entered, ready to balm her skin before
they bandaged her for burial. He’d
found Loki and taken him for a brisk
night ride, trying to forget if only
briefly that his mother was dead, and
that if she hadn’t died, his brother’s
wife and child might have been dead.
When he returned, the maids had
cleared Lydia’s room, and the white
gauze that indicated the deceased was
all he could see of his mother. No fire
had been lit, as the cold would keep
the body, but the moonlight streaming
into the high window made it possible
for him to make his way around the
room.
He’d paced, he’d sat, he’d braced
himself against the wall, run his hand
through his hair, cursed. Hours later,
his mind raced with possibilities. He
thought of the times he’d spoken to
his mother, of what she’d told him.
He remembered her asking him about
his rule of Lytheria, and the glitter
he’d seen in her eyes. He was
shocked he hadn’t been aware of it
before now. That look in her eyes had
not been happiness, but anticipation.
Perhaps he’d always known it, but
he’d never imagined she would go as
far as she had to take for him a throne
that was not rightfully his. To drug his
brother’s wife, and attempt to poison
her? He’d never thought his mother
capable of plotting something so
heinous!
With a thump, he folded his long
frame onto an opulently padded chair.
He closed his eyes, ran a hand
through his hair, and shook his head.
He had not wanted the throne!
His eyes moved back to the
wrapped body. Had he given her any
indication that he had?
***
Vulcan had left his wife’s chambers
only a handful of times and those
were for absolute necessities. He’d
removed his armor and had freshened
himself quickly, before returning to
her side. Anhur had long since left for
the Sanctuary, leaving Vulcan with
instructions to send for him if anything
changed in her condition. A healer
had been sent for and appeared
frequently to check on his queen.
Hours had passed since she’d fallen
into that sleep, and nothing had
changed. Her lids still flickered, and
occasionally she turned her head to
the side, but she did not open her
eyes. He would have done anything,
would have given his kingdom, to see
her open those golden eyes and smile
at him.
One of the servants had pushed a
chair closer to her bed for him, and he
sat there, holding her hand as the
healer examined her. She was an
older woman with greying hair. She
would check his wife’s pulse and lay a
hand on her belly for a few moments
before moving away and sitting in the
chair next to the wall. As it grew later
into the night, and still she did not
wake, Vulcan began to panic. She had
to live! The Gods couldn’t be that
cruel, to give him a glimpse of love
and take it away before he fully
explored it.
“Jaisyn,” he began softly, squeezing
her hand in his, before bringing it to
his lips. He moved closer to her,
leaning his head down so that his lips
were beside her ear. “Jaisyn—don’t
leave me.” He felt his eyes sting, and
was surprised to feel the drop of liquid
that ran down his cheek. He hadn’t
cried in over twenty years and had
forgotten how it felt to feel so
helpless. “I need you. I love you. I’m
—” He paused and drew in a deep
breath, and his eyes moved down the
pronounced swell of her belly. He
remembered his accusations, how
he’d thought she was scheming to
place Malcolm’s child on his throne,
how he’d used her callously because
of his anger and hurt. He’d been
wrong. So wrong. “I’m so sorry for
not listening to you or trusting you.
You have to come back to me.”
Brushing aside the lone tear, he
moved his hand over to her belly,
cloaked by her gown and the fresh
covers that had been brought to her
chambers, but still casting soft outline.
“Give me a dozen little girls with your
smile, sons with your stubborn
courage—” His voice broke and he
paused to clear his throat. “Just come
back to me. I swear that I will love
and cherish you as you deserve.”
He sniffled and lowered his face to
her neck. Her hair had been pulled up
to give her greater comfort. Vulcan
did not know how long he remained in
that position, but he must have dozed
off because when next he opened his
eyes, Jaisyn was struggling against the
bed and the healer was urgently
calling out to him. He was awake in
an instant, shooting from his chair and
staring down at his wife. Her eyes
were still closed but her neck kept
snapping forward.
The healer immediately reached for
the chamber pot and rolled her onto
her side. Vulcan understood. He lifted
her slightly, finger sifting into her thick
hair as he turned her head over the
pot. She began to retch violently.
“Guards!” Vulcan yelled, holding
her and rubbing her back as she
emptied the contents of her stomach
into the chamber pot. Four guards
rushed in, took a look at the scene in
the room and awaited their orders.
“Bring Anhur to me!”
They went about doing so.
When the retching stopped, Vulcan
was terrified. Jaisyn continued to dry
heave before she finally collapsed
against him. The healer wiped at her
lips with a damp cloth and Vulcan
rested her back against the bed. Her
eyelids lifted a fraction and she began
to shake violently.
The healer lifted her hand to
Jaisyn’s forehead and her eyes were
sad as she shook her head.
“’Tis fever, liege,” she said softly,
moving away from Jaisyn and over to
the fireplace, where she’d left a pouch
full of herbs. “She’s cold to touch.”
