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The pain was unexpected and sharp, and despite trying to appear relaxed as Elalia sat and watched her rather than talked with her, Kellin cried out.
“Kellin?” Elalia asked. “Is it time?”
She walked too quickly towards her, and Kellin was scared. She knew that she shouldn’t fear her sister, but she wanted Meg. Elalia had happened to visit just as a low ache had started, and Kellin had sent her to find Meg and the nurses. But she had been gone too long and returned saying that they couldn’t be found.
She had insisted on staying with her. But Kellin worried—why would Elalia want to be with her for this?
She wanted Rainger. She had been looking over his letters not long before Elalia had arrived, and she had tried her best to hide them when Elalia had gone for help. She gulped down her growing fear at Elalia’s presence. She was here to help, she had said repeatedly; surely she wouldn’t search her things and find his letters.
Elalia smiled as Kellin sucked in a deep breath and looked towards the door. If she prayed for it hard enough, she hoped it would happen, that he would just walk through the door. She knew she and her baby would not be safe without him here watching over them.
She had voiced her concerns only days before with Meg, who had assured her it would be fine, that the gods were watching over them and they would be safe. But she knew, despite what Meg said, that without Rainger they were in danger.
She wanted to run from the room, race into the open and find someone else to help her, to stay with her. Surely Kiam or Brent would help in the search for Meg, and she wouldn’t be too far away for she had promised to stay close. But another sharp pain had her squatting on the floor, her hands gripping the table leg as though it were her only friend.
“We need the nurse,” she panted.
“She will come,” Elalia said. “Soon.”
Elalia ushered her onto the bed, her hand tight on her elbow, keeping her up and keeping her moving. It was almost a relief to lie down, but she was tight and uncomfortable and she fought to sit up again.
“Be still,” Elalia said.
“I cannot. I need to undress.”
Elalia helped her up and the gush of fluid scared her. Elalia dragged her loose dress from her body and helped her back onto the bed.
Kellin began to cry. This was not what she wanted, not like this, not just her and Elalia and no one else. She found it increasingly difficult to breathe. A sharp pain seared through her stomach and she couldn’t hold back the scream.
Elalia was leaning over her, her hand on her mouth, making it harder to breathe and harder to think. It was all happening too quickly. She tried to catch her breath and push Elalia from her, as she had the overwhelming urge to push the child out.
She couldn’t seem to catch her breath at all, and the more scared she became the harder it was to process what she needed to do, and to stay present.
The world grew darker, and in the strange light of the fire Kellin thought that a nurse had arrived, but she spoke in whispers with Elalia and not her. They stood by the fire; everyone seemed so far away. Why was there no one there to hold her hand?
A sudden emptiness yet overwhelming joy filled her small world as the child slipped from her, and then the nurse was leaving and Elalia was saying sorry.
In the absence of the pain, she focused on Elalia’s strange face, unknown in the firelight, muttering about lost children and dead sons.
“Where is the baby?” Kellin finally asked. “Hand me the child.”
“He is dead,” Elalia said.
Kellin shook her head. Strange noises emerged from the walls as Elalia lifted the lifeless child into view. How was it possible when she had heard the mew of life as he had slipped from her belly?
Meg heard the screams as she headed along the hallway. Why did they not send for me? she wondered, pushing into Kellin’s room to find Elalia with a dead child and Kellin screaming uncontrollably.
She rushed forward and took her in her arms. “Oh Kel,” she sobbed. “I did not know. Where is the nurse?”
“It happened all too quickly,” Elalia said calmly. “There was no time for a nurse, or to send for you.”
“There was a nurse,” Kellin whispered.
“Where is she?” Meg asked.
“She is in shock,” Elalia said. “It was a difficult birth... and the child did not survive.”
Kellin sucked in a breath and Meg held her closer.
“No,” she whispered into Meg’s chest. “She lies; the child cried out.”
Meg looked at the child in Elalia’s hands, pale and blue, and she reached out towards him. But Elalia pulled him away before her fingers could reach him. Somehow it wasn’t right—the child was not right—and although she searched his small body, she could find no recognition with the child and she wished that she had been there, and Rainger or Brent or someone could have watched over Kellin and the child.
“The child is dead, Kellin,” Elalia said, not softly enough.
