Content Warning:

As much as she wanted to fall into the hot springs beneath the castle, close her eyes, and let the heat ease her muscles, Liv insisted Rose and Sidonie go on without her. She’d originally planned to seek out her mother, but the way Triss had abruptly left the great hall, in the midst of the discussion, sent her on a hunt through Castle Whitehill, instead.

Liv’s first thought was to visit the training grounds and armory, in the courtyard, but none of the guards there had seen her sister-in-law come out.

“Lady Beatrice hardly ever comes to train anymore,” one of the young men told Liv. She could hardly keep from gaping in disbelief. Triss, the girl who’d tumbled about in the dust with Matthew, sword in hand, when they were first falling in love? The one who’d dragged her husband out of Bald Peak rift after wrapping a tourniquet around the stump of his severed arm to save his life? The woman who’d grown up defending Valegard, and then spent two years as a culling mage?

As Liv hurried from the training grounds to the Room of Curiosities, and then to Master Grenfell’s study, and finally to the north tower observatory, where she’d helped her teacher clean his enormous telescope years before, she thought back to Triss’ visit to Coral Bay. Even then, she’d noticed that the other woman looked worn out, exhausted, but tonight had been even worse. At the time, she’d thought it was because Valegard had been under attack.

The conversation she’d had with Matthew when last she’d been at Whitehill, however, made Liv think differently. Her adopted brother had promised they would speak later, but between the rush to get to the Tomb of Celris, and then the journey across Varuna to the painted desert, there’d been no time.

It was in the cold observatory that Liv finally found Beatrice, huddled up beneath a white fox-fur in the chair that was set up before the enormous telescope. Her eye wasn’t actually set to the eyepiece, of course; there wouldn’t be any stars to look out at until the sun had set, though Liv supposed you could always look at the ring. Hardly anyone but Master Grenfell ever came into this room in the first place, and only then at night. It would be difficult to find a part of the castle where one was less likely to be disturbed.

“Aren’t you cold up here?” Liv asked. She walked across the bare stone floor, then conjured herself a chair of coruscating blue and gold mana. She’d had half a mind to use ice, and feed the waste-heat to Triss, but she didn’t want to leave a mess of icemelt for the servants to clean.

“I have a blanket,” Triss muttered, avoiding Liv’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Liv said.

That got Triss to turn toward her. “For what?”

“For not coming to see you sooner,” Liv said. “For not noticing that you weren’t alright. I’ve been running all over the world and I haven’t been home.”

“You brought enough reinforcements from the north to give us an actual chance at victory,” Beatrice shot back. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Liv. I’m the one who’s useless.”

“You aren’t useless,” Liv said. “You’re one of the best fighters I’ve ever met. Nevermind -”

She didn’t get to finish her thought, because Triss interrupted. “I am, though,” she insisted. “I’ve got one stupid job to do for this family, and I can’t do it.”

“Matthew mentioned you’d lost two babies,” Liv said, after a moment. “When I was here last.”

Triss nodded, but she dropped her gaze to the floor, instead of meeting Liv’s eyes. “It’s miserable,” she said. “I never thought all that much about it, before. It was always something that would happen some day, but once I married Matthew, ‘someday’ became ‘right now.’ We both almost died under Bald Peak, Liv. If it hadn’t been for you and Wren, we would have. And there needs to be someone to inherit. It’s the single most important thing, right? You have to have heirs to a barony, never mind a duchy. Only I can’t do it.”

Liv leaned forward and reached her hand out, but Triss jerked away.

“It’s not the reason he married you,” Liv said. She tried to keep her voice gentle and even, as if she was talking to a spooked horse, because she’d never seen her sister-in-law this upset. “He married you because he loves you.”

“That just makes it worse!” Triss finally looked up, and Liv could see that her cheeks were streaked with tears, her makeup running. “Because I feel like I’m letting him down, and if he’d just picked someone else he’d probably already have a stupid son. Some fat, happy baby with no problems, and instead, he tries to pretend it doesn’t matter.”

Liv bit her lip, trying to think of the right thing to say, and then just leaned forward and wrapped Triss in her arms. For a moment, the other woman was utterly still. Then, like a floe of ice suddenly cracking away and being swept downriver, Triss began to shake. She threw her arms around Liv, buried her face in Liv’s shoulder, and sobbed.

“My mother had eight children,” Triss cried out, her voice half muffled by Liv’s armor. “Eight, and I can’t even have one. I always just thought it would work, but something’s wrong with me. I can’t -”

Liv reached around to Triss’s back, placed her palm there, and began to rub slow circles, just like she’d done for Matthew when he’d wailed and sobbed as an infant. It was a jarring thought.

