Benisch opened his mouth as if to say more but then hesitated and inclined his head. “As you wish.”
In Benisch’s absence, Elcon paced through the room. When a tap came at the door, he turned.
Anders looked in. “Do you require food, Lof Shraen?”
Elcon waved him away in annoyance but then called him back. “Send Kai to me.” While Kai had no formal duty to offer advice, more and more in difficult situations Elcon looked to his quiet presence and well-reasoned responses. His mother had done the same. Remembering his mother made Elcon smile but also hitch a breath at the thought she was no longer alive.
When Kai entered the room, he made no inquiry but waited in silence as Elcon concluded his pacing. Craelin arrived and Elcon moved to the table with a brief nod to acknowledge his bow. “Come then, we’ve much to discuss.”
The men took their accustomed places at his side, and Elcon aimed a glance at Craelin. “Tell me how I come by news of Freaer’s movements first from my steward Benisch.”
Craelin’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward in his chair. “I, too, would like to know that. We met under measures of utmost security.”
Elcon lifted an eyebrow. “I am told he overheard the conversation.”
Craelin drummed his fingers. “Impossible—unless…” He slapped his hand on the table and sat forward. “Word of mouth has it that a passage leads from one of the guardrooms to the stables. We’ve searched for it long and hard without success. Benish must know its entrance.”
“Don’t use that particular guardroom for matters of security again. And renew your search for the passageway. We will need to question Benisch further. I’m afraid his penchant for gossip may have led him astray.”
“I’ll see to it at once.”
“Now, tell me all that this messenger said.”
“Freaer rebuilds Pilaer Hold and lays claim to the fenland of Weithein Faen. Rumor holds that he arms for another attack on Torindan, and that he argues an earlier right as Rivenn’s heir.”
Elcon nodded. Freaer came from the same illegitimate branch of Rivenn’s descendants as did Benisch.
Craelin pressed his lips together, as if to hold back words.
“Go on.”
“Another two ravens have changed their loyalty to Freaer.”
Elcon pushed to his feet and took the steps needed to reach the hearth where flames devoured and resin snapped as wood went up in smoke. He turned back to Craelin. “Name them.”
“Merboth and Tallyrand.”
“What reason do they give?”
“They say they will not follow a Lof Raelein of Elder blood.” Craelin pressed his lips together once more.
“Speak all. What else do they say?”
Craelin glanced sideways to Kai and then back to Elcon. “They take offense on Arillia’s behalf, although Chaeradon itself remains loyal.”
“I see. Whether I will or not, it seems I must face my own people in battle. Did the messenger have any idea when Freaer might strike?”
“Shraen Eberhardt believes Freaer will strike before winter. We can’t know for certain, but we may have a little more time than that. Pilaer’s location within Weithein Faen suits it well for defense, but doesn’t lend itself to offensive strikes.”
Elcon tilted his head. If Freaer approached through the canyonlands to avoid crossing the Great Eastern Desert it would cost him time. But if he drove his armies across the desert without regard for loss of life, he’d arrive sooner. He pushed a hand through his hair, which had fallen across his brow. In truth, none of them could know what Frear would do, or when. “If Freaer were to strike before winter sets in, would we be ready to counter him?”
Craelin’s gaze held steady. “Let us hope he waits until spring.”
****
Murial bathed Aewen’s face and smoothed her hair. “There now, rest.”
Aewen bit back the sobs that shook her frame and bent to vomit again. She had never felt so wretched in her life. The cloth, wrung of warm water, passed over her face. She caught Murial’s wrist and pulled her near. “Don’t tell Elcon.”
“
Tsk!
” Murial stood back. “You’ll not hide your condition long.”
Another wave of nausea hit. She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll not tell him. Right now he has enough to worry him.”
“What can be more important?”
The nausea ebbed. A measure of strength flowed back and Aewen pulled herself upright. “Promise me.”
Murial snorted. “I’ll follow your wishes although I think them daft.”
Aewen eased herself onto a bench before the fire in what had been Lof Raelein Maeven’s inner chamber. She sent Murial a stern look but would not argue now. Nor would she mention the idea that made her toss upon her bed in the night—at least not yet.
