Queen of Sorrows--Part Three, Chapter Thirteen

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3501.0.html


Chapter Thirteen

June 20, 1465
The Île d'Orsal
The Port of Horthánthy
Morning

As the sun rose over Orsal and Tralia, the people of Orsalis and Horthánthy awoke to see a new fleet of foreign ships flying Beldourian colors sailing along their coastline. Near Orsalis, about a third of those ships, joined by others flying Gwyneddan colors, diverted towards the town and Winter Palace there. The rest continued on towards Horthánthy's port. At the top of the Beldourian flagship's mast flew the banner of Comte Réhon-Rogan von Horthy, familiar to most people since for a few years between the death of the reckless Prince Piotr and the birth of Prince Létald, he had temporarily been the late Hort's heir.

Now, it was equally well known, he was the rightful Lord Regent of Orsal and Tralia, not the self-proclaimed Lord Protector who had claimed the role ever since the unexpected murder of the Hort. Few now believed the tales Lord Davorin had tried to spread about the Queen and her household having colluded with the Comte to commit regicide. Now the whispers that had surreptitiously spread among the people were about the strangely fortuitous timing of a band of foreign mercenaries who had just happened to arrive right before the Hort's death in order to lend aid to the Lord Protector, almost as if the Lord Protector must have known beforehand that the Hort was going to die. Might even have played a part in their sovereign lord's death, much as he might protest that it had all been the fault of a scheming Queen and her alleged lover, a man widely known to be very happily wed in a love match, who made the habit of visiting the Hortic Palaces only infrequently. If they were lovers, the liaison was a very odd and inconvenient one.

The hired foreign soldiers were allegedly meant to restore order, said the so-called Lord Protector. Ha! They'd sown so much disorder in the short time they'd been in Tralia that it would take months to set things back to rights. The looting of the Royal Exchequer had been the final straw.

So when the foreign ships finally stopped sailing up and down the coastal waters and turned towards the land, putting in at Orsalis, Horthánthy, and various other major Tralian port towns to restore the peace, few attempted to stop them. Even those few who had been loyal to Lord Davorin in the past few days had sensed that change was in the air that morning, and that it would not be to their benefit to remain on what appeared to be the losing side now. They retreated, hoping to remain unnoticed by the crowds of watchers lining the shore, watching the ships come in.

#

June 20, 1465
The Île d'Orsal
The Palace of Horthánthy
Morning

The Palace Physician was baffled. Perhaps the Lord Protector had been stricken by some sort of apoplexy? If so, it had been a very mild one. The man could move his limbs again, though they were weak, his movements languorous. He had begun to speak in the past half hour, but his speech was still slurred and mostly unintelligible. A priest had been brought to minister to him nonetheless, but the patient had waved him away impatiently, attempting to yell something that was largely incoherent.

A manservant entered, bearing a tray of sweet pastries and qahwa. He bowed, setting it on a table close to Lord Davorin's bed. He hesitated, glancing at the physician. "Will Lord Davorin be able to eat his breakfast unassisted?" he asked.

The physician paused briefly in his task of putting his medical gear back in its leather satchel. "I think at the rate he is regaining his faculties, he should be able to manage getting it down well enough sometime in the next hour. He might need some assistance with pouring the drink or lifting the cup or the pastries to his lips. Would you mind staying with him for the moment? I'll be back to check on him in about an hour."

"As you wish, Master Physician," said the manservant with a bow. The learned man left. Lord Davorin gave the manservant a speculative glance as the young man calmly regarded him for a moment, then sat.

"Has anyone been by yet to tell you the latest news, Lord Davorin?" asked the manservant. "The Lord Regent is alive and well, and sailing into port even now. I'm certain you must be very relieved to hear it."

Lord Davorin's eyes widened slightly. "Trair! I'm Ort!"

"I'm sorry, my lord, I'm afraid I can't understand you." The man waved towards the tray of food. "Would you like to attempt any of the pastries or the qahwa, or should we wait a bit longer?"

"Taytess firs!"

"Taytess firs?" asked the manservant with a slight frown, then his expression cleared. "Ahh! Taste test first? Is that what you mean?"

"Da!"

