A Wintertide Spell (3 page)

“And it isn’t like you to—” she
began, but stopped herself before she slipped. She had no verification other
than her gut and his curse. Until now, it wasn’t like her husband to cheat on
his wife.

Except that it was, twelve times
over, as decreed by that bitch Malady at his birth.

Geneva would have directed her
wrath at the fairies, loudly and publicly, except that Naudo, who had always
been kind, was attending the birthing. Thanks to him, the process would be less
painful and onerous. Or it would be when he cast her mick-mucking pain spell.

Moreover, it was a rather
inescapable tradition for a fairy healer to enact a noble child’s naming ceremony
at the proper moment so the Fairy Alliance for Ethics representatives could
prepare their dubious christening gifts.

And so, she would curse Reginald now,
the fairies later. At least the current crop of FAE representatives never
handed out body odor or unfaithfulness to one’s lawfully wedded wife.

Reginald began to massage her tense
shoulders, his big, strong hands working out the kinks. She didn’t want him
touching her, but his presence soothed her in a way Naudo and Binny could not.
She inhaled deeply as pain struck, fully expecting to detect the scent of
another woman’s perfume on his treacherous fingers, but instead all she smelled
was herbs, blood and...was that dirt?

Her husband smelled of newly turned
earth?

In the middle of Wintertide season?

Perhaps because he’d been plowing
some other furrow.

Geneva, enraged, nipped at her
husband’s hand, but her sharp teeth missed their target. Agony danced through
her pelvis and the small of her back as the babe dropped lower. She let out a
cry and dove for her husband’s arms. He held her tightly, murmuring words of
comfort and love in her ears.

For the moment, she chose to
believe them. It helped to pretend, and if she concentrated, his arms felt as
safe as ever.

“Here comes another one,” she said.
Her stomach constricted, and her womb tried to turn itself inside out.

Reginald released her, and she whimpered
a protest. But pain crested and the need to push became urgent. She howled and
panted. Naudo coached her breathing. Binny held her hand. The assistant healer
and assistant nurse hovered with clean cloths, blankets and water.

And Reginald? He fumbled at her
neck, placing some sort of cord around it. Did he plan to strangle her at her
most vulnerable so he could marry his next great love?

When her longest, most painful
contraction yet drew to a close, Geneva sensed it wouldn’t be much longer. One
or two more pushes, and the babe would arrive in half the time of her sisters.

“I will now cast the pain spell.”
Naudo waved a tiny wand over her mounded stomach. Sparkles drifted over her
like snow, snow from a Wintertide sky. They spread a warm glow throughout her
body, softening and relaxing her for the final endeavor.

“Thank the Dragon,” Geneva said
with a sigh. Released temporarily from her pain, she drooped in her husband’s
muscular arms and let his touch appease her. Her consciousness drifted. She’d
attempted to discuss baby names with Reginald last month before his suspicious
behavior had started, and he’d suggested Hortense. Not a bad choice. It brought
to mind an obedient child, a just child, a child who would love books, and
learning, and law.

But Geneva, her spirit drifting on
waves of cottony relief, now pictured a different child. She imagined a
beautiful girl, elegant and graceful. She imaged a girl whose long black hair
was the color of ebony, her skin the pure white of snow. Her lips as pink as
roses.

Roses. She’d always wanted a child
named for roses.

Geneva became aware of a musty odor
tickling her nostrils. That was definitely not roses. She glanced down. A small
object that looked like a wizened human finger lay between her milk-heavy
breasts.

“What the fook,” she said, her
voice a rusty croak she hardly recognized, “is that?”

“A birthing charm.” Reginald, his
hands eager, tightened the cord behind her neck. This drew the mangled pendant
closer to her face. It left a faint smear of brown on her sweaty pink
nightrail. He rose from the special seat behind her birthing chair and wrapped
his arms around her, cupping the item with his free hand.

“My Queen, you and the Middle
Kingdoms will be thanking me soon,” he whispered. “You have no idea what I’ve
gone through to obtain this for us. Don’t let Naudo see it.”

