“Where have you been?” Anthea practically screamed it at Finn.
She shoved her gun into the holster and threw herself at him. She wasn’t even embarrassed to hug him tightly and kiss his cheek. Then she pushed herself away just as he tried to hug her back.
Outside, she heard Florian bugling, and hurried to send him a calming thought.
I am all right. Finn startled me. I am all right, and so is he.
“We’ve been worried sick!” she told Finn.
“What? Why?” He dropped his arms, looking baffled. “I told you that I was looking at these books.”
“You did not!”
“Well, I mean, Marius sent a message to Florian, but he was supposed to say the same thing.”
“But he didn’t! And we tried for hours to reach you, and didn’t hear anything!”
“Hours?” Finn blinked hazily at the light coming in through the still open door. “Well, I’m sorry about that. I lost track of time, but I thought you knew we were all right. I told you we got here just fine.”
“And then, nothing,” Anthea pointed out.
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize!” Finn ran a hand through his blond hair, making it stand on end. “But you have to come and see this!”
He grabbed Anthea’s hand without waiting for an answer, and began to drag her toward the room he’d just come from. She reached back for her saddlebags, or to close the door, but he grinned at her and gave another tug on her arm, and she gave in.
Finn brought her into a large room lined with bookshelves. The room was two stories tall and there was a rolling ladder to reach some of the shelves, as well as a spiral staircase leading to a wrought iron catwalk at the far end of the room. Some of the bookshelves had glass doors, and inside them Anthea could see things other than books: astrolabes and barometers, a skull of some animal, stones with markings on them.
There was a fireplace, and some big leather chairs in front of it. But Finn took her to the table he had been using. It was as long as the family dining table at the Last Farm, and of the same massive, heavily carved style. In fact, the mantel and chairs also reminded her of the furnishings at the farm. Much heavier and older looking than anything she had seen in Coronam.
“Leanan,” she said softly, putting a finger on the table.
“Exactly!” Finn said in excitement. “And all these!”
Most of the table’s surface was covered in books. They were open or had ribbons and rulers and pens and even a spoon sticking out of them to mark places. There was a cup of tea resting on one, and a plate scattered with crumbs on the wooden chair that was pushed back from the table.
“What are they? What do they say?” Anthea asked.
“Everything, Thea,” Finn said, clutching her hands. “They say everything.”
He turned and began to point to random pages in the books, flipping them open and stacking them on top of each other until there was a pile in front of Anthea. She put her hand out to steady it and saw that the book on top was a yellowed report of some kind. She leaned in closer, holding up her free hand to stop Finn from piling on another book.
After the final recurrence left approx. 27 dead, the newly formed parliament judged the disease to be of no further danger. Those who had taken refuge on the north side of King Kalabar’s barricade applied to return to the south to reclaim lands forfeited during the height of the outbreaks, but were told there was still a high risk of infection.
Subsequent applications to return to southern estates or to be compensated for lost property were met with …
“With what?” Anthea said as Finn put another book on top before she could turn the page.
“That?” He lifted the book again and looked at what she’d been reading. “As far as I can tell, there’s just one book after another explaining how the Coronami took all the land from the Leanans.”
Anthea decided to ignore that. She knew it was true, but it made her feel uncomfortable all the same.
“What’s a parliament?” Anthea asked.
“Kronenhof has one,” Finn said.
“Oh, right. The people that help … make laws?”
“Yes, which apparently we used to have as well. So it wasn’t just the king who had power,” Finn said. He pulled a couple of books off the pile and set them aside. “See here?” He pointed to a book with very fine print, and then another that was handwritten. “And here.” He was moving too fast for Anthea to actually read what he was pointing at, but he didn’t seem to care.
“When the Coronami first came, they had a parliament that was half Leanan, half Coronami, so that both people had a say in the governing,” Finn said. “But apparently every time a Leanan got sick or died or had to take a leave of absence, they were replaced with a Coronami.”
“Who was in charge? Did they have an emperor like Kronenhof?” She frowned. “They had a king,” she said, answering herself. “A Leanan king but then—” Her frown deepened.
“The king was gone already,” Finn said, shaking his head. He located another book and opened it, but looked at it himself. “He took the herd stallion—or the head herd stallion, rather, because there was more than one herd—and went into hiding.”
