A queen could not show fear.
When the doors of the Royal Bedchamber came into sight, Roslain and Katryen pressed closer to their sovereign. Sir Tharian Lintley and two of his Knights of the Body, who had been standing guard, now knelt before her.
“Your Majesty,” Lintley said, “for the sake of courtesy, I cannot guard your chamber on this, your wedding night. I entrust your protection to your companion, and your Ladies of the Bedchamber.”
Sabran laid a hand on his head. “Good Sir Tharian,” she said, “the Knight of Courtesy smiles on you.”
He stood, and he and his knights bowed to her. As they left, Katryen took the key from Roslain and opened the doors.
At the foot of the bed, the Arch Sanctarian stood with a prayer book in hand, murmuring. Aubrecht Lievelyn waited with his Grooms of the Inner Chamber. His nightshirt, edged with blackwork, fell open to show his collarbones.
“Your Majesty,” he said. In the firelight, his eyes were inkwells.
Sabran gave just the barest dip of her head. “Your Royal Highness.”
The Arch Sanctarian made the sign of the sword.
“The Saint blesses this bed. Let it bear the fruit of his unending vine.” He closed his prayer book. “And now it is time for friends to take their leave, so that these new friends might come to know each other. Saint give us all goodnight, for he watches us in darkness.”
“He watches us in darkness,” came the echo. Ead did not say it with the others.
The ladies and the grooms all curtsied. As Roslain straightened, Sabran whispered, “Ros.”
Roslain looked her in the eye. Out of sight of the men, she grasped Sabran so tightly by the hand that both their fingers blanched.
Katryen led Roslain out. As Ead followed them back through the door, she looked back at the queen, and their gazes touched.
For the first time, she saw Sabran Berethnet for who she was beneath the mask: a young and fragile woman who carried a thousand-year legacy on her shoulders. A queen whose power was absolute only so long as she could produce a daughter. The fool in Ead wanted to take her by the hand and get her away from this room, but that fool was too much of a coward to act. She left Sabran alone, like all the others had.
Margret and Linora were waiting. The five of them gathered in the dark.
“Did she seem all right?” Margret asked softly.
Roslain ran her hands down the front of her gown. “I don’t know.” She paced back and forth. “For the first time in my life, I cannot tell.”
“It is natural for her to be nervous.” Katryen spoke in a whisper. “How did you feel with Cal?”
“That was different. Cal and I were betrothed as children. He was not a stranger,” Roslain said. “And the fate of nations did not rest upon the fruit of our union.”
They kept their vigil, ears pricked for any changes in the Royal Bedchamber. When quarter of an hour had passed, Katryen pressed her ear to the doors.
“He is talking about Brygstad.”
“Let them talk,” Ead said, keeping her voice low. “They hardly know one another.”
“But what will we do if the union is not consummated?”
“Sabran will see it done.” Roslain looked into nothing. “She knows it is her bounden duty.”
The waiting continued for some time. Linora, who had settled on the floor, dozed off against the wall. Finally, Roslain, who had been still as stone, began to pace again.
“What if—” She wrung her fingers. “What if he is a monster?”
Katryen stepped toward her. “Ros—”
“You know, my lady mother told me that Sabran the Eighth was ill-used by her companion. He drank and whored and said cruel things to her. She never told anyone. Not even her ladies-in-waiting. Then, one night”—she pressed a hand flat to her stomacher—“the despicable knave struck her. Cracked her cheekbone and broke her wrist—”
“And he was executed for it.” Katryen gathered her close. “Listen, now. Nothing is going to happen to Sab. I have seen how Lievelyn is with his sisters. He has the heart of a lambkin.”
“He might be the very picture of a lambkin,” Ead said, “but monsters often have soft faces. They know how to mask themselves.” She looked them both in the eye. “We will watch her. We will listen well. Remember why we wear blades as well as jewels.”
Roslain held her gaze, and slowly she nodded. A moment later, so did Katryen. Ead saw then that they would do anything for Sabran. They would take a life, or lay down theirs. Anything.
