XIX. Winter Fire

The bed was cold.

Seva closed her eyes, but her mind refused to let it go. Sleep was an elusive creature more often than not these days, driven away by thoughts that seemed to have a will of their own. It was turning summer now in Yssa, but in her heart it was winter. She had created a rift with Fionn when she agreed to Dušan's deal, though part of her wondered in the dark of these lonely nights if he had just been waiting for an excuse. At first, naivety had shielded her from the truth. Of course Fionn loved her—she adored him, didn't she? Yes, she hadn't forgiven him for driving Holland away, but she understood that however much she hated the separation, it was necessary. He had calmed and assured her he was no longer angry, and they had made peace with his agreement that in time, Holland would be allowed to return. For a few weeks, it had been fine. Not good, not perfect, but fine.

He thought that she didn't know, and she wished bitterly that he was right. Somewhere, her fairy tale had begun to come unraveled, but the worst part was being aware of that fact, watching it happen and being unable to stop it.

..."Your Majesty, we should talk," Cadeyrn said quietly, touching her elbow and guiding her out into the gardens without leaving her much room to protest. He was only so bold because he had become her most trusted advisor as she learned all the things she needed to in order to run the country. Fionn was a good general and a charming man, but he decidedly lacked the acumen necessary to handle things like finances and the delicate dance of politics behind the scenes. Seva was used to running a barony on her own, so really it was only a difference of scale. She had taken to it well, mostly because she was willing to listen where Fionn was not.

She was not content, not without her faithful hound, but she felt at least useful as she gradually and subtly began the hard work of preparing her country for what was coming. Fionn had proclaimed he had no use for the numbers and intricacies that were necessary, gladly leaving those details in her hands. In his heart, he really would have rather been a prince still than a king. He liked to lead, not to rule. It had fallen to her, and filled her hours from sunrise to sunset with a constant business that distracted her from the ache of her friend's absence.

The past week had been a little less busy, not for lack of work, but because of the news Dušan had given her: she had a child on the way. There was not even a quickening in her belly yet, but the magus had sensed a change in the flow of magic through her body when she wove her spells and recognized it for what it was. She and the Leyan magus had been training together for the last month since he arrived in the city as an envoy from the High King. The Queen of Yssa an eager pupil whenever her husband was out of Tamaris. His Sight had not revealed to him yet whether it was a boy or a girl, but he had promised to tell her the moment it became apparent. Seva had taken just a little bit of a break the moment she knew, equal parts stunned and overjoyed. Words had deserted her. She was still trying to find a good way to tell Fionn.

Out in the garden, Seva wanted to smile, but found her lips no longer obeying as she realized how grave Cadeyrn's expression was. "What is it?" she asked him, concern overwhelming her ambient happiness. "Dost thou have word from the north? Is Holland well?" She had received no letters from her friend, but every once and a while news arrived from Cadeyrn in the form of the snippets of information he received from the hooded knight who had left for the north with the Lady Penitent. Sir Ardashir Sadeghi occasionally managed to leave coded notes now and again that were brought back by travelers.

"I..." Cadeyrn seemed to steel himself. "No, I have no word there. This is about the King."

"Fionn?" Seva said, puzzled.

The Lord Protector looked cagey, almost wary, but there was something else in his eyes when he looked at her that she couldn't quite put her finger on. "What do you know of him and Lady Naris?" he asked her quietly.

"What is there to know?" Seva said. Her confusion was probably evident in her tone, because his expression softened slightly.

"I thought it would be better that you hear it from me," Cadeyrn said with regret. His eyes were somber. "Than from the palace gossip..."

He'd told her. At first, she had just stopped and looked at him, blank and uncomprehending. But then the anger had come. She would carry the guilt she felt at the way she lashed out at him to the grave. She had apologized when she came to her senses days later, but that could not take back the scathing, bitter words she had thoughtlessly used on the last man in the world who deserved them. At least Cadeyrn was honest with her. He had warned her so that she could protect herself, though the knowledge was no comfort and no real armor against the world.

