The Skull Throne

CHAPTER 16 DEMON’S HEIR 333 AR WINTER

“Apologies, mistress,” Tarisa said, trying for a third time to fasten the back of Leesha’s gown. “The material appears to have shrunk. Perhaps you should choose another while I have the seamstresses let it out.”

Shrunk. Tarisa, bless her, was far too discreet to ever tell Leesha she was putting on weight, but it was clear as day in the silvered mirror. The face that stared back at her was plumper, a change shared by her bosom, which seemed to have doubled in size over the last fortnight. Thamos was paying them more attention, but had not yet put the evidence together. Tarisa, however, had a knowing look in her eye, and a hint of smile at the corner of her mouth.

“Please.” Leesha stepped behind the changing screen, running a hand over her stomach as she slipped out of the gown. It remained flat enough, but that wouldn’t last. Her mother had told her the gossip was already beginning weeks ago. None dared speak of it to her face, but the moment her belly began to swell, there would be no stopping the goodwives from swarming her, causing such a stir Thamos couldn’t help but notice.

Her hands clenched as panic took her. Her heart pounded, and it felt like her chest was bound tight, unable to draw a full breath. She gasped for air, eyes beginning to water, but she bit back her sobs. It would not do for Tarisa to see her so.

She fumbled for a kerchief, but none was to be found. She was about to lift the hem of her shift to dry her eyes when Tarisa’s hand appeared, passing a clean cloth behind the screen.

“Tears will come and go, my lady,” the woman said. “Better by far than sloshing up.”

She knows. It was not a surprise, but the confirmation still terrified Leesha. Her time was fast running out. In some ways, it was already too late.

“Had enough of both to last a lifetime,” Leesha said. “Please fetch the green gown.” That one had laces more easily adjusted.

There was no council session this day, and Thamos had already left for his office. Tarisa, having planted the seed, kept her talk about frivolous things. She had made herself available if Leesha wished to talk, but knew her place too well to press. She and the other servants would no doubt be elated. They all loved the count, and had welcomed Leesha openly. Everyone wanted an heir.

What will they think when they discover the child is heir to the demon of the desert and not their beloved count?

Leesha hurried from the palace as quickly as possible, needing distance from prying eyes of the servants. Tarisa might not speak of her suspicions to Leesha directly, but no doubt gossip was rampant in the servants’ quarters.

The hospit was little safer. The women might not see her in a state of undress as Tarisa did, but they saw with trained eyes. A good Gatherer was taught to suspect that every woman might be pregnant, and looked for the signs reflexively. Leesha hurried through the main floor to her office, closing the door. She sat at her desk and put her head in her hands.

Creator, what am I going to do?

There was a knock at the door, and Leesha swore under her breath. Was a moment’s peace too much to ask?

She arched her back, drawing a deep breath and blocking away her own concerns. “Enter.”

Amanvah slipped into the room, followed by Lusy Yarnballer, shooting daggers into the young priestess’ back.

It was all Leesha could do not to burst into tears. Why couldn’t it have been a rock demon?

Fortunately, the women were too involved in their own drama to even notice as Leesha composed herself. Both strode to the chairs in front of Leesha’s desk, taking seats without invitation. Lusy’s mouth was a hard line, veins throbbing at her temples. Just the sight of it made Leesha’s own head ache.

Amanvah was more composed, but Leesha could tell it was an act. The woman looked ready to pull her silk veil aside and spit. “We must speak with you, mistress.”

Leesha’s nostrils flared. Amanvah was respectful, but she could not mask the imperious tone that came with her requests, as if they were mere formalities and complicity assured.

“The negotiations are not going well?” she asked, knowing well the answer.

Amanvah’s serenity broke. “She wants a palace. A palace! For a chin third wife whose family are servants to shepherds.”

“Ay!” Lusy cried.

“Do not be so quick to judge those of low station,” Leesha said. She had been the one to suggest the palace to Lusy, after studying Krasian marriage laws. “Was not Kaji born to a family of lowly fruit pickers? Dozens of his wives had palaces of their own.”

“Kaji was the Deliverer, touched by Everam,” Amanvah said.

“By your own words, Rojer is touched by Everam as well,” Leesha noted.

Amanvah paused at that. “He is …”

“And also by your own words, Kendall shares something of his gift. Does that not mean she, too, is touched?”

Amanvah leaned back, crossing her arms defensively. “Everam touches all in some way. Not everyone gets a palace. Do I have one? Does Sikvah? We are Blood of the Deliverer. Should this Kendall be put above us?”

“Ay, that’s right,” Lusy said. “Maybe she ought to be Jiwah First or whatever.”

Amanvah’s eyebrow twitched, and Leesha knew she had taken it too far.