“He went into hiding?” Anthea couldn’t keep the scorn from her voice.
Kings were supposed to be there for their people. They were supposed to lead. The Coronami Crown had always …
Anthea let that thought trail away. She knew very well, now, that kings weren’t always good and virtuous, and that the Coronami Crown was certainly not the model of all that was noble and good, as she had been taught before going to live at Last Farm. It made sense that maybe, just maybe, some of the Leanan kings hadn’t always done the bravest, most noble thing.
Of course, if he had stayed in the south and tried to drive the Coronami out, Finn wouldn’t be here.
“Who … kept all this?” Anthea asked. “What is this place?”
“We call ourselves the Last Farm,” Finn said. “And, well, this is the Last Village. They’ve been tucked away here for centuries!”
“I know the queen said that in her letter, that they were all Leanan, but …” Anthea shook her head in disbelief. “It’s so … we’re so far south! Is the whole village really full of Leanans?”
“Well, the queen is from here, and the queen is Leanan,” Finn said. He shrugged.
“A lot of people are part Leanan,” Anthea argued. “It makes sense that—”
But now Finn was shaking his head.
“She’s full-blooded Leanan, like I am,” he said. “In her letter she also told me that I needed to come here myself because I would find things that I needed as much as the people needed medicine.”
“What?”
“There was a bit that I was supposed to keep to myself,” Finn said, turning red. “That was all of it, though, I swear!”
Anthea fought down another stab of jealousy.
“But how could the king … why would he marry someone from an all-Leanan village? He doesn’t like us!”
They both stopped for a moment. A year ago, Anthea hadn’t even known that she was part Leanan. Eight months ago, she never would have called the Leanans “us.” But neither of them commented on this change.
“He didn’t know,” Finn said. “She said in the letter she could never tell him.”
“True, but I still can’t believe he didn’t … doesn’t know where his wife is from,” Anthea said.
“But it’s true, he doesn’t,” said another voice.
Anthea spun around, hand to her pistol again. She relaxed slightly when she saw that it was an elderly man in a tweed jacket, smiling kindly at her from the doorway of the library. His white hair was curly and his blue eyes twinkled.
“Are you …? Do you know …?” she stammered.
“Oh, aye,” he said, coming into the room. “I’m Josephine’s uncle.”
Anthea sent a quick message to Florian to stand down. Her constant jumping and grabbing at her gun had put him on edge, and he was currently hovering near the corner of the wall that was closest to the house. She was worried that he would jump the wall and come barging into the house itself.
I have just met the uncle of Josephine, Beloved of Holly, Anthea told him.
A good uncle or a bad uncle? Florian fretted. His experience with her uncle Daniel had taught him to be cautious of uncles.
He has her kind eyes! she assured him.
That seemed to settle Florian, and then she realized that the queen’s uncle was watching her patiently. When her gaze focused on him again, he nodded.
“Talking to your horses?”
“Just … just the one,” she said.
“You’re the full-blooded Leanan girl,” he said. “The one who rides stallions?”
“I’m not full-blooded … but yes, I have a stallion,” Anthea said uncertainly. “His name is Florian.”
It was a good thing that Leonidas couldn’t hear her. She was sure he would be offended to think that he didn’t count as one of “her” stallions. But still, despite his kind eyes, she didn’t think this man needed to know all the details about her and her horses, queen’s uncle or not. After all, she didn’t even know his name.
“I’m the MagTaran,” the man said.
“The … MagTaran?”
Finn’s last name was magTaran, and so was the queen’s. Anthea was confused.
“So, is everyone in this village a magTaran?” she asked.
“Many of them are,” the MagTaran said. “My mother was, and I am actually a MacRennie.”
“Like Caillin MacRennie,” Finn said, nudging Anthea as though she could have missed that connection.
But Anthea was just blinking at the old man. “So, wait, you’re …”
“The MagTaran is a title,” the man explained. “Rather like a lord mayor. The magTaran family founded the village, and I’m the oldest member of the family, so I’m the MagTaran.”
“I just … there’s so much I don’t understand,” Anthea said helplessly.
