Copper Veins

by Jennifer Allis Provost

“Micah, the lack of the Inheritor’s presence worries me greatly,” Oriana continued before I could come up with anything. “If she continues in her refusals, I will count this as the second time you have abandoned me.”

  “I have never abandoned you,” Micah stated, a hint of irritation in his voice. “As I explained during our last visit—”

  Oriana held up a hand and shook her head.

  “Oh, but you did,” she countered. “After you stepped down as my general—“

  “Didn’t we already go over this?” I interrupted, earning me a third pinch from Micah. That one definitely left a mark.

  Oriana’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I’d like to go over it again.”

  Micah moved to pinch me again, but I swatted his hand. “I mean no disrespect,” I said. “It’s just that, from what you and Micah have said, it doesn’t sound like he abandoned you. Things just happened, things that ended up hurting both of you.”

  “He may as well have,” Oriana snapped. “Without Micah’s leadership, I fell before iron. If he’d been with me, he could have saved me, saved Eurwynn…”

  Oriana’s accusations faded to sobs, and Ayla rushed forth to comfort her. While the queen was distracted, I whispered to Micah, “She really misses the Gold King.”

  “Bards sang of their love across the realm,” Micah murmured. “Now, those ballads have become laments.” He turned to me and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Sara, do not judge our queen too harshly. She merely grieves the loss of her husband.”

  I nodded, though I thought Oriana’s actions of late could be attributed to a bit more than grief. “My lady,” I began, “I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine the weight of your grief.”

  “Thank you,” Oriana sniffled, then she sat straight up and folded her hands in her lap. Her moods changed so fast I felt like I was the sole passenger on a roller coaster, a rickety one assembled by a drunk carnie at that. “Despite my continued lack of a king and a capable general, we do need to sort out where the Inheritor’s loyalties lie.”

  “Of course,” Micah said, then he steered the conversation in a completely new direction. “My lady, before we discuss the question of the Inheritor’s loyalty, should we not first establish what this supposed scroll, and the family tree it contains, might mean to the monarchy?”

  Oriana’s eyes went wide, her chin quivering. “Micah, you, too, wish to unseat me?”

  “No, my lady, never,” he replied. “However, since the scroll’s existence has been brought to light, we need to examine it thoroughly in order to dispute any pretender’s claims to the throne.” Micah approached the dais, palms up and arms spread. “Much of the dissent of late has been caused by those claiming that this… this lineage would prove that another, quite possibly Sadie, has more of a right to rule than you.”

  “Yes, yes,” Oriana said. “But, you forget, we don’t know where this scroll is. It has been hidden away.”

  “True,” Micah allowed. In a panic, I searched my memory and determined that I hadn’t yet told Micah that the scroll was at the manor. At least, I thought I hadn’t told him. “Therefore, what I propose is a search. Allow us time to examine every library and scribe’s den, and all other repositories for such things.”

  “Micah, that would take years,” Oriana said. For once, I agreed with the queen. “Decades, perhaps.”

  “Exactly my point!” Micah said. Now, I was convinced that he was making all of this up on the spot. “If those who wish to move against you truly have possession of this scroll, they will produce it. Did they not say it had been hidden for safekeeping?”

  “They did,” Oriana murmured. “That they did.”

  “What if they produce it?” Ayla asked—it was the first time I’d ever heard her speak. Her voice was low, husky.

  “I doubt that it exists,” Micah said. “If it did, would it not have already been brought to light?”

  “They do seem to have difficulty proving their claims,” Oriana murmured. Holy crap, she was buying this spiel. “Very well, Micah. How shall we go about this search?”

  “Issue a royal bull,” Micah began, now pacing back and forth before the dais. “Declare that, for the good of the land—for the good of the people!—this scroll must be located at once. Order all of your subjects to search their homes, their hideaways, everywhere! If no such lineage can be produced by Midsummer Day, declare those who accused you guilty of treason, and allow them the options of publicly recanting their claims or being tossed into your dungeon.”