“You’re not useless,” Liv said. “When I met you, I was terrified of all those girls there in the garden. And you never even had a second thought about being my friend, even if it meant lining up against the princess of the entire kingdom. I never thought I’d have a sister. As kind as Julianne and Henry have been to me, there’s always been a bit of distance. Like we all know I’m not really their daughter. But you just - I don’t know, claimed me as yours.” She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much that means to me, Triss. And Matthew - he’s a good man. He’s not ever going to stop loving you, or put you aside.”

“Maybe he should,” Triss mumbled.

“He won’t, and he’d be miserable if he did,” Liv told her. “Don’t even think about it.”

Triss pulled back a little, but only a short distance. She leaned her forehead against Liv’s and clasped hands. “I can feel it every time someone looks at me,” she admitted. “There goes, Lady Beatrice. She’s barren. Can’t carry a child to term. There won’t be any heir out of her.”

“What does Mistress Trafford say?” Liv asked her.

“She told me to go back to using the Maiden’s Charm,” Triss admitted. “That it wasn’t safe for me to try again.”

“How bad is it?” Liv asked. “I haven’t been here, but you look exhausted. You did when you came to Coral Bay, too, only I thought it was because you’d been fighting so much at Valegard.”

“It wasn’t.” Triss shook her head. “I can’t keep food down once it starts,” she said. “You always hear about women getting a bit queasy and sick, but they say it passes. Only it never did, for me. It got so bad I couldn’t even keep broth down. I lost almost two stone, Liv. And then I lost -”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting NovelBin for this novel and more.

Her face twisted up, as if Triss was trying to keep herself from shattering, and failing. “The first time was just blood, it happened so early,” she said. “That wasn’t so bad. I mean, it was bad, but - I thought I’d just try again. Happens to lots of women, right? The second time I was so careful, Liv. Nothing to upset my stomach, the blandest food your mother could make me. I didn’t ride, I didn’t practice in the yard, and I thought - I thought I could do it. Lasted a few weeks longer, and then -”

With a great moan, Beatrice began weeping again, and Liv gathered her up. She didn’t know what she could possibly do other than just hold Triss while she cried. It took quite a while, and Liv used one hand, halfway through, to trace a swirl of frost on one window, so that she could warm them both.

“I’m sorry,” Triss said, when she’d finally gotten hold of herself again. “Everyone else is getting ready to fight a war, and I’m just here weeping in a tower. I really am useless.”

“You aren’t,” Liv told her again. “But if you want a piece of advice, here it is. Use the Maiden’s Charm until the war is over. Then, if you’re up to it, maybe come north with me. I know some very smart women up there who have been around a very long time. If anyone would know how to help you, it’d be Aira tär Keria or my grandmother.”

Beatrice nodded, but Liv got the impression she was doing it more because she didn’t want to bother Liv than because she believed it.

“Come on down to the kitchen,” Liv said, and stood up. She took hold of Triss’ hand and dragged the other woman to her feet. “Let’s get some hot tea into you. You couldn’t have run off to the hot springs, you had to pick the coldest place in the castle?”

At that, Triss gave half a laugh, and a smile in spite of herself. “I didn’t think anyone would follow me up here.”

☙

Half a bell later, Liv had gotten Beatrice, still wrapped in her white fox-fur, ensconced in an old wobbly wooden chair next to the hearth in the kitchen. The newer servants scurried about as if someone had dropped the king himself into their midst, but Gretta and Liv’s mother saw what was needed right away. Once they’d set Triss up with not only a cup of hot tea, but a bowl of stew as well, Liv pulled up a second chair for Gretta, and the old woman began telling ridiculous stories about the nonsense Matthew had gotten up to as a boy. That gave Liv a chance to step out of earshot with her mother.

“I’m sorry the first thing I do when I get back is drop a crying woman in your lap,” Liv murmured, while she and her mother embraced.

“You haven’t even got your armor off yet,” Margaret Brodbeck said. “Just been rushing from one thing to the other, have you?”

“For weeks now. More. Since I left Coral Bay,” Liv admitted.

“We’ll take care of her for a bit,” her mother promised. “And then Melody can take her back upstairs. She’s in training to be Lady Beatrice’s permanent lady's maid, you know.”

“Is she?” Liv blinked, let her mother go, and then stepped back.

“Of course. Thora can’t very well take care of both of you,” Liv’s mother said. “Now. Why don’t you go get cleaned up in the baths. You can stop running around long enough for that, at least. Don’t take this the wrong way, my dove, but you don’t exactly smell pleasant.”

Liv laughed. “You try spending a few days in the high desert,” she said.

By the time she did make it to the sulfur spring beneath the castle, Rose and Sidonie had long since finished, and she actually had to wait outside for a moment for Keri to be finished. Thora met her in the corridor, with a basket of soaps, oils and perfumes, towels and combs and a soft robe for after.

“Staying for longer than a night, this time, m’lady?” Thora asked.

“Long enough to catch my breath, at any rate,” Liv told her. “But I have work to do at Bald Peak, and once the snows melt I imagine I’ll be down at the south pass.”

