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February-September 363 M.E.
THERESE
The pregnancy was all anyone talked about at Wealdan Castle. Or at least that was how it seemed to Therese. Anytime she entered one of the upstairs parlors, she could hear one of the ladies whisper the name, “Irena Sigor,” and then there would be giggling and muttering and wide-eyed appreciation for the latest gossip.
One of the most popular rumors was that Irena wasn’t actually pregnant, but was only pretending because Princess Elwyn had been impregnated by her brother, Edwin, and the Sigors needed some plausible explanation for this incestuous offspring. Stories like that always made Therese sad, because if they were untrue (as she was sure they were) then it was very wrong of people to say such things. And if (Earstien forbid) they were true, then it was even more horrible and tragic for the poor Sigors and for the poor child that would result from such a union.
There was another reason why all the talk about Irena made Therese uncomfortable, though, and that was because of the unspoken pressure that it made her feel. No one came straight out and asked her, “Why aren’t you pregnant, too?” But they didn’t have to.
Or maybe they weren’t even thinking that. Maybe Therese only felt the pressure she put on herself. Earstien knew she and Broderick had been making every effort in that direction. She wanted to fulfill her duty as Crown Princess and future queen. She wanted to make her husband and his family happy. But so far, they hadn’t had any luck.
Until now.
She was late. Very, very late, actually. But she didn’t want to say anything yet. She didn’t want to raise anyone’s hopes. She didn’t even want to raise her own hopes. Obviously she needed to know for sure, and four times in the last two days, she had started down the hall to the office of the Court Physician. But that seemed so...formal, somehow. And he was a rather sardonic older man with an icy, superior air. What if she wasn’t pregnant? She could imagine him looking at her over his half-moon spectacles and saying, “Silly girl, don’t you understand a thing about the female body?”
No, if she was going to hear the news—good or bad—she was going to hear it from someone privately and anonymously. Not from someone she was going to have to see at court functions, day in and day out, for the rest of her life. So she had sworn Lady Rachel, her favorite lady’s maid, to secrecy, and sent the girl down to the city to make an appointment under the name, “Mrs. König.”
“Funny, you don’t look Odelandic, your royal highness,” said Rachel, with a conspiratorial grin.
“Ours was a forbidden love,” said Therese. “He married me for a dowry of a thousand camels.”
Silly jokes could only go so far to settle her nerves, and until Rachel came back, Therese sat in her dressing room, feeling nauseous and wondering if it was fear or if this was the dreaded onset of morning sickness.
Then Rachel was back with the news that a highly-respected Annenstruker physician would see her tomorrow if she paid double. Therese gladly paid, and then spent a sleepless night while her husband slept soundly. She wondered if she should wake him up and confess her hopes and fears. But she loved him so much that she didn’t want to disappoint him if it wasn’t true. She would bear the disappointment for them both.
In the morning, Rachel borrowed her brother’s carriage, and she and Therese took it down to the city for the appointment. The Annenstruker physician was a pleasant, avuncular sort of man who instantly tried to put her at ease. Then he subjected her to all manner of very frank questions and mortifying examinations of her private person. After which he politely excused himself while she dressed, as if he hadn’t seen every blessed inch of her.
Once she had her clothes on, he came back into his office beaming. “Good news, min dame. You are in statum de gravidate, as the Immani say. In other words, you are with child.”
She rode back up to the castle in a daze of happiness, though she kept bursting into tears every few blocks from sheer relief. She made sure to stop at the royal chapel and pray for her child and for her husband. “And dear Earstien, keep me safe, too,” she thought, “but only if it’s your will.”
For a few moments, she wondered if she should pray that her baby was a boy, an heir to the throne. But she decided it would be wrong. That would be trying to impose her own will on Earstien. And not even her own will, actually. She didn’t mind if she had a girl. In fact, now that she thought of it, she quite liked the idea of having a daughter. No, praying for a boy would mean putting the political needs of Myrcia ahead of the will of Earstien, and Therese was pretty sure that was a sin.
After leaving the chapel, she went up to the apartment she shared with her husband. Perhaps if she had been a better Gramiren, she would have gone straight to see her mother-in-law. But even though Therese tried with every fiber of her being to love Queen Muriel, the woman scared her. And it only seemed right that Broderick would be the first to know. Other than the Annenstruker physician and Rachel, of course. But after them, Broderick would be first.
With Rachel’s help, she set out some scented Sahasran candles around the bedroom, and she sent down to the wine steward for a really old and special bottle of Annenstruker Rodvin.
“The physician said you shouldn’t drink, your royal highness,” said Rachel.
“I’ll only have one glass,” said Therese. She giggled. “And it’s mainly for my husband. I’m afraid this may be a bit of a shock to him.”
He returned from the army camps before supper, sweaty and dusty in his leather riding trousers. It made Therese want to pull him into bed at once. But she had the scented candles lit, and the bottle of wine open, and there was no going back now.
“What’s all this?” he said, with a confused smile. “I only went to Abertref for the afternoon. You’re acting like I went to Drohen for a couple months.”
“Sit here,” she said, pointing at their biggest, softest chair. When he complied, she sat on his lap and curled up against his chest. “I have something to tell you, dear. I...I hope you’ll be happy.”
He was.
***
IRENA
“No, don’t touch me there,” grumbled Irena. “If we’re going to do this, we have to do it gently.”
Edwin sighed. “You said you were feeling better now.”
She wasn’t throwing up every morning anymore, but she still didn’t feel her old self. And she was starting to get noticeably fat. It was embarrassing. She didn’t want anyone looking at her naked, least of all Edwin. No doubt he found it arousing that her breasts were getting bigger. Irena hated it.
Edwin left their room, muttering something about going to the archery range. Good. Let him work out his frustrations there. Irena got out of bed and put on the enormous gray dress and blue robe that her mother-in-law had given her. They were still almost twice as big around as Irena, and she could wear them without feeling as if her clothes were judging her.
In the afternoon, after she had napped a little, Irena went with Queen Rohesia to see the Leafa Preost in town. There was supposed to be some sort of service of blessing and thanksgiving when a lady of the royal household gave birth successfully. Irena worried it might be bad luck to start planning for a celebration when so many things might still go wrong.
Her own mother, with the best of intentions, had bought her a book on midwifery a few days earlier, and Irena had read it, first with unease, then with growing horror. A successful birth was just one possible outcome of many. Most of the rest of the things that could happen would leave the baby dead. Or the mother. Or both.
When they got to the little church where the expatriate Myrcians worshiped, Irena sat by the altar for several minutes, hands clasped tightly, praying silently that her new god, Earstien, would keep her safe. “I promise I’ll restore a church,” she thought, “or maybe put some stained glass in a cathedral someday, when Edwin wins back his throne. Please don’t let me die of a fever. Or a stroke. Or,” she shuddered, “of hemorrhaging. Or anything else.”
