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January, 347 M.E.
“I can remain here if you wish it,” Rohesia assured Edgar, plumping the pillow under his head.
“No,” he grunted. “I, well, I know that you really don’t want to go, either. I wish my legs weren’t like this, then I could go and you could stay. But one of us really should be there.”
“Then I’ll go. I’ll be their consolation prize, since they can’t have you.”
Edgar snorted. “It’ll be an enormous consolation to all of them if I’m not there.”
“Oh, hush.”
“You are sure you’re feeling alright?”
In truth, Rohesia had reached the point in her pregnancy where her feet had begun to swell nearly as badly as Edgar’s. To say nothing of her constant backache and the fact everything she ate gave her heartburn. She said none of this to Edgar, though. The heir to a major duchy was celebrating his engagement tonight, and either the king or queen must attend. Edgar’s legs were giving him more pain than Rohesia’s were her, so she simply smiled and answered, “I am feeling quite well. You should just focus on resting.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “I know I never did anything to deserve you, but I’m as happy as any man can be that you chose me anyway.”
She returned his squeeze, the upcoming feast a strong reminder of just how pleased she was that she had chosen him. “We are both quite lucky.”
“Don’t overtire yourself. Don’t let anyone talk you into anything you don’t feel up to.”
She grinned at him. “Remember, since you can’t attend, Faustinus is accompanying me. If anyone is difficult, I don’t even have to threaten them with the dungeon. He can turn them into a lizard, or some such, right on the spot.”
He chuckled and settled back against his pillows, the exertion of the conversation finally overwhelming him. “As long as it’s an ugly lizard. And I can still put it in the dungeon.” His eyes drifted closed.
Rohesia kissed her husband on the forehead, and then set off for the engagement feast of the man she had very nearly eloped with seven years earlier.
Whenever possible, Rohesia tried not to remember her ill-conceived plan to run off and marry Aldrick Sigor. They had fallen in love at school, and maintained an epistolary relationship for several years after they both left Atherton. But once she was around him regularly again when they were both at court, Rohesia realized that marrying Aldrick would be a monumental mistake. Unfortunately, she had only admitted this to herself after their bags were packed and the moment had arrived for them to leave together. Aldrick had never forgiven her for that last minute change of heart. She doubted him finally marrying someone else would change that, but she could always hope.
When Rohesia reached the Wealdan Castle Palm Court, she found Faustinus waiting for her. He was chatting with some of the young ladies of court, and they all seemed entirely charmed by him and whatever tale he was relating. That, of course, was a typical reaction to Faustinus, who was not only charming, but handsome with the additional benefit of being a hillichmagnar, which meant he was more than 400 years-old and could start fires, heal wounds, and kill people with a thought. Rohesia had counted him as a close friend for many years.
“It has been a delight,” Faustinus said with a nod to the young ladies when he saw Rohesia approaching.
Several of them nodded and said pleasantries in return, but Faustinus had already moved on, stepping forward to give Rohesia a lovely, deep bow that still struck her as strange coming from him. “Your majesty. You look magnificent.”
She could not agree with him in her heart. Her gown had needed letting out, and it now hung awkwardly over her stomach. It had also lost about an inch at the hem because of the need to accommodate her pregnancy, which meant her unstylish shoes that did not match were visible. But with her swollen feet, they were the only shoes she could get on. Of course, she said none of this. “How very kind,” she answered, offering her arm.
Rohesia did her best to maintain her composure as she was led to and helped into her carriage. Once inside, though, she could not hold in a bit of a groan as she slouched back against the seat. Faustinus hopped in and sat beside her. As soon as the door closed, he chuckled.
“Lean back against the corner and put your feet up here.” Faustinus patted his lap.
“I couldn’t possibly do that to you,” she said, even as she desperately wished to have her feet elevated.
“The spell will be far more effective if you deign to put your feet in my lap for at most ten seconds. But if you would prefer to spend the night in agony, be my guest.”
Rohesia considered herself stoic, but acting the martyr was unnecessary, so she relented and presented her aching, swollen feet to Faustinus. He held them gently with one hand under her heels, and the other resting atop her ankles. He whispered a few words she did not understand (although years of knowing him allowed her to recognize the language as Old Trahernian), and indeed, in less than ten seconds, her feet felt remarkably improved.
“You are the most amazing friend an expecting woman could ask for,” she said with a grateful sigh.
“For you, I am always happy to do anything.”