She sank back on the chair behind her, and a book fell off onto the floor. She looked down at it. It was a collection of Leanan ballads.
“Jilly would love that,” Anthea said, almost absently.
“She is welcome to come and look at it,” the MagTaran said, sitting across the table from her. “But it cannot leave this house. Part of my job is to collect, and protect, the knowledge of our people. This is all that is left, of our entire nation.” He gestured around the library.
“But how could you all be here for so long, and—” Anthea began.
She didn’t know how to end that sentence, though. How could they be here for so long without everyone marrying their cousins, which she knew from Miss Miniver was not a good idea? How could they be here for so long without everyone knowing they were here? Without King Gareth knowing where his own wife was from?
Once again, the MagTaran seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. Afterward she would begin to wonder, uneasily, if he had the Way, but with people.
“We have sent many of our people out, over the years,” he said sadly. “We had to. For work. For marriage. Sometimes they found husbands and wives who wanted to come back with them. Sometimes they did not.” He sighed heavily. “And sometimes we told them never to come back.”
“You mean, they had to be exiled?”
“For the good of the people, yes,” he said, looking at her squarely. “Like my niece. My Josie.”
“What?”
“We sent her away,” the MagTaran said. “On purpose. We wanted to have a Rose Maiden, someone placed near the Crown, who could perhaps whisper in the royal ears and tell the world of our village. Smooth the way for us to come out of the shadows. Find out if the rumors about horses surviving were true.”
“The queen was sent away when she was even younger than we are,” Finn burst out, unable to contain the things he had learned any longer. Anthea couldn’t blame him.
“We knew she could make it into the inner circles of the old queen,” the MagTaran said. “We just never expected she would rise so high.” He still sounded sad.
“Aren’t you pleased for her? Or proud of her?” Anthea asked.
“Of course! Of course I am,” he said. “But you realize that she has never been able to come back? The king himself, her own husband, thinks she’s from Brambleton.”
“But she told me she was from a tiny village when I first met her,” Anthea protested. “Oh. Oh.”
The queen had never said the name of the village. The queen had never lied; she just hadn’t told the whole truth.
“Her own husband doesn’t know?” Anthea almost whispered it.
The MagTaran shook his head. Anthea felt her eyes prickle. How lonely that must be! She had often wondered about the queen. She was such a bright, happy person, with her Rose Maidens and her four daughters gathered around her always. But so often now she was at Bell Hyde, away from Travertine. And the king.
“Poor Josephine,” Anthea murmured. “I mean, Her Majesty,” she said, seeing their eyes on her. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Josephine. Poor Josephine.” She blinked her eyes rapidly.
“Precisely,” the queen’s uncle said warmly. “We thought, as a mere Rose Maiden, perhaps the wife of someone highly placed, she might be able to open up channels between us and the rest of Coronam. But her life became even more restricted.” His smile broadened. “Until you and your cousin showed up on her doorstep with a herd of horses.”
“The king was so angry,” Anthea whispered.
“But not at Josephine,” the MagTaran assured her. “If he finds out the secrets she has kept, like this house and its library, he will be angry at her. And that is not good for a woman in her position.” His face tightened as he said it, and the corners of his mouth turned down.
“What do you mean? What position?” Anthea looked from him to Finn.
“They have four daughters,” Finn reminded her. “And no son.”
“But he can’t do anything about that,” Anthea said. “And neither can she.”
“He can put her aside and take a new queen,” the MagTaran said. “And there has apparently been some talk of that, according to one of our people.”
“He would never do that!” Anthea gasped.
Putting aside a spouse was almost unheard-of in Coronam. Anthea had heard of women leaving their husbands because they committed some terrible crime, but to get rid of your wife just because you wanted a son? Surely that couldn’t happen … not to a queen! The scandal would be far too great.
“Who could have told you this, though?” Finn said. “I thought you had almost no contact with the outside?”
“That is true, we mostly do what little outside dealings we have with the nearby villages,” the MagTaran said. “Post comes once a month, which is about how often any of us leaves to go to market.”
Anthea relaxed. They were far from the reaches of actual court news. This was surely just nervous speculation on the MagTaran’s part.
“But we do have a spy,” he went on. “And she does not think Josie will still be queen next year.”