“Come along now, dear,” said Rohesia, patting her on the back. “The preost is ready to see us.”
They went into the little, book-lined study and discussed the service with the preost. They picked the hymns to be sung and the readings to be given. Irena mostly nodded and agreed to everything Rohesia suggested. She was supposed to be reading the Halig Leoth—her new religion’s scriptures—but she hadn’t gotten around to it. So she had no idea what the verses were that they were discussing.
When they were done, though, Irena asked for a word alone with the preost. With her mother-in-law out of the room, she blurted out her confession: “I think I’m going to die.”
The preost patted her hand. “This is entirely normal. But remember you have lived a virtuous life up to this point. There is no reason to fear Earstien’s judgment.”
Perhaps he had meant that to be comforting, but as Irena returned to the villa with Rohesia, she started to panic. Back in her room, she dove into bed and pulled the covers up over her head as she burst into hysterical sobs.
“I’m going to die,” she thought. “Earstien is going to kill me for all the awful things I’ve done.” She thought of her life before she met Edwin. All those boys she had pleasured. The two girls at school she had slept with. “Oh, Earstien,” she thought. “Please forgive me. Please don’t judge me for that. I can change; really, I can.”
To prove her commitment to chastity, she told Edwin that she would not be sleeping with him again—even gently—until after she had safely delivered their baby. She started going to church every day, as well. Even when there were no services, she would sit by the altar and pray. She tried reading the Halig Leoth, but she got bored after ten pages.
“Baby steps,” she said to herself. “A little at a time.”
A week after this sudden religious epiphany, she was coming back from the church when she spotted Elwyn going into a tavern hand-in-hand with one of the housemaids from the villa. Irena followed at a safe distance and saw them pay the bartender and go upstairs together. No doubt to one of those rooms you could rent by the hour.
Irena was shocked and offended. She had never liked Elwyn, and now the woman was defiling their home—the home where Irena’s child (Earstien willing) would be raised. Irena went straight back to the villa and Edwin’s study, where he was writing letters.
“Your sister is seducing the staff here,” she said.
Edwin blinked a few times. “Yes. What of it?”
“It’s indecent! I’m not having this sort of thing in my house. Not now, and certainly not when our son is born. I want you to tell Elwyn that she can either behave like a lady, or she can leave.”
“Um...isn’t that a bit...hypocritical of you?” Edwin said, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, considering the way we carried on before—”
“We got married, like decent people should.” Irena crossed her arms. “Either she leaves, or I do.”
That evening, she heard Edwin and Elwyn talking in the study, and as the minutes passed, their voices rose and rose, until they were screaming at each other.
“Fine, then!” shouted the princess. “Fine! If you don’t want me here, I’ll get my own place to live in town. How about that?”
“Go on, then,” snapped Edwin. “No one’s stopping you.”
Moments later, Elwyn burst from the room, tears streaming down her face. Soon, Irena could hear the sounds of bags and boxes being hurriedly packed on the other side of the courtyard. The servants came to help, a cart was brought around front, and just like that, the wicked little bitch was gone from Irena’s home. Thank Earstien.
It was such a relief that she very nearly gave Edwin sex, but she was tired now. And being saved from his whore of a sister should have been its own reward.
***
THERESE
The deputy chamberlain and two housemaids hovered nearby while Therese examined the swatches. “I think I like the yellow.”
“Oh, yes, clearly it should be the yellow,” said the deputy chamberlain. The two maids nodded vigorously.
“Of course,” Therese went on, “the blue is nice, too.”
The other three agreed that blue was the obvious choice. This was getting nowhere. “Fine. Both blue and yellow, then. Oh, and see if the painters can keep these little pictures of animals. Maybe touch them up a bit.”
It had been almost eleven years since the Sigor children—Elwyn, Edwin, and Alice—had been chased from this castle by Therese’s father-in-law. And in that time, there hadn’t been much need for a castle nursery. It had been used for storage, and as a result, it was in pretty sad shape. The floors were stained, the paint was peeling from the walls, and alarming numbers of spiders had nested in the corners. Therese had made it her mission to fix the place up.
She had months and months before her baby was born, but she felt it best to get these sorts of things done as soon as possible. So, with Broderick’s blessing, she had been the one to hire the painters and upholsterers, and she was the one who took charge of picking colors, choosing furniture, and buying toys.
She was wandering around the bedrooms, trying to decide which one should have the baby’s crib, when her mother-in-law stopped in to see her.
“Ah, redecorating,” the queen said. “It’s about time someone did something with this dreary old place.” She frowned at the old paintings of dancing animals on the wall. “Earstien, I hope you’re getting rid of those.”
“I was going to have them restored,” said Therese nervously. “I think they’re sweet.”
“H’m...well, I suppose it’s your choice to make,” said Muriel. “By the by, how have you been feeling recently?”
“Better. Much better, actually.”
The queen nodded. “Yes, this is the best part of the pregnancy—after the morning sickness ends, but before you get so huge you can’t do anything.” She shook her head. “When I was pregnant with your husband, my mother tried to take me hunting when I was so big the horse could hardly carry me. Stupid woman. Apparently, that’s how they do these things in Annenstruk. It’s a wonder any of them survive.”
“It certainly doesn’t sound very wise to me,” Therese agreed.
“Here’s something for you,” Muriel said, pulling a little jar from a pocket of her dress. “It’s a cream made from the nuts of some tree in Seletane. I used it both times I was pregnant. Helps with the stretch marks.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Therese taking the jar and reading the label. “That’s so kind of you, your majesty.” She was quite touched. Was the queen warming to her at last?
Muriel patted her on the shoulder and then turned to leave. But at the door of the bedroom, she paused again. “There was one other thing. I do hate to put my nose where it’s not wanted, but I have to ask. Are you and your husband still engaging in marital relations?”
Therese almost fumbled the little bottle of cream. “Are we...are we what?”
“Are you still fucking?”
“Um....” Therese felt the blush spreading up her neck and over her cheeks. “Um, yes, ma’am. We are. The physicians said it would be quite safe.”
“H’m. In my experience, most physicians are fools. Astonishing that they can spend so much time studying human anatomy and still not know their asses from their elbows. Be very careful, my dear girl. You may be carrying the future King of Myrcia.”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
“And, of course, there’s your own health to consider, as well. Yes, be very careful. If you should find that you’re no longer able to fulfill your duties as a wife, you might encourage Broderick to look elsewhere for satisfaction.”
Therese’s mouth gaped open. “Um...what?”
“Both men and women have needs, my dear. Obviously, in your condition you will have to, shall we say, do without that particular joy for a few months. But there is no reason to expect that your husband will also abstain.”
“I...you...I...,” stammered Therese. “Your majesty, your son would never do that.”
Muriel came closer and gave her another pat on the shoulder. “Oh, you sweet little thing. Oh, you dear child. You really believe that, don’t you?”
“I think I know my husband, ma’am,” said Therese, starting to bristle.