The wooden door to the baths opened, and Keri stepped out, wrapped in a white robe. His long hair was still wet, and fell down past his shoulders, soaking the robe. At the front, he’d only tied the garment loosely, and Liv couldn’t help glancing at the muscles of his chest before she forced her eyes back up to his face.

“How does our pool compare to Mountain Home?” Liv asked, to cover her blush.

“There’s something special about having the stars and the night sky spread out overhead while you sit in the water,” he told her, with a smile. “However. I can see the charm of such a private place, as well. But I won’t keep you here - you’re the last of us to have a chance to clean up.”

Keri inclined his head to Liv, then turned and headed down the corridor, trailed by one of the younger footmen. It didn’t surprise Liv to find Archibald had assigned someone to a guest; with Melody and Basil, they seemed to have extra hands all around. It did surprise her to find Thora watching her friend walk away.

“He doesn’t look a day older than when we had him at Acton House in Freeport,” Thora observed, shaking her head. “I got used to you being the odd one out, m’lady. I suppose it's easy to forget there’s an entire kingdom just like you up north.”

“Not really a kingdom,” Liv corrected her. “But I see what you mean.” She turned her back to Keri, slipped through the door, and hardly even waited for Thora to close and bar it behind them before she began unbuckling her filthy armor.

☙

Once Liv was finally scrubbed clean, and her hair combed out, Thora brought her up to her rooms to be dressed. To her surprise, Rose wasn’t present. Instead, a quick note had been scribbled - in her lover’s atrocious handwriting - on a scrap of parchment, and the quill left sitting just beside it.

“Meet us in Master Grenfell’s room when you’re done,” Liv read out loud, while Thora braided her hair.

“While you do that, I’ll have one of the footmen help me carry all your gear down to the armory,” Thora told her. “The younger guards can clean and oil your armor and your boots and all. There’s nothing going to catch fire in their faces or anything, is there?”

Liv started to shake her head, and then caught herself. She was going to have to fall back into the habit of letting someone else do her hair. “No, the enchantments aren’t dangerous,” she explained. “Not even on the new pieces. All the steel bits are from Keri’s family, and they just keep you warm. Supposedly they can catch the light and shine in an enemy’s eye, but I haven’t seen that happen yet.”

“There you are,” Thora said, finishing the braiding. She stepped back, fetched a mirror, and held it so that Liv could see the back of her head.

“Very nice.” Liv nodded. “Thank you.” She stood, caught up her wand from where it had been resting on her vanity, and slid it into the leather sheath at her hip. Besides that and her guild ring, she was somewhat surprised to find just how little combat gear she was wearing - it almost made her feel a bit vulnerable. No enchanted boots, no set of bracelet and rings on her left hand, no armor. Only the wand, and the guild ring on her finger. Still, there was nothing that was going to threaten her in Castle Whitehill - not unless the wall at the pass fell, at any rate.

Liv closed the door to her sitting room behind her and set off down the hallway, her skirts swishing around her as she moved. She didn’t even recognize the dress Thora had pulled out of the wardrobe for her, a piece with a blue silk bodice and overskirt, with everything else in white silk. Julianne must have commissioned more clothing in her size since last she’d visited.

When she reached Master Grenfell’s door, Liv raised her hand to knock, and couldn’t help but smile. She’d spent a great many hours in the room just beyond - and the vast majority of them had been good. Especially once Mirabel and Griselda had been sent packing. She rapped her knuckles on the door.

“Come in,” Master Grenfell’s voice called back. When Liv opened the door and stepped into her former classroom, however, she was surprised at just how many people were present.

The desks had been cleared out, to be replaced with a circle of chairs about the perimeter of the room which must have been pulled from all over the castle. It left a large open space in the center of the room, where Kazimir Grenfell’s lectern held the enormous chunk of unworked mana stone that he used for measuring mana capacity.

Master Grenfell was there, of course, one hand on the glowing mana-stone. Standing with him at the center of the circle was Rosamund, and that wasn’t a surprise - nor was it unexpected that Sidonie had joined them, seated in one of the chairs with a notebook spread in her lap. Professor Every sat next to her, along with both Elenda Fisher and Brom, journeymen that Liv hadn’t seen since leaving Coral Bay. Journeyman Gamel, as massive as she remembered, looked like he was going to crush the little wooden chair he’d been crammed into beneath him. There was even a dark haired girl making herself small in a chair on the other side of the room.

“Semila?” Liv asked, recognizing the roommate she’d barely even gotten to know before having to flee Coral Bay. She looked from one face to another - even Triss had managed to get cleaned up and make it to a chair. “What is this?”

“This,” Professor Every proclaimed, “is a meeting of the Watchful Guild of Magim. The guild in exile, so to speak. Come in and have a seat, Journeyman.”