Vulcan touched her forehead and
immediately began to pull the covers
over her body. She was cold.
Freezing.
Anhur entered then, took a look at
the healer on the ground with her
herbs, at Jaisyn who was still shaking
violently, at Vulcan staring hopefully
at him, and approached the queen.
“Lift her head,” he told Vulcan
quickly, and the king did as he asked.
He trusted Anhur, especially after
what the Seer had told him. Anhur
pried her lips apart and pressed a vial
against her lips.
“You must drink, Jaisyn,” he
whispered softly, tilting the vial.
Vulcan held her head steady, and
Anhur rubbed at her throat and
pinched her nose until she swallowed
and coughed.
Minutes later, Jaisyn’s shaking
stopped and the healer approached
her, a cup filled with her mixtures for
a fever. Anhur stepped aside and
nodded to Vulcan, who was glaring at
both cup and the healer in distrust.
Lifting Jaisyn’s head, the healer
gradually fed her the mixture before
moving back to her chair.
Vulcan pushed back a few stray
tendrils of hair from Jaisyn’s face and
addressed Anhur. “Have the Gods
allowed you to see if she will live?”
Anhur’s countenance was grave as
he replied. “Yes, they have.”
***
Jaisyn came awake with a small
gasp and began to struggle. Her hands
clawed at the covers and her mouth
opened in a silent scream. Vulcan,
who lay beside her, sat up and gently
restrained her flailing arms. After
hours of laboring with Vulcan to bring
her temperature up, and hours of
doing the same only to bring her
temperature back down, the healer
had retired for a few hours of rest.
“Jaisyn,” he called softly, placing his
face directly above hers. Her eyelids
fluttered and her golden irises were
staring up into his concerned gaze.
“You’re safe.”
She swallowed and released a deep
breath. Her eyes focused on him
briefly and her body relaxed. She
drifted off once more.
Vulcan laid his hand against her
forehead.
Warm
.
He stared long and hard at her face.
Relaxed
.
Shifting ever so slightly, he leaned
back
against
the
pillows,
and
continued to stare at his wife. Anhur
had told him that if Jaisyn survived the
fever, all would be well. His hope
surged when she opened her eyes and
looked at him, but he was cautious.
His wife wasn’t safe yet. Until she did
something to indicate that she was
strong again, he would remain where
he was.
***
After grueling hours, wondering if
he would ever be able to hold his wife
again or see his child take its first
breath, Vulcan watched as Jaisyn
attained and held consciousness. It
was early in the morning and the
healer had spoon-fed her some gruel
before allowing her to rest once more.
She’d retreated to her chair, and was
silently working on her needlework,
when the queen began to toss and
turn.
Vulcan, who’d closed his eyes
briefly after the healer had told him
Jaisyn was doing much better,
hovered over her. He and the healer
both watched as Jaisyn’s lips moved
and parted. Her throat worked and the
healer immediately went over to the
tray and grabbed a cup of water.
Lifting her head, Vulcan watched as
the healer put the cup to Jaisyn’s lips
and she began to drink on her own.
A bright smile illuminated the
healer’s face and Vulcan could not
explain the elation that went through
his body.
Jaisyn drank most of the water and
a long sigh escaped her lips before the
groans kicked in. She sounded as if
she were in pain.
“What
is
happening?”
Vulcan
demanded, cradling her against him.
Her face was bunched, and she tried
to turn from him.
The healer nodded before turning to
face him. “Most who wake from fever
’ave some type of muscle ache. I fetch
a mixture that help.” She was already
heading for the pouch and pulling
leaves from it.
“Vulcan.”
It was such a soft whisper that at
first he believed it a figment of his
imagination. When she called his
name once more, his heart swelled as
he leaned in to her.
“I am here.” He cleared his throat,
trying to unlock the emotions that had
gathered there. “You are safe.”
Her eyes did not open but she
continued to whisper. “The baby?”
He leaned down and kissed her
forehead. “The baby is fine. Are you
in pain?”
A rush of breath escaped her lips
and her breathing evened once more.
The healer returned to his side with
the foul-smelling potion. Vulcan held
Jaisyn up as the healer fed her the
brew.
***
Isolde barely got an hour’s worth of
sleep. After seeing Lydia’s body in
Varian’s arms, she’d rushed to her
sister’s chambers, only to be barred
from entering by the numerous guards
that stood outside the doorway. Even
Anne and Jane had been told they
would have to sleep elsewhere. She’d
searched out Magda and Asha, who’d
looked grave, and had been busy
bustling about the kitchens only to
rush back to her sister’s room. Finding
no answers from them, she’d gone to
Lydia’s rooms, only to find that there
were guards stationed outside that
door as well. Her brain had swirled
with possibilities, but she’d ended up
returning to her room, where her
anxious sister awaited her. In her
heart, she knew that something had