Something twisted in Meg and she longed for the Temple and some peace. But she wouldn’t leave Kellin, and then the room seemed strangely full as nurses appeared and Brent filled the doorway. He seemed just as sad as Meg, and with a firm nod he was gone again. By the gods, let him be sending word to Rainger, she prayed silently, then refocused on her broken sister.
Meg sat in a chair beside Kellin’s bed as she tossed and turned and called out in her sleep. It was fitful, but at least it was sleep. Despite her exhaustion after the birth, she had fought sleep, and Meg had held her through the night. Lora and Cate both entered the room silently and curtsied.
“We have some food for you,” Lora said.
Meg waved her hand towards the table but did not take her eyes from Kellin.
“Please, Your Highness,” Lora said. “We know that you want to watch over her, but we do not want you to become ill.”
Meg held her finger to her lips as she stood. But when Kellin called out in her sleep and pushed the covers away, she moved quickly to pull the bedding back up around her.
“If only the commander could be here,” Lora whispered.
Meg nodded. “I fear they will not allow Rainger to return anytime soon. My only hope is that Brent is able to get word to him as to what has happened.”
“She is so sad,” the girl said.
“So sad.” Meg pulled the young woman towards her as she started to cry herself. “Shh. It is hard, but she will heal.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the girl whispered as she stepped back and straightened her dress.
“Go and rest,” she said to the girls. “It has been a very long night and today will be no different.”
Both girls curtsied and left. Meg focused on the tasteless food before her and pushed the plate away. She sipped at the cool water the girls had carried in and then quickly reached for the wine. She splashed it into the cup and gulped it down.
“Perhaps talking would be a better option,” Brent said quietly, sitting at the table with her.
She jumped and splashed the wine. “Does no one knock?” she snapped.
“The maids let me in,” he said, his face hard. “It has been a long night.”
She looked down at the plate before her, the food remaining untouched but for the first bite. She nodded slowly. “I do not understand it,” she said.
“It happens, Meg, we know that.”
“It is not right; something feels very wrong,” she said. “Elalia, the nurse, Erasmus.”
“Brother Erasmus?” Brent asked. “Was he here?”
She shook her head. “Something he said when we first returned to the castle.” She continued to stare at the plate and then lifted the goblet again to her lips. She sat for some time, her eyes threatening to close where she sat, the pain from the loss strangely strong in her chest, and she wondered how her sister could continue to breathe at all. She turned back to the bed and watched her struggle in her sleep. She isn’t really breathing at all, Meg thought. “How long will she struggle?” she wondered.
“Women survive such things,” he said, now standing beside her at the table.
“Do they?” she asked.
He nodded. “Tell me what Brother Erasmus said.”
She shrugged. “Something about the child being important. Yet how could he be if he is gone?”
“He is dead, Meg.”
“She is so sure that she heard him cry out. A mother would know.”
He looked at her seriously.
“And the nurse. She swears there was a nurse, yet Elalia said no nurse came, and the Brotherhood claims the same.”
“Meg, you are tired. You have sat with her for too long. Let someone else watch over her, and rest.” He pulled her gently to her feet, his hand warm and tight around her arm.
She shook her head. “Kellin watched over me,” she said. “She stayed close no matter how difficult it was for her at the Keep. It is my duty to do the same for her. She needs someone close to love her.”
“We all need that at times,” he said softly.
“If only Rainger had been here,” she said.
“I do not think it would have made a difference as to whether the child survived or not.”
Meg looked at him then and could see the pain on his face. “If Kellin is correct and the child was taken, would Rainger not have prevented that?”
“There was a child, Meg; you saw him,”
She nodded sadly. “It is not fair,” she said.
He pulled her into his arms, quite quickly and unexpectedly, and patted her back. “Life is not always what we would want it to be.”
She sighed. “So true,” she said.
“Meg?” Kellin’s croaky voice called.
Brent released her instantly and she moved to the bed. “I’m here,” she said, sitting on the bed.
She sighed and took Meg’s hand. “Has Rainger come yet?”
Meg shook her head. “He is busy at the border,” she said, then looked up at Brent as Kellin started to cry.
Large tears rolled down her face. “How do I tell him?”
