Queen of Song and Souls
Page 45
He drew a breath. "And speaking of wives, the earlier interruption was Lord Hewen, bringing me news of the queen. I'm afraid I must call a brief recess so that I may attend her. Those of you whose wives have also been ill this week might wish to do the same. We meet back here within the bell to plan the defense of Celieria against impending attack."
"King Dorian?" As the other lords filed out of the main chamber door, the Tairen Soul followed him to his private exit at the back. "Nothing amiss, I hope? The queen—"
"Is fine," Dorian assured him. "In excellent health, as a matter of fact." He spread his hands. "It seems the sickness sweeping through the courts is not a contagion, but rather a harbinger of good tidings. The queen is with child."
The Tairen Soul smiled, and the expression changed him from dangerous warrior to approachable friend in an instant. "Mioralas," he said, and there was no doubting his sincere joy. "Blessings of the Fey upon your wife and child."
"Yes ... well... I believe those blessings have already borne fruit for the queen and me—and for every other head of a noble Celierian House who attended that memorable banquet three months ago."
The Tairen Soul's smile froze on his face.
"Yes," Dorian said. "It seems your truemate spun much more than seven bells of inescapable desire in that weave of hers. Every woman who attended that dinner—from blushing young brides to grandmothers whose wombs long ago lost their fruitfulness—is now with child."
"Pregnant." Primage Gethen Nour, known to the Celierian court as the newly invested Lord Bolor, stared at Jiarine Montevero in disbelief, then began to pace the luxurious confines of her palace suite. "The queen is pregnant?"
"As are all the ladies who have fallen ill this last week, master," Jiarine confirmed.
His cold brown eyes pierced her. "Including you."
Jiarine's skin went pale. Her lashes dropped to shutter her eyes, a gesture of subservience that was more a matter of self-preservation. "To, including me, though it should not have been possible." A visit to a butcher of a hearth witch after an ill-conceived childhood dalliance had seen to that. And years of bastard-free mating with Master Mania — the handsome Elden Sulimage to whom she'd traded her soul— had confirmed it.
"Well."
She hazarded a glance up, to find Master Nour tapping his lip with his forefinger and watching her with a calculating gleam in his eye.
"Well," he said again, "this does bear some thought." Then he turned on his heel and began pacing again. "I am disappointed that you were not able to get the queen to drink my potion. Now more than ever."
"Forgive my failure, master," Jiarine murmured. A quick stab of vengeful satisfaction flashed before she could squelch it. Master Manza wouldn't have failed. Master Manza had earned Queen Annoura's trust in a way Nour never would. Master Manza had not turned the queen quickly enough, and the High Mage of Eld had sent Nour to replace him. Jiarine wondered how long it would be before Nour found himself replaced as well. Not too much longer, she hoped. Nour was a sick, sadistic rultshart, and had he been the Mage who approached her in her youth, she would never have surrendered her soul.
Nour's eyes narrowed. ”Your thoughts betray you, umagi. I see another lesson in obedience is in order."
Jiarine broke into a clammy sweat as the blood drained from her face.
At the sight of her distress, Nour's lips curled in a cruel smile. "Never fear, my dear. Sadistic rultshart I may be, but I promise none of what I have in mind will damage your child."
"Pregnant?" Ellysetta stared at Rain in stunned disbelief. "All of them?"
"Every last one, shei'tani. From young wives to women well past their childbearing years. You spun fertility even where it no longer existed."
"Bright Lord save me."
The corner of his mouth lifted, lavender eyes warm as he brushed a curling strand of hair back from her temple. "I think it's clear he sent you to save us, kem'san. The Fey prayed for fertility and the gods sent us a shei'dalin who can spin life into even a barren womb." He stepped back and drew her with him. "Come. The king has gone to see his queen, and he's asked us to visit her and offer healing."
She hung back. "Do you think that's wise? The queen has never been fond of the Fey—or of me—and to intrude upon her now, when she has just discovered what I did to her..."
"What you did was a blessing, not harm, whether she sees it that way now or not. And it is because of the child that Dorian is now so determined to have Gaelen test her before we leave. The possibility of a Mage's puppet sitting on the throne of Celieria ..."
Ellysetta shuddered. When Rain started for the door, she followed without protest, but as they waited for the quintet to precede them out of the suite, she asked, "What will we do, Rain, if the queen is already fully claimed?"
Rain's mouth went grim and his eyes met hers with stony resolve. Ellysetta swallowed and pressed a hand against her chest to still the sudden pounding of her heart.
Dorian was standing at his wife's bedside when the Fey entered the queen's apartments, and the tension between them charged the atmosphere like an electric storm. Pale and wan, Queen Annoura sat against a wall of pillows like a brittle doll, her lips pressed tightly together as if it were all she could do to hold back a torrent of angry words. Beside her, Dorian exuded an unhappy mix of vexation, disappointment, and dogged determination.