She had refused to believe it at first. Maybe she would have lived happily in denial forever, had she not stepped into the foreign ambassadors' quarters to see her husband's clothes on the floor, mixed with that red silk, and heard familiar sounds coming from behind the closed bedroom door. Holland probably would have broken the door down with a sword in hand. Seva withdrew, reeling. She had never been much of a lion, no matter what was on her family's coat of arms. It was only hours later when Maebh asked her what was wrong that the tears came.

...gnarled fingers brushed over her hair soothingly as she buried her face in the old woman's shoulder. It wasn't the reassurance she wanted, but it was better than nothing. She wanted Holland, who could hold her and make the whole world seem safe and better with just a few words. "What do I do?" Seva asked around the lump in her throat and the ache in her chest. She sounded like a lost little girl to her own ears. Maybe that was all she was.

"Ye've a kingdom to think of," Maebh said softly. "Soon ye'll be angered fierce, and mebbe that'll be a salve enough to keep the pain back, but ye've a tongue to watch. Iff'n ye and the King come at odds, the land'll split as ye do. I ken 'tis pain, gel, but is a righteous fury worth an army's march? Yer a queen, not a wee spurned lass."

"So I just..." Seva started to say, but she let it trail off. She didn't know where to even begin.

"Ye dry those tears an' don that crown an' never give the harlot the joy of seeing ye break," Maebh said. "Ye give the Princes o' Iron summat to fret 'bout. 'Sides, ye've a little one on the way to mother. Yer of the blood of Essen, an' someday the King'll rue the day he lost ye."

"And Fionn?" Seva asked as she leaned back away from the woman who had raised her, trying to dry her eyes.

"He's yer husband, n' mine," Maebh said, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it over. "What ye do when he comes to yer bed...'tis yer call to make, gel."...

Seva had given it thought and ultimately come to the decision that it was better if Fionn never know that she was aware of his infidelity. At first it had been hard to look at him, let alone consent to be touched, but she found courage enough to hide her spite and he didn't care enough to look for any length of time into her heart. When his back was turned, she threw herself into the work of the kingdom. Part of it was a burning desire to win back some of her pride. The rest was....if she made herself an integral part of the inner workings of Yssa, if she put down her roots now, he would never be able to cut her out. That both protected her and the child she was carrying.

She still hadn't told Fionn. Maebh would if she kept her peace for another week. He had been concerned enough to inquire into her health now that the morning sickness was a constant, but he had no knowledge of healing to understand what might be the root cause.

There was a knock on her bedroom door. Not Fionn—he always let himself in. While tradition ruled that the bedroom was her property, he still thought of himself as a king on every inch of Yssa's soil. It was early morning, just before dawn. Another sleepless night. It was bad for the baby, and Maebh had scolded her with words to that effect, but she couldn't help herself. Seva rose from bed and pulled on a robe before going to the door and opening it. "Good morn, Bára," the queen said.

The anthroparion out in the hallway smiled at her, though it was barely noticeable with how restricted the expressiveness of her features was. Bára was a common sight in the halls of the palace these days, the faithful servant of Magus Cipris who carried his messages all over the palace. She was a small, slender figure carved of living wood with a delicate face, hair of leaves, and twisted feet that ended in roots. She only stood three feet or so high and looked as though she could have been toppled by a strong wind. The oldest of Dušan's creations, the anthroparion was perhaps the least sophisticated. Still living, certainly, but not made of flesh and bone. "My magus wishes to inquire if you are ready for practice, Your Majesty," Bára said in her soft, breezy voice. "Today we will be studying the inner wards."

Seva had increased the frequency of her practices with the magus once she learned of her pregnancy for one very specific reason: protection. Not for herself, but for her child. If she was untrained or unwise, she could easily drain the life-force from the child inside of her to fuel a spell by sheer accident. It was not a mistake she ever wanted to make, so she had specifically asked Dušan to help her and begun doing research. It turned out that there were ways of blocking the flow of magic as well as drawing on it: inner wards. That was the protection that she could offer. She was grateful for the opportunity as well, because it exhausted her to the point where she could sleep. "Give me a few moments to dress," Seva said softly. "Thou art welcome within, Bára."

The anthroparion followed her obediently, humming to herself. The little creature was drawn immediately to Seva's vanity table, picking up a mirror with both hands and examining her own face curiously. Bára was endlessly inquisitive and also had the unfortunate habit of asking things that would have politely gone unsaid. "You are tired this morning, Your Majesty. Was the king not here?"

