Maryn nodded and slid back down to lie flat, closing her eyes. Maybe she shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the idea of learning more about sorcery. She couldn’t help but tremble when she remembered the wild destructive fury of the forces she’d unleashed. But it had been her ignorance that had made her bumbling attempts to use magic so dangerous. Surely it would be better to learn at least a little about the proper ways to harness it, even if she never intended to make use of that knowledge. Her blood and her milk did have power. If she was better prepared, she could use them to protect herself and Barilan should their lives ever again be in jeopardy.
If
she was still able to be Barilan’s nurse. She couldn’t rest until she knew for sure. She rolled to face Litholl, pushing herself up on her elbow. “Please, bring Barilan to me,” she begged. “I have to see…”
Litholl started to deny her, but stopped and looked more closely into her face. Her expression softened, and she went to the doorway. “Semprell, he’s had enough for one day. You’re not going to be able to make up for all the time you lost. Let Maryn take him for a while.”
Semprell wore a scowl when she came through the door, but Barilan reached for Maryn as soon as he saw her. She hurried to sit up, and Litholl helped arrange the pillows behind her back. Maryn accepted Barilan into her arms. His warm heavy body felt infinitely precious, as if it had been days since she’d held him, not merely a few hours. She hugged him tight, breathing in his milky, musky scent, then slid him down into position and pulled loose the ties of her shift. He latched on and began nursing with great vigor. Maryn watched him anxiously, sure he’d soon pull back in offended frustration at finding nothing there.
But after a minute or so of frantic sucking, Maryn felt the blessedly familiar warm rush, and Barilan’s sucks changed to long, slow draws punctuated by swallows. The angle of his jaw by his ear flexed in and out. Maryn kept her head ducked over him until she mastered the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. At last she could look up and found Litholl beaming at her. She returned a tremulous smile.
“See?” Litholl said. “I told you there’d be no problem. Look at him. I’ve seldom seen such a content—”
The door opened. Litholl broke off as two guards entered and stationed themselves at either side of the door. Voerell passed between them, her steps heavy, her shoulders slumped in weariness.
Maryn bowed her head over Barilan, watching the princess from the corner of her eye. She didn’t know what to expect. The final confrontation with Carlich had been so confusing, with so much happening so quickly, so many lies mixed with the truth. She hoped Voerell understood enough to realize that Maryn had always been on her side and had done her best to protect Barilan and work against Carlich. But she feared Voerell might dismiss her efforts as inadequate. The princess might allow her anger with her brother to expand to include everyone associated with him.
Voerell brightened a little as she saw Maryn with Barilan at her breast. The princess gestured to the guards, and they left the room to take up positions outside the door. “Litholl, is everything all right?”
“Yes, your Highness. Maryn seems to be well on her way to recovery, and Barilan’s just shown us that her milk remains plentiful.”
“Thank the Holy One.” A weight seemed to lift from Voerell’s shoulders. Only one burden of many, Maryn knew, but not insubstantial. She approached Maryn’s bed. Litholl rose and offered her chair to Voerell. “Your Highness, would you like me to leave you three alone?”
“Yes, please, Litholl. Thank you.” Voerell pressed her hand and gave her a grateful smile. Litholl slipped from the room and closed the door.
Maryn didn’t know what to say. She’d never been alone with the princess before. Voerell didn’t look at her at first, only gazed at Barilan as he busily nursed.
At length Voerell sighed and raised her eyes to meet Maryn’s. “I don’t know how to begin to thank you. I owe you so much. You kept Barilan safe, you managed to get the better of my brother…” She trailed off, her gaze sliding past Maryn to stare unseeing into the distance.
The silence stretched long, until Maryn had to say something to break it. “It was nothing, your Highness. I only did what I had to do. Anyone would have done the same.”
Voerell focused again on Maryn. “I greatly doubt that.” She leaned forward, her eyes dropping to Barilan, her voice rough. “When Carlich seized you and Barilan, and dragged you away…I knew I’d never see my son alive again. Yet here he is.” She reached a tentative finger to stroke Barilan’s hair.
Maryn blushed and looked away. She knew she didn’t deserve such praise, but she couldn’t contradict Voerell.