“That’s enough, Lusy.” She put a touch of lash into the words, and the woman started. “I know you love your daughter and want the best for her, but what in the Core do you need a palace for? Night, have you ever even seen one?”

Lusy looked ready to cry. Not the sharpest spear. “B-but you said …”

Leesha had no time to coddle her, cutting the woman off before she gave away the ruse. “I never said for you to be insulting. Apologize. Now.”

Lusy, a terrified look on her face, turned to Amanvah, pulling her skirts in a clumsy, seated imitation of a curtsy. “Sorry, your, er …”

“Highness,” Leesha supplied.

“Highness,” Lusy echoed.

“I think it’s best we give this a little time for everyone to think it through.” Leesha said. “Amanvah to remind herself Kendall is not some pack mule to haggle over, and Lusy to remind herself of the Canon’s passages on greed. Roni will schedule a time we can meet again. Perhaps at full moon?”

Full moon was a blessed day to the Evejans, a day for oaths and alliances. It also happened to put the problem off for nearly a month, when she and Lusy would look for another reason to delay.

Amanvah nodded. “That is acceptable.”

Lusy wasted no time getting out of her seat. She curtsied and was gone. Amanvah remained seated, shaking her head as the door closed behind her.

“Everam’s balls, I am not sure if that woman is a bazaar grand master or a complete idiot.”

Leesha was shocked. “Why Amanvah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse.”

“I am a Bride of Everam,” Amanvah said. “If I cannot speak of His balls, who can?”

Leesha laughed at that—her first real laugh in what felt like forever. Amanvah joined her, and for a moment there was peace between them.

“Is something else on your mind, Amanvah?” she asked.

“You are carrying a child,” Amanvah said. “I want to know if it is my father’s.”

And just like that, the peace was gone. So, too, was Leesha’s weariness and frustration. Adrenaline flooded her, every sense on alert. If Amanvah dared make the slightest threat to her child …

“I don’t know what you’re talking …”

Amanvah held up her hora pouch. “Do not lie, mistress. The dice have already confirmed it.”

“But not whose it is?” Leesha asked. “Curious things, these dice. Fickle, it seems. Unreliable.”

“That you are with child, there is no doubt,” Amanvah said. “To know more, I would require blood.”

She looked at Leesha pointedly. “Just a drop or two, and I could tell the father, the sex, even the very future of the child.”

“Even if I was, what business of yours is any of that?” Leesha asked.

Amanvah gave a rare bow. “If child is my half sibling, blood of the Deliverer, it is my duty to protect it. Few know better than I how many assassins a child of Shar’Dama Ka will draw.”

It was a tempting offer. The sex of the child might mean a difference of years in the coming war with Krasia, and Leesha desperately wished to know the path to keep the child safe.

But she did not hesitate to shake her head. Giving Amanvah even a drop of blood would let her cast a foretelling that could lay out Leesha’s every weakness. No dama’ting would ever have the nerve to so bluntly ask another hora user for her blood. It was an insult that could create enmity to last generations.

Leesha turned her voice to a lash. “You forget yourself, daughter of Ahmann. That, or you think me a fool. Begone from my sight. Now, before I lose patience with you completely.”

Amanvah blinked, but Leesha’s stare was hard, her words sincere. Leesha was in her place of power. Everyone in the Hollow would turn on Amanvah if she so much as raised a finger. Most of them were waiting eagerly for the day.

The young priestess kept her dignity as she rose. Her quick strides to the door were not quite a scurry.

As the latch clicked shut, Leesha put her head back in her hands.

Amanvah had a queer look about her as she climbed into the motley coach. Rojer had become accustomed to her moods, reading them in her eyes and bearing as easily as he did with the corelings.

But no empathy could tell him what Amanvah was thinking now. Her manner was unprecedented, showing nothing of her usual haughtiness. She seemed almost shaken.

Rojer reached for her hand. “Are you all right, my love?”

Amanvah returned the squeeze. “All is well, husband. I am simply frustrated.”

Rojer nodded, though he knew how frustration looked on Amanvah, and this wasn’t it.

“Mum still won’t see reason?” Kendall asked.

“Surely Mistress Leesha has convinced her,” Sikvah said.

“Wouldn’t count on that,” Rojer said. “She may not openly oppose it, but Leesha ent thrilled about the idea, either.”

“It remains to be seen,” Amanvah said. “Mistress Leesha appears willing to mediate the contract, but I am not convinced she is impartial. She may drive the dower beyond our ability to pay.”

“Don’t care about any dower,” Kendall said. “Let me talk to her …”

Amanvah shook her head. “Absolutely not. It is not proper for you to involve yourself in these proceedings, little sister.”

“Ay, so everyone gets a say in my marriage but me?” Kendall said.

