“You don’t need to know how to kill,” Ven had told her. “You need to know how to not be killed. Slight but important distinction.” He made her repeat the same maneuvers over and over: how to break a hold, how to dodge a knife thrust, how to twist so that a knife would only hit something nonvital. “Your mind doesn’t need to memorize this; your body does.” And so she practiced, because he’d described the murdered girls in enough detail that she didn’t need to hear any more.
He also insisted she allow the wolf Bayn to come with her everywhere at all times, which was fine, albeit a little awkward in the bathroom. He usually politely faced the wall. But it was a plus when she had a free moment to visit her children. Llor would forgive any absence in exchange for the chance to play with the “doggie,” and even Erian couldn’t stay angry when Bayn licked her cheek.
So on the night of the third day, when Ven told her she was done, she looked around Queen Fara’s old chambers for Bayn. He was sitting by the hearth, chewing on the thigh bone of a deer. “Ready to have a small child get sticky fingers in your fur?”
He thumped his tail and then trotted over to her side.
“I’ll walk you there as well,” Ven said.
She didn’t bother to argue that she was safe in the palace, with all the guards who milled through every corridor and a very large wolf by her side. A little paranoia was a fine thing. Admirable, even. She shot him a look as they walked down the spiral stairs in the center of the palace tree. He was scowling beneath his beard, with his forehead crinkled and eyes fierce. “You look under stress,” she said, even though it was an understatement. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
He quit scowling. “Are you trying to mother me?”
“The proper word is ‘nag.’ I am trying to nag you into taking care of yourself, not just taking care of me. I’m fine.” In truth, she felt as if she’d been rolled down a set of stairs and then stomped on, but that didn’t bear mentioning. She also had a headache that pounded as if she had tiny drummers trapped inside her skull.
“I can handle it.”
“Of course you can. Until you collapse from exhaustion and malnourishment. Look at it this way: I only nag because I care.”
He stopped for a moment midstep and looked as if he wanted to say something, but then he continued down the stairs without speaking. She thought about asking him if there had been any progress in investigating the murders, or any progress in the search for the poisoner, but if there had been, he wouldn’t look so intense. She wasn’t sure she’d ever had anyone care for her well-being so much. She had to remind herself it was only because he wanted her to be the heir. He valued her for what she could do, not who she was. Not unlike Renet.
She was still thinking about her former husband when she walked through the door to her and her children’s chambers—and he was there.
Renet.
Sitting on a couch, with Erian and Llor on either side of him.
Looking recently washed, with wet tousled hair, velvet clothes that weren’t his, and a sheepish expression that was one hundred percent his.
Naelin stopped so abruptly in the doorway that Bayn’s snout bumped against the back of her thighs. The wolf poked his head around her.
“Doggie!” Llor cried, and shot off the couch.
She felt Ven’s hand on her shoulder and his breath on her neck as he murmured in her ear, “Do you want me to stay or go?”
She liked that he asked. “Stay, please,” she murmured back, and stepped inside.
Bayn pushed past her and bounded over to Llor. Llor threw his arms around the wolf’s neck. “Don’t do that, Llor,” Erian said. “He’s been eating. You’ll get blood on your shirt, and Mama doesn’t have time to wash it out.”
“I’ll take care of it, Erian,” Renet said. “I can clean stains. Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not useless.” He smiled to soften the words, as if he could charm his way back into her life.
Naelin felt as if her head were swimming. She wished she could force her headache away. She did not have the energy left to deal with this. “The palace has its own laundry. You know that, Erian. And Renet, you’ve never scrubbed a stain out in your life. But that is far less relevant than the question: What are you doing here?”
Llor’s eyes went wide. “Uh-oh, Mama’s mad.”
Yes, she wanted to say. I am. She was about a half second away from screaming, or collapsing into a pile and weeping. She did not need this. She did not want this. She did not deserve this. Clenching and unclenching her hands, she tried to calm her breathing, to speak calmly, to not burst into tears or throw things or walk out the door or scream. “Renet, answer please.”
“You need me here,” Renet said. “The children need me. They said so.”
“Father came fast!” Llor said. “Isn’t that great, Mama?” His face was shining, as if he could convince her this was a wonderful thing if only he said it cheerfully enough. Or maybe he was simply happy about it. His father was here. Hooray.
“Truthfully I was halfway here already,” he said, using his sheepish expression again.
“Llor, Erian . . .” She was about to tell them to go into the other room, so she could talk to Renet without them, but she caught the look on Erian’s face. Erian was digging her toe into the wood floor and looking everywhere but at Naelin. “Erian?”
“Captain Alet said we needed someone to watch us while you’re training,” Erian said in a rush, “and I’m too old for a governess, and we didn’t want some guard that we don’t know. Father said he missed us and he’s really, really sorry.”
Renet rose, and she knew that look on his face: the penitent puppy-dog look that he’d perfected years ago. It used to make her laugh and forgive whatever ridiculous thing he’d done. He’d swear never to do it again, and she’d kiss him and he’d remember to come home when he said he would instead of lingering out in the woods, or take the rotten food far from the house instead of dumping it at the base of the tree, or fetch Llor from school at the correct time . . . I shouldn’t have had to tell him any of that, she thought. She thought of how she used to nag him, as if she were his mother, as if she had three children instead of two. She thought of how she used to see his absentmindedness, his wild ideas, his enthusiasm for ridiculous risks as charming or even exciting. But she couldn’t see it that way anymore.
He hadn’t changed.
She’d changed.
“Mama, can he stay?” Erian asked.
“I am truly sorry,” Renet said. “I— Can we talk alone?” He bowed to Champion Ven. “Forgive me, great sir, but my wife—”
“Former wife,” Ven corrected. “She left you, spoken and witnessed.”
“I am hoping she will reconsider that,” Renet said.
Erian moved to Renet’s side and took his hand. “We want to be a family again, Mama.”