“Once. Not on a child. It was difficult. Demons don’t give up what’s theirs.”
Hugh closes his eyes, opens them and walks to the side of the bed. He places the child on it and we gather around him.
Julianna stands beside him, tense. He smiles at her. “Sit down, pet. Don’t touch her just yet, but stay here and watch, if you’d rather.”
He reaches for my magic, and I wince and open to him. It feels like old, creaking doors, like my blood is rust, like I am an old joint about to break. I cling to the bedpost and shudder at the feel of the spell he begins to create; I didn’t know there were such spells.
Asa and Hugh chant words that bite sharp and cut ties, bind fast to create new ones, push out a lingering taint like a mold on the child.
Wailing and chittering voices call out inside the magic, spinning across my power to cut me off from Hugh. The line between us stretches thin. Exhausted, I reach further into myself and send a burst of power along the flickering thread.
The voices build into a shriek and I wish for mental hands to clap over my mental ears. I lean on the bedpost and feel chills crawl up my spine.
Blinding flashes of pure white light flicker across my closed eyelids, and the spell fades as I hear a thin wail. I open my eyes and see Julianna reaching triumphantly for her baby, who is squirming and hungry and angry enough to command armies.
Julianna closes her eyes. “My daughter’s name is grief,” she whispers. She brushes the thin fuzzy hair back from the baby’s forehead. “Atarah Kieran, I name you. Your father will give you another name, but this name you bear for yourself and your brother.”
A hard burden for a child, I think, but I am not a princess, and I did not just lose a child. Tears fill my eyes, and I sag back into Hugh, who catches me. Everything shifts sideways, and Hugh’s hands claw into my shoulders. I sit with difficulty on the side of the bed to gather my strength.
Julianna holds her child to her breast, and Hugh and Connor turn to leave. I stand to go with them, but I feel myself fading — Hugh has broken his link to me, but Julianna still feeds on me in a small current, and I am too tired to cut it off.
Connor catches me before I fall, and shakes me. “Rhia, for pity’s sake, breathe!”
I look up at him weakly. “I am breathing. Tell Hugh to cut his sister off from me before she kills me.” I have dropped the Grace. I don’t care.
Connor blinks and puts his arm around me, walks me out of the bedchamber.
I remember when the sight of priest’s robes brought me joy. I shudder in Connor’s grip at the sight of a young priest in the solar, standing to greet Hugh. He looks over at us, bites his already raw lips and bows a little. His shaggy hair is medium brown, the same color as his dirty robe. Dark circles bag under his bloodshot eyes, and his young face looks haggard with grief. He clears his throat to speak.
“I must,” and his voice catches. He tries again. “I must get a message to His Grace the Duke of Haverston, or Her Royal Highness, Princess Julianna. I was told I could find them here.”
“I am the duke,” Hugh says, looking almost as haggard as the young priest. His clothes are nicer, but also stained now, and his face is pasty and sweaty from the night, now become morning. “What is your message?”
“Please, your Grace, I am Daniel. Cardinal Robere sent me — we arrived at the seminary to find so many sick with the Wasting. He sent me to beg aid, but I find you also under plague banner.”
He turns away and clenches his fists. “Cardinal Robere asks you to come, your Grace. He says the spell is demon-borne. If you have any information —”
Hugh wipes his face, his shoulders sagging. “I have been working on something that may help. The herbs — Rhia, go and tell Linnet to get them for me.”
Connor stops me and turns to call, but Linnet’s voice stops us both. “Will we be back before dawn?”
Hugh turns to her, shaking his head. “It is dawn. And we won’t be going anywhere. I will go with Daniel. You stay here and get some rest.”
“What about you? You need to rest, too.”
He closes his eyes. “I do. But I need to get to the cardinal even more. I’ll bring him back with me as soon as I may; he should be able to help us stop the spell.” Hugh’s voice is hoarse. Linnet’s face is stubborn. “I’m perfectly serious, Linnet. I need you to stay here, and help everyone out. There’s still so much to do.”