Rojer had to laugh at that. “Had more say than me. Wasn’t even asked if I wanted it.” When Kendall stared at him, he quickly added, “Though of course I do. Sooner, the better.”

“This is exactly why both of you must be kept above the debate,” Amanvah said. “You will both see the contract before you are asked to sign, but hearing your flaws laid bare as the haggling continues can only do harm. As it is written in the Evejah, The cold of negotiating a marriage can douse the fires in which it must burn.”

Kendall sighed. “Just tired of having to sleep at my mum’s. Don’t care about some piece of paper.”

Rojer walked in the naked night, his warded cloak thrown back despite the chill air. He breathed deep, filling his lungs with winter’s bite. He had suffocated in that cloak for too long.

Rojer and Kendall played an easy melody on their fiddles, subtly nudging corelings in the area away, while Amanvah and Sikvah sang a harmony to make them invisible to demon senses.

There were five of them in all. Kendall and Sikvah at the rear, joined in their music like lovers. He and Amanvah were similarly linked. He could feel her voice resonating inside him, more intimate than the touch of their sexes. All four played the same piece, but Amanvah’s voice was led by Rojer’s fiddle, while Sikvah followed Kendall’s. This allowed them to break in two as needed, the blend of strings and voice enhancing each other’s power. Ahead strode Coliv, vigilant, shield and spear at the ready.

They carried no light—the world lit by magic. Rojer and Kendall wore motley warded masks Amanvah and Sikvah had made, allowing them to see its glow. The princesses wore delicate gold nets in their hair, dangling warded coins that offered the same power. Amanvah had sewn the sight wards into Coliv’s turban and veil that he might accompany them.

They walked until they found their favorite practice spot, a wide knoll that let them see far in every direction. Coliv was atop it in an instant, surveying the land. He gave sign all was clear, and the others followed.

When they were in position, Rojer lifted bow from string, his fiddle and Amanvah’s voice falling silent as one.

Kendall nodded, changing the easy melody that kept the demons at bay to a call that reached far into the night, drawing corelings to them with promise of easy prey. Sikvah kept singing, her voice still masking their presence.

Wind demons were the first to reach them, two of the creatures circling down from above. Kendall drew them close, and then her music suddenly shifted. Sikvah smoothly dropped her masking spell, joining her voice to Kendall’s music, and the demons shifted in midflight, colliding with one another and falling from the sky in a jumble of snapping beaks and slashing talons. They struck the ground so heavily Rojer almost could hear their hollow bones shattering.

He and Amanvah applauded, and Kendall and Sikvah bowed as he had taught them.

“Field demons to the west,” Coliv called. The reap was small, only five of the beasts, but five field demons could rend them to pieces in seconds.

Both women were calm as they turned to regard the approaching threat. Already Sikvah had resumed her song of unsight, masking the five humans atop the hill from the demons’ senses as surely as a warded cloak.

As the reap came in, pulled by Kendall’s insistent call, she knit her brow and layered another melody over the first, wracking them with pain. Sikvah layered a harmony to match, keeping them hidden even as she added power to Kendall’s attack.

Rojer’s hand clenched on the neck of his fiddle as the demons closed, remembering the night she had been cored because of his failing.

But Kendall had been out in the naked night without him many times since, and it was time to stop coddling her.

“Too easy,” he called, as Kendall set the corelings fighting. “Any two-klat Jongleur with one of my music sheets can make demons fight each other.” It wasn’t entirely true, but Kendall was still being timid in her harmony with Sikvah. She needed to push herself.

Kendall smiled at him. “Ay? How about if they fight themselves?”

She twisted the music like a knife in a wound, and the field demons turned their teeth and talons upon themselves. First Kendall made them claw their own eyes, leaving them stumbling blind in agony and rage. Soon after she had them lying on their backs, biting and clawing at themselves in a frenzy until the sheer number of wounds overwhelmed them. Hot, stinking ichor, glowing bright with magic, pooled like syrup around them.

After a few moments, only one of the demons was still kicking. It was a thickly armored creature, the leader of the reap. Kendall eased her melody away, and it leapt to its feet, wounds already beginning to close. In minutes it would be fully healed, and those milky blind eyes would see once more.

Kendall gave it no time. She reached out tendrils of music, catching the demon fast and leading it in a blind charge right into an exposed rock face on the hilltop. It stumbled back, shrieking, but Kendall might as well have had it on a string, using the demon’s own legs to smash its head back into the stone. Again and again, until there was only a wet slapping sound and the creature collapsed, its skull smashed.

Rojer gave a shrill whistle to accompany their applause. Even Coliv banged his spear on his shield. But then he pointed. “Flame demons coming from the south. Wood from the east.”