“Yes, girls like you always do. And then they are shocked and dismayed to find out the truth. No, my dear, the best thing to do is to find him a safe outlet—someone he’s not going to fall in love with. Preferably someone older who isn’t quite as pretty as you. There are a few widows at court I could—”
“No!” cried Therese. “If my husband needs...satisfaction, then I will find a way to give it to him. And if, for some reason, I can’t do that for a while, then he will wait for me. I know he will.”
Muriel rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, my dear. Keep telling yourself that. But think about what I’ve said. In the long run, you’ll be much happier.” Then she left the room, chuckling under her breath.
Therese did think about the queen’s words. She could think about little else, in fact. She had never doubted Broderick’s fidelity to her. Not once. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he might ever take a mistress. He simply wasn’t like that. He loved her; she knew that. She loved him, and even the idea of sleeping with someone else revolted her. She had always assumed he felt the same way.
But what if he didn’t? What if he was like his parents? What if he was like his Uncle Lukas? He had told her that he was a virgin when they married. But what if that was a lie? Or what if it was the truth, but he had gotten so used to having sex regularly that he couldn’t stop? They had discovered all the glorious delights of the bedroom together. But what if he enjoyed those things so much that he would need to seek them from another woman? He had a very healthy appetite for sex, after all. They both did.
When he came home that evening, he saw she was upset and asked what was the matter. But she couldn’t make herself say what was actually on her mind. How could a woman ask her beloved husband, “Sorry, dear, but are you planning on cheating on me?” It felt like a betrayal to think that way, let alone say it out loud.
“Oh, I’m having trouble picking colors for the nursery,” she said. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
***
IRENA
The Festa Navita was a longstanding tradition, unfortunately, and there was no way Irena could get out of it. Her mother was organizing the party, and no matter how many times Irena said that she really didn’t need it, her mother kept ignoring her.
“Now, let’s see. We’ll start with the offerings at the Temples of Amora and Domia, of course, and then—”
“Mother,” sighed Irena, “I keep trying to tell you. I’m Ivich now.”
They were seated on an old bench in the rose garden of the Villa Cedra. Irena had brought her mother out there for fear that Edwin or his mother might overhear this conversation.
“Oh, I can’t see how this new god of yours is going to care.” Lady Velma Glauca shrugged. “Very well, I suppose we can stop and make another offering at your...church? Isn’t that what you call your temples? Anyway, then we’ll all come home with you, and the real party can start.”
Irena cringed to think what might follow. She had been to several of these parties for friends and cousins over the years, and what usually happened was that all the women except the mother-to-be got roaring drunk and behaved in scandalous ways. There would be vulgar little games and skits. There would be revoltingly frank talk about sex, and sometimes the younger women might even end up in bed together. In the old days, Irena had loved that sort of thing. Now, living in fear of Earstien’s judgment, she worried that she would be blamed for her guests’ lascivious behavior.
“I think perhaps we shouldn’t serve wine,” said Irena. “It will help keep things chaste.”
“It will keep things dreadfully dull,” said her mother. “Now don’t worry about a thing, dear. I’ll make all the arrangements.”
“Let me check the guestlist before you send out invitations,” Irena sighed. “There are a few people I really don’t think should be there. I want this to be a wholesome sort of event, not an orgy.”
“There’s nothing more wholesome than a good, clean orgy,” said her mother, shaking her head. “Honestly, dear, I don’t know what’s happened to you.”
Still, her mother let her edit the guest list. There were a few of her old friends who couldn’t be counted on to behave themselves. And then there was another person who caused scandal wherever she went.
The day after the invitations went out, Irena was sitting in her dressing room, letting out the waist in one of her riding dresses, when Edwin stormed in, shaking a letter in his hand. “Did you really not invite my sister to this party of yours?”
Irena looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you were on speaking terms with her at the moment.”
“That’s beside the point.” He shook the letter again. “She wrote me this note. She’s really hurt, Irena. Why didn’t you invite her?”
“Because she’s a notorious slut. I’m trying to be a good Ivich now, Edwin.” She folded her hands on her lap and pursed her lips.
“You missed the part where you’re supposed to forgive people for their sins.”
“I don’t remember her asking for forgiveness. I’m sorry, but the whole town talks about what she does at that new apartment of hers.”
Edwin slapped her dressing table, hard. “An apartment that you drove her to.”
“Excuse me?” Irena glared at him. “You agreed with me about her leaving. She’s a bad influence on you and your whole family. Thank Earstien we managed to get Alice away from her. And just in time, too.”
Alice’s latest letter from school had been quite a relief to both Irena and Rohesia. The girl had been seeing a lot of some boy named Keith, but that was all over now. Luckily, it seemed Alice had a good head on her shoulders, and wasn’t about to let things go too far.
“Elwyn is my sister,” Edwin went on. “And she’s more than that. She’s been my best friend, too, for years.”
Irena let out a low, bitter laugh. “Yes, very good ‘friends,’ I’m sure. You and Elwyn are so very, very close. Like the old kings of Minerto were close with their sisters, I expect.”
“That’s not funny.” He slammed his fist onto the table. “I really wish you’d stop suggesting that Elwyn and I are in love!”
“H’m...you seem awfully touchy about it. Did I strike a nerve?”
They spent the next ten minutes screaming at each other, going around in circles. It ended with Edwin calling Irena a bitch, and Irena telling him that he was “the shittiest lover I’ve ever had.” Then he kicked over one of her chairs and left, swearing under his breath.
Almost immediately, Irena felt badly about the fight and ashamed of what she had said. She didn’t really believe Elwyn had fucked her brother (even if sometimes she suspected that the woman had wanted to do it). She also didn’t think Edwin was a bad lover. In point of fact, he was quite good in bed, most of the time.
“Why did I say those things?” she thought, slumping lower in her chair. “Why did I goad him that way?”
The answer was clear enough: it was Elwyn’s fault. That woman brought out the worst in her. Elwyn had never liked her. Elwyn couldn’t let her little brother go. She had to keep her claws in him, no matter what. Elwyn was an awful human being, and the less time Edwin spent with her, the better it would be for everyone.
***
THERESE
Broderick had to leave the castle nearly every day now, since he and his father were trying to renegotiate their contracts with some of the Odelandic mercenaries. Without Lukas’s levies, and without the extra money that Lukas had always contributed, the Gramirens were running low on troops. Sometimes Broderick left their apartments before Therese was awake and returned after she had gone to bed. She would wake slightly, feel him slip into bed beside her, and then turn to snuggle against him.
She missed him, but she threw herself into the work of restoring the nursery, and that helped pass the time. The painting was finished, but the floor still needed to be redone. And, of course, she was trying to choose toys that would be both fun and educational. Not knowing whether the child would be a boy or a girl, she stuck to toys that would appeal to both equally, like puzzles and games. There would be time to get dolls or toy soldiers later on.
