Chapter Fourteen
In the Palace of Xy
Caris adjusted Queen Satia’s pillows…again.
Despite the roaring fire in the hearth, the Queen’s bedchamber was cold.The windows were cracked open to let in the air, the curtains blowing in the breeze.A fire roared in the hearth.The Bonded felt the air was good for her and the babe; the fire kept them all from freezing to death.
Caris’s back was roasting; the tip of her nose, cold as ice.
“I can’t get comfortable,” Satia complained, surrounded by mounds of pillows, bedding, and furs.
“Perhaps on your side,” Mira suggested from the other side of the bed.She was shivering.“Plumestra said—”
“Plumestra said, Plumestra said,” Satia grumbled about the midwife even as she turned onto her side, facing Caris.She settled deeper into the pillows, hugging the one that Caris offered, and sulked.
It wasn’t the babe causing the discomfort.Caris could feel it and knew the others felt it as well.
Iris.Where was Iris?
They didn’t dare speak of it, nor inquire.The only time Avice had done that, the Bonded had flown into a rage.For now, they just tried to make her as comfortable as they could, hoping not to draw her ire.
But they had never been apart this long, never gone this length of time without hearing Iris’s calm voice.They were all edgy, uncomfortable, looking over their shoulders, waiting for her to appear in a doorway.
The Bonded also was affected, staring off into the distance, breaking off sentences as if to listen.Caris and the others could distract her for a while, but never for long.
Satia thumped the pillow.“My back hurts,” she complained.“And where is my tea?”
Caris used that as an excuse to move toward the hearth where the kettle was.Iris’s absence was like an itch, like a spider on the back of her neck.It was exhausting for the four of them; how much worse must it be for the Bonded?
Mira settled on the bed behind the Bonded and started to rub her back.
“You are feeling so much better,” Mira crooned as she massaged the Queen.“You are doing everything the midwife has suggested—”
“I feel like a bloated cow.”Satia moaned.“There, just there.”
Caris set about brewing tea and putting plain crackers on a plate.
Avice and Nora were seated by the side of the hearth.Avice was reviewing the kitchen accounts.
Nora was sharpening her knives.
Avice lifted her head from her papers.“The midwife says the birth will be soon,” she offered.
“Early then,” Satia said sharply.“Which had better not cause any comment from the gossiping ladies of my entourage.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Nora said.
“They would, tittle-tattling behind their hands, like geese,” Satia scowled, punching a pillow into a better shape.“Bad enough that I can’t make the nobles happy, bad enough that the Guildmasters sputter their indignation over the newest Guildmistress—”
Caris smirked.
“Xyrath and his damned statue,” Satia spat as Mira helped with the pillows.“And the damn rebels of the Black Hills can’t seem to kill their new Lord High Baron.Honestly.”She slumped onto the bed.“Nothing is going right.”
“Have faith, Majesty.”Avice said, returning her attention to the accounts.“All will be as you desire, in time.”
“The midwife is choosing the nursery staff.”Nora said softly.“And you have almost all the ingredients for the ritual in place.Once the babe is born, you can focus on other things, Bonded.”
“I can’t keep stalling the Council and the nobles and the Guilds until the birth, which can’t come fast enough.”Satia pouted into her pillow.“I feel like a bloated, dead cow.”