Seva sighed. "He is...elsewhere," the queen said as she dressed.

"At this hour? But—"

Sometimes, it was easiest just to redirect the little tree-creature. "How fares thy magus?" Seva asked, interrupting. Bára adored her maker, so she was more than happy to chat about him. It was something that occasionally embarrassed the man.

It sidetracked Bára into chattering in her pleasant, whispery voice for long enough that Seva could dress in relative peace. Soon they were out in the halls, the anthroparion leading the queen to the library by the hand even though she most certainly knew the way already. The palace was asleep still, except for perhaps the kitchens, where the servants were slowly waking up to begin breakfast. The nobles and visiting ambassadors wouldn't be awake until well into the morning. It was something Seva was still adjusting to. When she'd lived in Laweden, she had gotten used to rising at the same time as the rest of the village. That was not the norm for the upper classes.

Dušan looked up from the book he was reading when they entered. It was one of the tomes Seva had acquired from Magus Jelen when she was young, discussing the uses and limits of drawing from one's own life-force to cast a spell. "This is exactly the sort of garbage I expect from him," Dušan muttered, setting it aside. "No wonder you don't know anything about inner wards, Your Majesty. It's to your credit you can manage a single spell with this kind of handicap."

Her training by Jelen had always been a point of contention between the two of them. Dušan considered it an almost criminal waste of a talented mind. Seva shrugged a little at the comment. "All magic comes with a price," she said.

"That does not mean you must be the one to pay it," the magus said irritably. "It's a wonder you haven't killed yourself yet." He took on a more lecturing tone as he continued, "Inner wards are an integral part of the Art. Without them, mages would live like mayflies, winking out in but a moment. They should be used whenever possible, and power drawn from your surroundings."

"A difficult order," Seva said, taking a seat at the table across from him.

"Only because your people are remarkably squeamish," Dušan muttered. He had seen Seva cast before. Even when she drew from her surroundings, she was hesitant to pull from anything more substantial than the plants beneath her feet. "You fail to understand how you have crippled yourself by maintaining that Yssan high-mindedness. There is power to be had."

"I do not well love the notion of stealing life," Seva said evenly.

"You will not have a choice if you intend to protect your child," he pointed out before stretching out his hand to her. "You will draw from me in this exercise—gently and carefully, please. But first, you will have to eliminate yourself and the child as a source. Close your eyes and attune yourself to the pulse of life through your body. Remember as you were taught: neither created nor destroyed, always from a source. One does not conjure something from nothing. It can only be transformed."

Seva nodded before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Magus Jelen had taught her long ago how attune herself to the threads of life that bound her to this world, like a spider sensing its own web. There was a delicate pulse in time with her heartbeat. She relaxed. Magic was like seeing past the world around her, as if she was looking beyond the surface into the depths of the pool beneath. She could feel it now that Dušan had drawn her attention to it, the little life interwoven with her own. Dušan's energy was at her fingertips, an infinitesimally thin barrier separating them. When she was like this, she was aware of the life around her and sometimes it was difficult to distinguish where she ended and it began.

"Good," the magus coached. He was always more patient once they had begun. "Now, you are going to place yourself into a different space."

It was difficult work. People thought that magic was bending the world to one's will—and it was, in a way. But far more of it was countless, tiny adjustments to the natural course of things. Halting the tide was an unachievable task. Channeling it, however, was possible. It was impossible to explain exactly how it felt, but she gently separated herself and the tiny life within her from the flow of energy. They were floating on it now, not a part of it.

"'Tis done," she said quietly after what had to have been ten minutes. It felt unnatural to be so disconnected from the flow of life.

"Good. It will come more quickly with practice," Dušan said. "Now, as you would normally, pull. Go carefully, though. I'm not as spry as I used to be."

Seva inhaled slowly. She could feel the power forming like a knot of heat in her chest, tiny but noticeable. Dušan's pulse became ever so slightly fainter where her fingertips were touching his wrist. For the first time in a long time, there was no waver in her own body. She opened the palm of her other hand, concentrating. She could feel the energy start to flow into her hand, coalescing as heat. When she opened her eyes, there was a flickering flame dancing in the palm of her hand, barely above her skin.