Rojer looked and saw the approaching corelings, still a few moments away. “Fiddle down, Kendall. Amanvah and Sikvah’s turn.”

Amanvah glided over to join Sikvah, her voice lifting and falling naturally into Sikvah’s song of unsight, weaving in a song of summoning.

Kendall was smiling proudly as she came to Rojer, pressing right up against him. He felt his heart quicken and his face flush. It took little, these days, for his apprentice to excite him. She was a whole new person to him now.

“You’ll soon be as good as me,” Rojer said, meaning it.

Kendall kissed his cheek. “Better.”

“From your lips to the Creator’s ears,” Rojer said. “I’d have it no other way.”

The flame demons came racing up the hill, but before they could reach the top, his wives seduced them. Rojer tried other words to describe it, but none was so apt. The corelings circled Amanvah and Sikvah, giving off a soft, rhythmic noise that sounded disturbingly like purring.

The copse of wood demons drew near, spreading out to surround the hilltop. Coliv dropped into a crouch, and Rojer and Kendall gripped their instruments, ready to raise them at a moment’s notice.

Amanvah led the way as the singers dropped a pitch. The flame demons arched their backs, hissing, and darted to take up guard around the hilltop. They kept hissing as the woodies approached, and when they were in range, spat fire at them.

The resulting battle was fierce, but ultimately one-sided. Wood demons were wary of flame demons, but nevertheless killed them on sight. Flame demons could hurt them, even kill occasionally, but seldom before a wood demon crushed several of them.

Then Sikvah began a counterpoint to Amanvah’s seduction, extending the song of unsight to cover their new allies. Woodies swung wildly, but the nimble flame demons danced around the lumbering blows, hawking great gobs of firespit. The spit stuck where it landed, burning with an intense flame that left Rojer seeing spots. He flexed his right hand, crippled where a flame demon had bitten off his index and middle fingers.

Soon the last of the wood demons had collapsed, bright pyres that burned out into a charred and blackened remain.

“Might as well have stepped into a sunbeam,” Kendall said, applauding.

“Ay,” Rojer said loudly, “but like I told you, making demons fight each other is easy.” Of course, what his wives had done was far beyond that, but like Kendall, they were here to test their boundaries.

Amanvah smiled at him, and Rojer knew his confidence was well placed. She touched her choker as she climbed octaves, the song that moments before had the flame demons dancing their victory becoming a lash that drove them north at a frantic run. There was a cold fishing pond barely a mile in that direction. His senses enhanced by the wardsight, Rojer heard the splashes as the flame demons leapt in, and saw the rising clouds of steam that marked their passing.

There was a flash of magic above their heads, and Rojer looked up to see a wind demon plummet to the ground a few feet away, Coliv’s spear embedded in its chest. The spear survived the fall. The coreling did not.

The Watcher bowed deeply. “You are all touched by Everam, it is true. But this will not save you, if you drop your guard. Everam has no time for fools who do not respect Nie’s might.”

Rojer expected Amanvah to snap at his haughty tone. Instead, she gave a fraction of a bow. More than he had ever seen her give a mere warrior. “You speak wisdom, Watcher, and we hear.”

Coliv bowed again. “I live to serve, Holy Daughter.”

Leesha kept her door shut as she tackled the mounds of paper covering her desk. Outside, Wonda kept visitors away, even Jizell and Darsy. She was in no mood to see anyone.

Wonda’s distinctive knock came at the door, and Leesha sighed, wondering who it was she thought urgent enough to disturb over. “Come in, dear.”

Wonda poked her head in. “Sorry, mistress …”

Leesha did not look up from her papers, pen scratching as she marked, signed, and annotated. “Unless someone’s dying, Wonda, I haven’t the time. Tell them to make an appointment.”

“Ay, that’s just it,” Wonda said. “You asked me to get you at dusk. Supposed to test the Warded Children this evening.”

“It can’t possibly be dusk already …” Leesha began, but looking through her window at the darkening sky, she realized it was true. Already her office so dim she was straining her eyes without realizing.

Leesha looked at the barely dented pile of papers beside her and fought down the urge to weep. Dusk came earlier each day as they approached Solstice, making the tasks she need to accomplish seem that much more insurmountable. Night was a vise, crushing her. New moon in summer had nearly destroyed them. Hollowers died every minute, the entire county holding on for dawn’s succor and time to refortify. What would happen if the coreling princes returned when dark was half again as long, and daylight a scant few hours?

“And Stela wrestled a rippin’ wood demon!” Wonda was saying as Leesha’s carriage made its way home. She and Wonda used to walk the mile from her cottage to the hospit, but now there was no peace for Leesha when she did. Too many well-wishers, petitioners, and would-be advisors.