The manservant stood, walking over to the tray and picking up one of the small pastries, popping it into his mouth and chewing it appreciatively. "Ah, it's a lovely date-filled sweetmeat," he observed as he poured out a few sips of the qahwa to wash it down. "And nice, flaky layers it has too! My compliments to your chef."

Lord Davorin simply watched him, eagle-like, for a few moments, before nodding. "Good a his craft," he agreed.

"Oh, I understood you better that time, my lord!"

"Yr Ortic Masty," Davorin insisted.

"Your Hortic Majesty?" asked the manservant. "Is that what you meant?" He finished his qahwa, taking the small cup over to the sideboard with the basin and ewer on it and pouring a little water in it to wash it out before bringing it back to the tray. "Shall I serve you now?" He moved his hand as if to grasp the beverage pot.

Davorin gave a curt nod. The man poured out a small amount of the qahwa, slightly less than half a cup.

"I'll give you more later if you want more," he explained, "but let's try this much first." He started to bring it to Davorin, but the stricken man gave a slight shake of his head, glancing towards the pastries.

"Ah, yes, you'll want something sweet first to cut the bitterness," the manservant said, understanding Davorin's intent at once. He picked up a pastry from the tray. "It's rather sticky, so it might be best if you just have a nibble while I hold it, then I'll lift the cup to your lips."

Davorin took a few experimental nibbles. The first caused him to cough slightly, but he was able to swallow it down. The second bite went down more easily. He finished off the pastry, washing it down with a few sips of the dark beverage. "Good."

"Yes, it is good, isn't it?" the manservant agreed. He smiled.

#

Half an hour later, loud cheering erupted in the distance. Davorin frowned. "Wha's happenin?"

The manservant stood, walking over to peer out the window. "It looks like the first of the ships has docked. I suppose the people are happy to see the Lord Regent's arrival."

Davorin struggled to stand. "Mus leave!"

"You wish me to leave, my lord?"

"No!" Davorin focused on making himself understood. "We need leave."

"We need to leave? But where do you wish to go?"

Where did he wish to go? An idea came to Lord Davorin.

"Storas closet. Down t' corridor.  Near guard room."

The manservant cocked his head quizzically. "You want to go to the storage closet down the corridor near the guard room?"

"Now!"

"Of course, my lord!" The manservant considered how to make that happen. "Shall I carry you, or do you think you might be able to walk with my assistance?"

"Walk!"

"Very well, then." The manservant looped an arm companionably around the Lord Protector, helping him upright. Lord Davorin was unsteady on his feet and unable to support his full weight yet, but he managed several staggering steps towards the outer corridor.

"Take me t' closet. Ten gold forints in it f'r you."

The manservant suppressed a smile. Ten gold forints was a princely sum indeed for escorting a usurper into a storage closet! Too bad he was unlikely to ever collect any of it. But he was happy to humor the Lord Protector for the moment.

The two of them made their way slowly down the corridor. Outside, the cheering grew louder. As his strength began to return, Lord Davorin hastened his steps as much as he was capable.

"Is this the right door, my lord?" The manservant opened the closet door with his free arm.

"Take me into closet," ordered Lord Davorin.

This was far better than the manservant had dared to hope for. "As you wish, my lord," he said.

He stepped forward until he felt a faint tingle under his feet. As Lord Davorin was making the unwelcome realization that he would not be able to escape as he had planned after all because he could no longer call up his Deryni powers, the manservant extended his own shields, enveloping Lord Davorin within them and taking control of him before directing the jump to a local portal instead, one the manservant had just recently learned about that was right in the port district behind a wine merchant's residence. The cheering was nearly deafening now.

"What have you done?" Lord Davorin screamed as the man swiftly disengaged himself from their brief mental link.

"Got you out of the Palace, my lord!" said the man with a grin as he scooped his unwilling passenger up and carried him out into the crowds. He looked around, scanning the area around him. There up ahead, starting to make their way up Zöldhegy, was a small group of armed men in the sea green and white of the Von Horthys, one of them bearing the banner of the Lord Regent. Beside the standard bearer, flanked by the rest of his honor guard, was his true master, Comte Réhon-Rogan. He couldn't have asked for better timing!

"Make way!" the manservant shouted as he made his way towards them, the Lord Protector struggling in his grasp. "I have a special delivery for the Lord Regent!"