She shrugs her shoulders and glowers, but leaves for the herbarium without further argument.
“Connor, you’ll need to — there’s …”
“I know. I’ll take care of it.”
I presume they mean Absalom’s body. I lower myself to the chair. Connor leans back against the wall and rubs his hand across his face. “Take sergeants Gengler and Watson with you. There may be desperate people on the road. You can’t let them stop you, no matter what they need.”
“I know that.”
“Also do it.”
“Look after —”
“I will.”
Hugh nods, and ushers the confused Daniel from the room. I hope he thinks to offer the poor man some water.
Connor looks down at me. “You should go to bed. Is Julianna still draining you?”
“I — no. I stopped her. Or leaving the room did, I think. I can’t tell anymore.”
“Stay out of her chamber for now. If they need you they can call for you.”
I nod and get up to walk to my room.
～
Asa passes me in the hall, heads into the solar to speak to Connor. I linger in my doorway to listen.
“Where is Hugh?”
“He’s gone to fetch Cardinal Robere from the monastery. He hopes he can help stop the Wasting spell.”
There’s a pause. “This will be a very long report to my sovereign. I’m not sure she will be happy with you. How ever did you allow all of this to come so far?” Asa’s voice is harsh.
“Don’t push me. I’ve done what I can to keep Stephen’s plots from coming to fruition. I’m not the Star Lord, to know everyone’s heart and mind. If I had known about the demons, I’d have taken care of Gantry months ago.” Connor sounds as if he’s pacing.
Asa sounds like a disappointed parent. “And what will you do, now your king’s heir’s heir has demon taint?”
“I thought you removed the taint.”
“I don’t know how successful that was, Connor. We did the best we could, but demons are slippery, and their magic changes as you handle it.”
“But you think you removed it. I would take it as a very great favor if you would keep word of Absalom quiet, and not mention it in your report. And also report that the taint has been lifted on Atarah.”
A short silence. I can hear outrage in it. “You are walking a very rocky path, my lord,” Asa says. “You cannot command me to silence. And while I look upon this royal family as friend and kin to my own sovereign, I will not take orders from you, or do anything to put my country in danger.”
“I am not commanding; I am asking. And keeping this event to yourself does not jeopardize anyone,” Connor snaps.
“Oh no? And what if this child is demon-touched all her life? What if she becomes queen in her turn? Shall I keep silent about the taint that lives in her?”
I worry about that, too. How can we tell? How can we save her? Save Orrin? Save me?
“She’s a newborn babe,” Connor is saying. “Maybe your spell worked, maybe she’s free of the taint. Time will tell us that. Who knows if she’ll grow into a wise person or foolish, or if she’s ever even named heir. It’s not as though Alexander were wanting for bastards to claim, even if Julianna never has another child.”
“Connor, bansha, listen —”
“But the court will not allow her to have another child if this gets out. They might not let her live.” His voice is bleak.
“The princess is more than a broodmare.”
“I agree, but this is the world we live in. The court is already baying for her blood. Absalom
must remain a terrible, and private, tragedy. And Atarah — give her a chance to live. Give them all a chance to live.”
“And what if the demons have a toe-hold now? Can you sanction an heir with demon taint?” Asa demands.
“When will we be able to tell?”
She sighs. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year? I am not an expert. We should call in experts. There are others who can help this child. You should want that.”
“I do want that, but quietly. I ask you for the sake of my mother —”
“I have already done much for the sake of your mother,” Asa growls. “This may be going too far. But what will you do if I am not silent? Will you kill me, to silence me?”
That hissed question chills my skin, and I shiver. I hear him suck in a breath. “That you could think that of me, Mashee —”
“Is that not your duty, son of my sovereign’s daughter?”
Sovereign’s … I blink, shake my head.
“Lord of all Stars,” Connor yells. “My duty is not to kill my kin!”
“And yet you have threatened to kill your own brother. You do come from a kin-killing family.”