"Now, were you not concerned with my health and wellbeing, you might have been able to conjure an inferno. Certainly enough to protect yourself," Dušan said. "Though it's best that you didn't, for my sake and the library's. Your grasp of magical theory is quite impressive. Most don't have such control. I suppose Jelen isn't a complete waste of space."

Seva stopped pulling from the magus, allowing the flame to snuff out. "Thy compliments are becoming less backhanded," she said with a faint smile.

"Well, you're proving more adroit than your past instructor," the Leyan man said. "Still, I'd suggest practicing with your dratted plants until it is second nature. While I would personally prefer you drawing from blood, lest you find yourself lacking sufficient power, they are a little more sedentary and ubiquitous. But make no mistake. When it comes to true combat, your flowers are not going to be enough to save you. What you did against Moloch was a fluke."

She removed her hand from Dušan's when she heard the door creak open and turned to look. "Lord Protector, 'tis not thy usual hour to be at the keep. Is all well?" Seva asked.

"I exist solely to intrude upon scholarly discourse," Cadeyrn said pleasantly. He was still treating her as if she was made of glass, but he was making an effort to be cheerful as well, for her sake. "And to irritate the magus, of course." The two men didn't get along well, but they tolerated each other in the name of mutual defense. "All is well, Your Majesty. I just recall you insisting that I bring you news as soon as it reached me."

"Holland?" Seva blurted out, feeling a wash of relief to hear any word.

"Alive and kicking," Cadeyrn said. "Ardashir's missive informed me that she has secured an alliance with the dwarves. His letter arrived with their representative. Good sort, Daag Koraust. He's conked out like a light in the cellar. I offered him proper quarters, but he wanted someplace dark, stone, and below ground. Hasn't slept a wink proper on the road." He held out a weathered, dusty envelope to the queen. It was sealed with plain wax, no mark from a signet on it. "Oh, and this is for you."

It felt like the sun had just moved out from behind dark clouds. Seva snatched the envelope from him, a wide and genuine smile coming to her lips for the first time in what felt like centuries. Holland must have finally believed she had a safe enough route to write to her friend. "Thou hast my eternal thanks," she told the Lord Protector gratefully.

"Well, I have some things I wanted to discuss with you anyway, Lord Protector," Dušan said, rising to his feet. "Shall we go talk and leave Her Majesty to her reading?"

"Certainly," Cadeyrn said. He looked pleased that he had been able to do anything to lift Seva's mood.

The two men stepped out, leaving the queen alone with her letter. It wasn't the same as hearing it from her friend's lips, but it would have to do for now. She slid the contents out and unfolded the paper, surprised to catch the smell of flowers. There, pressed between the folds, were some small white blooms. She recognized it from her studies: niphredil, elf-flower. The plants were supposedly eternal, rejuvenating themselves even after great forest fires as if they had never felt the heat. She picked them up carefully. They looked like they had just been plucked, decayed not even a little.

There was barely any writing on the small sheet of paper. Holland was probably still worried about having her letter fall into the wrong hands. It read: Safe here, though little ink, less paper. Packed like idiot. Hope you're safe and happy. As for flowers—Khagra told meaning. Made me think of you. Tua, H.

Seva felt her eyes flood with tears. Holland had looked at a symbol of everlasting beauty and resilience in the face of adversity and thought of her. She wasn't certain what to make of that. Her friend had so much faith in her and she had no idea what she had done to deserve it. This was just another reminder that she missed Holland desperately. When the penitent left, she'd taken all of the warmth in Yssa with her, as far as Seva could tell. She wished now that she could go back and spend more time with her friend. She hadn't realized that her time with Holland was a finite thing, in an odd way. She'd taken the presence of the penitent too much for granted and she bitterly regretted it now.

She wished there was more of a letter, more to hold onto, but then again, it was very...Holland. Cryptic, quiet, but meaningful. Seva would hold onto it and the flowers. They might fade in time, they might not, but while she had them, they would be a reminder. She went over to her desk and unlocked the drawer, tucking the sheet of paper and its flowers in it. They would be safe there until she could find a better place for them. She didn't want to share them with anyone else.