The princess went on. “From what Carlich says he did to you, it must have been a struggle just to survive with your mind intact, let alone discover a way to defeat him. The spell he used on you, that you turned against him—he must have learned it from that Hampsian sorcerer, for surely no follower of the Holy One would condone it.”
“I’m not in trouble for using it, am I?” Maryn blanched at this new worry. “I wouldn’t have, but I didn’t see any other way—”
“No, no. Under the circumstances it was perfectly acceptable.” Voerell patted Maryn’s hand.
Her reaction gave Maryn the courage to ask the question that troubled her. “Did it work? Did Carlich tell you everything he did?”
“My dear, Carlich hasn’t been able to leave off confessing.” Voerell gave a short laugh. “Once he recited the whole sorry tale, he started over at the beginning, in greater detail. Every wicked thought he ever had, every wicked deed—and there were many. It was quite a shock. I thought I knew my brother, but it seems he had me fooled as much as everyone else. He’s in the gaol now, and as far as I know is still regaling his guards with the litany of his sins.”
“Oh, no.” Maryn struggled to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. “I never meant for that to happen.” The continuing strength of her magic both awed and appalled her. She wished, now that the crisis was safely over, that the lingering effects would go away before they drew far too much embarrassing attention to her. And she felt ashamed of the rush of vindictive pleasure that swept her when she pictured Carlich’s plight. She knew how cruel such compulsion was, no matter how richly Carlich deserved it. “I can try to cancel the spell, though I don’t know how.”
Voerell gave her a stern look and put a quelling hand on her arm. “You stay right there. It will do my brother good to dwell on his misdeeds for a while. If the spell hasn’t worn off after a few days, I’ll have Rogelan see to it. Don’t you waste another thought on Carlich.”
Maryn sank back into the bed, but she couldn’t leave the matter entirely. “What will happen to him?”
Voerell bit her lip. “He will be brought to trial. The evidence from his own lips will be ample to convict him. He should be—” She swallowed, shaking her head. “What he’s done is worthy of—”
Her lips moved soundlessly. Maryn winced in sympathy, remembering the choking sensation when King Froethych’s spell had prevented her from speaking. Voerell made a few more abortive attempts before finding words she could force out. “The—the usual punishment for treason is death.”
Voerell breathed deeply for a moment, then went on, still with difficulty, but clearly. “Father’s spell prevents me from ordering his execution. As a prince of Milecha, he cannot be put to death on any lesser authority. So I have little choice but to keep him confined in the Royal Gaol for the foreseeable future, under sufficient wards to prevent him from using magic to escape. At some point the effects of Father’s spell will fade, though Rogelan and Kiellan tell me it might be years.” Beads of sweat had formed on her brow; she wiped them away and gave Maryn a crooked smile. “I suppose it’s just as well. There are worse things than dwelling in a land where no one can cause harm to their blood kin. Perhaps by the time that changes, Carlich will have come to repent his crimes.”
That didn’t seem very likely to Maryn. But not impossible, either. “What about those who followed him?”
Voerell scowled. “The lords who answered his call will pay heavy fines. It’s not enough, but I can’t imprison half my nobility, not with Wonora and Hampsia both making threats. Their men will be pardoned. Kiellan is convening an ecclesiastical court to strip Vinhor of his priesthood. Captain Tennelan will be court;-;martialed.” Her face went hard and cold. “Nothing prevents me from executing
them
.”
“Oh.” Maryn gulped and looked away.
Barilan came off her breast and began to cry; Maryn propped him on her shoulder. After a bit of patting he released a loud burp. Relieved of his discomfort, he began to root at her shoulder. Maryn shifted him to her other breast and he resumed nursing happily.
Voerell watched all this business silently, an expression of both hunger and pleasure on her face. She waited until Barilan had been settled for several minutes to speak. “Carlich told us about his plan to remove Barilan’s soul from his body, and how he offered you the chance to replace it with your own lost child’s soul.”
Maryn couldn’t respond. She ducked her head, staring down at Barilan.
Voerell went on, her voice very soft, almost a whisper. “I don’t see how any mother could have refused that offer. Had it been me, I think I would have worked the spell. I am eternally in your debt that you chose not to, that you chose to sacrifice your own son for Barilan’s sake.”