  Oriana leapt to her feet, clapping as if she was a little girl and Micah had just given her a pony. “Brilliant, Micah, just brilliant!” She skipped down the dais and grabbed Micah’s hands. Ayla remained on her golden seat, red lips twisted into a sour knot. “Come, you will assist me in composing this bull.”

  “I am afraid I must decline,” Micah said, extricating himself from Oriana’s golden fingers. “Your royal scribes are far more eloquent than I. And I have much to see to in the Whispering Dell. I am afraid that I let many things fall to the wayside while my Sara was gone from me.”

  Oriana pouted, but she didn’t dispute. “Very well. Take your lovely bride home and see to those matters left undone. I will send for you soon.” With that, she summoned Ayla to her side and they were off, fluttering away like moths toward a brighter flame, the tulip girls rushing to keep up with them.

  “You made all of that up,” I accused once we were outside the castle walls. “You didn’t even know what you were going to say until the words were falling out of your mouth.”

  “You gave me the idea.”

  “I did?”

  “You said we needed a diversion. Now we have until Midsummer Day before Sadie will be asked to pledge again. With any luck, she’ll have forgotten all about her.”

  “With any luck, Oriana will forget about all of us.” I took a deep breath and continued, “About that scroll…”

  “Yes?” Micah had arched a silver brow, his way of telling me that he knew I knew more than I was letting on.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s at the manor.”

  He looked at me for a long moment before saying, “Then it should be a simple task to keep it from Oriana’s notice.”

  Relief flooded me. “You’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be mad?”

  “Because I hadn’t told you.”

  “There is that,” Micah allowed. “When did you learn of its location?”

  “While I was with the resistance.”

  “Ah.” We stepped onto the metal pathway and, a heartbeat later, we were before the manor’s front door. “Now,” Micah said, settling his arms around my shoulders, “I must attend to those tasks I have left undone.”

  “Oh.” My heart fell—I’d been hoping for some alone time. “Like what?”

  “There is one task,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear, “perhaps the most vital task of all, that the Lord and Lady Silverstrand must see to immediately.” He nuzzled my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my back. “I have been remiss in my husbandly duties. Forgive me?”

  “Depends.” I arched my neck to allow for more nuzzling. “When are you planning to put right this transgression?”

  “Immediately.” He kissed the hollow of my throat, then he pulled me indoors. “Let me get us some wine. Wait for me in our chamber?”

  “Micah, wine for breakfast?”

  He shrugged. “It is an event worth celebrating, is it not?”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “Be quick. And have the silverkin make more ice cream, too.”

  With that, Micah was off to the kitchens, and I ran up the stairs to our rooms. Amazingly, despite my rotten luck of late, I didn’t encounter a single family member on the way, drama-laden or otherwise.

  I stood in the center of our bedroom, wondering if I should bother with a quick bath or just hop into bed. Micah wouldn’t care either way, not so long as I was naked. In the midst of one of the strangest mental debates of my life
, I spied a blue glass bottle on my dressing table.

  It held an extract of Queen’s Lace, an herb that was supposed to prevent pregnancy. I’d purchased it from the crone a while back, when it looked like the only way I’d ever get to be Micah’s wife was if I had a baby. I hadn’t told Micah about the extract, fearing he wouldn’t want me any longer if he couldn’t have his heir right away.

  But, Micah had found the extract, mostly because I’d just left it sitting out in plain sight. Being that I’d been caught (not that I was hiding anything—not technically, anyway), I’d admitted my fears to Micah. How I had no experience with babies, how I’d worried that I’d be a terrible mother, how so much had changed so quickly. To my surprise and joy, Micah had agreed that babies could wait for a while—hopefully, for a long while. And then he married me anyway, transforming me into the deliriously happy girl known as Lady Silverstrand.

  As I picked up the bottle, I realized that I’d never even taken any. After Micah had been injured at the Goblin Market, he’d been too weak to do much fooling around, and our efforts to consummate our marriage were beginning to resemble a Marx Brothers routine. Still, the extract wouldn’t be able to prevent anything from inside its bottle. And, based on what I had planned for the rest of the day, I thought should probably take it, and quick.