Sometimes Muriel stopped by to check on the progress of the renovations. To Therese’s great relief, her mother-in-law did not mention finding a mistress for Broderick again. With any luck, the queen had realized how offensive the suggestion had been, and had decided to let it go.
She never mentioned sex at all, in fact. Most of the time, she told stories about her own children when they were very young. The stories were very cute, like the one about when Donella was barely a year old, and Broderick had tried to teach her to ride one of their father’s hunting dogs like a pony.
This was a side of Muriel Gramiren that Therese had never seen before—the fond and doting mother. This Muriel was quite different from the public face she wore at court, or even from the way she had acted previously around Therese. It was very strange, but not unwelcome.
One day in early June, Muriel even went with Therese to visit toy makers’ shops down in the city. They giggled like little girls at wind-up toys and changed the clothes on dozens of beautiful dolls. It was the best day Therese had ever spent with her mother-in-law, and when they parted back in the Palm Court of the castle, she was almost sorry to see it end.
She was tired, though—Muriel had noticed and had made her come back earlier than they had planned. Before she climbed up the stairs to her apartment, she needed a little rest. So she sat on one of the benches near the fountain, under the palms and ferns, looking up at one of the big waterfalls.
There were women talking on the other side of the ferns, and for a while, Therese managed to ignore them. But then she heard her husband’s name, and even though she hated to be rude, she couldn’t help but listen in.
“So the prince is really seeing her?”
“Of course. Every time he’s down at those army camps, Daria Lucowitz is right there, too.”
“Oh, please. He’s negotiating new contracts with the Odelanders.”
“He’s negotiating with Daria to get her out of her dress. Not that she needs much convincing, I’ll bet.”
Horrified, Therese rushed up the stairs and collapsed onto a settee in her dressing room, holding her head in her hands and hoping it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be, could it? No! She knew her husband, as she had said to Muriel. She knew he would never do this sort of thing. Not to her. Not when she was carrying his child. He loved her too much. Didn’t he?
Except that Daria was really quite a catch. Daria was another of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, so Therese knew her very well. Her father was a baron from Dunkelshire and a captain in the Gramiren army. She was smart and funny and surprisingly well-traveled for a girl who was only 19. She was truly lovely—slim and perky with big, dark eyes and an irrepressible smile. And she wasn’t swelling up like a dying, bloated sheep.
Therese wasn’t sure what she needed more—comfort, or the truth. But in either case, she knew where she could get it: from her sister-in-law Donella. The girl and her husband and their little boy—also named Broderick—happened to be visiting the castle at the moment, and Therese went over to their rooms as fast as her aching, tottering legs could carry her.
Andras Byrne, Earl of Arven and Donella’s husband, was out at the moment, which was just as well. Therese liked Andras, but she didn’t necessarily want him around for this conversation. On the outer balcony of their suite, overlooking the city and the rivers, Therese managed to wait long enough for Donella to pour the tea before she blurted out what she had heard in the Palm Court and what Queen Muriel had implied.
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” said Donella. Then, seeing that Therese was in very real distress, she came over and put an arm around her. “Oh, sweetie, you can’t possibly think my brother would ever cheat on you. He’s not capable of that sort of thing.”
“I know, I know,” wailed Therese. “But knowing it and believing it are two different things.” She clutched Donella’s hand. “I’m scared.”
“It’s alright,” said Donella softly. “It’s perfectly natural to worry, especially with my mother around, whispering in your ear. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go down to the army camps and have a look around. I’ll see what’s going on, and then I’ll tell you what I find. Will that make you feel better?”
Was it better to know for certain or not? Therese struggled with the question for a minute. But she finally decided that she needed to have the truth. One way or another, she needed to know. “Yes, please,” she said. “But won’t everyone down there recognize you?”
Donella smiled. “Oh, probably not. I’m very good at disguising myself.”
***
IRENA
The Summer Solstice was here, and it looked as if Irena was going to spend it alone. She had been invited to at least a dozen parties—both those of her old Immani friends, and those of the Myrcian expatriates. And Rohesia was having some people over for supper, as well. Little Helena Swithin, Edwin’s 8-year-old cousin, kept running through the courtyards with flags and streamers, chanting that “Summer is here! Summer is here!”
But Irena didn’t want to be with her old friends, or her new friends, or her family, or even her in-laws. She wanted to be with Edwin. And he wasn’t there.
He had gone to the one party Irena hadn’t been invited to: the party at Elwyn’s apartment. This was the most coveted invitation in town; everyone talked about the princess’s exquisite taste in music and food and wine. People whispered about her orgies, of course. But they also talked about the salons, where musicians from Presidium and Albus Magnus played their newest compositions, and renowned authors read from their latest works.
Edwin’s invitation was sitting on his desk, and Irena had read it a dozen times already: the place and time for the party, and then a personal note at the bottom: “Please come. I miss you.”
So he was going, and it was obvious what he meant to do: he wanted to make up with his sister. He and Elwyn were going to be best friends again, and Irena would be left out in the cold.
She called for the servants, and then she asked for a carriage. When she got into the central market, she didn’t have to look far to find booths selling costumes. At least half of the parties she had been invited to were costume parties or masked balls. It seemed those sorts of things were in vogue at the moment.
Irena selected a half-mask, a thick blonde wig, and a fake mole, which she put on her right cheek. Then she went to the Forum Rubrum, one of the big public squares, and fought the crowds celebrating there to get up to Elwyn’s building on the Via Clarissa.
There should have been an Immani legionnaire at every door, protecting the princess. But so many people were in the streets, and so many of Elwyn’s guests were coming down to the side alleys to puke or make out, that Irena had little trouble in finding a side door and sneaking in.
Upstairs it was a typical Immani party, which meant lots of wine and lots of naked flesh. This was the sort of thing she would have enjoyed, once upon a time. But now she found it all desperate and sad. All these people, struggling and humiliating themselves for a fleeting moment of pleasure. It wasn’t even worth getting mad about. Irena felt sorry for them all. And she prayed Edwin hadn’t turned into one of them.
She went through the apartment, past girls dancing naked in the foyer, past boys kissing in the kitchen, past a group smoking opium together in the front parlor. At the drinks table in the hall, she took a glass of excellent Thessalian Argitis, and then froze when she heard her own name. Looking quickly over her shoulder, she saw four Immani girls giggling together. Two of them had gone to school with her.
“Fuck me, I feel sorry for the man,” said one of her old schoolmates. “Can you imagine being married to that awful harpy?”
“Gods, what a bitch,” said another girl. “She thinks she’s so fucking special. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m a queen now.’ As if she’s the queen of more than a single villa.”
It felt like a punch to the stomach. “They hate me,” she thought. “They hate me, and I never did anything to them.”
But she knew she wasn’t blameless where Edwin was concerned. She had mocked him and tortured him. She had made him lust after her. And now she was reaping that harvest, good and hard.
