‘I feel useless!’ Aldron had shouted, kicking a chair across the room.
As confusing as this journey to the valley was for them all, Lucian was grateful for something to do.
‘Don’t speak the truth to the Charynites,’ Isaboe said quietly. ‘They’ll see us at our weakest.’
The truth was that the babe had been taken from them. Not in an act of war, or violence, or because of a mistake, or due to an illness. Lady Abian said it had happened to many women before the Queen and it would happen again. The gods were cruel, but just. Death chose the powerful and the weak. It chose the seamstress and it chose the Queen. All the wealth in the world made no difference.
‘It will make her stronger,’ one of the cousins said.
‘She was strong enough!’ Yata snapped.
Regardless of how strong she was, Perri bent and scooped the Queen up in his arms and carried her across the water.
The valley dwellers were frightened to see them all. Lucian imagined it had been a terrifying time since the arrest of the women and, despite their hope in Quintana of Charyn’s child, they had seen too much death here.
Donashe and his men sat on the landing that led to the high caves. And Lucian wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill someone, and the person he hated most in the world was Donashe. He was an idle man unless he was threatening or murdering someone. Lucian’s father had warned him to fear idle men. Without the pride gained from a good day’s work, they were left to their vices and the doubts that crowded their head. Their hatred. Their envy. Lucian saw it each time he came face to face with the camp leaders.
Lucian led the Queen and their party up the steps towards Donashe’s men. He didn’t want to. He wanted his cousin safe from the malice of idle men, but he had no choice. Donashe and the camp leaders were on their feet in an instant, swords in their hands and suspicion on their faces as they watched Lucian and his people approaching. One of the men whispered in Donashe’s ear and the suspicion turned to surprise, as Donashe’s eyes fastened on the Queen.
‘An honour for Little Charyn, Your Majesty,’ he said to Isaboe when she reached the landing. Finnikin’s arm was around her and Lucian could see his friend’s fists were clenched.
‘And so close to the birth of your child.’
‘The last I heard, this valley is still part of Lumatere,’ Isaboe said coldly. ‘Not Little anything.’ She stared up at the highest cave. ‘I’ve come to see Quintana of Charyn. As a sign of peace between two queens.’
Donashe laughed.
‘A queen? You’re mistaken. The girl’s no queen. Just a princess.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean by that,’ Isaboe said. ‘My daughter’s a princess. Are you saying my daughter is unimportant, Charynite? Are you saying she means little to my kingdom? That she holds no power? That she is worthless?’
Lucian could see the unease in Donashe’s expression, the realisation that Isaboe could not be charmed into submission. Donashe’s eyes met Lucian’s.
‘Then can I stress to you, Your Majesty, as I did when you sent your Mont to discuss the imprisonment of his wife,’ Donashe said with a politeness that hid a threat, ‘that our princess is a political prisoner of the acting house of Charyn, and under no circumstances will she be removed from these caves. Quintana of Charyn is under arrest for the murder of her father, the King.’
‘Be careful, Charynite,’ Isaboe said. ‘With news such as that, you’re going to make me like your princess and I’m here for a peaceful gesture, not friendship.’
Isaboe went to step past him, but he blocked her path. The sound of every Lumateran sword being removed from its scabbard was sweet to Lucian’s ears.
‘Regardless of what you choose to do,’ Donashe said, failing to hide the twitch of nervousness in his cheek as the swords pointed at his face, ‘there’s an army of four hundred men belonging to the acting house of Charyn coming this way. They can be here in days to await the birth of the heir and return him to the palace. And if they arrive to find her gone, I can’t promise to keep them off your mountain.’
Perri’s hand was quick and he gripped Donashe by the throat. It was only Isaboe’s hand on her guard’s arm that made him let go.
‘I’m here to wish your princess well and to see my cousin, Phaedra of Alonso,’ Isaboe said. ‘So let me pass. I may not go to war with you over the daughter of my enemy, but I will over a Mont leader’s wife.’
Donashe hesitated, but then stepped aside as Finnikin took Isaboe’s hand and Lucian went to follow.
‘Only one of you will accompany your queen,’ Donashe said, stepping before them. ‘Who’s to know what your real plan is? Perhaps it’s to murder Quintana of Charyn before she births the child. We don’t take that chance.’
