Facing the Fire

by Carol Beth Anderson

  She cleared her throat and forced her sudden emotion away. “I’ll go,” she said. “But if there are any issues with the baby, anything my midwife can’t handle, we’ll travel to the nearest town for proper medical care.”

  Konner nodded. “Of course. We must protect the heir.” He stood. “We have several things to take care of at the palace before we leave. Let’s go.”

  “I’m not going,” Camalyn picked up her teacup. “I need to pack, and my midwife is examining me this evening.” She took a sip.

  “Your midwife lives with you,” Konner said. “She can examine you any time.”

  Camalyn turned her stubborn gaze on Konner. “I’m not going.”

  He raised an eyebrow and strode out of the room. Relin gave Camalyn a kiss on the cheek before following.

  The rest of dinner was quiet. Too quiet. Without distractions, Camalyn couldn’t escape her thoughts.

  She’d never liked Konner, not even the day she’d met him. But she’d believed in him. She’d believed in the promise of a better world, a world where magic wasn’t limited, and neither were people.

  When had all that changed? When Konner had told them his invasion plans a few months earlier, Camalyn had questioned the timing, but she’d supported the general idea. Or had she? Could it be she’d pushed back on the timing because some part of her disagreed with the idea of killing people to take their land?

  Camalyn had felt powerful when she led her Karite sect, like she was building something important. Then she’d become queen, and she hadn’t had time for the small group of people she’d been leading anymore. She had to lead an entire nation now.

  Only it wasn’t her leading. Or Relin. It was Konner. It always had been. Even when Camalyn used her gift to convince those devout, well-intentioned Karites that they should support the birth of a monarchy, Konner had been behind it. She’d never been the one with the power.

  She set her cup down a little too hard. Tea sloshed out and stained the white tablecloth. Camalyn slid back her chair and used the edge of the table to push herself up. Time to get away from these pointless thoughts.

  She left the room and stopped at the bottom of the staircase. These days, it looked so tall. She was always out of breath by the time she reached the top. She sighed, placed her foot on the first step, and kept going. The baby seemed to like the climb. Camalyn touched the top of her bulge, laughing when the child’s strong foot kicked her so hard, her hand bounced off.

  She reached the top of the steps and took a moment to catch her breath. Then she walked down the hall and knocked on the midwife’s door.

  The woman opened it and smiled widely. Camalyn always appreciated those smiles, considering that her caregiver probably wouldn’t choose to live here. A couple of months earlier, Camalyn had complained to Relin about the stares she got traveling to and from the public midwife house. A few weeks later, this woman had moved in. She must be bored, taking care of just one patient. And surely she missed her family. Did she even have a family? Camalyn felt a little guilty when she realized she had no idea.

  The midwife held the door open. “Come in and have a seat, Camalyn.”

  It was nice to hear her given name spoken by someone other than Konner and Relin. Everyone else called her “Your Highness” or “Queen Camalyn” these days. The midwife hadn’t even asked if she could call Camalyn by only her first name; she’d just done it, from the first time they met. Camalyn loved it.

  They both sat in comfortable chairs in the little sitting room. “How was the walk up the stairs?” the midwife asked.

  “All my life, if something was difficult, it got easier the more I did it. But those stairs just keep getting worse.”

  “You won’t believe how wonderful it feels to get full breaths again when a baby is no longer compressing your lungs.” The midwife gestured to an empty plate and teacup on a little table off to the side. “I just finished dinner; I’m assuming you did too? How was it?”

  “Infuriating.” Seeing the midwife’s curious expression, Camalyn let out a frustrated laugh. “Sorry, I know that’s not what you were asking. I ate some chicken, bread, and carrots. I’m keeping it all down, at least so far.”

  “Good. Shall we go to the bed and see how this little one is doing?” The midwife stood and held out a hand. Camalyn took it and pulled herself up.

  The midwife had two bedrooms in her suite. She slept in one and reserved the other for Camalyn’s exams. That meant the pillows in the second room were always set up as Camalyn wanted them. Even when the maid washed the sheets, someone returned everything to the right place. Camalyn thought it was probably the midwife performing such a thoughtful task, not the maid.

  Once out of her heavy dress, Camalyn sighed with relief to be only in her cotton slip. She lay down, a small pillow at her lower back and several others supporting her head and shoulders.

  “Let’s see if this little one is still behaving and staying in the proper position,” the midwife said.

  “One of its feet is right here,” Camalyn said, patting the place she always got kicked.

  Strong, gentle hands palpated her belly. “Actually, that’s a knee, not a foot. Your baby is in perfect position. It’s floating high, so it may still move around. But as big as it is, I doubt it’ll do any somersaults.”

  Camalyn laughed at the thought, then suddenly grew serious. “ ‘As big as it is’?” she repeated.

  The midwife patted Camalyn’s belly. “Don’t worry, your baby is the perfect size. At this stage of pregnancy, every healthy baby takes up a lot of space. There’s not as much room for it to move around, except all those smaller movements that keep you up at night.”

  “The movements don’t feel small,” Camalyn said.

