Gemma thanked her.
The maid continued. “Now, I see you’ve been crying, and I … well, I know a thing or two about the wreckage that babes can make of us, you know. When I first had my Tavian and the midwife placed her in my arms, I looked at my child, and I said, ‘I don’t want this baby. I can barely take care of myself.’” She squeezed Gemma’s hand and continued. “Of course, it wasn’t true. I wanted that baby more than I wanted air or food or sweet summer wine. But in that moment, I was terrified. All the love and fear I was feeling got tangled up, and I just couldn’t think straight. It was the same with all of my children. Somehow the love that they plant within you makes you both stronger and weaker. And it gets your heart and your head all confused.
“So, we cry. We say things we don’t mean. We feel alone and broken, as if we have no control over our lives. Then we cry some more.”
She leaned over and kissed Gemma on the forehead, just where Devery had. Gemma could feel the paper-thin skin of her lips. She could smell the clean, herbal scent of Lian, and the damp of her woolen shawl. “I’ve never lost one, sweet girl,” she said, drawing Gemma in to her, “but I helped Melnora through it a time or three.”
Renewed tears flooded Gemma’s eyes. “I feel like such a failure. I wanted the question of an heir out of the way, and I couldn’t … I couldn’t do this one simple thing. I couldn’t protect the baby I chose to bring into this world. I couldn’t …” A sob shook her.
Lian rocked her, cradling Gemma’s head against her chest. “Oh, Gemma. You did the best anyone could have. Some people would say that it was the goddess’s will, or some such horseshit. Some people would say that there’ll be another babe and not to fret over this one. Some people are full of too much stupid and not enough sense. Nothing is going to make this feel better, not for a long while, and to be totally honest, maybe nothing ever will. But I imagine that gutting the bitch who did it will be a decent start.”
Gemma didn’t know for sure if that was true–she didn’t think that she could spill enough blood to make up for what she’d lost–but she understood Lian. Brinna had to pay for everything. For the baby, for Melnora, for Yigris, for Devery. Brinna had to pay.
Lian reached into her basket and pulled out a flask. “Drink this,” she said, passing it to Gemma.
Gemma took the flask and sniffed it. “When Melnora lost her first,” Lian said, motioning Gemma to take a sip, “she had terrible grief. Fin was stoic about the whole thing, as even smart men tend to be, but Melnora was rattled by it, and she couldn’t make herself get out of bed. I tried everything I knew until Fin sent me to a Balkland herb man. He taught me how to brew this tea. He called it Albatross Tears.” Once more, she gestured for Gemma to drink the tea. “It helped Mistress Melnora get through the worst of it, and I assume that you’ll be needing to get through the worst of it fairly soon, seeing as how you have an assault to plan.”
Gemma took a sip. It tasted like peaches and cinnamon and something exotic and rare, and it tingled in her mouth like magic. Gemma took another long swig and felt the tension in her neck begin to ease.
“Drink it up,” Lian said, squeezing Gemma’s hand.
A few minutes, and a few swallows, later, Gemma turned to Lian. She felt lighter, as if she could float away from the bed. She hadn’t forgotten her grief, but she wasn’t doubled over by it any longer. She smiled. “Thank you, Lian. I’m not sure how I would have gotten through today if you hadn’t come.”
Lian stood, straightening the cover on her basket. “That’s what family does, girl. You know that.” She bent and gave Gemma a quick hug. “Melnora and Fin would be very proud of you,” she said, her own voice cracking with emotion.
Gemma nodded. She wasn’t about to let herself fall down the rabbit hole of grief again. She owed Melnora and Fin a bit of revenge. She slipped from the covers and walked Lian to the door, though she wasn’t wearing a stitch. “Tell Dev I’ll be along shortly,” she said, opening the door for the maid. “Tell him to send word to the Ain. Tell Under that tonight we go to war.”
“Do you want me to leave some of the men here to escort you?” Lian asked, as she hefted the basket and turned to the door.
Gemma laughed wryly. “I am the Queen of Under. I don’t need protection. Our enemies need protection from me.”
Tollan opened his eyes to a world filled with more light than he’d ever known. His legs were tangled up with Elam’s, his mouth tasted like yesterday’s stockings, and he could imagine that his hair was splayed out in an unmanageable cloud, but it didn’t matter. A smile spread across his face as he listened to Elam breathing.
Tollan wanted to stay just like this. Maybe forever. Nothing but the two of them and the rain, which he heard pelting the roof of the Belly Up. He felt—for the first time in his life—like a man. The boy he’d been had disappeared sometime during the night. All his fears and guilt and weakness and secrets had been washed away by Elam and the rain, and he was waking up to a new world.
Elam shifted in his sleep, the soft sounds of his breathing changing slightly. “Good morning,” he said, without opening his eyes.
Not allowing himself to think about it, Tollan leaned in and kissed him. “Good morning,” he said, emotion choking him.
Elam’s eyes opened, and he squinted at Tollan. He smiled and moved closer to him, but a brisk knock on the door interrupted the moment.
“Balls,” Tollan muttered as Elam slipped lithely from beneath the covers. The sight of him, bare and beautiful, took Tollan’s breath away.
Elam fumbled for his spectacles on the bedside table, then he pulled on smallclothes and a pair of breeches, and went to the door. He opened the door to reveal Wince, his pale face haggard in the morning light.
“Have you seen … oh,” Wince said, seeing Tollan in the bed. A rapid flurry of expressions flitted across Wince’s features, ending in a broad grin. “Sorry to bother,” he said, bowing exaggeratedly. “I was just worried when I couldn’t find you. I … umm … I’ll just go help with breakfast.” His eyes met Tollan’s and held them, warm and joy filled, for a long moment before he turned to leave.
Elam closed the door and came back to bed. “He’s a better man than I’d have given him credit for,” he said, as he sat down on the edge of the mattress.
Tollan could only nod. His emotions were too close to the skin to say anything.
Elam fidgeted with the laces of his breeches, tightening them slowly. “When … when this is all over,” he said, without looking at Tollan. He paused, picking at a piece of lint on the coverlet. “I’ve never been to sea.” He stood, turning his back to Tollan as he pulled on a shirt, then sat and pulled on his stockings. There was tension in the muscles of Elam’s shoulders that made Tollan want to wrap him up and never let go. There was vulnerability here that Tollan hadn’t known Elam capable of.
“Would you like to, someday?” Tollan croaked.
Elam’s amber gaze met Tollan’s as a soft smile kissed his lips. He nodded, eyes wide. “I think I might,” he said. It was too bad, really, that he’d already wasted so much effort getting dressed.
PART THREE
PERCHANCE TO DREAM
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE GOLDEN DOOR