“Leesha and I have matters to discuss in private, dear,” Araine said. “Do wait outside and see we are not disturbed.”
“Ay, Mum,” Wonda said, moving swift as a deer from the hunter. She might have professed to serve Leesha, but she was quick to obey the duchess’ commands.
Leesha felt a twinge of something akin to jealousy. Leesha had done everything she could to discourage the girl when she’d first appointed herself Leesha’s bodyguard, but seeing Wonda comfortably following Araine’s commands made Leesha realize just how much she’d come to depend on her.
Leesha and Araine sat. There were no servants present, but a silver tea service had been set on the table along with a selection of edibles. Bruna may not have taught Leesha enough about politics, but she had been quite strict about tea etiquette. Younger and lower of rank, Leesha served, filling the duchess’ cup first. Only then did she fill her own and take a small plate.
“How far along is the child?” Leesha was taking a bite of a tiny sandwich when the duchess spoke, and nearly choked.
“I beg your pardon?” Leesha coughed.
Araine gave her a look on the very edge of patience. “This will go more smoothly if you don’t treat me as a fool, girl.”
Leesha snatched a napkin to cough into and wipe her mouth. “Perhaps four months.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t precise, either. Time enough for the child to be Thamos’, or not. She’d expected the topic to come up, but once again was caught by surprise by the Duchess Mum’s blunt manner.
Araine tapped a painted nail on her delicate porcelain teacup. “Am I right in assuming it’s no relation of mine?”
Leesha only stared, but Araine nodded as if she had spoken. “Don’t look so surprised, girl. I’ve eyes in all my sons’ courts, and you can’t expect to keep something like that secret. You and Thamos went from being inseparable to estranged the moment your condition was known. Doesn’t take one of your mind demons to see what happened.”
Araine shook her head. “Another hope for the throne, gone. My dimmest son Mickael is the only one to have produced anything resembling an heir, but none of his idiot brood would hold the throne long enough to warm the seat.”
Her foot began to kick, reminding Leesha of a cat’s tail as it readied to pounce. Leesha glanced around, but they were still alone. The sharp, jerking motion of one old woman’s slippered foot should not threaten her so, but it seemed to promise violence.
Araine sipped her tea. “I ordered Thamos to court you the moment you returned to the Hollow. My youngest son has a talent when it comes to women, but even I didn’t expect you to tumble the first night.” She looked down her nose at Leesha. “Still wasn’t quick enough, it seems.”
Mesmerized by the twitching foot, it took a moment for the words to register. Leesha looked up. “Ordered?”
“Of course,” Araine said. “Thamos has his uses, but he spent more time in the practice yard than the library. He needs a countess with something between her ears, and your courting legitimized him in the eyes of the Hollowers.”
She pointedly placed her empty teacup on the table, and Leesha moved quickly to refill it. Araine took a sip, grimacing. “You needn’t be stingy with the honey, dear. I’ve lived a long time, and earned it.” She took a delicate silver spoon, putting a generous dollop of honey into the cup.
“It’s less bitter than learning everything Thamos and I shared was on his mother’s orders.” Leesha felt her vision cloud, and blinked furiously to drive off threatening tears.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Araine said. “I pointed him at you, ay, but I’ve pointed that boy at many a good match. He wouldn’t have stuck if he wasn’t interested.”
She pointed her tiny spoon at Leesha. “And you, child, hardly required me to come hold your legs open. You needed a husband, that much was clear the moment I met you. You’ve a weakness where powerful men are concerned, and it’s going to get you into trouble … if it hasn’t already.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Leesha demanded.
“Whose is it, then?” Araine demanded. “One of the would-be Deliverers? It’s no secret you shined on Arlen Bales. He was seen coming and going from your cottage at all hours.”
“We were just friends,” Leesha said, but it sounded defensive, even to her.
Araine arched a brow. “And then there’s this business with the demon of the desert. The Jongleurs put you in the pillows with him, as well.”
“There was only one Jongleur in Ahmann Jardir’s palace,” Leesha said, “and he tells no such tales.”
Araine smiled. “I have other sources in Fort Rizon.”
Leesha waited, but the duchess did not elaborate. “Who I take to my bed and carry in my belly is my own business, and none of yours. It’s no heir, so you can keep it out of your plans and find a better match for your son.”
“Giving up so easily?” Araine asked. “I’m disappointed.”
“Is there a point to fighting on?” Leesha asked wearily.
“You think this is the first bastard to complicate a royal match?” Araine tsked. “An Herb Gatherer should know better how these things can be handled.”
“Handled?” Leesha was at a loss.
