“What do you care? You’ll have everything you wanted! My baby. My Jules. You’ll have my children and Matthew back, too, so why don’t you cut him out of me and leave me alone!”
The room falls quiet. The only sound is Madrigal’s labored breathing until Caragh reaches out and sends everything on her table crashing to the floor. A pitcher and bowls of water, bloody cloth, sharpened knives, herbs, and tea, it all clatters and splashes and breaks into pieces.
“I don’t want your baby! I want you! I want my sister to live, and you want it, too.” Her hound bays miserably as she dives for the floor, and the discarded knives, pressing a blade into her arm. “If the low magic wants a price, then I’ll pay it.”
“Stop! Caragh, stop. I’ll do it. I’ll push.”
“You’ll live,” Caragh says. “You’ll live because I won’t have it any other way.”
It is not easy. Madrigal is already weak and has lost so much blood. But in the hours before dawn, Jules’s baby brother is born. Madrigal names him Fennbirn, for the island. Fennbirn Milone. Fenn, for short. She names him and then loses consciousness with him on her chest. But she lives.
In the days after the baby is born, Jules lingers at the Black Cottage, watching her mother and aunt become close again. Whether it will last is anyone’s guess, but it is still nice to see.
“Jules Milone,” Emilia says as they walk through the north woods with Camden, “how long do you intend for us to stay here staring at that baby?”
“He’s a good baby to stare at. You don’t think he’s good-looking?”
“He is handsome enough. Though I don’t like his name. Fennbirn. If she would call him ‘Fenn,’ why not ‘Fenton’? So many boys are already named for the island.”
“But none called Milone.”
Emilia makes a face like she is wondering what is so great about that, until Camden pricks her ears and grunts. Emilia puts her hand on the hilt of her sword. They are walking in search of Braddock, Arsinoe’s false-familiar bear.
“Why are we out here looking for a bear?” Emilia asks.
“This is the last thing I need to do before we go. Arsinoe would want me to see him. She would want me to make sure he’s all right.”
“How do you know he is still friendly? He was not your familiar. He was not even really her familiar.”
Jules grins. She does not know if they will be able to find him. Caragh said she had not seen him in weeks, and thought he might have followed the fish upstream. She also said he grew wilder by the day.
“Don’t worry.” Jules looks over her shoulder and winks. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
Emilia blushes but glances around cautiously.
“With her gone, isn’t he only a bear now?”
“He will never be only a bear. He was a queen’s bear. And there he is.” They have reached the widest part of the stream, and out in the middle of it, splashing down hard with his front paws, is a very handsome, shiny-coated great brown bear.
“Is he fishing? Or trying to smash a fish flat?” Emilia asks. She partially draws her sword as Camden bounds out of the ferns, startling Braddock up onto his hind legs. Then the cougar grunts, and he comes back down so she can rub her head against his chest.
Emilia sheaths her sword. Jules unwraps an oatcake that Willa baked and tears a chunk for Emilia. “If he bites my hand, I am going to—”
“You’re going to what?”
“Run away, I suppose.” She holds out the cake, and Braddock takes it. Then he takes the rest from Jules and snuffles around in her pockets before raising his head, and bobbing it in the direction of the trees behind them.
“He’s looking for Arsinoe.” Jules pats his shoulder. She uses her gift to soothe him, and soon enough he and Camden are playing happily in the stream.
“There,” says Emilia. “Now you have seen to the bear, and your new baby brother, and your mother is well. And now we can go.”
Jules turns and watches Braddock as he drinks from the stream, as he splashes and kicks pebbles. She is sorry to say goodbye to him, but he is happy there. And safe. Days must pass when he does not wonder at all where Arsinoe is. It will be a long time, Jules thinks, before I have those days.
She and Emilia return to the Black Cottage and find Caragh sitting on the porch with the baby in her arms.
“Back so soon,” Caragh says. “How is Braddock?”
“Well,” says Jules.
“Large,” says Emilia. She holds her hands out for Fenn, and Caragh gently gives him over. “Where is his mother?”
“Gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“Gone to tell Matthew he has a son. To bring him back here so that they can take Fenn home together. She borrowed my brown mare and left is what I mean.”
Jules turns toward the bridle path, the one that passes through the Greenwood and winds down toward Wolf Spring. “It’s only been a week since the birth.”
“And no easy birth at that. But you know Madrigal. She’s up and around, nearly fast as a queen. And restless already.”
Emilia shifts the baby in her arms.
“What about this little lad’s feeding?”
“Willa knows how to manage with goat’s milk. She won’t be gone long.”
“She’s not . . . leaving us again?” Jules asks.
“Not this time.” Caragh stands and takes the baby back. “This time I think she will stay.”
GREAVESDRAKE MANOR
Queen Katharine is wandering the west grounds of Greavesdrake Manor when Bree arrives in the shadow of the great house. Or where the house’s shadow would be if there were enough sun to cast one.
“Queen Katharine.” Bree curtsies. “Why have you called me here and not the Volroy?”
“I like it here,” Katharine replies. “There are fewer eyes and ears. Now that Natalia is gone and I am gone, Greavesdrake stands hollow, with only the barest staff to tend its upkeep.”
“It is Genevieve’s house now, is it not?”
“Yes. And Antonin’s. Even Pietyr’s, in a way, if he would seek to claim a piece.” She gazes up at the red brick, the black roof. She looks out at the alder trees and the long green swath of grass where she and her king-consort Nicolas had once practiced archery.
“I suppose it does not feel the same without her,” says Bree. “Some people leave too much space behind when they are gone.”
They stand in silence a moment, and Katharine shivers against a cold wind.
“Such a chill day. There was a spattering of snowflakes earlier. Did you see any in town?”
Bree shakes her head.
“I would almost wish that my sister were here,” says Katharine, “if only so she could clear these gray clouds away.”
Bree chuckles. “She was strong. The strongest I have ever seen. But she still couldn’t change the seasons.”
Katharine blows into her hands. Elemental Bree could stand outside all day, but the queen will soon need to go inside. Of all the gifts she borrows from the dead sisters, the elemental gift seems to be the weakest. Perhaps even they are loyal to the wonder of Mirabella. Or perhaps there were simply fewer elementals who lost.
“Katharine,” says Bree, dropping for the first time the formal address. “What do you wish of me?”
Katharine sighs and leads the way around the paved path back to the front of the house.
“The oracle will be brought to me any day now. I would know how the council seats from Rolanth feel about that.”
“I do not speak for the High Priestess. And I would not speak for Rho. But I think they would say they think it wise. You must know all you can if the rumors of the uprising are true.”
“And if they are, whose side will you take?” Katharine asks quickly.
“After the Ascension, there is only one side,” Bree replies, unrattled. “The queen’s side.”
“I thought you would blame me for what happened in Rolanth. Would you take the queen’s side, even against the mist? Against the Goddess?”