“Would you have civil war, then? Think what a Talarian civil war would mean for Indranah,” Connor grinds out.
“I do think on it. And I think on what an unbalanced Talarian ruler means for Indranah. I think of it every day. And so do all our court.”
I close my eyes and try to breathe as quietly as I can. The only sound is the wind, and some crying from the baby, and Connor’s harsh breathing. He is the grandson of the Indrani Empress. He is nephew of the Talarian king, as is his brother. Who is trying to kill the people Connor loves. Whom Connor has sworn to stop. I taste ashes in my mouth.
“Do what you will, Mashee. I will not command you. But I cannot say what my king will say or do, if you reveal this.”
“I cannot speak for my ranee, either. I do not yet know what I will do.”
I hear her coming back this way, and duck in my door, but not quickly enough. She stares at me, then nods as she passes. I nod back, my eyes down.
“Rhia,” I hear Connor say, and I look up. The door to Julianna’s chamber closes behind Asa. Connor stands at the entrance to the solar. “You were eavesdropping.”
“I — I’m sorry. It — I was …”
“Eavesdropping.”
I shrug. “Yes.”
“It has its uses,” he says. “Did you learn anything?”
I swallow carefully. “That you are related to some very interesting people.”
He laughs harshly. “That, at least, is very true. And what else did you learn?”
“I don’t know, my lord.” He walks closer, and I realize I’m whispering. I clear my throat. “I, I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?” His eyes are deep and dark in the shadows of the hall, and I lean a little toward him. He stops across from me.
“I, we need to be careful about information …”
He nods. “That is always true. But the main lesson from that conversation, Rhiannon, is that I come from a kin-killing family. You should bear that in mind.”
I shake my head. “She didn’t mean it.”
“She very much did, I’m afraid. And she isn’t wrong.”
“You are not your brother, my lord.”
“Or my father, or my uncle, for that matter.”
“Who is king.”
He laughs again, without smiling. “Who is my king.” He leans his head back, and I see there are tears in his eyes. I step forward, put my hand on his cheek, and he lowers his head to look at me.
“You are not your brother, Connor.” Leaning in, I press my lips to his, then retreat to my room before he has a chance to react. My hands shake, but I ignore them and very deliberately undress and get into bed. Exhaustion keeps me from thinking for very long, and I am grateful for it as I slide into aching sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I wake reluctantly to the sounds of a baby squalling. By the sullen light coming in the window, it is mid-morning. Dragging myself out of bed, I splash stale water on my face.
Someone hums in Julianna’s room: it sounds like Linnet. I pad out into the hall. The baby still fusses, but less urgently.
A sound behind me makes me turn. A quiet groan and rustling come from the solar. I tiptoe warily into the dim room, the soughing wind and rain covering my steps. I think of rats, or desperate plague victims, maybe Gantry … As I pass the fireplace, I grab the poker. Hefting it, I walk around the chaise and stand, mouth open.
Connor is twisted into an impossible shape on the chaise, his shirt half unlaced and his arms tucked close across his contorted body. His knees in his rumpled hose are pulled up to his chest, his head buried under several pillows.
I lower the poker as he uncovers an eye and blinks a few times. I step back a pace, and he slowly unfolds, sitting up. The wind sings a mournful counterpart to Linnet’s muffled humming. His hair falls into his eyes.
I reach forward, my fingers trembling, and brush the tangled hair from his forehead. Of its own volition, my hand slips down to touch his cheek.
He leans into my caress, his eyelids fluttering down. His cheek feels less bristly than I expected. Just behind the morning’s growth of beard, in front of his ear, the skin is so soft.
I rub it with trembling fingers, and a low moan escapes his throat.
Standing slowly, he reaches for my shoulders, his hands hot through my clothes.
I remember all I’m wearing is my shift. I shiver, look down.
He lifts my chin with his hand. The rain on the window is a staccato beat in time with my pulse. He strokes my neck and collarbones, tracing the lines of my scars, my veins.
