Page 150 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“You agreed with Ros and Kate about the name.”

Days had passed since that discussion. This must have been curdling inside her ever since.

“I wanted my child to carry some part of her father,” Sabran said bitterly. “Morose it might be, but it is the place where we were last together. Where he learned that we would have a daughter. Where he vowed that she would be beloved.”

Compunction waxed in Ead.

“I wanted to support you,” she said, “but I thought Lady Roslain was right, about not breaking with tradition. I still do.” She tied off her braid. “Forgive me, Majesty.”

With a sigh, Sabran patted the bed. “Come. The night is cold.”

Ead stood with a nod. Ascalon Palace did not hold in warmth so well as Briar House. She blew out all but two of the candles before she got under the coverlets.

“You are not yourself.” Sabran inferred. “What troubles you, Ead?”

A girl with a skullful of dangerous ideas.

“Only the talk of invasion,” Ead answered. “These are uncertain times.”

“Times of treachery. Sigoso has betrayed not only the Saint, but humankind.” Sabran exerted a stranglehold on her cup. “Inys survived the Grief of Ages, but barely. Villages were turned to ash, cities set afire. Our population was decimated, and even centuries later, any armies I can muster will not be as large as those we had before.” She put the cup aside. “I cannot think of this now. I must . . . deliver Glorian. Even if all three High Westerns lead their forces to my queendom, the Nameless One cannot join them.”

Her nightgown was drawn back to bare her belly, as if to let the child breathe. Blue veins traced her sides.

“I prayed to the Damsel, asking her to fill my womb.” Sabran released her breath. “I can be no good queen. No good mother. Today, for the first time, I . . . almost resented her.”

“The Damsel?”

“Never. The Damsel does what she must.” One pale hand came to rest on the bump. “I resent . . . my unborn child. An innocent.” Her voice strained. “The people already turn to her as their next queen, Ead. They speak of her beauty and her magnificence. I did not expect that. The suddenness of it. Once she is born, my purpose is served.”

“Madam,” Ead said gently, “that is not true.”

“Is it not?” Sabran circled a hand on her belly. “Glorian will soon come of age, and I will be expected, sooner or later, to abdicate in her favor. When the world considers me too old.”

“Not all Berethnet queens have abdicated. The throne is yours for as long as you desire.”

“It is considered an act of greed to hold it for too long. Even Glorian Shieldheart abdicated, despite her popularity.”

“Perhaps by the time your child is grown, you will be ready to relinquish the throne. To lead a quieter life.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Whether I live or die in childbed, I will be cast aside. Like an eggshell.”

“Sabran.”

Before she knew it, Ead had reached to touch her cheek. Sabran looked at her.

“There will be fools and flatterers,” Ead said, “who forsake your side to fawn over a newborn. Let them. See them for what they are.” She kept Sabran’s gaze prisoner. “I told you fear was natural, but you must not let it consume you. Not when there is so much at stake.”

The skin against her palm was cool and petal-soft. Warm breath caressed her wrist.

“Be at my side for the birth. And onward,” Sabran murmured. “You must always stay with me, Ead Duryan.”

Chassar would be back for her in half a year. “I will stay with you for as long as I can,” Ead said. It was all that she could promise.

With a nod, Sabran shifted closer and rested her head on Ead’s shoulder. Ead held still—allowing herself to grow used to her nearness, to the shape of her.

Her skin was all chills. She could smell the milky sweetness of creamgrail in her hair, feel the swell of her belly. Ead sensed she would jostle the child as they slept, so she rotated their bodies until Sabran faced away from her, and they fitted together like acorn and cup. Sabran reached for Ead’s hand and brought it around her middle. Ead drew the coverlets over both of their shoulders. Soon the queen was fast asleep.

Her grasp was soft, but Ead still felt a heartbeat in her fingers. She imagined what the Prioress would say if she could see her now. No doubt she would scorn her. She was a sister of the Priory, destined to slay wyrms, and here she was, giving succor to a sad Berethnet.

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