  “It’s always good to have a strong child.” The midwife gave her that unfailing smile. “Would you like me to check your dilation? It may be uncomfortable, and it’s entirely up to you.”

  “I want you to,” Camalyn said.

  “Let me wash up, then. You can take off your underthings while I’m gone.”

  The midwife left the room, and Camalyn pulled her underwear off. She was anxious to know how close she was to giving birth. Would she be doing so on the road or once they reached the Meadow?

  Camalyn hadn’t told the midwife about the trip yet. She wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t like the woman could refuse to come. But it seemed like a lot to ask, and Camalyn knew traveling so late in pregnancy was frowned upon. She lay on the bed and waited.

  The midwife returned and stood right next to the bed. “Deep breath,” she said.

  When the exam began, Camalyn let out a shrill, “Ooh!” The woman had been right; it was uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” the midwife said. She pulled her hand out and wiped it with a towel. “Just a fingertip dilated.”

  “What does that mean? How much longer will it be?”

  The midwife let out a gentle laugh. “That’s always the question. I’m afraid it doesn’t mean a thing. Some women start out labor at the stage you’re at now. Other women walk around for weeks dilated this much.” She indicated the measurement with two fingers, spread apart into a “V.”

  “Oh.”

  “I know you’re ready; women usually are when they’re this far along.” The midwife put her hand on Camalyn’s belly and rubbed it gently. “Trust that your child will know when the time is right.”

  Camalyn sat up. “That’s not it. I hope the baby will wait at least two weeks.” She hesitated, then blurted out the truth. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Relin, Konner, me, and of course plenty of guards. And you, too. We need you to come because I’ll be having the baby on this trip. I just hope it waits until we get there.”

  The midwife’s brows shot up. “I’d never recommend traveling at this stage, Camalyn.”

  “I know, but it’s important. Or . . . well, the trip itself isn’t important, at least not to me. But Relin is going, and I want him with me when it’s time.”

  There
was a long pause, and then the midwife asked, “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know if I can say. But it will take two weeks or so to get there. Maybe a little less if we switch out horses along the way.”

  “You’ll be riding a horse?” The midwife looked truly alarmed, and Camalyn burst out laughing.

  “No, of course not! We’ll be in wagons. Pulled by horses.”

  The midwife released her breath through pursed lips. “I can understand why you want to be with your husband during this time. I’ll care for you the best I can, but it’s not an ideal situation.” She stood. “I’ll leave so you can get back in your clothes. Come out when you’re done, and I’ll button your dress for you.”

  The midwife left the room, closing the door behind her. Camalyn gazed out the window. The midwife’s words, “not an ideal situation,” branded themselves on her mind. What an understatement. Not only was she leaving her home to give birth, she was supporting her husband and Konner in going to war. While she sat in the Meadow, nursing an innocent child who depended on her for everything, her army would attack a country full of innocent children.

  Would the war stay in Pellagi? Or would fighting spread to Cormina? Perhaps other nations would intervene, and every Corminian would be in danger.

  Including Camalyn’s new baby.

  She knew she couldn’t stop Konner and Relin. She had the power to tell a cook what to make for breakfast, to order as many lovely dresses as she wanted, and even to uproot a midwife and take her on a trip. However, she didn’t have the power to prevent a war, not when the real person in charge of Cormina was dead set on the plan.

  She couldn’t stop it. But she could refuse to take part.

  The thought surprised Camalyn. She was right back to where she’d been at dinner, considering not going. But now her imagination took her further than that.

  What if she ordered a hansom cab, and she and the midwife drove off? Without her fancy carriage, no one would know who was in the vehicle except the cab driver. She’d pay him to stay quiet. They could go to a midwife house and stay there, hidden away, until the baby came. Maybe they’d let her stay longer than that. She could be a normal person again, just another new mother.

  Camalyn walked to the window and looked out. They lived at the end of a dead-end street. Two guards were stationed on either side of the front door; she could barely see them when she pressed her forehead against the window. The house was on a wide plot of land, with a hundred feet of manicured lawn between them and their neighbors. Four guards stood on the street itself, at the property line, preventing any vehicles or pedestrians from intruding on their privacy. Two more guards were at the end of the street, ensuring no one came over the fence there. And three more kept watch in the alley behind the house.

  Who was she kidding? She was as much a prisoner as Remina Birge had been. Sure, she was allowed to extend her prison a bit, when she traveled from her home to the temporary palace. But if she insisted on running away, her life would end the same way Birge’s had. She’d give her dying breath to some gifted guard or safety officer who wanted gray magic.

  She turned back to the bed where her dress lay, set out carefully by the midwife. The gown was gorgeous. Made of the finest fabrics, hand-sewn by true artists. It had been designed so perfectly for her growing body that she’d only be able to wear it a couple of weeks before she outgrew it. And it didn’t matter, because she already had a wardrobe full of other dresses cut slightly larger.

  As shallow as it sounded, she’d joined Konner because she’d wanted dresses like this. It was why she’d insisted on being queen, too. And it wasn’t just the dresses. She’d wanted a life full of ease and luxury. Could she ever give that up? She’d fought too hard for it.