As others turned to face them, noticing who it was he intended to deliver, mocking laughter rang out among the crowd. Soon, others began to assist him with his struggling burden, helping to carry Lord Davorin the rest of the way towards the soldiers accompanying the Lord Regent.

#

June 20, 1465
The Palace at Horthánthy
The Comte's usual guest apartment
Evening

The Lord Regent of Orsal and Tralia had declined the honor of being housed in the Hort's personal apartment, preferring to rest from his travels in the guest apartment he was more accustomed to using during his infrequent visits to Horthánthy. Freshly bathed and shaven now, he selected a set of flowing robes suitable for the warmer climate he found himself in and stepped out of his bedchamber.

"Has János reported in yet?" he asked his lieutenant.

"He just arrived, Your Excellency. He's waiting in your receiving room."

"Thank you." Réhon-Rogan walked the few steps to the small sitting room where he found the manservant who had entered Lord Davorin's service at his behest waiting for him.

"There you are, you cheeky lad!" he greeted János, who laughed as he stood to offer his true master a deep bow of welcome.

"What, did you not like your present, my lord?" asked the manservant. "Should I have had him wrapped and tied with a bow for you?"

"It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture," said the Lord Regent, "but I'm wondering why you took the risk of bringing him to me when you knew I was already on my way up to the Palace."

"Ah, that. He was trying to escape, my lord. Only he couldn't make his way to a Portal on his own, and it hadn't occurred to him yet that he would be unable to use it anyhow, so he enlisted my help. It would have seemed rather strange if I'd suddenly been unwilling to assist him to where he wished to go after I'd been so accommodating earlier in the morning, so I brought him to the Portal. And since we were already there, it seemed a shame not to use it!" He grinned. "He owes me ten gold forints for helping him leave the Palace in his weakened condition."

"Right. About that." Réhon-Rogan studied János above steepled fingertips. "I know the lingering paralysis he was still suffering from this morning was a parting gift from the Arilans, who paid him a house call in the middle of the night," he observed with a wry smile as his servant nodded. "He's fully recovered from that now. But what can you tell me about the agonine poisoning?"

"It's just a trace amount, my lord. Nowhere near lethal, just uncomfortable enough to give him a taste of what the late Hort's children by Lady Marija went through." János felt in his belt pouch for a small vial. "Here's the antidote, if you want to put him out of his misery sooner, though I figure whatever sentence you're intending to give him for his treasonous acts will be far worse than what he's currently experiencing."

The Regent sighed. "János, I've given you a great deal of autonomy because in the past you've earned my trust. Don't overstep like that in future."

"My apologies, Your Excellency."

#

June 20, 1465
Rhemuth Castle
The Royal Chapel
Evening

Queen Miranda knelt before the altar in the Royal Chapel in Rhemuth, at first praying for her late husband's soul, then also praying for the wisdom to know how to navigate the painful task that lay ahead. Beside her, Noella MacArdry McLain, the Countess of Kierney, knelt and prayed as well.

An hour earlier, Miranda had received word from her brother the King that the rest of her ladies-in-waiting would be brought through the diplomatic portal imminently to be reunited with her that evening just as soon as he'd had the opportunity to meet with and debrief them. She would be glad to see them all again, but she was also more than a little apprehensive, knowing the difficult news she would need to break to Lady Ailis, who had been through so much already over the past year.

Fortunately, after she had brought the matter up with her brother, he had known of a Palace guard in his service, a McLain man, who knew the Portal signature in Kierney. The man had been sent there with a message for Kierney's Countess, who also happened to be Ailis's eldest sister. Noella, upon hearing the sad news that would need to be shared with her sister upon her arrival in Rhemuth, did not hesitate to come at once to lend her support to both Ailis and Miranda at such a difficult time.

That left Miranda with the task of figuring out the right place to meet with Ailis. She was hesitant to break the news of Ailis's child's death as well as their closest friend and companion, Lady Genevieve, in the company of the other ladies sharing her small guest apartment. Better for her to have a quieter place to absorb the initial shock and be able to grieve freely, away from the watching eyes of the ladies-in-waiting who had been the least friendly towards either Ailis or Genie over the years. The Royal Chapel, she decided, was likely the best location for that.