“Creator, you should have seen it.” Wonda went on. “Corespawn’s thrashing and kicking fit to tear itself in two, and there’s Stela on its back, calm as a tree, waiting patiently for her next hold. Broke its spine in two when she found it.”

“Eh?” Leesha shook her head. “She did what?”

“Ent heard a word I said the last ten minutes, have you?” Wonda asked.

Leesha shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear.”

Wonda squinted at her. “When’s the last time you slept, mistress?”

Leesha shrugged. “A few hours last night.”

“Three,” Wonda said. “Counted. Ent enough, mistress. You know it. ’Specially with you …”

“With me what?” Leesha demanded. They were quite alone. Leesha had put sound-muffling wards in the carriage for privacy.

Wonda paled. “With you … I mean …”

“Out with it, Wonda,” Leesha snapped.

“In a family way,” Wonda said at last.

Leesha sighed. “Who told you?”

Wonda looked at the carriage floor. “Mistress Jizell. Said you needed extra looking after, and were too stubborn to admit it.”

Leesha puckered her lips. “She did, did she?”

“Only trying to look out for you and the little one,” Wonda said. “Din’t know what it was, but I seen how sick you been since we left the south. It’s the demon’s heir, ent it?”

“Wonda Cutter!” Leesha snapped, making the girl jump. “I don’t ever want to hear you call my child that again.”

“Din’t mean …”

Leesha crossed her arms. “You did.”

Wonda looked like she might be sick. “Mistress, I …”

“This once,” Leesha cut in when she hesitated, “I’ll let it pass. This once, for the love I bear you. But never again. When I want you or anyone else to know my business, I’ll tell you. In the meantime, I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of it.”

Wonda nodded, her giant woman’s body shrunk back like the teenage girl she was inside. “Ay, mistress.”

It was full dark by the time they returned to her cottage, but the yard was abustle with apprentices, Gatherers, and the mustering Warded Children. It was standing room only in the theater, where Vika was giving a lesson in warding Cloaks of Unsight. Leesha wanted every Gatherer and apprentice in the Hollow to have one before winter was out.

Vika was seated beside the speaker’s podium, drawing wards onto vellum in the lens chamber. The mirrors and lenses bounced the image onto a white screen as hundreds of women copied the marks into their warding books.

“Children are still gathering,” Wonda said, “and it’ll take Roni and the girls a while to set the weights and measures. Why not nap for a bit? I’ll come knock when we need you.”

Leesha looked at her. “No scolding’s going to keep you from mothering me now, is it?”

Wonda smiled helplessly. “Sorry, mistress. Ent like I can stop knowin’ something.”

Leesha regretted the harsh tone she had used on the girl. Wonda might only be sixteen, but she carried an adult’s responsibilities with a grace few of any age could match. Leesha feared nothing when Wonda was watching over her.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Wonda,” she said. “You’re only looking out for me, and I love you for it. You keep at it, even when I’m being …”

“Stubborn as a rock demon?” Wonda supplied.

Leesha laughed in spite of herself. “I’m straight to bed, Mum.”

The way to the cottage door was clear when Wonda moved off to meet the children. They looked at her in wonder, crossing fists over hearts as they gave a sharusahk student’s bow. Many of them were older than she was, but nevertheless looked to her as their leader.

Leesha quickened her pace, every step drawing her closer to a few stolen moments of peace. She would brew a tea to put her out, and have another ready to counter it when Wonda woke her. Dare she hope for four uninterrupted hours?

“Leesha,” a voice came from behind her, “glad I caught you.”

Leesha turned, putting a smile on her face that was indistinguishable from the real thing. It was Jizell, the last person in Thesa she wanted to see right now. A visit from Elona would have been preferable.

“Why aren’t you in Vika’s class?” Leesha said.

“Time was, Vika was my student, not the other way around.” Jizell waved her hand. “Let the girls learn warding. I’m too old to put my apprentice apron back on.”

“That’s enough of that,” Leesha snapped.

Jizell started. “Eh?”

“Did you not hear my speech?” Leesha pressed. “Or did you think you could ignore it because I was once your apprentice, too?”

Jizell’s face hardened. “You’ve got stones to say that, girl, after all I’ve done for you. Been working my fingers to the bone since we came to the Hollow when I could’ve headed back to Angiers a moon ago.”

“You have,” Leesha agreed. “So much that the other women look to you when I’m not around. And that is why you need to set a better example, for everyone’s sake. If you ignore me and skip warding class, what’s to stop every Gatherer above fifty from doing it?”

“Not everyone needs to learn warding, Leesha,” Jizell snapped. “You’re asking too much of these women too quick. Piling books and rules on them without even checking to see if they have letters.”

