Page 2 of Dead Crown

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Reesing told him why and where they would go, and Elswere said he was mad. He refused. Reesing ordered him to go down and ready the carriage. Elswere named the reasons why his plan was insane and pleaded with him to rethink things because the consequences would be grave.

Reesing knew he was right, but it didn’t matter. Not when he could spare his wife such a loss. He refused to budge, and Elswere finally left to do as he was told.

Reesing only went back to the bedroom to change into dark, warmer clothes and grab two of the blankets intended for Tivar. Aisi had spent months knitting little blankets in every color with various designs. Tivar would never even know it.

When he slipped into the carriage house later, Elswere had opened the double doors. Despite the hood and scarf covering most of his head and face as he sat in the driver’s seat with the reins loose in his hands, Reesing still felt his disapproving gaze before he climbed in.

He settled on the seat with the two blankets balled up in his lap and hidden under the folds of his plainest cloak. Part of his idea was madness, and Elswere was entirely right. The bloodline for the Crown had to run through the males. While Elswere was technically royalty, he could never be the King since Queen Matta had slept with another man and admitted the truth to her husband. King Wegen had kept the secret to avoid shame. They’d already had Reesing as an heir, so he’d been able to get away with it.

Luckily, Queen Matta had slept with another cat fairy with the same coloring, so Elswere passed well enough. If anyone ever suspected he wasn’t truly a part of the male Cleel line or wondered about his folded ears, they kept their mouths shut.

If something happened to Reesing, and Elswere took the throne, Iceland would slowly decline. The line had to go through the King and his true sons, not daughters or bastard sons born of other males.

Adopted sons didn't count either.

There might be a way to thwart it without revealing the secret, although his plan was half-cooked, and Reesing could barely think of the future with grief twisting his heart. They could have another child and hope for a boy. Or he could go ahead, save Aisi the grief now, and tell her in several years.

Please let the new baby be a girl. He could hide the truth forever if so.

He peeked out the window after they left through the gate. The Castle, built of white, iced stones, looked dull. The sky was particularly cloudy and dreary as if it were also mourning the death of Tivar.

Everyone said losing a baby was worse for the Mother because she felt it grow and kick. The baby was a part of her from the moment she conceived, it took its sustenance from her body, and she pushed it out when it was ready to be born. A man could only experience it if he were an abundant male.

The wheels were muffled by the snow. Quite a bit had fallen a week ago, and the streets were never fully cleared. Snowflakes drifted down as the carriage carried him through the streets of Havaska. People hurried by, and he caught a shadow as someone flew overhead. Life went on even with someone dear to him dead.

What if the woman was gone? Dear Elira, please let the child be a girl.

He squinted through the window when the carriage slowed near the specific area he'd told Elswere about. He frantically scanned the side of the street. Reesing had seen her before a few times, and it was always around the same spot.

The last time had been the previous morning when he'd gone into the city because Aisi had craved a particular food from a certain sweet shop, and he’d wanted to get it for her himself.

He finally spotted his goal and banged on the inside of the carriage so Elswere would know to stop the horses.

The woman appeared ready to piss herself. The carriage was unmarked and nice enough for someone with money. Clearly, the man who stepped out had coin, although she wouldn’t be able to tell his identity with his dark cloak and the hood pulledforward. His scarf helped too, and he'd left his Crown in his bedroom.

Near the Winter Solstice, her belly had been quite big despite her gaunt look. On the New Year the previous day, he had noticed the bundle in her arms. She was rather hard to miss due to her pink cloak. It was a good weave but stained from street life. Up close, he could see how ragged the hem was.

He had no idea what circumstances had brought her there, and she stood in the doorway of what used to be a scent shop before it closed down. The bowl for begging on the step was empty, and the new life she held in her arms and partially concealed with her cloak was wrapped in rags. The tip of the baby’s white tail poked out, and as she shifted a little, he spotted one of its tiny, pointy ears.

Reesing had no idea how to go about asking for such a thing. As a child, he’d been taught things like etiquette and how to fight with a sword. Purchasing a baby hadn’t been one of those lessons.

“That’s a lovely child, miss,” he started, although he could barely see it. “How old is it?”

The woman peered at him through a few strands of her lank, white hair. Under her hood, he could see the little lumps of her cat ears pushing on the fabric, and the tip of her tail poked out from under her cloak. Constant exposure to the cold and street living had dried the skin of her cheeks, and little lines marked the corners of her eyes. The shadows under them suggested she’d barely slept.

“He was born yesterday morning.” When she spoke, he saw her fangs which showed she was a true cat fairy just like Reesing and Aisi.

A girl would have been so much easier. If Reesing and Aisi had a boy next, his problem would've been entirely solved. Fora moment, he almost considered getting back into the carriage and trying to find another poor woman with a baby girl.

The chances were low, and it had to be a newborn cat fairy. Everyone would question things if the baby looked too old, and Aisi would surely notice despite her poor eyesight because the size and weight wouldn’t be right. Newborns were much different than babies who were a month or two old.

How many other homeless cat fairies with the right coloring would happen to have a newborn?

“My wife and I have desperately wanted a child for twenty-five years,” he lied so she’d hopefully assume him to simply be an older, rich man. “She’s barren.”

“Then get a consort,” said the woman.

“I can’t bear to sleep with anyone but my wife, even for a child, and it practically kills her every day that she can’t have a baby. It’s all we’ve ever wanted. I'll pay you.”