She wiped her tears. “Summon Benisch.”
Murial looked at her as if she’d lost her sanity, but inclined her head and went to do her bidding.
Aewen hated wresting Murial from yet another home, but there seemed no other choice. If Aewen disappeared, Faeraven could recover from the damage she’d wrought it. If he thought her dead, Elcon might marry Arillia and thus unify Faeraven. Aewen did not question the advisability of a marriage based on such a falsehood. In a sense, once she left Elcon, she would indeed live no more but only pass through life in shadow.
She had no idea where to go—there seemed no choices left to her—but perhaps Willowa would in kindness take her in. Or she could flee to the Abbey of Westernost and there spend her life in penitence. This last option appealed less, for they might take her child from her. She placed a protective hand on her stomach. She must do nothing that would separate her from her child. After all, the babe that thrived in her womb would be all that remained of the love she had shared with Elcon.
She gave a weak smile, thinking of that love, so ill-advised and yet so strong. She and Elcon had done nothing “right” save love one another. She would carry that thought with her. They’d been wrong in thinking love would transcend honor. She knew now that love and honor could not exist apart.
****
Benisch seated himself in the embrasure of one of the windows in Aewen’s outer chamber with a small smile.
Aewen lifted her chin. “At least I’ve found an ally in your hatred of me.”
“Hatred is too strong a word. Shall we say that I find your presence inconvenient for the Lof Shraen?”
“Spare me your false concern for Elcon! Do you think I can’t see that you have little thought for anyone save yourself?”
His eyes widened and then narrowed. Malice edged his smile. “Be careful the barbs you throw into a strong wind.”
The truth of the ancient saying robbed her of breath. Why cast accusations onto Benisch when she had acted in naught but selfishness since meeting Elcon?
“I suppose I deserve that, but I want to make things right.”
A smooth look came over Benisch’s face. “I’ll help you leave Torindan in secret. I’ll provide you and your servant with a mount and a supply of food and water. I’ll even put you on a back way that leads through the passes to Norwood.”
She inclined her head. She would need to journey that way to Westerland, for roads had not yet penetrated the wild lands she and Elcon had flown over when she’d come to Torindan. Besides, she would be a woman alone. She might come upon other travelers willing to help her in the mountain passes, but only the roughest sort of huntsman and tracker could be found in the western wilderness.
“In return, you must leave at once, promise never to return and keep my involvement secret if you are discovered.”
She took a steadying breath. “I agree to all but your first condition. I will leave when I am ready.” She pressed a hand against her stomach. “But that will not be overlong. Now pray excuse me. I wish to be alone.”
Benisch rose and unbolted the door. No sooner had it banged shut behind him than Murial opened it. She gave Aewen a strange look.
“What matters take you behind a locked door with Benisch?”
She sighed and squared her shoulders. “You will know soon enough.”
****
“Aewen, wake up.” Elcon called from her dreams. When she opened her eyes, he leaned over her. “Come then wife, do you yet sleep?” He frowned. “It’s past midday. Are you ill?”
Aewen came with difficulty out of slumber and sat upright. She shook her head, although her stomach did feel squeamish. “I’m just tired.”
He gave her a weak smile. “Do you grow bored while I’m occupied? Perchance you are homesick. Do you miss your sister’s company?”
She wished he did not speak of her people. She did think of Caerla sometimes, and of her parents and brothers at Cobbleford. They were all lost to her, as Elcon would soon be also.
He reached out and flicked away tears that had welled in her eyes and now spilled onto her cheeks. “What’s this? Sorrow?”
She broke down in earnest, weeping until his arms came around her, and his kisses stopped her tears. Yes, she would leave Elcon to a better life without her, but not today.
Despite the joy of being in his arms, she could not ignore her nausea. Breaking free, she hurried to empty her stomach.
“You are ill.” He opened their bedchamber door and called for Murial. “Summon Praectal Daelic.”
Aewen was too weak to protest. She lay back against the pillows to wait with a sense of helplessness for the praectal’s arrival. Her secret would soon be revealed. Her husband held her hand and smoothed her brow. Creases lined his forehead. He worried for her. She should tell him the truth now while it was hers to give.
