embarrass the Duke by seeing his tears. It was the first time since the birth that Ariani had spoken to him.
This seemed to encourage the Duke. He sent for Captain Tharin that very night and began to talk of the child’s presentation feast.
Ariani told no one of the dreams that plagued her. Who could she tell? Her own trusted nurse, Lachi, had been sent away weeks ago, replaced by this stranger who would not leave her side. Nari was some relation of Iya’s, Rhius had told her, and that only made Ariani hate her all the more. Her husband, the wizards, this woman – they’d all betrayed her. When she thought of that terrible night, all she remembered was a circle of faces looking down on her without pity. She despised them.
Exhaustion and grief had weighed down on her like a stack of wool quilts at first, and her mind had drifted in a grey fog. Daylight and darkness seemed to play sport with her; she never knew what to expect when she opened her eyes, or whether she dreamed or woke.
At first she thought that the horrid midwife Iya had brought had returned. But soon she realized it must be a dream or waking vision that brought the dark little woman to her bedside each night. She always appeared surrounded by a circle of shifting light, mouthing silent words at Ariani and gesturing with stained fingers for her to eat and drink. It went on for days, this silent pantomime, until Ariani grew used to her. At last she began to make out something of what the woman whispered and the words pulled fire and ice through her veins.
It was then that Ariani began to sew again, and forced herself to eat the bread and thin soups Nari brought to her. The task the witch had set for her would take strength.
The child’s presentation took place a fortnight after the birth. Ariani refused to come downstairs and Nari thought this just as well. The Princess’ strength was returning, but she was still too strange for company. She would not dress and seldom spoke. Her shining black hair was dull and tangled for want of care and her blue eyes stared strangely, as if she was seeing something the rest could not. She slept, she ate, and she sewed doll after mouthless doll. Duke Rhius saw to it that word of a difficult lying-in was spread around the Palatine, as well as rumours of his wife’s deep and continuing grief over the loss of the dead girl child.
Her absence did not mar the celebration too badly. All the principal nobles of Ero crowded into the great hall that night until the whole room seemed to shimmer with jewels and silks under the flickering lamps. Standing with the servants by the wine table, Nari saw some whispering behind their hands and overheard a few speaking of Agnalain’s madness, wondering how the daughter could have gone the way of the mother so quickly and with no warning at all.
It was unseasonably warm that night, and the soft patter of autumn rain swept in through the open windows. The men of the Duke’s personal guard stood at attention flanking the stairs, resplendent in new green and blue. Sir Tharin stood to the left of the stairs in his fine tunic and jewels, looking as pleased as if the child were his own. Nari had taken to the lanky, fair-haired man the day she met him, and liked him all the better for the way his face lit up the first time he saw Tobin in his father’s arms.
The King stood in the place of honour at the right of the staircase, holding his one remaining child on one broad shoulder. Prince Korin was a bright, plump child of three, with his father’s dark curls and bright brown eyes. He bounced excitedly, craning his neck for a look at his new cousin as Rhius appeared at the top of the stairs. The Duke was resplendent in his embroidered robe and circlet. Tobin’s dark head was just visible above the edge of his silken wrappings.
‘Greetings and welcome, my King and my friends!’ Duke Rhius called out. Descending to where the King stood, he went down on one knee and held the child up. ‘My king, I present to you my son and heir, Prince Tobin Erius Akandor.’
Setting Korin down beside him, Erius took Tobin in his arms and showed him to the priests and assembled nobles. ‘Your son and heir is acknowledged before Ero, my brother. May his name be spoken with honour among the Royal Kin of Skala.’
And that was that, though the speechifying and drinking of toasts would go on half the night. Nari shifted restlessly. It was past time to feed the child and her breasts ached. She smiled as she heard a familiar hiccuping whimper. Once Tobin started squalling for his supper they’d soon let him go, and she could retreat to her quiet chamber at the top of the house.
Just then one of the serving maids let out a startled squeak and pointed to the wine table. ‘By the Four, it just toppled over!’
The silver mazer for Rhius’s toast lay on its side, its contents splashed across the dark polished wood beside the honey cake.
‘I was looking right at it,’ the maid went on, voice beginning to rise dangerously. ‘Not a soul was near it!’
‘I can see that!’ Nari whispered, silencing her with a pinch and a glare. Whisking off her apron, she blotted up the spilled wine. It stained the linen red as blood.
Mynir snatched the cloth away and balled it tightly under his arm, hiding the stain. ‘By the Light, don’t let any of the others see!’ he whispered. ‘That was a white wine!’
Looking down at her hands, Nari saw that they were stained red, too, where the wine had wet them, though the droplets still clinging inside the rim of the cup were a pale golden colour.
There was just time to send the trembling girl away to fetch a fresh mazer before the nobles came to make their toasts. Tobin was growing restless and fussy. Nari held him while the Duke raised the cup and sprinkled a few drops of wine over the child, then a few more over the honey cake in the traditional offering to the Four. ‘To Sakor, to make my child a great and just warrior with fire in his heart. To Illior, for wisdom and true dreaming. To Dalna, for many children and long life. To Astellus, for safe journeys and a swift death.’
Nari exchanged a quick look of relief with the steward as the droplets sank away, leaving the cake’s sticky surface unstained.
As soon as the brief ceremony was finished Nari carried Tobin upstairs. The babe knew her and squirmed and grunted, nuzzling at her bodice.
‘You’re a pet, you are,’ Nari murmured absently, still shaken by what she’d witnessed. She thought of the spell sticks Iya had left with her, wondering if she should use one to summon the wizard back. But Iya had been very clear; she was only to use those in the direst circumstances. Nari sighed and hugged Tobin closer, wondering where such portents would lead.
Passing Ariani’s door in the upper corridor, Nari caught sight of a small patch of red on the wall, just above the rushes that covered the floor. She bent for a closer look, then pressed a hand over her mouth.
It was the bloody print of an infant’s hand, splayed like a starfish. The blood was still bright and wet.
‘Maker keep us, it’s in the house!’
Cheers and applause burst out below. She could hear the King proclaiming a blessing for Tobin’s health. With trembling fingers, Nari wiped at the mark with the edge of her skirt until the handprint smeared to a pinkish smudge. Nari pushed the rushes up to cover it, then slipped into Ariani’s chamber, fearful of what she might find.
The Princess sat by the fire, sewing away as madly as ever. For the first time since the birth, she had changed her nightdress for a loose gown and put on her rings again. The hem was damp and streaked with mud. Ariani’s hair hung in damp strands around her face. The window was shut tight as always, but Nari could smell the night air on her, and the hint of something else besides. Nari wrinkled her nose, trying to place the raw, unpleasant odour.
‘You’ve been outside, your highness?’
Ariani smiled down at her needlework. ‘Just for a bit, Nurse. Aren’t you pleased?’
‘Yes, my lady, but you should have waited and I’d have gone with you. You’re not strong enough to be out on your own. What would the Duke say?’
Ariani sewed on, still smiling over her work.
‘Did you see anything … unusual out there, your highness?’ Nari hazarded at last.
Ariani