  If she somehow bribed enough people and successfully escaped, she’d be on the run forever. Maybe she could handle that, but it wouldn’t be fair for her child. She wanted the best for the baby inside her. She certainly didn’t want to live in fear for their lives, to always be wondering where their next meal would come from.

  Besides, she wouldn’t be the one shooting hand cannons at Pellagians. War was coming, whether she was queen or not. But her child could only have the life it deserved if Camalyn remained in her position. She was the queen of Cormina. There was no changing that.

  Camalyn shook her head to clear her mind before stepping back into her lace underwear and her velvet gown. She sipped from the glass of water the midwife had left for her on the table and placed a confident smile on her face before opening the door and stepping out of the bedroom.

  “Can you help me with this, please?”

  The midwife stood in the middle of the room; doubtless she’d been there this whole time, waiting. “Of course.” She buttoned the dress with nimble fingers, then walked around to face Camalyn. “Are you all right?”

  It was a true question, not merely a polite one, and Camalyn had the uncomfortable feeling that her midwife could see into her soul.

  “I’m fine. We should both pack; we’ll leave right after dawn tomorrow.”

  The midwife tilted her head and studied her queen. She nodded slowly. “I’ll be ready. Please let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

  Camalyn’s smile faltered. People said such things to her all the time, but somehow she knew this woman really would help any way she could, not because she was required to, but because for some inexplicable reason, she cared. “I will,” she said, her voice a little above a whisper. “I’ll let you know.”

  To her surprise, the midwife opened her arms wide. Camalyn stepped into the older woman’s embrace, choking back tears for the second time that day. She rested her chin on the midwife’s shoulder and held on for a long time.

  When Camalyn pulled back, the midwife wore a look of deep compassion. Camalyn didn’t trust herself to stay any longer without giving in to the emotions pounding in her chest and pressing behind her eyes, so she turned to go.

  When she reached the door, the midwife said softly, “You’ll be a good mother, Camalyn.”

  Camalyn’s breath caught in her chest. “Thank you, Ellea.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  One of the few memories I have of my father is of a hunting trip we took. He helped me use his bow to shoot a squirrel. Our success was due entirely to his strength, as the bow was larger than I was. However, I had never in my short life felt so proud, and I have still never tasted a meal more delicious than that tough squirrel meat, roasted on our little wood stove.

  -From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana

  The rain squelched most of the fire in the monastery by the time the long night finally ended, but the flames appeared to have reached every part of the structure.

  Around the time the refugees and pilgrims left at sunrise, the final two victims of the invasion succumbed to their injuries. Ash, who was even more exhausted than the others, dug two more graves. Tavi made her way to the trailhead. She could see where the touch-blessed invader had mended the ravine. The man had done a poor job of it, though. Tavi healed about a quarter of the long gash she’d created. It took every drop of her magic. If only Ven had been there, she could have done the rest.

  As soon as the burials were complete and the crevasse partially repaired, the ragtag group of survivors left the monastery. Nearly forty of them were traveling together: the Golds, all the monks, the four former invaders, and the one refugee who’d decided not to go home.

  It finally stopped raining right before they stopped to eat an unsatisfying lunch, using up all their meager food stores. By the end of their half-hour break, the rain started again.

  The monks had said they should be able to reach the farm by nightfall. But three people had deep injuries Tavi couldn’t fully heal, and they couldn’t move quickly, even with assistance. The Golds considered going on ahead, but they all felt responsible for the plight of the group. They continued traveling with the monks and Savalans. Once the rest of the group was safe at the farm, the Golds would pic
k up their pace, trying to make up the time they’d lost.

  An hour and a half after sunset, the group stopped to rest under trees that only blocked a little of the continuing rain. They wrapped themselves in blankets taken from the cottages. But the blankets were wet, just like everything else. Tavi was pretty sure every inch of her skin was wrinkled like a prune. Her waterlogged feet still hurt, even after she’d healed the blisters.

  She sat alone, too grumpy to subject anyone to her company. But when Tess approached and sat next to her, Tavi was grateful.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Tess said.

  Tavi turned and smiled, though she knew her expression was nearly invisible in the darkness. “Last night, when the invaders made it past the ravine, my first thought was for your safety. I couldn’t—I couldn’t lose another sister.”

  Tess held her, and they both cried. When their tears stopped, Tess kept her arm around Tavi’s shoulder. It reminded Tavi of all the times she’d been held by Misty. Despite the chill, which was too intense to be overcome by the warmth of one person’s arm, Tavi was comfortable. Tess felt like home.

  “Tavi, how will you stop them?” Tess asked.

  “The Grays?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “I don’t know.”

  After a few minutes of silence, Tess asked, “Will you kill them?”

  Tavi took a deep breath, then released it. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  “But will you? If you have to?”

  Tavi pulled away from her sister’s arm and turned to face her. She could barely see the contours of Tess’ face. “I know you believe in peace. But you saw what the invaders did. And you know what the army did in the Meadow, too.”