by A. M. Manay
“‘Funny’ isn’t the word I would choose,” he retorted. “By the way, I made sure the king knew the crucial role you played, both in saving the ship and in capturing Redwood.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “I hope things will settle down for a bit.”
Silas smiled crookedly. “Unlikely, I’m afraid.”
“Did they do this with the Usurper’s head?” Shiloh asked, her eyes fixed firmly on her horse’s mane.
Silas sighed inwardly. “Yes,” he admitted. “Then it sat on a pike in the central square for a year. I don’t know what they did with it after that.”
Shiloh said nothing in reply.
The parade took up the whole morning; a celebratory meal followed in the Great Hall at midday. Again, the queen was missing. The king sat alone at the high table, eating heartily and beaming down at the assembled.
Silas watched Shiloh at her table with the most important of the mixed-bloods. It looked as though the king’s bastard, Jaym, was peppering her with questions. She smiled and laughed, and he was glad to see it. She seemed to have made friends, friends she might need in the future.
Back to the grindstone, he thought as he entered Rischar’s apartments after the meal had concluded. Time to find out the true state of the royal marriage.
He found the king in an animated mood, surrounded by a few of his favorite men. “At last, Hatch, you are home!” the king cried.
Hatch bowed deeply. When he rose, the king swept him into an embrace. “Leave us,” Rischar told the others. When they were alone, the king shook his head. “She betrayed me, Hatch. I loved her with all my heart, and she betrayed me.”
“Your Grace, I am so very sorry for the loss of your expected child. Is it certain, sire, that your wife was to blame?” Hatch countered gently. He had no love for Zina, but as Shiloh had said, it seemed unlikely the woman would endanger her pregnancy.
“Oh, yes! How it grieved me to hear the tale!” Rischar replied dramatically. “The stories I have heard in recent weeks would curl your hair, Silas! I must have a divorce.”
“May I ask where she is, Your Grace?”
“Holed up in her apartments. I have made it known I have no wish to see her face. I want her removed to the house in the Claw as soon as possible.”
“Laurel Manor?” Hatch asked for clarification.
“Yes, yes, that one.”
“It shall be done.”
“You’ve rid my country of an enemy, Silas. Now you must rid my marriage of one! I must have a divorce, Hatch! Zina has failed me as a wife for the last time. I will not stand for it!” the king declared.
“I shall have the lawyers begin to draw up papers,” Hatch replied mildly. In fact, he had already set them to work devising terms.
“I am a generous man,” Rischar stated expansively. “I will provide her an appropriate allowance and a house, not too close. Perhaps in the Vine or the Range.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Hatch agreed. He could not, in his wildest imaginings, picture Zina living among the cattle in the Range. “Even so, I anticipate that she may object to granting your wish for a divorce. Her grace is not cooperative or humble by nature.”
Rischar wheeled around. “You get her to agree, or you find some other way to be rid of her! I will have a wife in my bed who submits to my authority and who will produce for me a son and heir.”
Hatch bowed. “As you wish, Your Grace. Perhaps you might like me to investigate her grace’s conduct? In case we must find cause to annul the union without her consent?”
Rischar clapped him on the shoulder. “Yes! Exactly right. You see clearly what needs to be done. I have missed you, Hatch, these last weeks. You always know just the thing. And you handled the situation in the Southlands tremendously well.”
Hatch bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace. It was my pleasure to serve. Dame Shiloh was also crucial to the victory over Redwood, the capture of his son, and the protection of your daughter.”
“Splendid girl, just splendid. Hard to believe a hexborn cripple could be so useful, eh? Especially given her parentage. She’s even got my Jaym shooting his wand straight for once. Overcame the boy’s mortal fear of the library,” Rischar laughed.
He called for wine, and a serving boy appeared with a goblet. After a long swig, Rischar continued, “As you set my household to rights, you must also work to get things moving on the trials of Redwood’s boys.”