And yet…what if the praectal missed her condition? Her belly had only just started swelling.
Elcon pressed his lips to her forehead and gazed into her eyes.
“Elcon—”
The door burst open and a large Kindren entered the chamber with Murial behind him. He had a kind face and carried a satchel by a strap across the front of his brown overtunic. After her examination, Daelic loomed over her bedside. “Are you aware you are with child?” Murial, waiting in the doorway, met her glance and backed away. Elcon, who hovered in the background, rushed to embrace her before she could respond. She breathed a thankful sigh, for what could she have said in answer? She’d meant to leave him, but in weakness could never bring herself to actually go. Her heart could not withstand such a loss. Each day spent as Elcon’s wife, despite the distance he sometimes adopted, brought her comfort. Now that his joy overflowed at impending fatherhood, she could not bring herself to shatter it. Hope, which until now she’d counted as an enemy, embraced her. In bearing her husband a fine son, she would enjoy her husband’s favor.
16
Duplicity
The cap for Aewen’s soon-coming child blurred. Brushing away tears, she applied herself once more to embroidering the small garment. She would not allow herself to dwell on her fears for her child, its father, and herself. Now she knew what had so preoccupied Elcon. Civil war loomed. Snow had closed in to protect them over the winter, making it difficult to reach them. But the spring thaw would soon bring blossoms and new life. Would it also bring death?
Elcon did not say as much, but she’d overheard enough to be more certain than ever that their marriage had divided Faeraven. She snipped a thread, selected a strand of blue silk, and held up her needle to catch the light. She liked the quiet of her outer chamber with prisms and crystals hanging at the windows to create rainbows that swayed across the walls. Upon the mantel unibeasts and gryphons raised carved hooves beneath stuffed pheasants, graylets, and other fowl. A tapestry above the fireplace depicted the first Kindren who had entered Elderland at Gilead Riann
,
the Gate of Life. She paused to stretch and yawn, cupping a hand over her swollen abdomen.
Her child must sleep, for she’d not felt kicking since morning. She would not carry the babe much longer, for her lying in neared. Already, whenever she sighed, both Elcon and Murial turned anxious eyes upon her.
She put her needlework aside, for weariness took her. She should rest. Perhaps she’d awaken to a dream world, to a golden land where enemies filled with hatred and ambition did not lust for her husband’s blood, or her own.
Murial assisted her to her bedchamber, where she settled for sleep. A tap at the outer door caught her attention as she shifted to place cushions about her. She would let Murial send away whoever knocked.
Benisch’s voice roused her. He had no business intruding on the peace of her private chambers. What could he want? She’d kept secret his offer to assist her in leaving Torindan for her own sake, but if pressed, she’d confess all to Elcon.
Benisch must know she’d given up on leaving. It had been one thing to keep from Elcon his fatherhood but quite another for her to wrest it from him. Besides, she couldn’t bear to go away or to separate her child from its father. She’d been wrong to think she could. The dark world she’d entered during the first throws of pregnancy now seemed distant. Right or wrong, she belonged with Elcon. They’d chosen their path and must walk it together.
Benisch’s voice dwindled to nothing. Murial must have sent him away. Sleep laid a greater claim on Aewen. She woke to heavy silence and listened for Murial’s quiet movements in the outer chamber as pale light filtered into the chamber. It must be late. She sat up. Why hadn’t Murial awakened her? She should ready herself for the evening’s repast. She gave a wry smile. Perhaps Murial had tried and failed. She slept soundly of late. She threw back her bed clothes and sought the stepstool with her feet. She glanced into the outer chamber. It reposed in semi-darkness, the fire smouldering to nothing. Why hadn’t her maid lit the lanthorns?
“Murial?”
No response.
She hurried to her bedchamber and hastened to dress in a simple tunic. Something was wrong. She had to summon help. Before she had completed the task the outer chamber door clicked, the hair at the back of her neck bristled, and she went still. When no further sound came, she crept toward the connecting door, which she’d shut while dressing. She would throw the bolt, and then inquire.