Finnikin shoved Donashe out of the way, but Isaboe held him back.
‘Let’s not make this worse than it could be, my love. Lucian will take me. He needs to see his wife.’
Finnikin’s rage was potent. He had expressed no grief or emotion at the death of his son, but Lucian saw it all there in his friend’s eyes.
‘I’ll take care of her with my life, Finn,’ Lucian said.
Finnikin pointed to Donashe and his men. ‘They stay. If my queen enters that cave unprotected, then no armed man enters with her.’
It was a stand-off, but finally Donashe agreed.
Lucian gave his weapon to Finnikin, and was forced to hold up his arms for a search. When the camp leaders stepped towards Isaboe, the tip of Trevanion’s sword pressed into Donashe’s arm as a warning.
Donashe and his men stepped back and Lucian took Isaboe’s hand, leading her up the sheer path to the women’s cave. Her tread was slow, achingly slow. He knew it was because she was in pain and weary.
‘You go ahead,’ he said, wanting to be there to break her fall if she was to slip.
He had no idea what Isaboe’s purpose was in the caves, but he had faith in his queen and beloved cousin. She was the sister of his heart and it was only on this climb, with his face turned away from them all, that Lucian cried silent tears for the two people he loved.
On the precipice, he heard the murmuring and furious whispers and he led Isaboe through an archway and then into a second cavern.
The moment they stepped into the dark, dank space, Cora and Harker’s women were before him, hostility in their stance. When they saw it was Lucian, they sighed with relief. He couldn’t see Phaedra or Quintana of Charyn, but he saw Tesadora step out of the protective circle of these women, her eyes wide with shock to see Isaboe.
‘What are you doing here, Isaboe?’ Tesadora asked, horrified. ‘So close to your time. Take her away from here, Lucian. Now.’
‘What is happening here, Tesadora?’ Isaboe asked quietly.
It was Harker’s daughter who appeared from behind her mother and Cora to take Isaboe’s hand. ‘I prayed to the god of mercy for a sign and here you are, Isaboe of Lumatere.’
Jorja and Cora moved aside and Lucian saw the Princess of Charyn lying on the hard ground with Phaedra knelt beside her. There was a piece of thick wood clenched between the girl’s teeth to stop her from screaming. Her brow was soaked with sweat, her face contorted with pain.
‘She’s birthing,’ Isaboe said.
Harker’s wife placed a finger to her lips and pointed outside.
‘They’re not to know. They’ll kill her if they know. The order is that the babe lives, but not her. They have a woman from Sarnak who’s to arrive soon with breasts filled with milk to feed it. There’s talk that your lad Froi and an army is two days’ ride from here, but it will be too late to save her.’
‘The way your camp leaders hear it, there is an army, but not the one you want anywhere near your princess,’ Isaboe said.
‘Take her,’ Harker’s daughter begged. ‘Give her sanctuary.’
‘I can’t,’ Isaboe said.
‘You mean you won’t!’ Cora hissed.
‘Cora,’ Tesadora said. ‘Enough. If Lumatere takes the babe, it
will bring Nebia’s army onto that mountain. I’ll not allow it. We find another way.’
Phaedra’s eyes met Lucian’s. ‘Arm us, Luc-ien,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ll slit the throat of anyone who comes close to taking her.’
‘It’s what my father says,’ Florenza said. ‘It’s the only way.’
Lucian felt awash with defeat. ‘There’s too many of them and we’ll never get a weapon into this cave,’ he said. ‘They searched us, Phaedra. They’ll search us again.’
Isaboe moved closer to where Quintana of Charyn lay on the ground, the girl’s pain muffled, her body convulsing. Lucian watched as Isaboe crouched and the Princess reached out to grip her hand, nails biting into skin.
‘You’ll never hide her cries or that of her babe from Donashe and his men. If you fear for your queen’s life once she gives birth, then give the babe to the army that approaches, whoever that may be.’ Isaboe hesitated a moment. ‘Once it’s born, I’ll give Quintana of Charyn refuge. Perhaps as long as she’s out of sight, they may not care whether she lives. They won’t storm my mountain for her. She’s worth nothing. It’s the babe they want. Your camp leader’s sentiment, not mine.’
