The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

“Now I can kiss you properly,” Jianne said, wiping the last bit of lather away with a towel. With all the commotion going on in the castle, they had been interrupted at least a dozen times by knocks and servants asking when the duke would be able to join his lord down in the war room. He was hungry to see her again, hungry to be alone with her again, anxious for the noise to fade and the night to fall and for the blissful silence that would eventually come.

He kissed her again, feeling his heart burning with unquenchable love. Soon he would leave again. Too soon. After a lingering kiss, he pulled away. “I must go.”

“Before you do,” she said, catching his sleeve.

He looked at her curiously. They were sitting side by side on a small sofa. He took her hands and gave her a probing look. “What is it?”

She looked down nervously before looking back up to meet his eyes. “Alensson, I think I’m with child.” The words were spoken almost fearfully, as if she wasn’t sure how he would react.

He was unprepared for the news, which made him feel as if a lance had struck his shield in the perfect spot, hurling him from the saddle and down on his backside in the dust. He was speechless, shocked, and then his insides roiled with delight and feelings he had never experienced before, feelings so pure and tender and bright it was like staring too long at the sun.

“Are you, dearest?” he asked breathlessly, cupping her cheek. Was it a dream? Would he suddenly awaken back in his tent amidst a war camp? “I could not imagine . . . I dared not hope so soon!” He felt a fiery intensity inside his chest and he pulled her close to him, kissing her neck, kissing her cheek.

“I’m not . . . absolutely certain,” she said with worry in her voice. “I could be wrong.”

“But you think it’s true,” he said, shaking his head, smoothing hair from her brow. “I’ll not second-guess you. A woman should know these things better than a man! My love, I cannot tell you how happy I am. My heart is fit to burst!”

She winced at his words. “But you are going away,” she said, taking his hands into her lap and squeezing them hard. “You must go. I’m not trying to stop you. But I know so little about childbirth. There is no midwife we know or trust. There may be troubles. And I’ll worry about you.” Her eyes filled with tears and several streaked down from her lashes. “I’m grateful, so very grateful to have you.”

And it was at that exact moment a knock sounded on the door. Alensson gritted his teeth, preparing to curse at whoever was disturbing this moment. If it was the prince himself, he’d earn a scolding that would blister his ears.

“Be patient, they don’t know,” Jianne said worriedly, seeing the frustration in his eyes.

Alensson marched over to the door and yanked it hard by the handle, ready to spew out oaths that would make the intruder shrink and cringe.

Genette was standing at the doorway, no longer in her full armor, but wearing a chain hauberk beneath a royal tunic the prince had brought for her.

His mouth was open, the words ready to tumble out, but he slowly shut his jaw.

“Gentle duke,” the Maid chided softly. “The prince commands you to attend to him.” Then she looked at Jianne and a tender, sympathetic look rippled across her face. “Greetings, sweet duchess. I congratulate you on the news.”

Jianne looked momentarily surprised, but she had been an ardent believer in the Maid from the beginning and her look shifted to gratitude. “Thank you, Genette,” his wife said, rising from the couch. She reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. “You have a duty to the prince,” she said.

“My first duty is to you,” he reminded her, pinching her chin. She nodded, her eyes filling again with tears, and she hugged him, though not as fiercely as she had before. This embrace was full of resignation.

Genette stared at them awkwardly, waiting.

“I’ll return later tonight,” Alensson promised.

“I know,” Jianne answered, stepping aside.

Genette stared at them. Then she approached Jianne and took her hand, giving her a tender look. “I promise you, sweet duchess, that he will return safely to you. Take courage. He will be there when the child comes.”

Jianne’s eyes widened with surprise at the words. The worry and fretting melted away from her in an instant. It melted from them both. Alensson knew she had visions of the future. It gave him solace to hear the promise. He believed it.

“Thank you,” Jianne said, taking the Maid’s hand and kissing her knuckles. She started weeping with joy.

There was a knowing look in the Maid’s eyes. She smiled at Jianne, patting her hands, and then turned to leave, glancing at Alensson to see if he would follow her.

After kissing his wife once more, this time in relief, Alensson followed Genette back down the corridor full of servants rushing to and fro to meet the various needs of their noble guests.

“You truly love her,” Genette said to him as they walked through the frenzied hallway.

“She waited for me faithfully,” he answered, not looking at her for fear of running into someone. “Indeed, I love her well.”

“That is noble, Alen. Not all husbands are so devoted. Especially not at Shynom.”

The anger simmering in her voice was unmistakable, and he could only wonder what she had seen. Genette was driven by unflinching principles. She even had shamed soldiers away from cursing. Her sense of right and wrong was like the checkered design of a Wizr board.

They reached the main hall, which was bursting with noise, music, and a raucous crowd that had only grown as the day progressed. It was common gossip at court that the prince’s political marriage was a loveless one. They had sired an heir and no other children had followed. Chatriyon and his wife were rarely seen side by side, and it was common for him to be found talking amidst the men while his wife socialized with the women.

The court thrived on such gossip, so it should have come as no surprise that he and Genette were greeted by plenty of raised eyebrows when they walked in together. No matter. Alensson cared little for gossip and intrigue. He was going to be a father. His wife would give him a child. A boy? A girl? He didn’t know and didn’t care. He would love either. Since hearing the news, he felt as if he’d grown a new heart.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Maid's Vow