The duchess’ foot stopped twitching. “You and Thamos announce the child and marry immediately. When the child comes, you deliver in private, and your Gatherer announces, alas, the child is born still.”
Leesha’s hands began to tremble, cup and saucer rattling. She set them on the table, leveling the duchess with a hard glare.
“Are you threatening my child, Your Grace?”
Araine rolled her eyes. “I told you before to keep up with the dance, girl, but you keep missing steps. I’ve four of my own, and know enough not to come between a mother and her child. I might as well declare war on the Hollow.”
“Not a war you’d be likely to win,” Leesha noted.
Now it was Araine who glared. “Don’t be so sure about that, dear. I’ve seen all the pawns you can play, but you’ve not seen all of mine.”
She waved her hand, as if to dispel an unpleasant stench in the air. “But none of that is necessary. Easy enough to bundle a loaf of bread and bury it, and find a place to hide the child. Announce a few days later that to ease your grief you’ve decided to wet-nurse an orphan to fill the void in your heart. Creator knows the Krasians have left mudskin bastards from here to the desert flats. Make a show of inspecting a few before you choose, and none will be the wiser. Then you and my son can make a legitimate heir.” She lifted her teacup. “Preferably more than one.”
Leesha stroked her belly thoughtfully. “So I can never truly claim the child as my own?”
“You’ve missed your chance at that, I’m afraid,” Araine said. “You’d have enemies to the north and south, and your own people would doubt your wisdom.”
“Perhaps they should have a wiser leader,” Leesha said. “Perhaps your son deserves a wiser wife.”
“Point me to this better woman, and the job is hers,” Araine said. “Until then, it falls on you.”
She reached up, flicking a finger against the lacquered wooden crown she wore, set with bright jewels. “The commoners think it easy, to wear a crown. But leaders must make sacrifices. Women, most of all.”
She sighed. “At least Thamos loves you. It’s more than I ever had. After his grandfather bought his way onto the throne, the Royals were on the brink of a coup. Euchor moved soldiers to Riverbridge, ready to crush the battered victor and name himself king. My marriage to Rhinebeck’s son was the only thing that held the city together.”
“I never knew,” Leesha said. The Duchess Mum had never been so open with her before, and she was afraid to say anything more, lest she break the spell.
“It seemed like the end of the world at the time,” Araine said. “Rhinebeck the First did not sit the throne long, and his son had no aptitude or interest in ruling. He visited the palace just long enough to put children in me, and spent the rest of his time in that cursed hunting fort, chasing boar and harlots.
“I was left pregnant and alone with the reins of the city. Did I cry and bemoan my fate? Ay. But I had work to do.” Araine pointed at Leesha. “And I’ll give myself to the night before I let Euchor take the city I’ve dedicated my life to rebuilding.”
“So this is a Northern palace,” Amanvah said. “It is not impressive.”
The strangest thing was that Rojer could see what she meant. Rhinebeck’s palace fortress had once seemed the grandest building in the world, but after seeing how Krasian royalty lived in Everam’s Bounty, suddenly he noticed that the carpet could be softer, the drapes thicker, the ceiling higher.
It was amazing, how quickly he had become accustomed to luxury after spending more than a decade checking for fleas before bedding down in haylofts and two-klat inns.
“Am I the only one thinks the duke needs a slap on the face?” Kendall asked. “Eyeing our bums without so much as a How d’you do?”
“Rhinebeck and his brothers are like that,” Rojer said. “And to be honest, the rest of the Angierian noblemen aren’t much better. Only interested in women as servants and lovers. They’ll do all the formal introductions tonight at dinner under their mother’s glare.”
“I look forward to meeting this mysterious Duchess Mother,” Amanvah said.
Rojer shrugged. “You’ll find her as vapid and shallow as her sons. None of them has any real responsibilities. Janson’s the one who really runs things.”
Amanvah looked at him. “Nonsense. The man is a puppet.”
“It’s true,” Rojer said. “He paints a dim look on his face when the duke and princes are about, but it’s as good as any Jongleur’s mask. The man underneath is cunning and ruthless.”
Amanvah nodded. “But still not in command.”
“Your dice told you this?” Rojer asked.
“No,” Amanvah said. “I could see it in his eyes.”
“I want you to stick close to Leesha while I’m gone,” Rojer said.
Amanvah tilted her head. “Is that for our protection, or hers?”
“Both,” Rojer said. “These people need not be enemies, but neither are they friends.”
“Now,” Araine said, “if we’ve spoken enough of your wandering affections, it’s time for more pressing matters.”
It wasn’t the lemon that made Leesha wrinkle her mouth as she sipped her tea. “You want to know if the duke is seedless.”