Quintana spat out the wedge and Lucian heard a sound so savage and pathetic and heartbreaking.
Phaedra covered the girl’s mouth gently.
‘Don’t let them know, Quintana,’ Phaedra begged. ‘If they hear you, they’ll know the truth.’
‘If she wants to live she has no choice,’ Isaboe said. ‘Take my offer and be done with it.’
‘She won’t let them take the babe,’ Tesadora said.
‘And what good is she to him dead?’ Isaboe cried. ‘She can find a way to get him back. If he’s alive, she can find a way. All he has to do is live!’
Harker’s wife shook her head. ‘She’ll not do it willingly, Your Majesty. You don’t understand what Bestiano did to her. She won’t give her child to him and walk away to take refuge.’
‘She must.’
Phaedra’s eyes blazed up at Isaboe.
‘Would you? Give up the child you carry? Do you think a Charynite is made different? That we would love our children less?’
‘Phaedra!’ Lucian said.
‘No, I want to hear what she has to say,’ Phaedra cried. ‘You think you’re better than us. You think your capacity to love is stronger, but we bleed the same way, Your Majesty. Our queen gives up her son to no man.’
Tesadora took Isaboe’s hands in hers. ‘Go,’ she pleaded. ‘You shouldn’t be here, and the gods help Finnikin and those idiot guards who let you come down that mountain. If they’ve put you in harm’s way, I’ll kill them all!’
Lucian placed a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. ‘Come,’ he said.
Isaboe stepped towards Tesadora and embraced her. Lucian heard Isaboe’s murmur and then Tesadora began to weep and Lucian had never heard a sound so raw. The two stayed clasped for such a time and the Charyn women watched them silently. Much like Lucian, Tesadora’s tears frightened them beyond words.
Isaboe then stepped away and turned to Lucian.
‘I need you to give my king a message.’
Finnikin watched Lucian return without Isaboe. He pushed past the camp leaders, desperate for answers.
‘My lord,’ Lucian said to him formally. ‘You’re needed in the cave.’
‘You all stay here,’ Donashe said, ‘and the Mont returns to tell your queen that it’s time for her to leave.’
‘My lord,’ Lucian said, ignoring Donashe and staring at Finnikin with a strange expression in his eye. ‘Your child is coming and your queen needs you by her side.’
Finnikin was speechless. He heard the intake of breath from his father and Perri and every other Lumateran around him. Was this a cruel jest?
‘Stay,’ Finnikin ordered the others. He turned to Donashe. ‘And if you come anywhere near the cave where my wife is giving birth, my guards will kill you, regardless of how powerful the army is that is coming this way.’
Finnikin followed Lucian up to the cave, taking the steps two at a time. He caught the warning look in his cousin’s eye as he went to speak.
‘Not a word,’ Lucian said quietly.
They entered and Finnikin heard the muffled cry from the base of the cave. Stooping, he followed Lucian through a small entrance and saw Isaboe beside a girl who could only be Quintana of Charyn.
‘Isaboe –’
‘They won’t dare enter if they think it’s me birthing the child,’ she said. ‘We claim it’s mine and we take it across the stream. They’ll believe the Princess is still to give birth, which may keep her alive long enough for her army to arrive, if one exists.’
Finnikin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘This isn’t right for you!’ he said.
But she stepped forward and placed a finger to his lips and there it was before him. The greatest prayer to the gods he could muster with a heart so broken. Don’t let me outlive this woman. Don’t let me exist one moment without her.
‘Is it right for anyone?’ she asked, her voice so sad that he had to pray for the strength not to weep before her.
Here was Evanjalin. The girl he fell in love with, who could block out the pain with a bloody-mindedness that shamed those around her. But he remembered the time on the hill in Osteria when she first saw her yata. She had held her sorrow for all those years and then it erupted with a devastation beyond comprehension of anyone present that day. He knew her. He knew her ability to contain everything, but he also knew the girl who still wept in his arms when she spoke of her sisters and Balthazar.
Finnikin turned to Tesadora as Isaboe stepped away. ‘How could you allow this? It will tear her heart in pieces.’
