House pews. In the Cutter ranks and, Creator knows, the servants’ quarters. Many spoke of how you and the Painted Man looked at each other, and how you went to Krasia to court Ahmann Jardir. None could prove they’d taken you to bed, but folk don’t need proof to whisper.’
‘They never have,’ Leesha said.
‘Didn’t tell Her Grace anything she wasn’t hearing from others,’ Tarisa said. ‘But I told her not to believe a word of it. You and His Highness were hardly discreet. When your laces began to strain, I assumed the child was the prince’s. We all did. The servants all loved you. I wrote my suspicions to Her Grace with joy, and waited on my toes for you to tell His Highness.’
‘But then we broke,’ Leesha said, ‘and you realized your love for me was misplaced.’
Tarisa shook her head. ‘How could we stop, when our lord did not?’
‘Thamos cast me out,’ Leesha said.
‘Ay,’ Tarisa agreed. ‘And haunted these halls like a ghost, spending hours staring at his portrait of you.’
A lump formed in Leesha’s throat, and she tried unsuccessfully to choke it down.
‘Some may be holding out hope you’ll announce Thamos has an heir tomorrow,’ Tarisa said, ‘dreaming there might still be a piece of the prince to love and cherish in this house. But none of them will turn from you when they meet Olive.’
‘I wish I could believe that,’ Leesha said.
‘I never knew my own son,’ Tarisa said. ‘I was kitchen maid to a minor lord and lady, and when she failed to give him children, they paid me to lie with him and give up the child.’
‘Tarisa!’ Leesha was horrified.
‘I was treated fairly,’ Tarisa said. ‘Given money and reference to take a commission from the Duchess Mum, wet-nursing and helping rear young Prince Thamos. He was like the son I never knew.’
She reached out, laying a gentle hand on Leesha’s belly. ‘We don’t get to say which children the Creator gives us. There’s love enough in this house for any child of yours, my lady.’
Leesha laid a hand over hers. ‘Enough with my lady. Call me mistress, please.’
‘Ay, mistress.’ Tarisa gave the hand a squeeze and got to her feet. ‘Water ought to be hot by now. I’ll go see about that bath.’
She left, and Leesha allowed herself to raise her eyes once more, taking in the reminders of her lost love.
And she wept.
Leesha kept the curtains pulled through the day, staring at Olive with her warded spectacles, glorying in the strength and purity of the child’s aura. Olive ate hungrily and slept little, staring up at Leesha with her bright blue eyes. The magic in her shone with an emotion beyond love, beyond adoration. Something more primal and pure.
There was a knock at the door, startling Leesha from the trance of it. Wonda went over to answer it, and there was muffled conversation. The door clicked as Wonda closed and locked it again, then came back to the sleeping chamber.
‘Arther’s waitin’ outside,’ Wonda said. ‘Been tellin’ him yur busy, but he keeps coming back. Wants to talk to ya somethin’ fierce.’
Leesha pushed herself upright. ‘Very well. He’s seen me in dressing gowns before. Tarisa? Please take Olive into the nursery while we talk.’
Olive clutched Leesha’s finger painfully in her little fist as Tarisa pulled her away. Her aura made Leesha’s heart ache.
Lord Arther stopped a respectful distance from the bed and bowed. ‘I apologize for the intrusion, Countess Paper.’
‘It’s all right, Arther,’ Leesha said. ‘I trust you would not have done so if it wasn’t important.’
‘Indeed,’ Arther said. ‘Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I understand this was … earlier than expected. I trust all are in good health?’
‘Thank you, we are,’ Leesha said, ‘though I expect Wonda has already told you as much.’
‘She has, of course,’ Arther agreed. ‘I came with another rather urgent matter.’
‘And that is?’ Leesha asked.
Arther drew himself up straight. He wasn’t a tall man, but he made up for it in posture. ‘With respect, Countess, if my command of the house staff has been relieved and I am dismissed, I do not think it too much to ask that I be informed directly.’
Leesha blinked. ‘Has someone informed you indirectly?’
‘Lady Paper,’ Arther said.
‘Lady … Night, my mother?’ Leesha asked.
Arther bowed again. ‘Lady Paper moved into the keep a week ago, when news of your new title reached the Hollow. She has been … difficult to please.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Leesha said.
‘It is her right, of course,’ Arther said. ‘Without word from you, she and your father are the ranking members of your household. I assumed you had sent them to ready the keep.’
Leesha shook her head. ‘It meant only the keep has richer furnishing than my father’s house.’
‘It is not for me to say,’ Arther said. ‘But this afternoon, after announcing your daughter’s birth, she told me my services were no longer required, and that house staff would be reporting to her directly.’
Leesha groaned. ‘I am going to strangle that woman.’ She looked at Arther. ‘Be assured the Core will freeze before I give my mother dominion over my household. I will make it clear to her before the end of the day.’
‘That is a relief,’ Arther said. ‘But with the dismissal of Gamon and Hayes, I cannot help but wonder if I am next in any event. Do you wish my resignation?’
Leesha considered the man. ‘Is it your wish to remain in my employ, with Thamos dead?’
‘It is, my lady,’ Arther said.
‘Why?’ Leesha asked bluntly. ‘You’ve never approved of my policies, particularly entitlements for refugees.’
Indignation shocked through the man’s aura, but Arther only raised an eyebrow. ‘My approval is irrelevant, my lady. It was my responsibility to keep the prince’s accounts balanced and see his funds spent wisely. I questioned every spending policy proposed by the council because I would have been remiss in my duties not to. Nevertheless, when His Highness made a decision, it was carried out diligently and without delay. You may have every confidence that I will do the same for you, if you will have me.’
There was no lie in his aura, but her question remained unanswered. ‘Why?’ Leesha asked again. ‘I expected you would volunteer your resignation soon after my arrival and return to your family holdings in Angiers.’
An image flashed across Arther’s aura. It was distorted, but Leesha could make out a once great Angierian townhouse, fallen into disrepair. It linked to Arther with shame, and with fierce pride.
‘My family’s holdings were mortgaged to buy my commission in the Wooden Soldiers,’ Arther said. ‘That and a bit of luck saw me squire for young Prince Thamos. My life was his. Gamon is no different.’
Another image. Thamos, Arther, and Gamon, inseparable as brothers.
‘But now the prince is gone.’ Arther gave no outward sign of the pain tearing across his aura. ‘As is the Angiers we left. Euchor’s Mountain Spears occupy the city now, with their flamework weapons. The Wooden Soldiers will soon be relegated