She rushed away into a corner, where she could clasp her hands together and bow her head. “Oh, Earstien,” she silently prayed, “please let it not be too late. Please let me get him back. I’m so sorry I took him for granted.”
Then from down the hall, she heard her husband’s voice coming from the master bedroom. “I don’t understand,” he was saying. “You invited me, and then this is how you receive me?”
“I’m sorry.” This was Elwyn’s voice, drunk and slurring. “I wanted you to come, but then you weren’t here for the first two hours, and I...I thought you weren’t coming, Edwin.”
Irena chanced a peek, and what she saw nearly floored her. Elwyn was lying in bed, a blanket pulled up to hide the fact that she was obviously naked. On one side of her lay a big, strapping Odelandic fellow. On the other side, giggling nervously, sat two of the kitchen maids from the Villa Cedra.
“You’re unbelievable,” Edwin snapped. “Here I thought we would get a chance to talk. But apparently not.” He turned and rushed out of the room, and Irena hid her face as he stormed past her.
Elwyn, holding a blanket over herself for modesty, stumbled out into the hall, only a couple yards from Irena. “Edwin!” she cried. “Edwin, I’m sorry. I....” Her voice faltered, and she turned back to her bedroom. In a low voice that probably no one was supposed to hear, she added, “I am such a fucking disaster. It’s no wonder he hates me.”
At first, Irena was thrilled to hear this. But then, out of nowhere, she was struck with a feeling of sympathy for the princess. The woman was a terrible bitch, and a whore, as well. But people seemingly said that about Irena, as well.
She tottered down the stairs as fast as she could, and then rushed through back lanes to the Villa Cedra. On the way, she bowed her head and prayed, “Let Elwyn find peace, but let her find it far from Edwin.”
***
THERESE
“So what are you making now?” Therese asked.
Broderick Byrne, Donella’s two-year-old son, looked up from the blocks he was piling together. “Castle?” he ventured.
“Excellent idea,” said Therese. She picked up another box of the brightly-colored blocks and went to sit by Broderick on the floor. “Let’s see how high we can make this before it falls over.”
It didn’t get very high. The boy quickly discovered the joy of knocking the towers over, and the game became seeing how far he could make the blocks scatter across the nursery.
She was glad the blocks were proving so popular. She and her mother-in-law had been dazed by the sheer variety of blocks and bricks and other sorts of building toys. It would have been sad to have picked the wrong kind.
Little Broderick was here today to help Therese test the newly-renovated nursery and all the new toys. And also because his mother was down at the army camps again, having a look around, as she had promised Therese.
The boy abandoned the blocks to try out the rocking horse in the corner. Only a few minutes later, Donella returned, dressed in baggy riding trousers and a man’s tunic.
“Oh, look at you!” she cried. “Riding like a big, strong knight!” She kissed her son, but let him keep rocking away.
“He has an excellent seat,” Therese observed.
“He’s a natural, no doubt,” said Donella. “Or at least he looks as if he’s not going to fall off.” She nodded toward the far corner of the room, where the storybooks and stuffed animals were kept, and Therese joined her there a moment later.
“So?” Therese asked, clutching her hands nervously to her chest.
“I went all around the camp again. I watched my brother. I poked around his command tent. I talked to some of his knights, and William Trevelyan and a couple of the other commanders. I still can’t find any evidence that he’s seeing a woman down there.” Donella patted Therese on the shoulder. “I’ve been there three times now. You’re safe.”
“Oh, thank Earstien,” sighed Therese, as tears started to well up. “I feel so stupid for making you do this. I feel like a fool for doubting him. I almost feel like I’ve been unfaithful.”
“Nonsense. You have every right to know what your husband is up to.” Donella lowered her voice. “And anyway, I’ve been having a lot of fun doing it. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I actually quite like dressing up as a man.” She gave Therese a long hug, and then she collected a reluctant little Broderick from the rocking horse. “It’s almost time for someone’s nap. I’d better get him home now.”
She left, and Therese was putting away the blocks when her mother-in-law stopped by.
“Ah, the nursery has been given a seal of approval, then,” Muriel said, smiling. “Excellent.”
“Yes, it looks like we managed to pick the right toys, ma’am.”
“H’m. How very gratifying.” She came over and perched on the window seat next to where Therese was sitting on the floor. “By the way, I don’t know if you listen to court gossip—it’s a terrible habit, but one hears things, you know.”
“Um...yes.”
“So have you heard the rumor about what your husband is doing down in the army camps?”
Therese folded her hands on her lap. “Which rumors, exactly?”
“The ones about Daria Lucowitz.” The queen’s lips twitched up in a tiny smile. “I do hate to say, ‘I told you so,’ my dear girl. There is little pleasure in being right when it causes pain to those we care about.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“How sweet of you.” Muriel sat back and sighed. “Ah, little Daria. So very pretty. So witty and accomplished. Such an air of sophistication. She was at the Odelandic court in Lebenstadt for two years before coming here, you know. You can imagine all the little...tricks the girl picked up there.”
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t believe it.” Therese wondered if she should tell the queen about Donella’s trip to the army camp. She decided not to mention it. No need to get Donella in trouble with her mother over something so stupid.
“You’re very trusting,” said Muriel. “I wish I could be that way. Daria has half a dozen lords and knights wrapped around her little finger, you know. She’s been proposed to at least ten times that I know of. But she keeps turning everyone down. Almost as if she has her eyes on a much bigger prize, if you take my meaning.”
“I don’t care. Broderick would never do something like that.”
“I like to keep track of the rumors about my ladies. I like to know their reputations and their...purported talents. As you know, I’m not one of those prudish old bitches who insists on rigid chastity among my ladies.” The queen gazed out of the window with a thoughtful frown. “Now, you, of course, were widely known to be a ‘good girl.’ That’s one of the things that made me so very cross when you...did what you did.”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” said Therese, feeling her face getting warm.
“Daria isn’t quite so dull. Supposedly she does this one thing with her tongue.” Muriel wiggled a finger back and forth, twisting it around like a top. “I’m not sure exactly how it works, but I understand that her skills are very highly rated. It almost makes one wish one had a cock, to find out what it’s like. I imagine any young man would be curious. Even your husband.” Her smile returned. “One might almost say, especially your husband. It must be quite exciting for him to be with a girl who has so much practical experience.”
“Pardon me.” Therese got unsteadily to her feet. “I...I’m sorry, ma’am, but I think I will be going now.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I’m quite sure he still loves you. But that is my point, Therese. Love and sex aren’t the same thing. You have to keep that in mind if you want to be happy in your marriage. In fact, once you’ve had your son and the succession is secure, and once you’ve recovered from the birth, I’d be happy to introduce you to some discreet young men who could show you all sorts of exciting new things.”
“I really don’t think that will be necessary,” said Therese. She curtsied. “Thank you, but I believe I need to go lie down for a while.” Then she hurried away. She felt like she was either going to be sick or break down in tears, and she didn’t want to do either in front of Muriel.