But Isaboe reached out and removed the wood between Quintana’s teeth and the girl’s cry of pain etched its place into the walls of the cave and drowned out any further talk.
Finnikin was there the whole day long as this strange creature writhed and buckled and spat curses at the gods, and he thought of what his mother had endured to give him life. Bartolina of the Rock, who never lived to see her son. Worse still, he thought of what Isaboe had gone through and he grieved for his son who would never know a mother. He watched how the Charyn Princess gripped Isaboe, their hands clenched, and he knew he’d never loved his wife as much as he did at that moment.
‘I can see its head,’ Phaedra said over Tesadora’s shoulder. ‘I can see its head, Your Majesty!’
And Finnikin saw the women surround Tesadora to look in wonder. Even Lucian.
‘I shouldn’t be looking, but I can’t keep my eyes away,’ Lucian blurted out, his eyes wide.
‘Once more,’ Tesadora ordered as the girl tried to raise herself again. Finnikin watched as Quintana mouthed a word with a weariness that was heartbreaking.
‘Froi.’
So Finnikin gently pushed past Isaboe and the women and stepped behind Froi’s girl. Pressing himself against the cave wall, he propped her up against him.
‘Lean on me. I won’t let you fall back,’ he promised.
And although it gave the Princess strength, the pain was too much and her head lolled back against his shoulder.
‘Why not just … pull it out like we do a calf?’ Lucian suggested to Tesadora, who sent him a withering look.
‘Once more,’ Isaboe ordered. ‘It has so much to tell you, Quintana, and no matter how long you live this life, it will never be enough time spent with your child. So don’t you waste a moment.’
Quintana hesitated, raised herself again, and in a final burst of strength she pushed and the babe slipped out into Tesadora’s hands. The Charynite women cried with the fright of seeing such a strange creature.
‘What is it? What is it?’ Harker’s daughter asked.
They held their breath.
‘It’s a king,’ Harker’s wife said. ‘You were right all along, Quintana. It’s a little king.’
And they placed the little King of Charyn in his mother’s arms and Finnikin watched
Froi’s strange girl look at her babe with surprise, almost indignation.
‘I know you,’ she said to her son. ‘Do you know me?’
And later, when the babe had his fill of his mother’s milk for the second time, Finnikin sat in the corner of the cave with Isaboe in his arms.
‘Perhaps in a better world, Your Majesty, our little king and the babe you birth will meet as friends and not enemies,’ Harker’s wife said.
Isaboe was silent. It pained Finnikin to breathe.
Finnikin stood and held out a hand to his wife. ‘We can’t stay here. We need to get back to our people, and if there’s an army coming, I don’t want my queen … or your little king in danger.’
Finnikin could see that the Princess was not going to let go of her son.
‘Quintana, if you want to live, you must give him to the Queen,’ Tesadora said firmly. ‘He knows your love. He’ll not forget it.’
‘But what if he goes hungry?’ the Princess begged to know.
‘He won’t,’ Isaboe said quietly. ‘My milk will feed a king.’
The women stared, confused, and then Phaedra of Alonso covered her face and wept, for she understood the truth of Isaboe’s words.
They stepped outside the cave with Tesadora and the babe in the crook of Isaboe’s arms. Finnikin held a tentative hand to Isaboe’s shoulder as they climbed down the steep descent. He could see Trevanion at the halfway ledge, a place where the earth seemed more stable underfoot. But Isaboe’s step was slow and sure. Once or twice she glanced down at the sleeping babe, murmuring a word or two to him, at first in Lumateran, but then she stopped herself and spoke Charyn.
They reached the landing and the men stepped aside, both Lumateran and Charynite. Trevanion’s eyes met Finnikin’s, but his father and their men dared not give away their confusion at these strange events.
‘Let’s hope you taught our useless princess a thing or two in that cave, Your Majesty,’ Donashe said.
Isaboe pressed the babe to her and placed a hand to his ear to stop it from hearing Donashe’s voice. And she followed Aldron and Jory down the steps, flanked by Finnikin and Trevanion and the rest of the Guard until they reached the lower caves where the valley dwellers stood staring up with yearning. Finnikin bit his tongue to stop from telling them the truth.
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