“Could you do something like this to help Edgar with his legs?” She thought back to how uncomfortable he had looked when she left, and now wondered if not only could his pain have been relieved, but he could have been made well enough to attend the feast. Of course, he wanted to attend as little as she did, Edgar being a natural homebody and never caring for parties. The fact she could so often act as his representative was one of the best aspects of their marriage. But just this once, she really did wish she could skip this particular party.
“Magy is tricky in all things, but it is truly at its most complex when it comes to medicine. Edgar’s problems are larger and chronic, and even if I could alleviate the pain a bit for an hour or two, I cannot make him well. Whereas, you just have a bit more water somewhere that you usually don’t, so that is simple to take care of for the evening. Besides, I have a feeling tonight will be painful enough for you in other ways.”
Rohesia sighed. “I am glad I at least have you with me.” Faustinus was one of the few people who knew of her history and near elopement with Aldrick. Somehow, having someone in the room with her tonight who knew the truth and was on her side, she was quite sure, would make all the difference.
It took almost no time at all to reach the Duke of Newshire’s home here in Formacaster. Like most of the upper nobility, Duke Jeffrey had a grand home on Hafoc Street at the bottom of the magysk hill Wealdan Castle sat atop. (Faustinus once told Rohesia the story of how he and several other hillichmagnars had used their magy to make the hill three hundred and forty some odd years ago. She still tingled when she thought of it.) The duke’s house was one of the newest, built in a new style that favored smaller rooms. Rohesia had only been inside twice before, but she did not care for it as a space for entertaining. Perhaps it provided cozy living space, but she did not find it a pleasant place to visit with a crush of other people.
Trying to convince herself she would not mind it so much this time, she took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt as the carriage pulled up to the front door. A glance at Faustinus and his supportive smile helped a great deal. All would surely go well.
“It will be a simple evening,” he said. “Likely dull, save when we are speaking with each other, but the food will be palatable, and the people likely ridiculous enough we can have great fun making snide remarks.”
“And you can turn anyone difficult into a lizard, I presume,” she said with a grin. “I promised Edgar that was how you would handle difficulties. I’d hate to let him down.”
The door opened, and all Faustinus could offer in answer was a chuckle, and an “Indeed.”
Inside, they were met by a low ceiling, oppressive wood paneling, and far too many people. Rohesia still managed to put on a pleasant face, and Faustinus, of course, immediately set to charming people. They were greeted by Duke Jeffrey, who was close to Edgar’s age. Through a twist of fate, Edgar had actually grown up spending more time with Jeffrey’s older brother, Fransis, who was a friend of Edgar’s older brother, Ethelred, until Fransis had tried to overthrow him. And later in life when Edgar had gotten to know Jeffrey better, well, he had never been impressed by the man’s intellect. Rohesia considered him affable and simple. Edgar usually referred to him in private as a “dumbass.”
“Your majesty,” said Duke Jeffrey with a bow. “It’s such an honor to have you here for this celebration. I hope his majesty’s health is not too worrisome.”
“Just a bit of overexertion, your grace. I am hopeful he will be up again in a day or two.”
“I’m very happy to hear it. And Faustinus. Good to see you as always.”
Duke Jefferey did not sound as enthusiastic or earnest when addressing Faustinus. The sad truth was that as Myrcia’s war with Loshadnarod dragged on, Faustinus became less and less popular. Many people in the country had grown weary of war that resulted in no change other than having less of everything and dead soldiers. The stagnation had many causes, but as one of the most vocal advocates of the war and a foreigner to boot, Faustinus took much of the blame. After all, what was the good in taking the advice of an Immani hillichmagnar if the Immani Empire did not intend to throw their full weight behind the effort? Rohesia always tried to explain that the situation was vastly more complex, but very few people heeded anything she said in defense of the war or Faustinus.
“What an interesting new home,” Faustinus said so genuinely pleased that Rohesia had to remind herself he had excoriated the design as thoroughly as she had after their first visit here together. “It was very thoughtful of you to have so many people in your home for this occasion.”
The duke’s countenance turned sour for a moment, although Rohesia could not guess why. Faustinus had been perfectly polite in her estimation. If Duke Jeffrey had anything to add, though, he dropped it when he saw Aldrick entering the room, and he called his son over to join them.
Aldrick’s bow to her could be better described as a barely civil nod, but she always accepted his impertinence without comment or consequence. She understood that she had wounded him in a manner not easy to forget. To judge his behavior to her now would be unfair. Allowing his discourtesy was the least she could do.