“It should be relatively straightforward, now that we have them all in custody. The last was caught in the Teeth. He should arrive within days. Daved has agreed to testify against his elder brothers. Bren has agreed to confess publicly and to name their accomplices if we spare Daved’s life and give the other brothers clean executions.”
Rischar nodded. “Very well. But it must be a sufficient spectacle to deter further treachery.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Hatch concurred.
“What about Daved? What do we do with him once we execute his brothers?” Rischar asked. “Strip him of land and title?”
“If you intend to let him live, I think it wise to be sure he has compelling reasons to continue to be loyal to the crown. Perhaps Your Grace shows mercy and allows him to keep his title and a portion of his lands,” Hatch suggested. “The rest you can seize and distribute to someone less tainted to demonstrate the rewards of loyalty. Let Lord Daved have the southern portion of the Wood, and place someone you can trust in the north by the border with Gerne.”
Rischar smiled slowly, as though having an epiphany. “Most wise, as usual. I shall consider whom to choose.”
***
“Never!” Zina declared, leaping to her silk-clad feet to emphasize her objection. “Get out of my sight!”
Her ladies cringed, looking away, feigning not to see or hear the confrontation. Penn looked especially terror-stricken in the corner. Hatch wondered why Shiloh was not present. He showed no reaction to Zina’s histrionics, not feeling in the least surprised by them.
“Your Grace, I advise you to reconsider your opposition to a divorce. You, of all people, should know that when the king wants rid of his wife, he finds a way.”
“How dare you? I am the Queen of Bryn!” she spat.
Hatch placed a sheaf of papers on a table. “The lawyers have drawn up a generous settlement with an ample allowance. Perhaps you should have your own solicitor look these over. You will not get a better offer, and the longer you delay, the more likely it is that the terms grow more harsh, Your Grace.”
“What of our daughter? What of Princess Loor?” she demanded.
“She will remain in the order of succession, behind Princess Esta,” Hatch explained, “who will be behind any future legitimate sons.”
“Esta is not a princess! She is a bastard!” Zina nearly shrieked. “The marriage with Mirin was improper!”
“That is no longer the king’s view of the matter, as both king and head of the church. He signed the order this morning restoring his first daughter to the order of succession,” Hatch informed her.
“Get out!” Zina hissed.
Hatch bowed. “As you wish, Your Grace. I shall return tomorrow for your answer. At that time we shall begin making preparations for your move to Laurel Manor in the Claw until such time as permanent accommodations have been determined.” With that, he departed before Zina could find anything to throw at him.
Out in the corridor, he sighed.
That went about as well as I expected.
***
“You can go straight in,” Percy told Shiloh, looking as frazzled as usual.
“Thanks, Perce,” she replied. She tapped on the heavy door and pushed it open. “Master Hatch, Jane told me you need to speak—”
She stopped short at the sight of Master Kiven sitting in her customary chair.
“I’ll come back,” she declared. Her words dripped with dislike.
“No, sit,” Hatch ordered her. “I need to speak with both of you.�
��
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to contaminate him,” Shiloh said coldly as she took her seat. “How do you even know he’s not working for the Patriarch, anyway? He spent three months in Gerne, didn’t he?”
A glowering Kiven shifted in his chair, then raised insistent eyebrows in Hatch’s direction.
Silas heaved a sigh. “I owe you an apology, Shiloh,” he began.
“What else is new?” she replied with a smirk.
He sighed again. “Look, Shiloh, when Master Kiven railed at you in his seminar, it was at my request. While I think I was entirely justified, at this juncture, it is more useful to me if you don’t hate him.”
Shiloh looked from Hatch to Kiven and back again. “Justified how?”
“Hatch didn’t want either of us figuring out who your mother was, and he didn’t want you figuring out that he killed her,” Kiven explained, jaw clenched. “But we both found out the truth, regardless, so he compromised my ethics for nothing. As for my loyalty to the Patriarch, since I know your dangerous secret, it is only fair that you know mine. I am a scriptural fundamentalist. The Patriarch appears nowhere in the Tarwah. During my ‘pilgrimmage’ in Gerne, I was working for Hatch, spying on the Patriarch and his people.”
