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The war had settled into an uneasy quiet after the “surprise” Seefest attack two months previously. The snow, Rohesia thought, blanketed them all in a cocoon of frozen inaction. For now, no one could move troops through drifts taller than a man. But soon the snow would melt, and what sort of vengeful creature would fly from the snowy chrysalis she did not like to guess. Although, she supposed it would be a black eagle, if she carried on the metaphor. A clever, evil, strong, black eagle.
And in defense of her son and his throne, what would Rohesia be able to boast? Her brother, a loud rooster that could not even get off the ground. Along with Alfred. But what sort of animal would he emerge as once the spring arrived? She could only hope.
In the meantime, her most important role had been keeping the people of the city in general and at the Bocburg specifically from wallowing in the snow and dark and the shadow of the army on the doorstep. And not only did she have the responsibility of maintaining spirits, but she had to do so while being ever mindful of supplies. This extraordinary situation explained why as Rohesia went to the great hall to finalize arrangements for the evening’s birthday festivities, she spent more time with Sir Presley than Duchess Elena, the actual hostess of the feast.
Today marked Edwin’s third birthday in Leornian, away from his capital and his castle. He had always handled the situation quite cheerfully, happy just to have his birthday remembered in his boyish enthusiasm. Duke Robert and Duchess Elena had always been extremely gracious hosts, as well, even though the celebrations of Edwin’s birthday rather detracted from their son and heir’s own birthday two days after Edwin’s. Still, no one had ever minded having two feasts in the span of three days marking the births of two such important young men.
But this year would be different. A few weeks earlier, Sir Presley had entered Rohesia’s study at a moment when she had lost concentration and was staring out the sliver of window not covered by deep snow. He had suggested a joint feast to celebrate the birthdays of the king and Aldwin Dryhten, future Duke of Leornian. Rohesia had been about to object that even under the current strain, the king was still the king, and kings did not share their feasts.
Sir Presley preempted her, however. “We can barely justify supplies for one feast. Everyone talks about supplies lasting the winter, but the fact is, they have to last the spring and summer, too. If the siege doesn’t end, we have to survive until the next harvest, and it will be a meager one.”
Rohesia’s objection died on her lips.
“Of course. I should only be embarrassed that I did not suggest it first,” she had answered, chastened.
So, here they were in the great hall, watching Duchess Elena and her sister-in-law Lady Margaret put the finishing touches on the decorations for the party.
“It will be simple, but I still think it will be a pleasant feast,” Presley said after they finished a final inspection of the menu. “I might not have been an expert on entertaining when you knew me before, but I have since been spoiled by years of Vita’s parties, and I have an eye now for what makes a party work.”
Rohesia smiled, an occurrence she realized was all too rare these days.
“One can learn much from Vita. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been if I had stayed in the Empire and never come back to Formacaster with you and Duke Brandon.”
They both looked over to the portrait of the previous Duke of Leornian hanging on the wall beside the fireplace. It was larger than life size and had been painted after the duke’s death based on other portraits and sketches.
“Do you think Duke Brandon would have liked that portrait?” she asked, since Presley had known him longer and more closely, and therefore, had a better memory of the great man’s features and expression.
“He would have hated it,” Presley answered without hesitation.
“Really? I think it rather a good likeness, but you knew him far better.”
“I knew him well enough to say absolutely that he would despise having a giant painting of himself hanging in here, no matter how good it was technically.”
“You are almost certainly correct.” She took one more long look at the portrait, admiring it, whatever its subject might have felt about its placement. “I certainly appreciate his feelings on another matter—I am quite positive none of this would have been possible without you, a sentiment I know he felt regularly.”
“I’m only doing my job,” he answered. “And I’m only here because Vita sent me, so I suppose it all circles back to her.”
“Indeed. We will have to write her later and inform her that our day was entirely her fault.”
They sat for a few moments in companionable silence, catching their breath until the next duty demanded their attention. Elena and Margaret seemed capable of handling the bustling servants hanging streamers and moving furniture. And with that all in hand, she thought she might leave now and work on more of her correspondence.
“You really have everything running very smoothly around here,” she said.
As Rohesia was about to say that she intended to go, Elwyn entered the hall. She looked very pretty in a dress of contrasting light and dark blues. She also appeared lost, as though she couldn’t recall what had brought her into the great hall. Or that now having arrived, she did not wish to find what she had come for. Really, a very Elwyn moment, Rohesia thought.
“I will confess to you, if no one else,” whispered Rohesia, “that I wish we might be celebrating one more event tonight.”
“Oh? What is that?”
“Elwyn’s engagement to Sir Alfred.” Rohesia frowned, Elwyn now skittering about on the far side of the hall. “I’m not sure if you are aware, but Sir Alfred proposed back at the Solstice. Elwyn cannot give him a straight answer, either yes or no. It’s quite infuriating.”
Presley made a sort of choking noise. When Rohesia looked over to him, he had a fist over his mouth to cover a cough, but he also appeared as if he might be grinning.
“You will forgive me,” he said, “but I also remember another young lady. A prince asked her to marry him, and she took quite a long time to answer.”
Rohesia floundered mentally for several seconds before she realized that the young lady in question was herself. “But that was completely different. I’d only just met Edgar.”
