by Erme Lander
“Not to become Medici.” There was a long silence. She’d finally said it.
“Is that what you want?”
She raised her head to look at him, “Yes.” Mika felt a relief burst as she finally gave herself permission to voice her feelings. “Ackbarr is my home. I want to study with you.”
Belindros’ voice was quiet, “You know I would be delighted to have you back as Mikon. I wish you could be Mika there, but you know that is impossible. This has to be your choice. If it helps, I met your father when he came to collect the bodies and I told him of Gavin’s suspicions. He came back with this.” Belindros handed her a letter and left her to read it.
She read it and wept. A choice. To look after her babies or to go back into the world as a boy. The offer she’d been made, they would never know her as their mother. She stared at them through the night, watching the movements they made, cuddling and feeding them.
Belindros left a week later having made the arrangements. Mika watched from the turret overlooking the cliff until he, Gavin and their entourage disappeared from sight. She worked that evening in a fog until she was ordered to bed. She lay alone, sniffing the vineflower sachet her mother had given her and longed for oblivion.
The next day Mika began training with a purpose, she threw herself into it, exhausting herself with every opportunity. She re-trained her muscles, tightening them from the slackness of pregnancy. The guards were only too pleased to have someone new to practise against, until they saw how she drove herself. She was advised to slow down and refused. She couldn’t go back to Ackbarr like this, no one would believe she was a boy. Her milk dried up over a matter of weeks, she tied up her corsets and cut her hair. Mika met Lissina in the corridors, Lissina’s eyes grew wide when she saw Mika and she flinched away. Mika strode on, steeling herself to ignore Lissina’s face.
The dreams continued, she’d have to re-learn her control. She could only sleep with a vineflower sachet next to her. Several times she forgot and woke to find her room wreaked. They refused to let her out at night, so she walked down to the hospice with Jon in the morning and didn’t walk back. That night she stalked through the woods hunting small creatures. The exhilaration made her wake crying and naked in the morning. She lay sniffing and shivering in the cold morning air.
She wasn’t entirely sure where she was. A few landmarks made sense, she picked her way through the woods, heading for the sea and heard Jon shouting for her. He’d ridden down with spare clothes and looked embarrassed at her nakedness when he found her.
Chiara tried to keep her inside and eventually gave into Mika’s demands, giving her the use of a locked courtyard to change in. Mika tested all the shutters, she didn’t want to break out. She had spectators from amongst the scholars the first night, peering from a window high up. They didn’t return for a second night and flinched when she passed them. The changing helped, the tension leaking away and she began to feel honed, a fighting machine, the confidence of a predator infusing her.
It was iron winter by the time Mika and Jon started back. Jon rode next to her, cheerfully singing out of tune, delighted to be out of the restrictive surroundings. They’d wanted her to stay at the temple, tried to find excuses, offered rewards. She’d refused them all. The long conversation she’d had with Chiara had been exhausting. She didn’t want to think about her reasons for leaving or the consequences. She’d given up her babies for the chance to become Medici, nothing less was going to stop her.
Epilogue
Mika was working in the palace hospice when another apprentice came to fetch her. She walked to Abran's office and found Koren waiting. She stopped herself, not Koren. He was still her father and despite her new knowledge she refused to think of him as anything else. Mika stood and stared as Abran murmured a few pleasantries and left them. The door was open and her father left it open, a servant waited further down the corridor.
“I have come to tell you that your mother is pleased with you.” His eyes were pleading under the calm tone and impassive face. “She is out of confinement and has had two baby boys delivered.”
Hers. Her babies, her mother had them. They would be safe, she closed her eyes in relief. “Thank you for letting me know.” The audience in the corridor made both of them formal, the stiffness belied the looks they gave each other. They couldn’t even speak in their native language, so much was suspect.
“I have heard from Abran that you are doing well in your capacity as a healer. You do your family and country credit. Many who come under your hands will think twice about the rumours they have heard.”
She longed to rush into his arms, wanting to reassure him that he was still her father and hating the lie they both had to live. Keeping her voice steady, she replied, “Thank you. Please let my mother know I wish her well.”
Her father nodded and bowed, “I look forward to hearing of your progress.” She watched as he walked away, part of her heart going with him.
Brooding in her room later on, her eye was caught by the piece of paper in a crack of the wall, close to the ceiling. She smiled at the memory. Jon had been complaining, not understanding why reading and writing were so important.
“All those books in Belindros’ study. They have the knowledge of other Medici in them. You can find out by reading.”
His face had screwed up, “Belindros says it’s all crap.”
She tried to explain, “It’s like having a conversation with someone from a long time ago. Sometimes the information they give isn’t quite right or things have changed, but it’s useful anyway. Belindros keeps a journal of everything he’s learned, one day that might be thought crap too.” Jon’s eyes grew wide at anyone thinking of Belindros like that. “He wants us to use our heads, not blindly follow, do you see?”
Seeing that he wasn’t entirely convinced, she carried on, “Look, if I write your name on this piece of paper and put it up here, then one day someone will discover it, maybe after you’ve died. That’s the power of writing. Maybe one day you’ll write a book people will want to read.” He fell over on her bed laughing, tickled by the thought of him writing a book, but over the next few days she’d caught him looking up at the crack with a thoughtful look on his face.
A bang brought her back to the present and Jon leaned around her door, “Found a new pie stall, fancy trying it out?” She grinned and shoved Jon out the way to race down the stairs with him following close behind.
*****
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More frog than princess, Erme Lander lives in Gloucestershire with her husband, two children and a mad cat.
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