“Oh,” Shiloh said, brows raised. “All right, then.” She eyed Kiven appraisingly. “So if you’re a fundamentalist, I take it you don’t actually believe in the Cleanliness Laws?”
Kiven shook his head. “No, I do not. I ask your forgiveness, Dame Shiloh, for my cruelty,” Kiven offered. “I should have told Hatch where he could stuff it when he ordered me to insult you.”
Shiloh snorted a laugh. “Thank you, Master Kiven. I forgive you, of course. Apologies for my crack about your loyalties. Master Hatch is going to have to buy me some chocolates, though.”
“I’ll add you to the list,” Hatch replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s very long.”
“Why are we here, Hatch?” Kiven demanded, turning his attention back to Silas. “You’re not the only one in the palace with work to do.”
Silas steepled his fingers. “Just before Lord Redwood lost his head, he claimed to have men in the palace ready to assassinate the king. While that may have been a lie, I rather doubt it. Which means that even with Redwood dead and his boys about to be hanged, there may remain a real threat to the crown.”
“You want us to figure out who might have been working with Redwood?” Kiven asked. “With his death, they’re going to keep their heads down. I have the sight, but I’m not omniscient. And performing readings on individual without his permission is illegal without an order from the crown. Which you obviously do not have, or you would be handing it to me right now.”
“I’m not expecting miracles,” Hatch retorted with evident impatience. “I just want you both to be observant and to let me know if you see or hear anything that raises your suspicions. I can count the people I trust on my fingers. Kiven, the religious partisans might confide in you, making the same assumption about your loyalties as Shiloh did. Shiloh, if anyone else has guessed your parentage, they may try to recruit you by virtue of it.
“Now, if either of you had to surmise who might have allied themselves with Redwood, whom would you choose?”
“Does he have any bastard relations here?” Kiven asked.
“The bastard sons all died on the water, and the daughter is only 9 years old,” Hatch reported.
“The Matron,” Shiloh replied. “His half-sister, right? I don’t put much past her.”
Kiven snorted. “She’s certainly cruel enough for the job. And very old fashioned in her religious beliefs. It’s possible.”
“I would think she’d be more a spy than an assassin,” Hatch replied, “but I’ll put her on the list.”
“The head of the royal guard would be a good one to compromise,” Shiloh suggested, “were I so inclined.”
Silas nodded his agreement. “Gordan Courtborn has been a suspect of mine for a long time. I don’t know if his incompetence is real or calculated. Perhaps both. But I don’t see him doing anything on his own. Without Redwood, he’d need another lord pulling the strings before he’d take a risk.”
“Any likely ones?” Shiloh asked.
The men both shrugged.
“Lords are ambitious and greedy by nature. It could be anyone. And Redwood was well-liked,” Hatch pointed out.
“Anyone? Really? I had been hoping the crown was safe now that we’ve dealt with Redwood,” Shiloh sighed. She slumped in her chair.
Silas smiled sadly. “The crown is never safe.”
***
Hatch glanced at the mountain of paper on his desk. The hour was growing late, and he had miles to go before he slept. He almost wished he was back on a horse in the Deadlands.
“Perce, fetch me Shiloh Teethborn. I need to speak with her.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Percy replied, then disappeared.
Hatch got down to work, not lifting his head when he heard the door open.
“Yes?” Hatch asked testily.
“Sir, Dame Shiloh can’t come to see you,” Percy ventured warily.
“And why the hell not?” he demanded.
“Sir, she’s in the infirmary,” Percy explained.
Hatch’s head shot up. “Why?”
“Jane says she had one of those attacks of hers last night. She’s still recovering.”