“No,” Leesha said. “You’re asking too little. I nearly died on the road from Angiers because I couldn’t ward so much as a circle of protection. I won’t see that happen to any Gatherer again, if I can help it. Every woman’s life is worth a few hours’ study.”

“Won’t we all soon have Warded Children to protect us?” Jizell asked. “The gossips say that’s your master plan. A warded bodyguard for every Gatherer.”

Leesha wanted to tear her hair. “Night, it’s just a ripping class! Stop undermining me and go!”

Jizell put her hands on her hips. “Undermining? How in the Core have I been undermining?”

“You argue requests that will save lives!” Leesha said. “You ignore rules I set. You act like I’m still your apprentice. Night, you even call me ‘girl’ in front of the other Gatherers!”

Jizell looked surprised. “You know I don’t mean anything by that …”

“I do,” Leesha said. “But the others don’t. It needs to stop.”

Jizell gave a mocking curtsy, hurt clear in her voice. “Anything else you need to get off your paps, mistress?”

Leesha wondered if things would ever be the same between them after this, but she had learned no good came from running away from problems. “You told Wonda I was pregnant.”

Jizell only took a moment to answer, but the desperate search for a lie flashed across her aura so brightly Leesha would have seen it with her eyes closed. “Figured she must already know—”

“Demonshit,” Leesha hissed. “You’re not some fool gossip, letting out scandals by accident. You told her because you wanted her mothering me.”

“Ay, what if I did?” Jizell put fists on her hips. Leesha might be an adult now, but the woman still loomed over her. “You trust the girl with your life, but not your babe’s? You’re pushing all of us hard, Leesha, but yourself most of all. You’re a woman grown, ay, and can make that choice for yourself, but you’re making choices for two, and neither Wonda nor I is going to let you forget that. Keep arguing and I’ll tell Darsy, as well.”

Leesha’s face heated. She loved Darsy like a sister, but the woman kept a Canon in the apron pocket over her heart. She wouldn’t even brew pomm tea for women. This … Leesha had no reason to think Darsy or many of the other Gatherers would stand by her if it was known she was carrying any child out of wedlock, much less Ahmann Jardir’s.

And with that thought, Jizell started drifting away, blackness closing on Leesha’s vision. She felt herself falling, and the jolt as Jizell caught her, but they were distant things.

“Mistress Leesha!” Wonda called, but she was miles away.

Leesha woke in her own bed. She sat up, looking around the darkened room in confusion. It felt like there were weights on her eyelids.

“Wonda?” she called.

“Mistress Jizell!” Wonda rushed to her bedside. “Gave us all a scare, mistress.”

Jizell appeared with a candle, squeezing Wonda aside. She lifted Leesha’s drooping eyelids with a firm but gentle grasp, holding the candle flame close to check dilation.

“Everything’s sunny, Leesha,” Jizell said, caressing her cheek. “You go on back to sleep. Nothing happening that can’t wait until morning.”

Leesha scraped her dry tongue around the inside of her mouth. “You gave me tampweed and skyflower.”

Jizell nodded. “Sleep. Gatherer’s orders.”

Leesha smiled, snuggling her head back into the pillow and letting blessed sleep claim her.

When she awoke the next morning, Leesha felt stronger than she had in months. Her thoughts were still fogged from the sleeping draught, but it was nothing a good strong tea wouldn’t fix.

Jizell was waiting as she shuffled out of her bedroom, clutching her shawl tight. Her mentor moved about Leesha’s kitchen as comfortably as she did her own. She pushed a steaming teacup into Leesha’s hand, deep black with a dollop of honey, like they had shared on countless mornings. “Bathwater’s hot. See to your privy and take a seat at the table. I’ll have breakfast ready before you know it.”

Leesha nodded, but lingered. “I’m so sorry for what I said.”

Jizell waved a hand. “You oughtn’t be. You were right about most of it. Could have been politer, but a pregnant woman who ent slept right in a month is apt to be prickly. Now go wash up.”

By the time Leesha had finished her bath and tea, her thoughts were clear. She chose her favorite dress and sat to breakfast. As promised, Jizell had a steaming plate of eggs and vegetables waiting.

“Examined you while you were out cold,” Jizell said. “Child’s heart thumps like a Cutter’s axe. Strong.” She pointed her fork at Leesha. “But you’re already starting to show. Thamos might not notice with his face buried in your paps, but the rest of the town will be happy to point it out to him, if they haven’t already. If you mean to tell him before someone else does, now’s the time.”

Leesha kept her eyes on her food. Jizell, like most of the Hollowers, assumed the child belonged to Thamos. “I’ll speak to him. I have to tend the Royal Garden today anyway.”

Jizell laughed. “That what you’ve been calling it? Good a name as any. You make sure that garden is good and tended before you tell him about the crop.”

