Chapter Twenty-Eight
Caris balanced the breakfast tray and opened the door to the Queen’s chambers.
“So, our new Lord and Lady High Barons have left?” Satia asked from her bed, a mound of pristine white pillows at her back, perfect, regal, serene, and clearly gloating.
The morning sun spilled into the room, setting the red and gold carpet alight.
“Yes, Bonded.” Caris settled the breakfast tray by the bed, checking to make sure that steam was still rising from the oats. “Early this morning.”
Satia smoothed the crisp, white sheets and coverlet over her belly. Her brown skin and black hair glowed against the field of white and she knew it. “And his books?”
“Secured,” Avice said. “Every scroll, every piece of paper. I will see to the delivery to the library myself, and watch them boxed and sealed and placed into storage.”
Satia tilted her head. “And my little surprise?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow at Avice.
“As you commanded, I had the tapestries loaded into the wagon. The guards have instructions to see that they are the last things dumped on the ground.” Avice was heating water by the fire.
Much to Caris’s relief, Satia slowly smiled with clear pleasure. Gloating always put the Bonded in a good mood. Caris rattled the tray a bit, drawing her attention, and lifted the honey jar. She let the dipper hover over the top of the jar and raised her own eyebrow.
Satia gave a nod. Caris let the sweet syrup drip down on the oats as she watched. “More,” Satia demanded.
Mira opened her mouth as if to protest, but Caris gave her a warning look as she let the sweet honey flow until there was enough covering the oats to make her own teeth ache.
“Just a few nuts,” Satia commanded.
Caris put the honey down, and sprinkled nuts from a jar.
“I’ll pour the cream,” Satia said. Caris bowed her head and put the tray on Satia’s bulging stomach, propped with pillows on both sides. She stood close, with clean napkins, just in case.
“Question Captain Ussin when he returns.” Satia swirled her spoon in the grains, mixing it with just a dab of cream. “I want to know how she reacted.”
“Of course, Bonded,” Avice replied.
Satia put the spoon in her mouth and closed her eyes in pleasure. Her contentment radiated down Caris’s bond. Perhaps today would be a good day after all.
She glanced around the room, careful not to let Satia see that her focus was elsewhere. The fire was crackling in the hearth with just the right amount of heat. Nora and Mira were putting the Bonded’s clean clothes in the wardrobe, folding them precisely as she liked. All was well.
“What of our guest?” Satia asked, swirling in more cream.
“We have him safe. He is not conscious yet,” Avice said. She placed the Bonded’s slippers and robe by the fire to warm “It might be another day or two.”
“Or more,” Mira added softly. “If he is in fact addicted to letheon, he may be semi-conscious for weeks.”
Satia frowned, staring at her bowl. “ I am supposed to enter into subtle negotiations with a powerful blood mage to conduct the ancient family ritual for this babe, and I have to deal with a drug-addled, puking fool?”
The question was rhetorical, they all knew better than to answer.
“Still,” she narrowed her eyes. “I have a blood mage. It is a start.”
Avice opened her mouth, no doubt to remind the Bonded that they weren’t certain that the man was a blood mage. Caris gave her an incredulous look. Avice pressed her lips shut.
Satia slowly swirled the spoon, then scooped up more oats, catching any dribbles on the side of the bowl. She ate a few more bites, her mouth curving upwards in clear enjoyment. “And the midwife you are all forcing on me?” she asked softly.
“She should be attending your majesty later today,” Mira said. “One of the women under her care went into the labor early, and that has delayed her.”
“Hmph,” Satia scraped her spoon on the bowl, sucking up the last of the sweetness.
Pounding footsteps from the outer chamber. “ Satia! Where is my queen? ” rang out in glorious royal tones.
Caris whipped the tray down and under the bed. The others all donned worried looks as Satia sank down in the bed, looking pale and frail. Avice pulled the curtains closed just as the door burst open and the King strode in with a flair.
“A triumph!” Xyrath paused in the door, clearly coming from the practice ring. His quilted sparring jacket was stained with sweat and dirt, but his tanned face glowed, every golden hair was in place, and his smile rivaled the sun itself. “We should hold a triumph!”
He paused in to doorway, blinking in the dimness. “Oh, beloved, did you not have a good night?” He frowned at the women around Satia as if it was their fault.
“I’m fine,” Satia said weakly. “Come, my beloved. Sit here.”
Caris bowed herself back and retreated as Xyrath bounded over and seated himself on the edge of the bed, spreading his filth over floor and bedding.