  I uncorked the bottle and sniffed—it smelled nice, like lilacs. There was hardly any liquid inside, a teaspoonful at most, so I downed it in one gulp. It didn’t taste like anything, but it burned like fire, making my gut feel like a furnace.

  Maybe wine isn’t such a good idea. Clutching my belly, I stepped into the hallway—there was no sign of Micah, so I started toward the kitchens. As my foot touched the top stair, I almost doubled over, my body twisting and contorting in pain. I grabbed onto the banister and somehow made it down the stairs.

  Once I was in the sitting room I called for Shep, hoping he could bring me something, anything for the pain. Then my gut clenched, and I fell to my knees and retched. As the silverkin rushed toward me, my world went red, and then black.

  27

  I was swimming in dark water, my lungs burning as I struggled toward the light. I couldn’t remember entering any water, not a stream or a bath or anything, but I was there nonetheless. My chest was about to burst and my limbs were heavy with exertion, but I couldn’t stop. I was certain that if I stopped, I would die.

  I opened my eyes and took a great gasping breath. As my vision cleared I learned that I wasn’t drowning, but I was lying in a bed that wasn’t mine. Blearily, I recognized the white and yellow bed curtains as the ones in the guest room behind the kitchen. But why was I here, why wasn’t I—

  In a rush I remembered the extract burning its way down my throat—the horrible, cramping pains that had taken hold of me—how I’d struggled toward the kitchens, hopeful I would find something, anything, that would help. I remembered calling for Shep, then falling to the cold metal floor.

  The silverkin must have brought me here. I shifted and was rewarded with stabbing pains in my belly, behind my eyes, and in my back. I remembered landing on my shoulder—it must have been bruised in the fall. Great. New bruises to coordinate with the old ones. I also realized that I was naked save for some heavy bandaging wound about my hips, and recalled the many ways my body had tried to purge itself. Gods, the silverkin might look for other jobs after dealing with all that.

  As my senses dribbled back to me, I heard voices in the hallway. When I recognized who they belonged to, I would have run from the manor if I were able.

  “Why did you give her that extract?” I heard Dad say. The silverkin must have found the bottle. “Don’t you know what Queen’s Lace is for?”

  “I did not give it to her,” Micah hissed. “Sara came by it on her own.”

  “It’s true,” Sadie interjected. Was everyone in the hall? “I went with her to the apothecary.” Silence followed, and I hoped the fighting was over. Was I ever wrong.

  “Still,” Dad grumbled, “you should have disposed of it. To leave Sara in harm’s way—”

  “I did no such thing!” Micah roared. “Sara is my wife!”

  “What do you know of marriage?” Dad sneered.

  “I know that I would not abandon my family in order to save myself,” Micah countered.

  “Hey,” I croaked. The bed curtains were flung aside, and I saw that they were in the room with me, not out in the hall. And yes, everyone was there. Awesome. “I need Micah,” I said, tucking the blankets under my arms. They all nodded, but no one moved. “Alone.”

  “Just call if you need us,” Mom said as she brushed a tendril of sweat-soaked hair from my brow. Ignoring glares from both Dad and Max, Micah sat on the bed beside me. Once the rest had filed out and the door clicked shut, Micah took my hands.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Terrible.” My shoulder throbbed, my eyes were sore, and my guts felt like they’d been ripped out, rearranged, and put back in the wrong places. “And pretty dumb.”

  “The silverkin summoned me as soon as you fainted,” Micah said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “You were shaking, lying in a pool of blood… there was so much. At first, I thought you’d been run through.” He concentrated on my hands, tracing intricate patterns across my knuckles. “Sara, why did you do such a thing?”

  “I…” I sighed. “I was scared.”

  “Why didn’t you just come to me?” he asked. “Sara, you can come to me for anything.”

  “I know.” I tried to sit up, but between the pain in my shoulder and the pain in my gut I didn’t get very far. “I freaked. I just freaked. And I didn’t know that Queen’s Lace would make me sick. I just…I don’t know. I guess didn’t really think about what would happen after I drank it, just that I needed to drink it.”