***
IRENA
She had thought that Edwin would never go back to Elwyn’s apartment after the Solstice party, but she had thought wrong. Somehow that bitch still had a hold on him, and he kept going there, over and over again, even though he almost always came back angry. He and Elwyn were still fighting, which would have been cause for celebration, except that now he was fighting all the time with Irena, too.
One morning, after they had shouted at each other about how late Edwin had returned the night before, Irena told him, as she always did, that Elwyn was a deviant and a whore.
Edwin glared at her and said, “That’s probably so, but she was right about you. I wish I’d listened to her.”
She demanded to know what he meant by that, but he stormed out of the room rather than answering. And really, he didn’t need to explain. It was clear enough what he had meant: Elwyn had told him not to marry Irena.
“He wishes he hadn’t married me,” she thought, horrified.
She needed to talk to someone, but she had very few friends anymore. She didn’t want to talk with Rohesia, because of course the woman would take Edwin’s side. She didn’t want to talk to her own mother, either, because that would turn into a lecture about how you had to make allowances for foreigners and their weird ideas. So, Irena went to see her father, instead.
He was spending the day at one of the legionary camps outside town, inspecting the troops. When he saw Irena’s face, though, he asked the Military Legate to borrow his office and took her in there. She eased herself into one of the big, gilded camp chairs, and he perched on the huge mahogany desk in front of her.
“Well? What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you did when your dog died.”
“I think I’ve ruined my marriage.” Crying, she told him everything that had happened, and how Edwin was obsessed with his sister. “And now he hates me,” she said.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” he said, as he passed her a handkerchief.
“But it is!” she wailed. “He’s going to all these wild parties that she throws, and Earstien only knows what he’s doing over there.”
Her father sighed. “I think you’ll find that all Ivichs are hypocrites, to one degree or another. They all want the same things everyone does, but their religion requires them to pretend that they don’t. They can’t come out and admit it, the way we do. I know you’ve converted, but please don’t adopt that attitude. From what I’ve observed, it makes them miserable.”
“So if I shouldn’t behave like an Ivich, what’s the Immani thing to do?” She looked up hopefully, dabbing at her eyes.
“Give him some distraction. Give him an outlet for his urges. Obviously, you can’t do much of that at the moment, so find a reliable girl who can do it for you. Someone you can trust who won’t let him fall in love with her.”
Irena gasped. “You mean...you mean buy him a whore? Father, that’s disgusting!”
“That’s your Ivich side talking. Where’s my little girl who went to her first orgy the day she came of age?”
Actually, her first orgy had been two years earlier; her parents still didn’t know about that one. She had been so proud of that, but it revolted her now. “I...I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You don’t have to do anything except find the girl. It’s up to you, but I would recommend asking one of the Emissariae. Those girls are very pretty, very competent, and very discreet.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Do it soon, Irena. It might be your only chance to save your marriage.”
Irena went home more worried than before. Her thoughts were a constant jumble of Ivich and Immani, of her old life she had left behind, and the new life she was trying to have for her family. Her heart told her that her father’s advice was stupid, and she would lose Edwin if she tried it. But she was already losing Edwin. She was desperate, and she knew if she did nothing, their marriage would be over. What would she do without him? What would their poor child do?
No, she had to save her marriage, and if this was the only way to keep Edwin from falling into Elwyn’s web again, then so be it.
That evening, she went looking for Callista and found her discussing the latest messages with Edwin’s mother. Queen Rohesia had two letters in her hands, looking back and forth between them with a frown.
“I had gotten used to Faustinus and Moira writing joint letters to us since their wedding. But now they’re writing separately again.” Rohesia glanced up at the Emissaria. “They’re writing from entirely different provinces, in fact. There’s nothing...wrong...between them, is there?”
“It’s simply the requirements of the service,” Callista replied. “I’m sure it’s temporary. They’ll be back together after these assignments, no doubt.”
“Excuse me, can I have a word?” Irena asked. She took Callista out into the garden, as far from the house as she could get on her aching legs. “I have a favor to ask you,” she said. “It’s rather...unusual, I’m afraid.”
“Anything I can do to help, your majesty,” the girl said brightly, dropping into a low bow.
“I need you to seduce my husband.” Then she explained about Edwin needing an “outlet for his urges” while she was pregnant. “He keeps going to Elwyn’s parties, and there are all those whores and dancing girls over there. It’s better if he has someone I know. Someone I can trust.”
Callista didn’t seem entirely thrilled with the idea, and she said she would only do it under two conditions: “First, that your husband knows I have your approval for doing this, and second, that you be the one to tell him so.”
Irena cringed at the thought of actually facing Edwin and saying the words out loud. “Can I write it in a letter?”
After some consideration, Callista agreed this was a reasonable compromise. So, Irena went inside and wrote the oddest letter she had ever written. The whole time she was doing it, she kept thinking, “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe it.”
Then Callista took the letter and went across the courtyard to the little office where Edwin was working on his correspondence. Irena was shocked by the suddenness of it all. Twice she almost called out for Callista to come back.
Back in her dressing room, Irena waited, kneading her hands together and pacing back and forth. “She’ll return in a minute or two,” she told herself. “He’ll never agree to do this.” No doubt he would look at the letter, realize how desperate he had made her, and come rushing over to say that he loved her.
But he didn’t. And Callista didn’t return, either. After a few minutes, Irena couldn’t stand it anymore, and she tiptoed around the courtyard. The door was shut, and the blinds were drawn, but there was a tiny crack at the bottom where she could peek in.
He was sitting on the edge of the desk—her husband, her Edwin. His trousers were open, and Callista had him in her mouth. Irena could tell, from her own considerable experience, that the girl was very, very good at what she was doing.
As Irena watched, Callista rose and stripped off her own clothes. Blast it all, but she was beautiful—completely flawless, in fact. Then she pushed Edwin back on the desk and climbed up to straddle him.
“Are you really sure Irena is alright with this?” Edwin said, his voice strained.
“Of course,” Callista simpered. “You read the letter. She wants you to do this. And you wouldn’t want to disappoint your wife, would you?”
Irena couldn’t watch anymore. Stifling a cry of despair, she rushed away, desperate to be anywhere else in the world. She went out to the garden and sat there, feeling miserable. Feeling sick. It felt like her stomach was being tied in knots.
No, not in her stomach. Lower. And in her back too. Like cramps. Irena was so upset that only after the pain had come and gone several times did she understand what was happening. Then she felt the dampness.
“Oh, Earstien,” she gasped, struggling to her feet. “Oh, Earstien, this is it.”
She waddled back into the villa to find Rohesia.