Geneva tried to inspect the hideous
object, but his hand concealed it. She didn’t like the tone of his voice and
his note of braggadocio. She didn’t like his smelly gift. She supposed his
other lover was the one who would now receive the rubies, the candies and the
flowers while she would receive dead things.

She drew his head to her lips, but
instead of kissing him, she hissed, “Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

“The other woman.” Geneva dug her
fingers into his thick hair with a good portion of her strength, and he winced.
“The one you’ve been seeing in town. Your next great love.”

Reginald blinked rapidly. “What are
you talking about?”

“I followed you.”

“You were in town today?” His hand
grasped hers and attempted to preserve his scalp. She felt a dull heaviness
increase in her loins, and she breathed deeply to postpone the next
contraction.
Not now, my child. Wait one more moment. I need to murder your
father.

“You’ll leave her, too, for number
three.” Tears filled Geneva’s eyes, and she could barely make out her husband’s
handsome visage. This last month had turned her into a regular waterspout. “But
I’m your Queen and you will not put me and your children aside. I won’t allow
it, do you hear me?!”

“I haven’t left you. I love you.”
Reginald cupped her face in his smelly hands. “You and only you. How could I
love another when I have you? There won’t be thirteen women for me, now or
ever. Just one.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She
wanted to believe him desperately. “The fairies are never wrong. And I followed
you.”

Reginald’s firm, soft lips brushed
her own, and in a voice so quiet she could barely hear him, he said, “I may
have had dealings with…ah…a representative of the fairy black market this
afternoon. The charm had to be properly timed to your pregnancy in order to
work. I could get it no earlier than Wintertide Eve. I hurried as fast as I
could go.”

“A charm?” Geneva felt hope leap in
her breast like the baby leapt in her womb, ready for release. “You were
seeking a charm this afternoon?”

“The charm will—” Reginald began,
but Naudo clapped, which made a great deal more noise than might be expected
from such thin hands.

“Your Highnesses, the babe is
ready,” he commanded. “It is time.”

“Not yet!” Geneva yelled. She
wanted more answers from her husband before it was too late.

Binny smacked the King in the back
of the head. “Sit your bottom down, sirrah, and help your wife focus. Do you
want to suffocate the poor child? She’s ready to be born.”

Reginald sank abruptly into his
spot and grasped Geneva’s shoulders. He twitched the pendant around so it was
behind her head. “I’m ready to meet my so—, I mean, my child. Darling, are you
ready?”

“Fine. I’m ready,” Geneva said.
Braced by her man, who might still be worthy of the title husband, she began to
push her third baby into the world.

Because of the efficacy of the
healer’s spell, Geneva felt only pressure and discomfort as the babe crowned.
She panted and struggled, with Reginald and Binny urging and encouraging her,
cheering her on. Soon the fifth member of the royal family of Foresta slipped as
easily as these things go into the waiting arms of a Naudo. Healer and
assistant checked the child quickly before wrapping it in a clean towel to be
introduced to the parents.

“Hurry up. I want my baby,” Geneva demanded.
Her arms ached to hold the child.

“Your baby is healthy.” Naudo smiled
at her and raised his wand for the next part of the process.

“Child of King Reginald and Queen Geneva
of Foresta, I dub thee—” He paused for Geneva to supply the child’s name. Magic
tingled in the air as the naming spell waited to take effect.

She opened her mouth to speak, but
Reginald, in great excitement, leapt to his feet. The pendant heated, singeing the
back of Geneva’s neck, as her husband blared out, “We shall call him Peter!”

Latching onto the name, magic
sizzled across Geneva’s skin, then sparkled through Reginald, before it centered
on their new baby. The baby began to cry. The newborn had a thin, wobbly wail
that grew stronger and stronger as the lungs grew accustomed to sucking air in
and out.

For a long moment, the babe’s wails
were the only sound in the birthing chamber.

The sear of the pendant on Geneva’s
skin and the prickle of the naming spell disappeared before they became excruciating.
Tears glinted in Reginald’s eyes, and she pressed a shaking hand to her mouth. Binny,
beside them, muffled a gasp as well.

A boy? This birthing charm Reginald
had procured…had it broken the Female Curse? It must have done something, else
why would it have burned her skin?