At the turn of the hour, something changed in the Royal Bedchamber. Linora stirred awake and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Ead moved closer to the door. Thick as it was, she could hear enough to understand well what was happening within. When it was over, she nodded to the Ladies of the Bedchamber.
Sabran had done her duty.
In the morning, Lievelyn left the Royal Bedchamber at just past nine of the clock. Only when the Little Door had closed behind him could the ladies-in-waiting go to their queen.
Sabran lay in bed, the sheets gathered over her breasts. She or Lievelyn had opened the curtains, but the sky was overcast, offering scant light.
She looked over her shoulder when they entered. Roslain rushed to her side.
“Are you well, Majesty?”
“Yes.” Sabran sounded tired. “I believe I am, Ros.”
Roslain pressed a kiss to her hand.
When Sabran rose, Katryen was there at once with a mantle. While Ead stepped toward the bed with Margret and Linora, the two Ladies of the Bedchamber guided Sabran to the chair beside the fire.
“Today, I will keep to my apartments.” Sabran tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I have a hankering for fruit.”
“Lady Linora,” Katryen said, “fetch Her Majesty some blackberries and pears. And a cup of caudle, if you please.”
Linora left, looking peeved to be dismissed. As soon as the door shut, Roslain knelt in front of Sabran, making her skirts puff around her.
“Oh, Sab, I was so—” She shook her head. “Was everything well with His Royal Highness?”
“Perfectly,” Sabran said.
“Truly?”
“Truly. It felt strange, but His Royal Highness was … attentive.” She placed a hand on her belly. “Might I be with child already?”
A pregnancy was unlikely from one night, but the Inysh knew little of the body and its workings. “You must wait until the usual time of your courses,” Roslain said as she rose, always forbearing. “If no blood comes, you are with child.”
“Not necessarily,” Ead said. When Sabran and both Ladies of the Bedchamber looked at her, she bobbed a curtsy. “Sometimes the body is a trickster, Majesty. They call it a false pregnancy.” Margret nodded at this. “It is hard to be sure until the child quickens.”
“But of course,” Katryen added, “we have every faith that you will be with child very soon.”
Sabran held the arms of her chair.
“Then I should lie with Aubrecht again,” she said. “Until I am sure.”
“A child will come when the time is right.” Roslain dropped a kiss on her head. “For now, you must think only to make your marriage a happy one. Perhaps you and Prince Aubrecht could take a honey month. Glowan Castle is lovely at this time of year.”
“I cannot leave the capital,” Sabran said. “Not with a High Western on the wing.”
“Let us not speak of High Westerns.” Roslain smoothed her hair. “Not now.”
Margret rose to the occasion. “Since we are seeking a new subject,” she said, a teasing sparkle in her eye, “will you tell us about your wedding night, Ros?”
Katryen tittered, and Roslain smiled a little as Sabran gave her a knowing look.
Linora returned with the fruit as Roslain recounted her marriage to Lord Calidor Stillwater. When the bed was made, they all moved to the Withdrawing Chamber, where Sabran sat beside the washbasin. She was silent while Katryen worked creamgrail into her hair and gave her rosewater to rinse her mouth. At her request, Margret played the virginals.
“Mistress Duryan,” Katryen said, “help rinse Her Majesty’s hair, if you please. I must go to the Lord Chamberlain.”
“Of course.”
Katryen scooped up the wicker basket and left. Ead, in the meantime, joined Roslain at the washbasin.
She poured water from the ewer, washing away the sweet-smelling lather. As she reached for the linen, Sabran caught her wrist.
Ead grew very still. An Ordinary Chamberer did not have leave to touch the queen, and this time Roslain had made no promises to overlook it.
“The rose smelled beautiful, Mistress Duryan.”
Sabran slid her fingers between hers. Thinking she meant to say more, Ead leaned down to hear—but instead, Sabran Berethnet kissed her on the cheek.
Her lips were soft as swansdown. Gooseflesh whispered all over Ead, and she fought the need to let out all her breath.
“Thank you,” Sabran said. “It was generous.”
Ead glanced at Roslain, who looked stricken.
“It was my pleasure, madam,” she said.