  “Love, you could have died.” He turned to me then, and I saw his silver eyes were swollen and red. “Do you really prefer death to bearing my child?”

  “No,” was all I got out before hysterics took me. I bawled so hard I retched, forcing poor, heartbroken Micah to summon the silverkin for fresh clothing for him and linens for me. Then Micah exchanged the fouled blankets for fresh ones, washed my tear-and vomit-streaked face, and dressed me in one of his old, soft shirts.

  Micah, whom I’d just hurt even more than I’d hurt myself.

  “It’s not that I don’t want children, someday,” I rasped as he dabbed at my neck. Yes, I’d gotten puke on my neck, too. “It’s just…Micah, my family pretty much sucks.” His eyes flicked toward mine but he said nothing, so I went on. “I mean, my brother’s a jerk. My sister’s a wimp. And my dad…my dad is not the man I remember.”

  Micah moved to sit behind me and started brushing my hair. I am going to burn in hell for all the ways I’ve hurt this wonderful man. “And we talked about no babies, at least not just yet, and I bought the tincture but I never took it, and then you said that thing about what we haven’t done since we were married,” I babbled, becoming hysterical again and nearly hyperventilating. “And I remembered that I never took it and then you said that and I figured if I took it all at once we’d be good.” I stopped for breath. “For a while.”

  “You mean to tell me,” Micah murmured as he placed his warm hands on my shoulders, “that you were not with child?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” I mentally counted days. “Definitely not.”

  “And, because I wanted to lay with my wife, you drank an entire bottle of poison to keep from getting with child? All because your family is somewhat argumentative?”

  “Somewhat argumentative” might have been the nicest term ever used to describe the Corbeaus. “Um. Yeah.” He leaned his forehead against the back of my head, and made an exasperated noise that might have been a laugh.

  “Wait,” I said, suddenly understanding his reddened eyes. “You thought I was trying to get rid of our baby?”

  “Queen’s Lace is an abortifacient,” Micah replied.

  “I thought it kept you from getting
pregnant,” I mumbled. If at all possible, I felt even more foolish, the implications of my actions spiraling out before me. “Micah, I would never do that. If I was pregnant, you’d have your heir. No going back then.” I tried to turn around, but yelped in pain instead. Micah gently rearranged us so we were lying on our sides, facing each other.

  “There was no child?”

  “No child.” He closed his eyes for a moment, relief softening his features.

  “First, I am going to give you rules, and then I will make you a promise,” he murmured, smoothing back my hair. “You will not go to an apothecary without someone from this world. If you do not wish for me to accompany you, take the Bright Lady, or even a silverkin. Those who sell such items as Queen’s Lace are not to be trusted.”

  I nodded, but Micah wasn’t done. “If you are ever confused, talk to me. If you are hurt or in pain, come to me. Don’t let me find you dying on the floor, not ever again.” His voice roughened at the end, though his eyes remained dry. I wondered if he’d used up his tears earlier.

  “I will,” I whispered. “All of it. I promise.”

  “And now, my promise.” He cupped his hands around my face, so close our noses almost touched. “You are mine. My wife, my lover, my companion. I will never abandon you, or our children, whenever we may meet them.”

  I was crying again, but these were good tears. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” I wondered, tucking a bit of his superfine hair behind his ear.

  “As I recall, you enticed me by taking off nearly all your clothing before you napped in your mechanical,” he smirked.

  “I wasn’t enticing anyone,” I protested. “It was hot.”

  “Mmm. Hot.” He traced my cheek, then pressed his lips to my forehead. “I often wonder what I did to deserve you.”

  Me? “Micah, I’m a mess!”

  “Not a mess,” he murmured. “Passionate. Righteous. Beautiful.” He kissed me again. “My copper girl.”

  “I think I might just want your baby,” I whispered.

  “It’s unfortunate you didn’t feel this way earlier,” he quipped, and I laughed. My various hurts screamed in protest, but I couldn’t help it. I loved him so much.