***
THERESE
Muriel wouldn’t leave it alone. She kept picking at it, like a new scab that never quite healed. When the seamstresses came up to make new maternity dresses for Therese, the queen mentioned, in an offhand way, that Daria Lucowitz had an 18-inch waist. As Therese huffed and puffed up the stairs after lunch, Muriel talked about how graceful Daria was when she danced. When Therese went to take a nap, her mother-in-law observed that Daria was always so alert and full of vigor.
By supper time, Therese couldn’t stand it anymore. She wasn’t going to sit up here, wondering and hoping. She had to know for certain. She had to see for herself. She slipped out of her apartment, went down to the stables, and borrowed a little cart.
When she got down to the army camp, she stopped one of Broderick’s captains and asked him where she could find her husband. The man was very polite and smiled at her, but she couldn’t help wondering if he was really all that happy. Was it her imagination, or was there a look of panic in his eyes? Was he afraid of getting in trouble? Afraid of what she might see? Therese urged the little pony to a faster trot, racing down rows of tents, past dozens of surprised Odelandic mercenaries.
She reined in twenty yards from the big headquarters tent and tried to steel herself. This was it; there was no going back after this. She would never be able to forget what she saw, once she looked in there. More than anything, she wished that she could go back up to the castle and forget about this. But Muriel would never let it rest.
After easing herself down from the driver’s seat, she went over to the tent, moving as stealthily as she could. Ten feet away, she heard voices: her husband’s and some woman. Was that Daria’s voice? Oh, Earstien, this couldn’t really be happening.
She pushed aside the tent flap and looked in. There was Broderick, standing with a bottle of wine in his hand. And there was Daria with a glass. As they turned, they were both still smiling from something he had said.
“Therese, what are you doing here?” The voice wasn’t Broderick’s or Daria’s. It came from the other side of the tent. Donella was there, with a drink of her own. Holy Finster, were they all in this together? Was Donella helping her brother conceal his affair?
“How could you do this?” Therese gasped, looking from Donella to Daria, and finally to her husband. “I trusted you.”
She turned to go, throat tightening, eyes brimming with tears, but Broderick crossed the tent in a few quick strides and caught her in his arms. “Stop. Wait. I think you have the wrong idea.”
He kissed her, then led her over to a chair by a table covered in maps. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “What’s going on?”
“Lady Daria has been helping us entertain the Odelandic officers,” Broderick explained. “She was at court in Lebenstadt, you see, so she speaks Odelandic perfectly. She even knows some of the officers. And my father thought a ‘feminine touch’ might help.”
“That’s really true,” said Daria earnestly. “I promise you there’s nothing more going on than that.”
“She’s telling the truth,” said Donella. “I’ve seen her down here, wining and dining all the grafs and freiherrs and obersts.”
Therese gave Daria a very suspicious look. She was entirely too pretty to be innocent.
Daria got up and came over to kneel by Therese’s chair. Taking her hand, she said, “Please, your royal highness. I would never do anything to hurt your marriage. I...I’ve always thought of you as a friend.”
All at once, Therese realized how stupid this was. She let out a long, shuddering sob of relief, and told them all how sorry she was. “I don’t know what came over me,” she sniffed, wiping her nose on her husband’s handkerchief. “I knew this couldn’t be happening, but the queen started going on and on about you, Daria. For weeks, it’s all been about your 18-inch waist and your vigor and...um, talents.”
The girl frowned. “I haven’t got an 18-inch waist. I don’t think any grown woman has an 18-inch waist. How on earth could you even breathe?”
The horrible truth struck Therese. None of it had been true. Not the dress size, nor the salacious stories about Daria’s “talents.” Muriel had made it up to goad Therese into doing what she was told. She had done it so that Therese would agree to tell Broderick to take a mistress.
Daria was one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. Of course Muriel must have known exactly what the girl was doing down here. But she had lied about it, anyway, because she thought she knew better than everyone else.
Donella glided over and tapped Daria on the shoulder. “Let’s go take a walk, dear. I think my brother and Therese need a moment alone.”
When they were gone, Therese threw her arms around her husband and begged him, over and over, to forgive her for doubting him.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “If anyone’s at fault here, it’s me. I should have told you everything that I was doing down here. I should have said Daria was here, too. I thought it was all too boring to mention.”
“Trust me, it’s more interesting than picking colors for a nursery,” she said. “And anyway, it’s not your fault. It’s your mother’s.” She told him everything Muriel had done and said. “Now, I would never say that I hate your mother, but...she is not my favorite person right now.”
“Nor mine,” he said gravely. “Believe it or not, I suspect that she was honestly trying to help. But she has very strange notions of what’s ‘helpful.’ Don’t worry. I’m not like her. Or my father. And I never will be.”
“I know,” she sighed. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
***
IRENA
The drugs were wearing off, and the pain, which had been a dull ache before, now asserted itself. Irena felt as if she had been punched and kicked repeatedly. She felt like she had been split in half. She would have screamed, but she was too tired. Everything was dull and foggy, and her brain felt slow. She wanted to sleep for a year, but the pain was too bad.
“Ah, you’ve woken up.” It was Rohesia. “You’ll be happy to know everything went well. It took an unusually long time, unfortunately.”
“How long?” whispered Irena. She could barely remember them giving her drugs, but she knew that they had. After that, time had become curiously distorted for her.
“Almost two days,” said Rohesia.
“Holy Earstien.”
“But you both made it through just fine.”
Irena managed to turn her head slightly, and she noticed for the first time that Rohesia was holding a bundle in her arms. A little creature with an ugly red face, wrapped up in a green felt blanket. Her baby. Edwin’s baby.
“You can hold her,” said Rohesia.
“Her?”
So this wasn’t going to be the heir to the throne. All that time, all that pain and effort, and the result was a girl. Irena’s one duty as wife of the king was to provide a successor. And now she had failed at that.
“You’re not disappointed, are you?” asked Rohesia.
“Yes,” said Irena.
“You can try again. Nothing to worry about.”
Oh, Earstien. Trying again meant going through all of this a second time, with no more guarantee of success than before. Maybe they’d have to try a third time, or a fourth time, or even more. Irena remembered a school friend of hers who had been one of eight sisters, with no brothers. The very thought of that made Irena want to die.
She let Rohesia place the little baby girl in her arms. It moved and kicked, and let out a burbling little wail. Irena looked at it, then closed her eyes and laid her head back down. “I...I’m very tired, actually,” she murmured. “And I think I need more drugs.”
Rohesia took the girl back. “Very well. I’ll take your little darling here to the nurse, and then I’ll go find the physician. Should I send in your husband?”
Irena bit her lip and tried not to cry. She shook her head.
But either Rohesia didn’t see the gesture, or she didn’t think Irena was serious. A few moments later, Edwin took his mother’s place at Irena’s side. “How are you feeling?” he asked, taking her hand.
“How do you think I’m feeling?”
“At least you survived. And we’ve got a daughter now.” He was smiling, but she thought she could see the disappointment in his eyes. This was the one thing she was supposed to do for him, and she had let him down.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s nothing to be sorry about.” He didn’t look as if he believed that, though. “The physician and the midwife both say it’s more than likely that the next time will be easier for you.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said, in a dull, flat tone.