“Now that her majesty has arrived,” said Duke Jeffrey, “we can head in for supper.”
“Fine,” Aldrick replied a bit petulantly. “I’ll go find Rachel and have it announced.”
“Oh, I can go find your bride-to-be,” Faustinus said. “You and Queen Rohesia have already found each other right here at the door to the main dining room. Best not to lose her.”
“Why should I be concerned about that?” Aldrick asked, and loudly enough that heads began to turn toward them.
Faustinus raised an eyebrow and contemplated the question. Rohesia already had visions of Aldrick as a lizard, and as many times as she had thought he deserved such a punishment, she did not wish for it quite as literally as she feared Faustinus was contemplating it. And certainly not in his father’s home at his engagement feast.
“It’s no problem,” she said, resting a hand on Faustinus’s forearm. “I have no objections.”
“Protocol ought to be observed,” was Faustinus’s answer. She, however, did not point out how often and entirely flagrantly he ignored protocol when it suited him.
“I think I should escort the future Duchess of Newshire into supper and I should go first, as it is my engagement feast.”
Of course, that was proper, particularly in his family home. But having the queen there should change that. If Edgar had been able to make it, he would have entered first with Rohesia, but in his absence, she still needed to be in the lead couple. Well, she needed that if precedence was properly followed. Again, she was willing to overlook the slight for Aldrick, but the volume at which he was protesting would not help matters. She did not like to call attention to the leeway she afforded him.
“I don’t think that is how it works,” Faustinus replied in a soft, but unnerving tone.
“It can be tonight,” Rohesia said. “I do not mind deferring to Lady Rachel in the least. Duke Jeffrey will see me in.”
“Um, why, yes. I would be delighted,” the duke stammered.
Faustinus glared at Aldrick for several tense heartbeats before shrugging. “As the queen commands,” Faustinus said.
Aldrick scurried off, and after letting out a collective breath, everyone who had been close enough to overhear set to whispering. Duke Jeffrey asked again about Edgar’s health, clearly just in an attempt to find something to say. Rohesia answered in rather boring detail in order to fill the conversation. Faustinus gamely joined in, and even took some thought for her, asking his grace if he had a footrest prepared for Rohesia, as well as some extra cushions for her sore back.
A few minutes later when Aldrick and Rachel appeared just outside the main dining room (tables had been set up in several adjoining rooms, because no single one was large enough to hold the number of guests), the start of the feast was announced. More guests, who had not been close enough to hear the earlier exchange, stared at the situation. Rohesia smiled politely with her head high, gladly taking Duke Jeffrey’s arm. In these kinds of moments, she made it a habit to avoid looking directly at others, not needing in the moment to deal with their pity, surprise, or disdain. She would, no doubt, hear a great deal later about the reaction to her entrance, and at that point, she would be ready for it. In the moment, though, she preferred to focus on maintaining her dignity.
Unfortunately, she caught a glimpse of Lady Rachel, grinning on Aldrick’s arm. She was an attractive young woman from a modest family. Her father had only recently received his barony from Edgar for his logistical support of the war. He was one of the most successful fleece merchants in Wislicshire, but other than coming from new money and her looks, Rachel had little to recommend her.
Unless you were Aldrick, and then Rachel had one other recommendation—she looked astonishingly like Rohesia.
She could not help but notice this now, Rachel’s hair an almost identical shade of blonde, their height within an inch of each other. They even had the same ivory skin and general face shape. Other than eye color and Rohesia naturally being a bit bustier, they looked a great deal alike, to the point that as much as she wished she could ignore them, she could not help seeing the similarities every time she saw Rachel.
Duke Jeffrey deposited Rohesia at the table and then went to his own spot at the center of the table only a few chairs down. Faustinus placed Duchess Cynthia, Aldrick’s severe mother, next to Rohesia. The other guests filed in and took their places at the long tables sprouting from the head table like awkward, disproportionate legs. Chatter from the other rooms filtered through the open doors, and Rohesia steeled herself to make the best of the truly odd arrangement.
Just how odd became clear when multiple platters of everything flew through every room, trying to find its proper table. Extra fish would land on one table while another had all of the roasted root vegetables. Others around Rohesia laughed, like the good-natured Flora Byrne, at these missteps. But others, like Muriel Gramiren, a woman Rohesia despised, scowled at every servant. Rohesia disliked being in agreement with the woman who had tried to keep her from marrying Edgar in hopes of promoting her husband, the previous king’s natural son. But when it came to etiquette, Muriel knew the difference between a well-run feast and this chaos.