I feel myself falling into his eyes. His fingers wind in my hair.
The door to Julianna’s room opens, and we jump apart. I wince as I feel a few curls follow Connor. Linnet hurries into the room, a tray in her hands.
“Rhiannon! What are you doing out here in your shift?”
I dither, my mouth pursing like a fish.
Linnet looks at the two of us. Her eyes start to narrow.
“Clean clothes,” I blurt. “The, the laundry never got done.”
Linnet closes her eyes in exasperation.
I wait for her to say something scathing.
“Laundry!” she says. “I forgot. I’ll go find you something to wear. And something to eat. Are you hungry? I’m hungry. I’m getting a tray of food for Julianna, too.” She raises an eyebrow at me, and runs off.
I start to go after her, then remember Connor. And my clothes, or lack thereof.
Connor stands awkwardly next to the chaise, clutching at nothing. He cocks his head when I look at him, and smiles a little.
“Were you going to brain me with the poker?”
I look at the poker still in my hand. I decide to try for a light tone, as well. “Just in case of rogues, you know.” His brow quirks up.
I return the poker to the fireplace and walk at a measured pace from the room. When I reach the safety of my room I close the door and sag against it. What can I be thinking? I have too much to do. I do not have time for dalliances with the grandson or the nephew of a monarch, let alone someone who is both. And in any case, his true heart lies with Julianna. I walk to the bowl of water and shove my face in it, hoping for clarity.
Linnet brings me clothes and bread, and I throw on the one and tear into the other, ravenous. Linnet heads downstairs again to help Asa and the others in the great hall. I plan to help them.
Before I head down, I peek in on Julianna. The baby lies sleeping in Julianna’s arms. Julianna’s eyes are closed, and I step back and close the door softly.
“Rhia,” Connor says behind me.
I turn, heart pounding, and he holds a bundle out to me. Now my heart pounds for other reasons. Absalom’s body.
He nods at my look. “I need you to take this to the tower stairs. I’ll meet you there shortly. We have to burn the body. There’s a ritual.
Can you manage it, if I show it to you?”
I blink, draw in a shuddering breath. “I can try, my lord.”
“Good. Please, take — him. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. I’ll bring what we need.”
I follow him out of Julianna’s rooms, carrying the bundle cautiously. It feels wrong no matter how I carry it. I don’t want anyone to guess this is a baby, but I don’t know how else to hold it. Him. I needn’t worry: everyone is in the great hall. I don’t meet anyone as I make my way to the tower stairs.
The spiral stairs take longer than the main stair, with their old arrow-slit windows from centuries gone by, going around the tower rooms inside. Passing the ground floor, I feel a sharp breeze, hear a loud thump of the outside door closing, and footsteps. How did Connor get ahead of me?
I freeze where I am. It’s not Connor. Backing up the stairs one careful foot at a time, I try not to make any noise. I turn to run when Bishop Gantry boils around the curve below me, yanking a vacant-eyed Orrin by the arm.
“Orrin,” I gasp, almost falling.
Gantry looks up at me, his lips pulled back from his teeth, his hair a wild storm around his head.
I trip backward over the stairs and he looms over me.
“What’s this?” He lets Orrin go to grab at my arms and I drop the wrapped body, try to push him away. A glance at Orrin shows him holding himself against the wall, barely able to stand.
Gantry raises a hand to strike me, and I grab at his arm, try to twist away from the blow. Stone grinds into my spine and sides as his hand glances off my cheek. He grabs my hair with one hand, slaps me hard with the other, and I feel my bones ache with the shock of it. I hang limp in his grip. His mind reaches for me, slithers along my barriers and finds my magic.
“Ah, what’s this? The Star Lord gives me a gift of more power,” he says, and starts to laugh. I bring my feet up and kick him as hard as I can in the knee, the groin, push him.
He staggers back, taking some of my hair with him, falls down several steps to his back. “Fiend! Invader! I’ll have you burned!”
A Ragged Magic Page 28