“What do you think about the name ‘Aurora’? My mother suggested it.”
“It’s fine. It’ll do. Listen, could you go see what’s taking your mother so long? I would really like more drugs, please.”
“Sure, but first, um...there’s this thing where the preost is supposed to come in and give a blessing for you and the baby.”
Irena didn’t want to see a preost. She was pretty sure that all of this—the two days in labor, the terrible pain, the baby being a girl—was Earstien’s judgment on her. She had earned all of this through her sins. When the preost saw her, he would know. He would lean over her and whisper, “See? That’s what you get!”
But no one cared what Irena wanted. In a few minutes, the preost came into her room, followed by Queen Rohesia, Edwin, and little Lady Helena, along with Lady Rada and Baron Walter, their two boys, and half the staff of the Villa Cedra. Callista was there, too, standing discreetly at the back of the crowd. Elwyn wasn’t present, though. That was a small mercy.
The preost lit a candle and said a long series of prayers, first while laying a hand on Aurora, and then with a hand on Irena. Then there was a hymn, and the crowd moved off. They were all smiling and laughing and talking about the party they were going to have out in the garden.
Even before everyone was gone, the physician hurried up to Irena and gave her some more opium in a glass of wine. It was perfect—the best thing that had happened to her since waking up. The pain faded away again, and she was pretty sure she was about to pass out. Sleep would be so marvelous; she almost couldn’t wait.
Before she could nod off, though, she heard quiet footsteps and looked up to see Callista standing over her, smiling.
“I wanted you to know that everything is going well,” the Emissaria whispered. “I’ve been keeping Edwin entertained, and I’ve been steering him clear of those dancing girls at Elwyn’s parties.” She patted Irena gently on the shoulder. “So rest easy now. He’ll be entirely yours again once you’re up to it.”
Irena wanted to tell her to stop. She wanted to say, “This was all a terrible mistake. Please don’t sleep with my husband anymore.” But before she could get the words out, Callista walked away. The drugs hit Irena with their full force, and she drifted off to sleep again.
***
THERESE
The news that Irena Sigor had given birth to a girl was a tremendous relief to Therese. And then she felt bad for feeling that way. But she couldn’t help it. If the Sigors had a boy, then there would have been tremendous pressure for Therese to have one, too. Not that she had any control over that outcome, of course, but sometimes people acted as if she could change the baby’s sex by sheer willpower.
She heard people talking about it in the Palm Court. “If the princess can give us a boy, we’ll be one up on the Sigors,” one old baron had said, like this was a game and they were keeping score.
Muriel was the worst. “It’s best to have a son first if you can manage it,” she said.
“And how would I do that?” Therese asked.
“According to an ancient Odelandic medical text I read in my youth, it usually runs in families. Your mother had a boy first, as did I.” She smiled at Therese. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”
She did worry, though. The whole kingdom was counting on her. She didn’t want to let them down. More than that, she didn’t want to let Broderick down. When he returned from the army camps in the evening, she asked him if he wanted a boy or a girl.
“Either is fine,” he said. “And I don’t think we get to pick, so there’s no sense in speculating.”
“But if you could pick,” she went on, “which would you want?”
“Honestly, Therese, I’ll be happy either way.”
“Even if it’s a girl, and she can’t inherit the throne?”
He winked. “Maybe I’ll change the law when I’m king so that she can.”
Therese couldn’t help laughing. “What a thoughtful father you are.”
“Yes, I am, aren’t I? Speaking of which, while I was down in camp, I talked to the army physicians, and I picked up some things for you.” He kissed her, then fetched a small bag, which proved to be full of various little jars and tins. “Let’s see...tincture of opium, ginger and turmeric, willow bark extract, calendula....” The list went on and on, and he set them out on her dressing table, one after another. “Just in case you feel any, um...discomfort.”
She gave him a kiss. “Yes, I’ve been told there will be some degree of discomfort, dear. It’s very sweet of you to think of this.”
She was trying to put a brave face on it, but she had heard some truly nightmarish stories from the older women at court. Some of them had nearly made her faint.
Muriel hadn’t been much help. “Oh, it’s different for everyone,” she had said, when Therese nervously asked her what labor was like. “You won’t know until it happens, I’m afraid.”
They had lunch in the queen’s rooms, and Muriel regaled them once again with the story of Broderick’s birth. “In the midst of it all, so I am told, I said to your father that if he ever tried to have sex with me again, I would snap it off.” She chuckled. “I don’t remember that at all, but both he and my mother swore that it happened.”
Therese laughed. Then she felt a very odd tightening in her stomach, and a sensation like she needed to find a privy very quickly. Before she could excuse herself, however, she was leaking like a cracked bottle all over the queen’s white silk cushions. “Oh, Earstien! I’m so sorry,” she cried.
Muriel took one look, nodded, and turned to Broderick. “Go fetch the physicians, darling. Oh, and the midwife, too, if you would.”
The queen rang for her servants, told them to clean up the mess, and then helped Therese to the nearest bed, which happened to be Muriel’s own.
“I’m so sorry,” Therese repeated. “This is going to ruin your nice sheets.”
“I was getting bored with this color, anyway. Now just relax, and I’ll go find you something to take the edge off the pain.”
Perhaps the drugs were better than Therese had anticipated, but the pain was surprisingly tolerable. She kept thinking it had to get worse. She kept waiting for what one of the old ladies had called, “that moment when it feels like someone set your nether region on fire and then tried to put it out with a sledgehammer.” But she never felt anything like that.
The midwife arrived, and her eyebrows went up when she examined Therese. “Oh! We’re moving right along now, aren’t we?” The physician got there minutes before the baby did. One moment of severe discomfort, a big push, and it was over.
“Oh, Earstien,” Therese said to herself, “was that it?”
She was tired, she was sore, and she felt like she needed about a dozen baths. But compared to some of the stories she had heard, this was nothing. She said a quick prayer of thanks.
The midwife bustled around, cleaning things up. All Therese had to do was lie there and relax. It seemed perfect, right up until the moment the midwife handed the baby to Muriel. The queen looked it up and down and arched an eyebrow.
“Well, unfortunately,” she said, “it’s a girl.” She gave Therese a little smile. “Ah well. Better luck next time.”
At that, Therese burst into tears. It was more a release of tension than real disappointment, but Broderick rushed over to put an arm around her.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mother,” he said. “Could you give us a minute, please?”
When she and the midwife were gone, and it was just the three of them—Broderick, Therese, and their new little daughter—Therese asked him if he was disappointed at all.
“I told you it doesn’t matter,” he said. “It really doesn’t. I wasn’t lying.”
“We can try again,” she offered.
“Only if you want. You don’t ever have to do this again if you don’t want to.”
“I do.”
“Then so do I.”