words. This is a game, and I know how to play it well.

  “If only I had magic powers such as I have been rumored to have. It would make my life easier, and it would save me from the game of politics.”

  He gave me a tight smile. “You seemed a skilled player, nonetheless.”

  I chuckled. “Mayhap, but it was skill won at a price. I hope you do not wish me to continue pretending this meeting is about reading your dreams.”

  He set his wineglass down with a soft clink. He folded his hands in front of him as he regarded me. “You are straight to the point. I admire that in a woman. My grandson spoke highly of you. I can see why he admired you.”

  My heart was caught in my throat for a moment. Johai spoke of me to his grandfather, or was it the specter? It did not seem like a thing the Johai I knew would do. He was ever a private person. It must be some trick of the specter’s.

  “Are you still in contact with him?” I arched a brow. Will he take the bait?

  He laughed, but there was no humor in it. I was not even sure if he was amused or if he felt it a necessary part of the game. “You are trying to accuse me of consorting with a traitor?”

  “I am merely speaking to the grandfather of a man I care about deeply.” I rested my hand on the tiny swell of my stomach. His eyes flickered towards where my hand rested. “I am carrying Johai’s child. And I would have him make it through this war unscathed.”

  He did not flinch. “You are the king’s consort. I heard it rumored that you are carrying his child. You would have me believe that you carry my grandson’s child?”