“Elwyn and Alfred might have met before, but from what he says, they’ve only known each other in any meaningful way for a few months.”
“But I was much younger and less experienced.”
“Not that young, and not wholly inexperienced in the ways of romance.”
Not one given to blushing, she was shocked to feel her cheeks growing warm at this allusion to her nearly disastrous elopement with Aldrick. Earstien! How different would everything be if she had done that, or even if Presley had been less of a gentleman and told the world what she had nearly done.
“I knew that I would be queen if I accepted,” Rohesia now argued. “And the mother of the next king. The responsibility was enormous. All Elwyn is being asked to do is marry a kind, handsome man who is heir to a barony.”
“Who you want to be the new captain general. Did you ever think that perhaps Elwyn was hoping her marriage might take her further from the spotlight, not deeper into it?”
Rohesia couldn’t help but scoff. “She’s a princess. She can’t realistically have ever expected that.”
“I wasn’t referring to her expectations, but her hopes.”
Neither of them spoke. Rohesia searched the room for Elwyn, but at some point during her conversation with Presley, Elwyn must have left.
“I’m just suggesting,” Presley said kindly, “that as you were once granted a fair amount of time by your parents and a very understanding potential husband, maybe you should be a little more forgiving of Elwyn. Some people would argue that taking the time to be sure of her mind is a virtue in a young lady, not a fault. I’ve always thought so.”
“Is that so? I don’t recall.”
“Of course, it is.”
They both chuckled, but Rohesia could not treat the situation entirely without gravity. Too much depended on what Elwyn answered and when. For now it still snowed, but spring, and with it a
renewal of war, awaited them. “Broderick is regrouping,” she said. “Who leads our forces at the next
attack will matter. You know this.”
“Yes, but...oh no. Would you mind if I took my leave? I need to finish up some accounting before the
feast begins.”
She followed Presley’s gaze and found her brother making directly for them. Ever since they had both served Duke Brandon in this very castle as young men, Presley and Lawrence had disliked each other. For the sake of quiet and efficiency around the Bocburg, she did all she might to keep them separated. “Of course. I look forward to seeing you and Grigory at the feast.”
Presley rose and bowed to her for form’s sake, then hurried off through the private room behind the old thrones so that he might avoid Lawrence entirely. She turned back to the hall and smiled at her brother when he caught her eye. In spite of his failings as a military commander, she loved him very much, but she could also see how he and Presley would never be friends.
“Looks like everything is coming along well,” he said without preamble, falling into the chair Presley had vacated. “Wish I could say the same of the city’s defenses.”
Rohesia raised an eyebrow, but did not respond to this statement.
“Is your arm still bothering you?” she asked, watching him rub the wound he had received earlier in the siege.
He rolled his shoulder with a frown. “It’s fine. Which is more that I can say for those reinforcements at the city gates. They won’t be done this year let alone this month at the rate work is going.”
Rohesia explained once again what Grigory and Alfred had explained on multiple occasions to the council. The reinforcements Grigory recommended for the gates would be completed in phases, each phase being completed on each gate at the same time. This meant that no one gate would be done soon, but they would all be ready at the same time. It ran something of a risk, none of the gates being ready if Broderick should roll his trebuchets within range sooner than expected. But completing the same work on each gate was more efficient in Grigory’s opinion and would lead to all of the gates being reinforced more quickly than doing them one at a time.
“Whatever,” Lawrence said, waving off the answer he’d barely listened to. “I hope you at least have the medical supplies handled.”
Rohesia, along with Veronica, had coordinated the ladies of the Bocburg, as well as many women of the city, into teams to prepare bandages and medicines for the army. Lawrence had to know that she and his wife had this well in hand. “Naturally. Has Veronica not kept you informed of our progress?”
“I don’t want her helping with it anymore. She needs rest.”
His fidgeting as he said this finally helped her to understand what their discussion was truly about.
“Lawrence, she is quite well. You needn’t worry about her.”
“How can you know that? Anything might happen.”
“She is healthy. Women give birth every day.”
“Women lose babies every day. If we’ve learned anything, it’s that heirs matter.”
Rohesia wanted to argue that having Edwin, the king’s son, hadn’t stopped Broderick, thanks to his sick lie about Edwin being Faustinus’s illegitimate son. Then again, even without that lie, she had no doubt Broderick would have found some way to steal Edwin’s throne. Having a true son in this insane world guaranteed nothing.
“Do not fret,” she said, resting her hand atop his. “All will go well. I wish Mother were here and not stuck in Atherton. Do you remember what she told you when I was about to have Edwin? ‘Earstien let women have babies instead of men because men would be too nervous to ever get a baby out.’” They both chuckled, but Lawrence still did not appear particularly convinced. “We have the best of the court physicians with us, not to mention the medical men of the university, and the finest midwives in the kingdom. I dare say not even I had better care when my time came with Edwin and Alice.”
“You also have wider hips.”
“Hips aren’t everything. But if it will put your mind at ease, I will find simpler and quieter tasks for her.” In fact, she would ask Presley if Veronica could spend even more of her time with him and his ledgers. Accountancy would place no strain on her narrow hips.
Lawrence squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”