He told me what had transpired after I passed out, most of which he had learned from my aunt Bernette. The entire citadelle had been bustling awake through most of the night. After leaving me, my mother had seen to my father. She had him moved back to their marriage chamber and threw out all medicines the court physician had ordered for him. He was bathed and given herbal drinks to flush his system. Kaden didn’t know enough about the poisoning effects of golden thannis to know if it would help. Vendans knew not to touch it. Just a nibble could bring down a horse. Andrés had recovered, but he was young and healthy and hadn’t been poisoned over a long period of time the way my father had. I worried that it might be too late to reverse the effects of the poison and my father would be trapped in a foggy stupor for the rest of his life. I worried that it might be too late for everything.
“Will all this be enough, Kaden?”
“To stop the Komizar? I don’t know. I think the rule Rafe threw your way is shaky—even with your mother’s nod of support.”
I saw it too. Parading a First Daughter out for ceremony was one thing, having her rule the kingdom was another. The troops Andrés marched into the hall with had supported me, but the majority of the lords weren’t convinced.
“I think your lords are still dubious about the threat,” he added.
I didn’t expect anything else. They had a lifetime of believing that Morrighan was the chosen Remnant and nothing could bring it down. “I’ll convince them,” I said, “and prepare them to oppose Venda.”
“Then what? As much as we both want to stop the Komizar, I can’t forget I’m still Vendan.”
His eyes searched mine, worried. “I know, Kaden.” His fears renewed my own. “But we both need to remember that there are two Vendas. The Komizar’s Venda that’s on its way here to destroy us, and the one that we both love. Somehow, together, we have to make this work.”
But I wasn’t sure how. We both knew the Komizar and Council would never back down. The prize was in their sight, and they intended to have it. It’s my turn now to dine on sweet grapes in winter. I lay there, Kaden’s hand still in mine, the coals of the hearth dimming, my lids growing heavy, the future swirling behind them, and I heard the soft moans again. This time, I knew it wasn’t my mother or my aunts I heard weeping. These cries came from far away, past a savanna, beyond a great river, past rocky hills and barren glens. These cries came from the clans of Venda. He had slaughtered more for whispering the name Jezelia.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
PAULINE
You need to name him.
But I had no name. My mind was too swollen with other thoughts to make such a decision.
I eased the child from the wet nurse’s arms and rocked him, fingering his locks. They were the color of a bright high sun. Like Mikael’s.
But after what Mikael had done, I didn’t want to think that he was any part of this child.
You have kin, Pauline. You are not alone.
But my aunt’s cold stare surfaced again and again.
After Lia’s hand had been treated and bandaged, we had cut away her clothes and washed her. She lay unconscious, limp, and they stared at her battered body lying across the white bedding. A diary of these past months was written across her skin. They saw the jagged scar on her thigh. The nick on her throat. The fresh cut on her lip where the Chancellor had struck her, the bruises on her face where the guards had hit her. And when we turned her to wash her back, they saw the raised scar on her ribs from where an arrow had been cut away, and then there were the remnants of the kavah trailing over her shoulder.
As every new mark was discovered, the queen or Lia’s aunts choked back a sob at her broken body, and the queen’s attendant—my own aunt—cast me an angry glare.
“This is what you led her into!” she finally snapped accusingly.
I turned my attention back to rinsing a cloth in the basin, unable to meet her gaze. Guilt rushed through me. It was true. I was Lia’s accomplice. If I hadn’t helped her, she might never have left. But if she hadn’t—
I looked up, staring into my aunt’s face that was rigid with anger and disappointment. “It was her choice to make.”
She pulled in a startled breath. “It was your duty to stop her! Not—”
“I don’t regret my decision,” I said, “and I would do it again!”
My aunt’s mouth fell open, appalled, but Lady Bernette reached out to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Pauline is right,” she said softly. “It was Lia’s choice and beyond any of us to stop her.”
My aunt remained silent, but condemnation still shone in her eyes. The queen sobbed quietly at Lia’s bedside, Lia’s hand clutched to her cheek.
I blinked back tears. “I have something else I need to attend to.” I spun and left the room, stepping out into the dark hallway. When I had closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, trying to swallow away the painful throb in my throat. Doubt flooded through me. I hadn’t even told her about the baby yet.
“What is it?” Kaden had rushed out of the shadows toward me. I’d forgotten he’d been waiting for word on Lia.
“She’s fine,” I said. “We don’t know about her hand yet, but the bleeding is stopped and her heart is strong.”
“Then what is—” He lifted his hand toward my cheek, then pulled back as if afraid to touch me. Even in the darkest shadows, he had seen my tears, but there was still a wall between us, distrust I couldn’t set aside, even now, and he knew it.