“Can I get you more of anything?” Duchess Cynthia asked as Rohesia stopped accepting new dishes and focused on a simple piece of bread and honey.
“I am quite content, thank you.”
“But you are—what?—four or five months along. Surely your appetite is back. Earstien! All I wanted to do at that point when I was expecting Aldrick was eat and eat.”
“I have no doubt I would feel much the same if everything I ate did not give me such indigestion,” Rohesia whispered, most people nearby, surely not caring to hear about the havoc pregnancy wreaked on her body.
Duchess Cynthia nodded and held her glass up to attract a wine steward. “I didn’t get that until later. When are you due? We want to make certain to plan the wedding so that you can attend.”
“Oh, you mustn’t alter any plans you might have on my account.” Rohesia meant the words most sincerely. Having a reason to miss Aldrick’s wedding would bring her the greatest joy. She had heard talk that the couple intended to get married at the duke’s home in Rawdon. Not only did she not wish to see Aldrick’s wedding, but she particularly did not wish to leave her young son, Edwin, for at least several weeks, but more likely a month, while heavily pregnant or shortly after giving birth. But she well knew that if the wedding happened any time before June, it would be seen as a great insult if she did not attend.
“But you are the queen. And the king is a fellow Sigor. We must have you both there. We are thinking either April or May.”
“That is not much time to plan. I am certain you do not want to rush things. The happy couple deserves the finest ceremony possible.”
Both women paused to look across Duke Jeffrey to where Aldrick and Lady Rachel sat. Aldrick was alternating between talking wildly and drinking, while his future wife ate dainty forkfuls, nodded, and smiled pleasantly. Rohesia hoped they would be happy.
“I’ve already begun sending messages to Rawdon. We have an excellent staff, and I have great faith they will succeed with any time frame I give them.”
Rohesia nodded and assumed the duchess was correct. Not including the slip up tonight because of the house’s odd design, the Duke and Duchess of Newshire were known to run an organized household. It looked as though Rohesia would be going to this wedding, in spite of her fondest hopes. “You will forgive me,” Rohesia said after finishing her final bite of bread. “I need to step away for a moment. One of the constants of nearly all stages of pregnancy.”
“And a blasted inconvenient one.” The duchess gestured to a servant stationed behind her. “Please show her majesty to the privy.”
Rohesia was grateful for the guide as they twisted through several rooms, including one with a magnificent stained-glass window she wished she might stop and examine. They passed other guests chatting around braziers, and wandered down a couple narrow hallways with family portraits, but at last the servant gestured to a nondescript door. Rohesia was so grateful to finally be here, she nearly forgot her manners.
“Thank you for showing me the way. I am confident that I can find the way back on my own.”
The man bowed and left, and Rohesia finally got to relieve herself.
On her way back, Rohesia took her time, stopping to examine some portraits, such as the one done by an Immani master of Duchess Barbara, Aldrick’s grandmother, a famous beauty from the Empire. She also took a moment to admire an ornate, mechanical clock at the foot of the stairs leading up to the family parlors. Just as she was about to turn the corner into the room with the exquisite stained glass, she paused when she heard her name.
“Rohesia easily could have stopped this feast from being a disaster.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a disaster. And she has a lot on her plate.”
“I had three platters of turnips put down in front of me,” answered the first voice. “That never happened under previous queens and royal hostesses. Not my sister, Hildred, or that bitch, Queen Merewyn. Not even under Muriel, and you know I don’t usually have anything nice to say about her.”
Rohesia knew who it was now. It was Emily Barras, the Dowager Duchess of Pinshire. She was one of the most formidable women in Formacaster and the sister of Edgar’s late best friend, Brandon Dryhten. To hear herself found wanting in comparison to Muriel Gramiren by a woman whose opinion was worth having hurt. Rohesia was almost ready to announce herself and ask why Duchess Emily blamed her for the evening, but the second voice beat her to it.
“Yes, I suppose they all did fine, but Muriel was never really in charge, and the point is, this isn’t Rohesia’s party.”
Having heard him speak a bit more, she now recognized Cadogan Byrne, Duke of Keneshire, and her dear friend Flora’s father. He was a jovial old man, and someone both Rohesia and Edgar liked. It gave her heart to hear herself defended by him.
“You really don’t think Muriel was running everything for years? Were you really not paying attention?” Duchess Emily harrumphed. “That’s not the point. The point is, what is Aldrick’s last name?”