He slid one arm around her and held
out the other. “My wife and I would like to hold our son, please.”

It would be only fitting if the two
of them broke the curse when they’d essentially been the ones to cause it. Geneva
reached behind her to touch the skin beneath the pendant and found it tender,
almost sore.

The healer frowned and cradled the
baby to his chest. “What is hanging around the Queen’s neck?”

“Does it matter?” Reginald rose to
his full height and towered over the smaller man. “The deed is done, sir.
Introduce us to our son.”

“I cannot do that.” Naudo shook his
bald, brown head with what seemed like genuine regret. “But I can introduce you
to your daughter, whose name shall be Peter, from now until the end of recorded
time.”

“Daughter? But the fairy said the
charm would work.” Reginald untied the smelly pendant from Geneva’s neck and
shook it. “Do you know what I had to do to get this? Do you know how much I
paid for this? You must be wrong. The babe in your arms is a boy.”

The healer narrowed his eyes at
Reginald and the hideous object in his hand. “Really, King Reginald. The fairy
black market? What would your constituents say?”

“They would have said, ‘Thank you
very much, King Reginald’, if the damned pendant had worked the way it was
supposed to,” he growled. “You’re sure we had another girl?”

The baby cried louder, as if
sensing the displeasure of her father turned against her already.

“I’m sure,” Naudo said with a sour
expression.

“If they won’t take the child, give
her to me.” Binny held out her arms, and the healer slipped the tiny, crying
bundle into them. “There, there precious. Your Papa is joshing. He loves his
girls, all of them. He’s so happy you’re here.”

“Let me see her.” Geneva had
expected a girl and wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed to have one. “Let me
hold my baby.”

Binny rushed to her side and placed
the red-faced child into her arms. At once, the child ceased crying. Queen Geneva
met her daughter’s gaze. Her eyes were dark, alert and seeking. Queen and
princess inspected one another’s faces. The babe’s hair was not black as ebony,
and her skin was red, wrinkled and moist, not white as snow.

Yet her toothless gums were pink as
roses, and Geneva knew with one glance beauty would come. One day, this child
would steal hearts—as she had already stolen the Queen’s.

“Look at our beautiful daughter.”
For the fiftieth time today, tears welled up in Geneva’s eyes. “Look, Reginald.
Look.”

With a disappointed grunt, the King
leaned over her shoulder and peered into his daughter’s round, red face. Geneva
tore her gaze from the baby to watch as his glower melted in a wash of paternal
adoration.

Now King and princess inspected one
another’s faces, and it was, as always, love at first sight.

“She’s perfect,” Reginald admitted.
“Peter is absolutely perfect.”

Chapter 5

The next day during the Wintertide
gifting, Geneva nursed her new daughter in a comfortable lounger by the tree
while the older girls played bronco on the floor with their father. All the
toys under the tree, including an abundance of magic flutes, and Susannah and
Calypso preferred to ride on their father’s back as he galloped madly around the
carpeted room.

Which was exactly as it should be.

Without ceremony, Foresta’s FAE
representatives—the fairies Budbud, Pleasentia and Gary—popped like soap
bubbles into the center of the room.

Geneva had been expecting them
since the moment Peter’s naming ceremony had concluded, but as always she felt
some degree of apprehension at their arrival.

Who knew what trouble the fairies
would bring? She was certain, even if they didn’t wish to harm humankind, that
they wished humans little good, either. Naudo or no Naudo.

Calypso had no such reservations.
She squealed and pelted toward the trio at a dead run. Susannah approached at a
more mannerly pace. Reginald straightened his royal pajamas and ruffled hair.

“Did someone say there was baby in
need of christening?” Budbud, who’d been old and cranky as long as Geneva had
known her, had an almost cheery look about her this morning. A ribbon of
Wintertide white strung with bells danced around her shoulders.

“There is indeed.” Reginald rose
from the floor and gestured grandly toward Geneva. “There she is with her
mother. Princess Peter of Foresta. There is nothing you can give her that will
make her any more perfect than she already is.”

“Then perhaps,” Budbud said with a
glint in her eyes, “it’s our job to make sure she isn’t too perfect.”