Meg shook her head, feeling her own tears threatening.
Brent bowed low before them and when he straightened, Meg realised just how tired he also appeared. “I have come to say goodbye, Princess,” he said to Kellin, and Meg felt more uncertain.
“Where are you going?” Kellin asked, her voice strained.
“I have work to do that takes me away from the castle for a time. I shall return as soon as I am able.”
“Thank you, Commander Brent,” Meg said. “I hope we see you again soon.”
He gave her another bow and left.
“We are without friends,” Kellin said.
“No,” Meg said. “We have many friends.”
Kellin closed her eyes and nodded, but Meg worried more for her than how many soldiers remained in the castle. As she watched Kellin drift back into a fitful sleep, she wondered just where Brent might be going and who had sent him out.
She must have drifted herself a little, for she woke with a start to the young maid standing over her. “Can I get you something?” she asked.
Meg shook her head and looked across at Kellin still sleeping. “Will you watch her for a little while?”
The girl nodded and Meg stood and stretched. “I need some air, but I will not be long.”
“Take as long as you need. I am happy to stay with the princess.”
“Thank you,” she said, giving the girl’s hand a quick squeeze. She moved quickly through the hallways and out into the light. Despite the overcast day, it was bright after the dim hallways. Taking a deep breath, Meg could smell the snow in the air. She moved towards the Temple, but at the sound of movement at the barracks, she changed her path and headed there instead.
She rounded the corner to find the royal commander talking with Raf. She gave the soldier a smile and he gave her a short bow, which caused the royal commander to turn. “Princess Megora,” he said, a broad grin stretching across his lined face. “What brings you to the yards on such a day?”
“I was simply walking, sir,” she said. “I heard more noise than I have in some time and came to investigate.”
“Truly?” he said.
She nodded.
“You have not come for a lesson with Kiam then?”
She shook her head. “Has something occurred?” she asked.
“Commander Brent has ridden out to relieve his colleague,” he said.
“Rainger,” she breathed.
The old man gave her a serious nod. “And it is time to relieve the men as well.”
She looked around the yard then as they moved and packed. “When?”
“The commander has gone ahead; the men will march out in the morning.”
She looked around again at the men.
“Not all will go,” he said. “Enough to ensure peace remains in place at the border. We don’t want Tands taking advantage.”
She looked up at him. “Do you think they might?”
“It is hard to tell what a king might do.”
“We have enough men here to keep Rocfeld safe?”
“That we do,” he said. “And various companies across the breadth of Rocfeld itself. The people are safe.”
“I do hope so,” she said.
“I assure you,” he said softly.
“Thank you, sir, I feel safer already.”
“And your dear sister?” he asked. “How does she fare?”
“Not well,” she said. “Her heart aches for the loss.”
“She is a strong lass,” he said. “It may seem callous to say, but she will survive, and will show herself to be the strong woman I am sure she is.”
Meg nodded, but she did not believe what he said.
“Meg,” Kiam called, racing across the yard, his arms full. “There is no time for exercise today, but if you wish for distraction you could assist the men to prepare for their journey.”
She nodded and gave him a smile.
“I would like to send some ointment with them, and you could polish the last of the armour,” he said quickly.
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“Ointment or armour?” the royal commander asked. “I am sure you will be a great help, little soldier.”
She sighed and looked up at his serious face. “Yes sir,” she said.
“Now go.” He waved her after Kiam and she fell into step with him as he walked back towards the storeroom.
“I did not expect that,” she said.
“A wiser man than he is given credit for,” he said. “Do you really want to help?”
“I cannot sit with Kellin any longer. I need some distraction, and perhaps shining armour or oiling leather would provide that.”
“Well enough,” he said, and set her up before the storeroom with oils and cloth and a large pile of boots.
“Kiam,” she said after a time.
“Have you had enough boots?” he asked, smiling up at her.
She shook her head. “Why did Brent leave this morning?”
“He wanted to talk to Rainger before he could hear the news any other way.”
She nodded and continued to rub at the boot in her hand. “Does Elalia know the royal commander plans to bring him back?”
He shrugged. “The royal commander does as directed and for the welfare of his men.”
She nodded again, but wondered what Elalia would say when she discovered the men returned before she had said that they could.