The carriage took Leesha and Wonda right up to the entrance to the Royal Garden. Some of the count’s men approached, but Wonda moved to intercept them as Leesha disappeared into the boughs. None save her would pass into the garden with Wonda at the gate.

Her heart fluttered as she passed out of sight. Sneaking into Thamos’ Keep was ever a thrill. The fear of getting caught and the anticipation of sex was as strong as a bottle of couzi. But today was different. She would have him one last time as Jizell suggested, but as much for her as for him.

Leesha had once dismissed Thamos as a spoiled fop, good for little more than violence and easily manipulated. But Thamos had proven her wrong again and again. He was not creative, handling things in a by-the-book military fashion, but he was known for his fairness, and folk knew where they stood with him. He never hesitated to use his royal advantages, but neither did he hesitate to stand before the least of his people when the corelings came.

This visit might well end with their betrothal, and Leesha was surprised to find how badly she wanted that. The child would not come for half a year. Who could say what fate the Creator had in store between now and then?

In moments Leesha was through the maze of hedges and slipped through the hidden door into the count’s manse. Tarisa was waiting, escorting her discreetly to a waiting room with another hidden door, leading directly to Thamos’ bedchamber.

The count was waiting, taking her into his arms and kissing her deeply. “Are you all right, my love? There was word you fainted …”

Leesha kissed him again. “It was nothing.” She let her hand drift down, tugging at his belt. “We can steal an hour, at least, before Arther has the nerve to knock. You can take me twice, if you’re man enough.”

Leesha knew the count was up to the task. Thamos fought demons most every night, and she had worked hora into his armor and spear. The count was taller now than when she’d met him, and his lust, formidable even then when roused, was doubled now. Since their first night together, there had been no hint of the performance anxiety that had robbed him of stiffness. Already, she could feel his breeches tightening.

Surprisingly, Thamos pulled back, holding her arms at the elbow as he moved his manhood out of reach. “Nothing? You fell unconscious in front of half the Gatherers in the Hollow and it’s nothing?”

Thamos waited for her response, the silence heavy between them. He squeezed her shoulders, putting a gentle finger under her chin to lift her eyes to meet his. “If you have something to tell me, Leesha Paper, now is the time.”

He knows. Leesha wondered if it had been Tarisa who told him, but in truth it did not matter. “I’m pregnant.”

“I knew it!” Thamos boomed, grabbing her. For a moment she thought it was an attack, but his crushing embrace only lasted an instant before he lifted her from her feet, swinging her around with a whoop of joy.

“Thamos!” Leesha cried, and the count’s eyes widened.

He put her down instantly, staring at her belly in concern. “Of course. The child. I hope I did not …”

“It’s fine,” Leesha said, relief flooding her. “I’m just surprised to see you so pleased.”

Thamos laughed. “Of course I am pleased! Now you will have to become my countess. The people will insist on it, and I would have it no other way.”

“Are you certain of that?” Leesha asked.

Thamos nodded eagerly. “I can’t do this without you, Leesha, nor you without me. The Warded Man may be gone, but together, we can drive back the corelings and rebuild the Hollow into one of the great cities of old.”

Leesha could not deny the tingle his words brought to her. Her heart leapt into her throat as Thamos dropped to one knee, taking her hands in his. “Leesha Paper, I promise myself …”

Creator, he’s actually doing it. He has no idea it’s not his.

She froze. It was everything she wanted. At worst, she would have six months to plan. There were orphan children throughout the Hollow. Perhaps she could find a babe that looked enough like Thamos to make a switch and spirit Ahmann’s child to safety.

Or perhaps she was worried over nothing. She remembered Stefny’s words after the council.

Funny thing about children. People see in them what they want to see.

Thamos was swarthier than Leesha and often tanned. Her pale skin would burn, but no tan could take root. The child might be close enough to avoid scrutiny, especially if Leesha quickly delivered additional children, Thamos’ true heirs.

I will be a good wife, she promised silently. A good countess. You will not regret taking me as your bride, even if the day comes when you learn the truth.

Tears rolled down her nose in fat drops. She hadn’t even realized she was crying.

Creator, I think I’m in love.

She opened her mouth, wanting nothing more than to promise herself to this man and make his dreams come true.

But the words caught in her throat. He looked at her with such sincerity, such love, that she could not stand the thought of betraying him.

She pulled her hands away, taking a step back from him. “Thamos, I …”

“What is it, my love? Why are you not …” And then, suddenly, he put it together. Even without wardsight, she could see the change in his eyes as he stood.