Hatch shot out of his chair and sped through the palace. Before the door to the hospital wing had shut behind him, he began demanding answers from Jonn.
“Settle down; you’re going to wake her,” Jonn hissed.
“Why didn’t you send for me?” Silas demanded, now in a whisper.
“I didn’t need you. The attack was pretty straightforward this time,” Jonn replied. “The curse was a familiar one. Winston’s Hemorrhagic Hex. It was a long night for us both, but we got through it just fine. I wasn’t aware that I was required to consult with you on the care of my patients.”
“Not all your patients. Just this one,” Hatch insisted.
“I have no intention of indulging your obsession with my student’s scars, Silas,” Jonn replied hotly.
“It’s not just that,” Hatch replied, then wished he could take the words back when he saw revelation dawn on Jonn’s face.
“Holy Maiden,” Jonn breathed. “You fancy her. Silas Hatch likes a girl.”
“Don’t be preposterous. She’s half my age,” Hatch scoffed, “And I may well have to put a knife in her back one of these days. I simply appreciate her value to the crown.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Jonn answered, rolling his eyes. “You want to see her, or what?”
“Yes, I want to see her,” Hatch replied through gritted teeth.
He found her dead asleep, her hair bright against the pillow and the mark from the previous night’s episode so livid that he could see it on her stomach through her nightgown. Dark circles under her eyes testified to her need for rest, so Hatch restrained his impulse to wake her. Without her hook on, somehow, she looked terribly frail. Half-dressed as she was, Hatch realized that she had lost weight on their voyage to the Southlands. He supposed it shouldn’t surprise him, given the demands of their mission, but it pained him to see how thin she had gotten without anyone noticing.
Jonn touched his elbow gently and cocked his head toward the door. Hatch followed the healer out into the entryway.
“She needs rest, Silas, and to put on some weight. She needs to gain some strength back or the next time she has one of these attacks, I can’t promise she’ll get through it. I don’t want her on the back of a horse for at least a fortnight. No crazy assignments. No late nights playing cards with the king. No naval battles; no throwing herself in front of curses. No defeating rebels, or jousting, or strong drink, or anything of the kind.” Jonn told him.
Hatch nodded, gray-faced. “I didn’t appreciate how much the trip south took out of her,” he confessed.
“I couldn’t have done it without her,” Silas admitted. “Her gifts are extraordinary, her bravery . . . I’d have failed the king. I would be a dead man twice over, if she hadn’t been there.”
“You need to look out for her, Silas. If you don’t, the next time, she may not be.”
***
Shiloh forced herself to take another bite of her midday meal. She could hear Edmun’s voice scolding her in her head. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to put you in the ground on account of your refusal to eat. I’m not about to let you waste all my years of work. You need a little meat on those bones for the next time your fool mother’s sins come calling.”
At the thought of her mother, her spirits sank. My mother, the Usurper. Her new knowledge, and the three murders committed in the Southlands to protect her secret, weighed heavily upon her. A strange brew of gratitude and judgment filled her stomach whenever she laid eyes on Master Hatch.
She lifted another spoonful of soup to her lips, hand shaking. Eat, she ordered herself.
“Perhaps this might go down more easily,” Penn said from the doorway, a basket in her hands and a smile upon her face, Shiloh’s friend entered and sat across from the patient.
Shiloh’s face lit up. “Penn! I’ve missed you terribly.”
“Tell me about it. These weeks have been unendurable without you to talk to,” Penn laughed, but there was melancholy in her eyes.
Penn pulled the napkin from the basket to reveal hot pastries fresh from the kitchen. The smell revived Shiloh’s flagging appetite, and she chose a sweet quickbread.
“Master Jonn might say these are too rich this early in my recovery,” Shiloh confessed before taking a bite. She sighed with pleasure as the taste of chocolate burst on her tongue. “But I don’t care.”
“Master Jonn won’t care a lick as long as he can’t see your ribs through your clothes,” came Jonn’s voice calling from the adjacent ward.
