Page 85 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Sabran nodded, her gaze distant. “They tell it to all children in the north. Warn them to stay away from the haithwood, where she walked. She lived long before my ancestor, and yet the fear of her lingers among my subjects.” Gooseflesh stippled her neckline. “My mother told me stories of the sea, not the land. I never believed in a Lady of the Woods. Now I fear therewasa witch, and that she lives still, working her sorcery upon me.”

Ead said nothing.

“That is but one dream,” Sabran said. “On other nights, I dream of the childbed. As I have since I had my first blood. I lie dying while my daughter struggles out of me. I feel her tearing my body, like a knife through silk. Between my legs, waiting to devour her, is the Nameless One.”

For the first time in the eight years Ead had been at court, she saw tears bead on Sabran’s eyelids.

“The blood keeps flowing, hot as iron in the forge. It clings to my thighs, sticks them together. I know I am crushing my child, but if I let her breathe . . . she will fall into the jaws of the beast.” Sabran closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were dry. “That nightmare torments me the most.”

The weight of the crown had taken its toll on her. “Dreams reach deep into our pasts,” Ead said quietly. “Lord Arteloth told you the story of the Lady of the Woods, and it has come back to haunt you now. The mind often wanders to strange places.”

“I might agree with you,” Sabran said, “had I not had both dreams since long before Lord Arteloth shared that tale with me.”

Loth had told Ead once that Sabran could not sleep without a candle. Now she knew why.

“So you see, Ead,” the queen said, “I do not sleep because I am not only afraid of the monsters at my door, but also of the monsters my own mind can conjure. The ones that live within.”

Ead held her hand a little tighter.

“You are Queen of Inys,” she said. “All your life, you have known that you would one day wear the crown.” Sabran watched her face. “You fear for your people, but cannot show it to your court. You wear so much armor by daylight that, by night, you can carry it no longer. By night, you are only flesh. And even the flesh of a queen is prone to fear.”

Sabran was listening. Her pupils were large enough to almost blot the green from her eyes.

“In darkness, we are naked. Our truest selves. Night is when fear comes to us at its fullest, when we have no way to fight it,” Ead continued. “It will do everything it can to seep inside you. Sometimes it may succeed—but never think that youarethe night.”

The queen seemed to mull this over. She looked to their hands and slowly circled her thumb in Ead’s palm.

“More of your comely words,” she said. “I like them well, Ead Duryan.”

Ead looked her in the eye. She imagined two gemstones falling to the ground, shattering from within. Those were the eyes of Sabran Berethnet.

Footsteps just beyond the threshold. Ead stood and clasped her hands in front of her just as Katryen came in with her arm around Lady Arbella Glenn, who was in her nightgown. Sabran reached out to her oldest bedfellow.

“Bella,” she said, “come to me. I want to discuss the marriage preparations with you.”

Arbella smiled and hobbled to her queen, who took her by the hand. With dewy eyes and a serene expression, Arbella stroked Sabran’s black hair behind her ear, like a mother tending to a child.

“Bella,” Sabran murmured, “never weep. I can’t bear it.”

Ead slipped away.

Once Sabran and Arbella were abed, Ead told Katryen about the decoction, and though the Mistress of the Robes looked skeptical, she sent for it. Once it was tasted and delivered, the royal apartments were sealed, and Ead took her position for night duty.

Kalyba.

That was the name the Lady of the Woods had gone by in Lasia. Little did the Inysh know that the witch was very much alive, though far away. And that the entrance to her lair was guarded with sabra flowers.

Sabran had never seen the Bower of Eternity. If she was dreaming of it, something was afoot.

Hours tiptoed by. Ead remained still, watching for any movement between shadow and moonbeam.

Siden allowed her to cloak herself in darkness. A cutthroat, no matter how skilled, did not have that gift. If another one came to either of the doors, she would see them.

Close to one of the clock, Roslain Crest, who was also on night duty, appeared with a candle.

“Mistress Duryan,” she said.

“Lady Roslain.”

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