“Well, Sigor, of course.”
“And who is the head of the Sigor family?”
“Duke Jeffrey.”
Rohesia felt herself go cold as she awaited the duchess’s reply. “King Edgar Sigor is the head of the
family, or did you forget that he and Jeffrey are first cousins?”
“But that doesn’t mean Jeffrey can’t host his own son’s engagement feast.”
Rohesia knew that was true, and yet, if it had been anyone other than Aldrick, would she have seen her obligation? The mistake on her part, she could bear, even if it was uncomfortable. But would this reflect poorly on Edgar? That would be the last thing she wanted.
“Besides,” continued Duke Cadogan, “go easy on the queen. She’s expecting.”
“Muriel planned plenty of events while she was pregnant with her two. Pregnancy didn’t slow Merewyn down for a minute, although I think she was propelled through life on pure evil. Finster’s balls, man, my barely literate daughter-in-law is further along than Rohesia, and she just organized a fundraiser for medical supplies for the war, because if nothing else, and I mean nothing else, she does her duty.”
“I still don’t know that it was Rohesia’s duty.”
“You’ll always defend a pretty face.”
Duke Cadogan chuckled. “The queen certainly does have a pretty one. Speaking of her face, have you noticed how much Lady Rachel—”
Duchess Emily groaned. “Who hasn’t?”
“Are you alright?” whispered a gentle voice behind Rohesia.
She tried to swallow and stand up a bit straighter. It was just Faustinus, and if anyone was going to see her now, she could at least take comfort that it was him. Still, she would prefer to put on a brave face. It would just be so much easier if she did not feel so miserable in body and mind.
“I am quite well, thank you.” She took some pride in getting the words out, but neither of them believed that she meant it.
“Perhaps you would like to head home.”
“I would like nothing more, but I came because it is only proper for someone from the royal family to be here. And since, apparently even my friends expected more from me tonight, I can hardly justify leaving early.”
“What they were saying is nonsense. You surely realize that.” Faustinus rested a hand on Rohesia’s shoulder. “And in any case, you have put in an appearance. Your duty is fulfilled.”
Rohesia let herself sway and lean against the wood paneling. She wanted Faustinus to be right, but she could not just accept his kindness as truth. The formalities must be observed, and no one would notice a slight from her more readily than Aldrick. She patted Faustinus’s hand and stood herself back up. “No. I need to see out at least the full meal. I appreciate your support.”
“A compromise.” Faustinus paused and they both nodded to two young ladies on their way to the privy. They were giggling and whispering to each other rapidly. Rohesia envied their carefree manner. Faustinus must have noticed the melancholy on her face, and he squeezed her hand. “A compromise. You finish the meal, and then I will create a distraction that I promise you will prevent anyone from noticing you slipping out.”
It sounded quite heavenly to her, until she thought of one problem. “You aren’t going to turn Aldrick into a lizard, are you?”
“He richly deserves it, but if you would rather I not, I won’t.”
“It would be for the best. But if you are busy creating a distraction so I can leave, how will you get back to the castle? I can send the carriage back, but it seems rather cruel to leave you behind at a feast I wanted to leave.”
Faustinus grinned. “Oh, never fear about that. Just hustle out when things get interesting.”
***
“I LEFT AT THE FIRST sign of icy blue lightning,” Rohesia laughed, recounting her exit to Edgar. “But when Faustinus suddenly appeared inside the carriage when I was already halfway up the Hafocbeorg, he told me that if I had lingered just a while, I would have seen snowcapped mountains and literally believed I was being entertained by a dancing bear!”
Edgar chuckled a bit until he started to cough. She propped another pillow behind him. “That I would have liked to see.”
“Perhaps we can ask him for an encore. But for now, you should sleep. I left you with sore legs only to return to you coughing. Whether you like it or not, we’re having a physician in tomorrow.”
“I don’t need—” But the rest of his sentence was cut off by a hacking cough.
Rohesia kissed his forehead and then passed him a glass of water, from which he gratefully drank. “If need you anything in the night, I am going to make certain the guards on rotation outside your door know to get you anything you need, including me.”
He gave her a grateful half smile. “I won’t need anything. This is just a little cold. Happens this time of year.”
“Possibly. But I refuse to believe that I can be too careful with you.” She kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Edgar.”
“Goodnight, Rohesia. Sleep well.”
“And you.”
“And Rohesia,” he added, just as she reached the door. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”