The door opened without a knock and Seva felt her chest tighten. The tears dried immediately, as if banished by some spell. Fionn, of course. No one else would so brazenly intrude on her when she was supposedly studying. He was as handsome as ever, though she only noted it in a cold and almost clinical way now. The stubble on his jaw had turned into a short, well-kept beard. "You didn't tell me," he said as he approached.

Seva frowned at him. "Pardon?"

"Maebh said you were with child," Fionn said.

She could have cursed Maebh in that moment. It wasn't that she wanted to hide it from him—she told herself that she honestly didn't care what Fionn thought. What she had wanted was time to determine what it was she felt. So much of her heart right now was a battlefield where softer passions and heated anger warred that she needed enough breathing room to piece together her own feelings. She needed a lie now and settled on one quickly. "'Twas Dušan who said aught, and the Sight is no perfect thing. Methinks 'tis too much excitement on Maebh's part," Seva said. "Time will tell truthfully."

Fionn grinned as he approached her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "Cautious to a fault," he said with a chuckle. "I don't mind a bit of hope, false or not. Did the mage say a boy or a girl?"

"Too early to say," Seva said. She offered no resistance, even when she felt his lips against her forehead. "The Sight cannot gaze forward and only seldom back. Such is the realm of the gods alone."

He studied her face for a moment. "You're not smiling," he observed, his own grin faltering slightly. "Is something wrong?"

She fought down the urge to sigh. "I worry," she said. It was an honest comment, though she wasn't inclined to confide in him much of anything. "But 'tis naught, as ever."

Fionn touched her cheek with his hand. "Be happy, love," he said. She hated when he called her that. "There's nothing to fear."

Tears were threatening again, but she nodded and smiled. "Aye," she said as if in agreement. Now that Fionn knew, all of Yssa probably would within days. The court would know by noon, certainly, with how proud the king looked. Dušan had kept his peace, so it would come as a surprise to most. She hadn't even told Cadeyrn. The one person Seva had wanted to tell the most was hundreds of miles away now, and there was no way of reaching her.

A knock on the door broke the moment, much to Seva's relief. She was grateful even though it was Laenus. "Your Majesty, Naris would like to speak to you about something," he told Fionn.

The king hesitated for a moment, studying Seva. This is thy chance to choose, Seva told him inside her head. Stay with me and thy child, or see Naris. It was a foolish thing to even think, but some part of her still wanted him to stay with her.

"Seva, I—" His green eyes were distracted. Even if his body stayed, his mind was elsewhere now.

"As pleases thee," the queen said gently, well aware that this was a battle she was losing swiftly.

Fionn smiled and kissed her. "I'll see you later, love," he promised.

You are everything someone could want, my lady, Holland had said. Maybe the penitent thought so, but she was the only one holding that opinion at the moment. Seva watched him go, her expression calm and composed. Fionn stepped out past Laenus and vanished down the hallway, off to other arms.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty," Laenus said to Seva as he stepped into the library. He moved like a great hunting cat, lightly on the balls of his feet. If she hadn't known what he was, she might have assumed he was a dancer. There was a definite grace to the Immortals she had met—they acted with a perfect awareness of where every part of their body was at any given moment, and they made it look effortless. "If the old woman is correct, you have an heir on the way."

"Thy good wishes are ill-wanted," Seva said coldly. "I ken thy nature. Keep thy forked tongue behind thy fangs."

Laenus grinned, dark eyes widening slightly. "All this flame for me and not a hint of heat for your husband?" he said with amusement. "Surely he has done you more wound than I have. Though, I can understand the anger. After all, once he has his heir, you'll have served your purpose. Then he can simply put you aside."

"I am Queen of Yssa," Seva said. "No matter how tightly thou dost wind him around thy Prince's finger by route of thy painted woman."

"For now," Laenus agreed pleasantly. "You may prepare your armies all you like, Your Majesty. There are more ways than one to conquer a nation."

Seva studied him for a long moment. "Aye," she said. "And there are many methods to topple an empire."

He grinned. "No wonder Ilex likes you," he said with a chuckle. "She always was drawn to fire, even in the days when she was ice."