“Night, the rumors are true,” Thamos said. “I had three of my men whipped for such talk just last week, but they spoke honest word. The demon of the desert. The man who conquered Rizon, killing thousands and filling all Thesa with a vagrant refugee class that will last for generations. You ripping stuck him.”

“And you stuck every maid in Angiers, to hear gossips tell it,” Leesha snapped. “I wasn’t promised to you when I lay with him, Thamos. We hardly knew each other. I didn’t even know you were coming to the Hollow.”

“Those maids weren’t killing by the thousand,” Thamos said, making no effort to deny it.

“If they were,” Leesha asked, “and you could slow their advance and learn their plans by bedding them, would you have hesitated?”

“So you were whoring, then,” Thamos said.

Leesha slapped him. Thamos’ eyes widened a moment in shock, then shut tight. His face was a snarl as he balled his great fists.

Leesha was edging her hand toward the pouch where she kept her blinding powder when he gave a shout and stormed away from her, pacing the room like a caged nightwolf. He gave another shout, punching the goldwood post of his great bed.

“Aaaahhh!” he cried, clutching the hand.

Leesha rushed to him, taking his hands. “Let me look.”

“Haven’t you done enough?!” Thamos shouted, his face a mask of anguish, reddened and tear-streaked.

Leesha looked at him calmly. “Please. You might have broken something. Just sit still for a moment and let me see.”

Thamos limply allowed himself to be led to the bed, where they sat as Leesha pulled his protective hand away and examined the damaged one. It was red, with the skin torn at the knuckles, but it could have been much worse.

“There’s nothing broken,” she said. From a pocket of her apron she took an astringent and cloth, cleaning and dressing the wound. “Just put it in a bowl of ice …”

“Is there at least a chance it’s mine?” Thamos’ eyes were pleading.

Leesha took a deep breath, shaking her head. She could almost feel her heart twisting and tearing in her chest. There was still a chance with Thamos, and she had just crushed it.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I swear it. If I could go back and change things, I would. I know I led you on. At first it was to protect the child, but only at first.”

“What was it after?” Thamos asked.

“Because I want to be your countess,” Leesha said. “More than anything, I want it.”

Thamos yanked his hand away, standing and beginning to pace again. “If that’s honest word, then prove it. Brew Weed Gatherer’s tea and flush the child. Start anew, as mine.”

Leesha blinked. It had not surprised her when her mother suggested it, and no doubt Inevera and Araine would want the same. Women could be cold about such things, when they had to. But she never thought Thamos would murder an innocent child.

“No,” she said. “I drank the tea once—without even knowing if there was a life growing in me or not—and it was the biggest regret of my life. More even than bedding Ahmann. Never again.”

“Augh!” Thamos cried, taking a vase and throwing it across the room. Leesha stiffened. Thamos had to work himself up to violence in the night. Why would it be different here? She rose as well, edging toward the secret door to the gardens.

And Wonda.

But again Thamos surprised her, the rage leaving him with a sigh as his shoulders slumped. His face was one of defeat as he turned to her. “You realize all Hollow County, and my mother, thinks it’s mine?”

Leesha nodded, weeping. Her legs turned to water, and she stumbled back to the bed, covering her face in a vain attempt to hide her sobbing. She sat there for long moments, wretched and convulsing, but then there was weight on the bed, and Thamos put an arm around her.

Leesha leaned in to him, wondering if it was for the last time. She clutched at his shirt, holding tight and breathing deep, remembering his scent.

“I’m sorry to involve you in this,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to start courting me, or that I would fall in love with you. I was just trying to protect my baby.”

“Protect it from who?” Thamos said. “No one in the Hollow would have harmed the child.”

“The Krasians would cut it from me, if they knew,” Leesha said. “Or worse, wait till it’s born and then take it from me, raising it to believe it’s the heir to the green lands.”

She looked at Thamos. “And your mother might take it hostage, too. Don’t deny it.”

Thamos dropped his eyes, nodding. “She would likely think it best.”

“And you, Thamos?” Leesha asked. She was pressing too soon, but she had to know. “A moment ago you could not go on without me. Would you see me imprisoned at court with your mother?”

Thamos slumped. “What am I to do? Rhinebeck still has no son. My mother thinks you may be carrying the next heir to the ivy throne in your womb. How am I supposed to tell her it’s the demon of the desert’s heir instead?”

“I don’t know,” Leesha said. “There’s no need to decide now. There’s been no formal announcement of my condition. Let’s just act normally and try to figure things out.” She squeezed Thamos’ hand, and when he did not pull away she leaned in for one last kiss.

Thamos jumped to his feet as if stung by a bee. “Don’t. Not now. Maybe not ever again.”

He took a step back, waving his hand at the hidden door. “I think you should go.”

Leesha sobbed as she slipped through the exit, running from the manse as quickly as she could without stumbling.