Maryn didn’t want to speak, but she couldn’t let Voerell continue under such a terribly false impression. She turned her head away, and forced the words past numb lips. “Actually…actually, I did…try to work the spell. Carlich…he had his compulsion spell on me, that was part of it, but it was weak enough by then I could have fought it.” The words came easier and faster as she went along, until they tumbled out in a headlong rush. “But I didn’t want to. I wanted Frilan back, more than anything. So I let myself give in, and made the gestures. And the magic would have worked, except King Froethych’s spell stopped it. I’m Barilan’s milk;-;mother, you see; we’re kin. That’s how I knew the same thing would work with Carlich. I’m not as good as you think I am. You shouldn’t trust me with Barilan anymore, because I didn’t protect him. I would have killed him…” Maryn drew Barilan as close as she could without disrupting his nursing, tears clouding her eyes.
Voerell said nothing for a long time. When Maryn finally steeled herself to look up at her face, she found the princess gazing off into the distance.
Noticing Maryn’s eyes on her, Voerell shook her head and focused on her son. Her voice was rough. “If I can’t trust you, who can I trust? Didn’t I just say I would have made the same choice in your place? My father’s spell protects us all, from ourselves as much as from each other.”
Maryn could hardly believe it. Voerell had heard the worst there was of her, and yet was willing to overlook it. “You mean—you still want me to nurse Barilan? You won’t find someone else?”
Voerell took a deep breath and met Maryn’s eyes squarely. “Of course I still want you to nurse Barilan. Coewyn tells me the character of the wet nurse is imparted to the child through her milk. If that’s true, I couldn’t ask for a better nurse than you. If Barilan receives even a tenth of your honesty, your resourcefulness, your courage, he’ll be well served.”
Maryn blushed and looked down. There was nothing she could say to that.
Voerell was content to sit beside her in silence. Nothing further was said until after Barilan drifted off to sleep. Maryn eased her nipple out of his mouth and pulled up her shift. Voerell hesitated a moment, then reached for her son. “May I?”
Maryn wanted to refuse, but she couldn’t deny the princess. She gathered Barilan carefully, and they managed to transfer him into Voerell’s arms without waking him. Voerell settled back into the chair, cuddled Barilan to her shoulder, and rested her cheek on his head. She closed her eyes. Maryn looked away, not wishing to intrude on their intimacy. “If you don’t mind, your Highness, I’d like to get up and get dressed. I feel much better.”
“Go ahead. Speak with Litholl and let her check you over.” Voerell kept her voice quiet so she wouldn’t wake Barilan.
Maryn scooted to the far side of the bed and climbed out. At first her legs felt rubbery and blood rushed in her ears, but after a moment those sensations passed. Maryn went to the wardrobe and pulled on a fresh servant’s uniform as quietly as she could. Voerell didn’t stir or open her eyes when Maryn passed her on her way to the door. She pushed it open and slipped through.
Litholl was sitting by the hearth with Semprell. She rose and came to take Maryn’s hands. “You look much better. How do you feel?”
“Fine. Hungry. The princess said you should check me over.”
“I’ll do that.” Litholl spent a few minutes examining Maryn, looking into her eyes and mouth, smelling her breath, feeling her pulse, and questioning her further about her condition. At length she nodded. “I’d say you’re well recovered from the aftereffects of your spell. Sit down. Semprell, could you have the servants bring her a bite to eat?”
“Thank you.” Maryn was glad to sit down in the chair Semprell quickly vacated. Her legs were still a bit weak. But she couldn’t fully relax until she knew more. “Litholl, there’s a soldier from the garrison in Ralo. His name is Tior. He stopped Priest Vinhor from hurting Barilan; Princess Voerell saw. Do you know what’s happened to him?”
“No, but I’ll ask her.” Litholl rose and went to the bedroom door. She stuck her head inside for a few minutes, speaking with Voerell in a voice too low for Maryn to understand. When she emerged she spoke quietly with one of the guards, who nodded and left the nursery. She returned to the hearth and sat down next to Maryn. “He’s being held until the princess can speak with him. Carlich could tell her nothing of his involvement, so she thought it best to wait until you could give the full story.”
Maryn jumped to her feet. “I couldn’t have done anything without Tior’s help! I’ve got to tell the princess—”
“They’re bringing him here.” Litholl beckoned to the servant who arrived at the door with a tray. “Sit down and eat first.”