"King Dorian?" As the other lords filed out of the main chamber door, the Tairen Soul followed him to his private exit at the back. "Nothing amiss, I hope? The queen—"
"Is fine," Dorian assured him. "In excellent health, as a matter of fact." He spread his hands. "It seems the sickness sweeping through the courts is not a contagion, but rather a harbinger of good tidings. The queen is with child."
The Tairen Soul smiled, and the expression changed him from dangerous warrior to approachable friend in an instant. "Mioralas," he said, and there was no doubting his sincere joy. "Blessings of the Fey upon your wife and child."
"Yes ... well... I believe those blessings have already borne fruit for the queen and me—and for every other head of a noble Celierian House who attended that memorable banquet three months ago."
The Tairen Soul's smile froze on his face.
"Yes," Dorian said. "It seems your truemate spun much more than seven bells of inescapable desire in that weave of hers. Every woman who attended that dinner—from blushing young brides to grandmothers whose wombs long ago lost their fruitfulness—is now with child."
"Pregnant." Primage Gethen Nour, known to the Celierian court as the newly invested Lord Bolor, stared at Jiarine Montevero in disbelief, then began to pace the luxurious confines of her palace suite. "The queen is pregnant?"
"As are all the ladies who have fallen ill this last week, master," Jiarine confirmed.
His cold brown eyes pierced her. "Including you."
Jiarine's skin went pale. Her lashes dropped to shutter her eyes, a gesture of subservience that was more a matter of self-preservation. "To, including me, though it should not have been possible." A visit to a butcher of a hearth witch after an ill-conceived childhood dalliance had seen to that. And years of bastard-free mating with Master Mania — the handsome Elden Sulimage to whom she'd traded her soul— had confirmed it.
"Well."
She hazarded a glance up, to find Master Nour tapping his lip with his forefinger and watching her with a calculating gleam in his eye.
"Well," he said again, "this does bear some thought." Then he turned on his heel and began pacing again. "I am disappointed that you were not able to get the queen to drink my potion. Now more than ever."
"Forgive my failure, master," Jiarine murmured. A quick stab of vengeful satisfaction flashed before she could squelch it. Master Manza wouldn't have failed. Master Manza had earned Queen Annoura's trust in a way Nour never would. Master Manza had not turned the queen quickly enough, and the High Mage of Eld had sent Nour to replace him. Jiarine wondered how long it would be before Nour found himself replaced as well. Not too much longer, she hoped. Nour was a sick, sadistic rultshart, and had he been the Mage who approached her in her youth, she would never have surrendered her soul.
Nour's eyes narrowed. ”Your thoughts betray you, umagi. I see another lesson in obedience is in order."
Jiarine broke into a clammy sweat as the blood drained from her face.
At the sight of her distress, Nour's lips curled in a cruel smile. "Never fear, my dear. Sadistic rultshart I may be, but I promise none of what I have in mind will damage your child."
"Pregnant?" Ellysetta stared at Rain in stunned disbelief. "All of them?"
"Every last one, shei'tani. From young wives to women well past their childbearing years. You spun fertility even where it no longer existed."
"Bright Lord save me."
The corner of his mouth lifted, lavender eyes warm as he brushed a curling strand of hair back from her temple. "I think it's clear he sent you to save us, kem'san. The Fey prayed for fertility and the gods sent us a shei'dalin who can spin life into even a barren womb." He stepped back and drew her with him. "Come. The king has gone to see his queen, and he's asked us to visit her and offer healing."
She hung back. "Do you think that's wise? The queen has never been fond of the Fey—or of me—and to intrude upon her now, when she has just discovered what I did to her..."
"What you did was a blessing, not harm, whether she sees it that way now or not. And it is because of the child that Dorian is now so determined to have Gaelen test her before we leave. The possibility of a Mage's puppet sitting on the throne of Celieria ..."
Ellysetta shuddered. When Rain started for the door, she followed without protest, but as they waited for the quintet to precede them out of the suite, she asked, "What will we do, Rain, if the queen is already fully claimed?"
Rain's mouth went grim and his eyes met hers with stony resolve. Ellysetta swallowed and pressed a hand against her chest to still the sudden pounding of her heart.
Dorian was standing at his wife's bedside when the Fey entered the queen's apartments, and the tension between them charged the atmosphere like an electric storm. Pale and wan, Queen Annoura sat against a wall of pillows like a brittle doll, her lips pressed tightly together as if it were all she could do to hold back a torrent of angry words. Beside her, Dorian exuded an unhappy mix of vexation, disappointment, and dogged determination.