“A triumph,” he crowed as he settled down, taking Satia’s hand in his. “We will declare a holiday and I will lead my men marching through the streets, crowds cheering, like in ancient times, dragging our prisoners in chains, all through the town.”
“You didn’t take any prisoners,” Satia sighed and smiled wearily. “You released them to their homes.” Her eyes narrowed. “With their weapons and armor. Remember?”
“Oh,” Xyrath frowned, then smiled wryly. “Ah, well. It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without prisoners.” He kissed Satia’s hand. “Did you see the portal this morning? We saw it from the practice yard. Awesome, all swirly white. Took four mages to cast. Pretty impressive.”
“And cost a pretty penny,” Satia grumbled, but that satisfied look was back on her face. “But worth it. Lord High Baron Orval will be all the quicker sending you your marble.”
Caris resisted the urge to laugh. The Bonded look so smug.
“When we start our conquest of the outlying baronies, mayhap we could use those portals.” Xyrath laughed. “Think of how glorious it would be to emerge from that swirly white circle, me in my gold armor, on a white steed.”
“Worthy of you, my King.” Satia smiled wanly.
“My precious girl,” Xyrath leaned forward to cup Satia’s cheek. “Do you think you will be available for audiences this afternoon? Lord Marshal Tarwain is especially insistent on speaking with you. He wants decisions on land grants. I told him that I’d make no final decisions without your advice.”
“I will try,” Satia sighed. “I just need a bit more rest, my King. I am tired.” She cradled her belly, rubbing the mound.
“My poor dearest, bearing the light of the world. I’ll leave you to get some rest.” Xyrath rose to his feet, heedless of the long smudge of dirt he left on the coverlet. “I’ll have a word with Tarwain, remind him that your health is everything.”
Satia smiled up at him. “You take such good care of me,” she said, holding out her hand.
Xyrath took it gently and kissed it. “Did I tell you that the Master Sculptor Muris has offered to do the initial sketches for my statue?” Xyrath straightened and puffed out his chest. “Nude, of course, with a crown of laurel, to celebrate our ascent to the throne.”
“I only hope he can capture your likeness perfectly,” Satia dropped her eyes to his groin.
Xyrath let out a hearty laugh.
Satia tilted her head. “Did he happen to mention a cost for his work?”
“Cost?” Xyrath scoffed. “Oh, I am sure he will do it just for the glory of being the Royal Sculptor.”
“Of course,” Satia said.
Xyrath bowed to her. “Until later, my Queen.” He strode out, raking his fingers through his hair. “No triumph, lads,” he bellowed to the entourage waiting. “Let’s hit the baths.”
As soon as the door closed, Caris stepped forward and started to roll back the filthy coverlet. Mira pulled another one out of the cupboard, smelling of sunshine and fresh from the laundry.
Mira reached to plump the pillows up behind Satia as Avice reopened the curtains.
“Everyone has a hand out,” Satia murmured as she stared at the door. “All reaching, grasping, clutching, seeking power and riches.”
Caris removed the filthy coverlet. “So all do, Bonded,” she murmured in response.
“Tarwain is becoming an issue.” Satia held out her hands to Avice, who wiped them carefully with a warm, wet cloth. “He whines about that daughter of his and presses for more power and a barony. No patience in that man.” Satia nodded to Avice, who started to dry her hands with a warm cloth.
“I told him that he can move on the Black Hills once the Lord High Baron Orval is killed by the rebels, but he wants everything this instant. Men. Don’t they realize that planning is all? And success, the reward of carefully thinking things through?”
They all softly indicated their agreement as they finished smoothing the clean coverlet into place.
“Nora, you will tend to our guest.” Satia settled back against the pillows.
Nora pulled her hands back abruptly. “Bonded, I am not really the nursing type. Mira deals with that kind of thing far better than I.”
Satia raised an eyebrow.
Nora bowed her head. “Yes, Bonded.”
“I will release you once he is weaned from the drug and the moon-child arrives to care for him.”
Nora kept her head bowed in obedience.
“Now, when can I expect word from the Black Hills?” Satia asked.
“Captain Ussin won’t return until midafternoon, Bonded.” Caris said. “The mages are to reopen the portal then.”
“Fine.” Satia stretched, yawned and snuggled back under the blankets. “I need to consider. To think.” She took a long slow breath, then curled on her side. “Wake me in two hours,” she commanded with a graceful, dismissive wave of her hand.
“Yes, Bonded.” Caris reached for the tray as the others returned to their tasks. So she was the one that saw the discontented pout form on Satia’s face even as her mouth opened to form a demand.
“Chamber pot.”