She would have preferred for Camber to be here to minister to Ailis at that moment, but Camber was still away in Joux, occupied with difficult matters of his own. Instead, her mother's chaplain and confessor Father Aleghieri had agreed to be available to offer spiritual care to the young widow in this moment of renewed grief.

The door into the narthex opened. Miranda genuflected and stood, turning around to see her longtime friend hesitantly entering the nave, her face filled with foreboding. "The King said you wanted to meet with me here, Your Majesty?" Ailis's voice, like her expression, was filled with uncertainty, which only increased when Noella also rose and turned to face her.

"Oh no...." Tears filled her eyes as Ailis guessed why she had been summoned to meet with her Queen apart from the other ladies, even before Miranda could think of the right words to say. "No, please not my Ciardha! Not my baby boy!"

Noella reached her first, gathering her sister into her arms as Ailis half-collapsed against her, sobbing into her shoulder. Miranda approached the two of them, wrapping an arm around Ailis's shoulders as she wept. Finally, Ailis straightened, wiping her remaining tears with her sleeve and looking around at Miranda. "What happened?" Glancing around the room, she asked worriedly. "Where's Genie?"

"Ailis...." Miranda took her hand and led her to one of the benches at the side of the nave, sitting on one end of it and patting the seat to indicate that Ailis should join her. "Genie and Gareth managed to prevent Lord Davorin's mercenaries from getting to the children for nearly a full day. They put up a very valiant defense, but ultimately, it wasn't enough." Tears filled her eyes as she unclasped Ailis's hand, slipping her arm around her friend's shoulders instead. "Lord Davorin decided to make an example of them. He had them and two of the nursemaids executed the following day. Ciardha and Brendan were also killed. I'm so sorry."

"Of course," Ailis whispered dully. "He wouldn't have needed them, Ciardha and Brendan. They wouldn't have served his purpose." An angry fire lit her eyes. "May Lord Davorin rot in Hell, and Jesaminda with him!"

"He likely will very soon, and I've already sent his daughter ahead to welcome him," Miranda assured her. "The Lord Regent just arrived in Horthánthy earlier today, or so I've been told. I am sure he will be swift to exact justice once he's discovered all the facts of the case." Including the memory of Gareth and Genie's execution that she had gleaned from Rezza's mind, which she fully intended to share with the Regent at the earliest opportunity as one of the many pieces of evidence against Lord Davorin to be weighed, although she thought it best not to share that particular bit of knowledge with Ailis, who was suffering quite enough as it was without needing to be treated to a third-hand view of her dearest friend's beheading or the sight of her dead child.

"Why did Davorin kill Genie and Gareth, but not the others?" Ailis asked.

"The others were scheduled to be executed the following evening," Miranda informed her. "Lord Davorin needed a scapegoat, so he accused me of conspiring with the Lord Regent to kill Adémar and claimed the rest of my household was complicit in the deed as well. Hence the planned executions–both to make his story seem more plausible, and also to silence anyone who could point the finger of blame at him instead. Except before he could get around to executing the others, the Duke of Corwyn and a few of his men were able to figure out a way to get to the room where they were being held and rescue them."

The chaplain entered discreetly from a side entrance, available to the ladies if needed, but not wishing to impose his company upon them until they gave him some sign they were ready to speak with him. Miranda looked up as she sensed his presence nearby. "Maman's confessor, Father Aleghieri, is here if you wish to speak with him and have a little time to yourself to pray. And I've told Noella that she is welcome to bring you home to either Kierney or Transha if you wish to spend this time with your family. I suspect the Lord Regent will need to speak with you sometime soon, but I can ask the King to send someone to fetch you when you're needed back."

Ailis looked up at that and gave her sister a watery smile before shaking her head. "Thank you for that, but my place is with you now, Your Majesty. I've shared my account of what happened with the Duke of Bočna, who has communicated it to the Lord Regent already, but as the Queen Mother of the young Hort, you'll need to return to Horthánthy soon, and I've a feeling that there will be a lot that needs to be set to rights once we get back. I might want a few days with Noella and my brothers once everything is more settled in Orsal and Tralia. If it's possible, I'll want to bring Ciardha back home for burial then."

"Hopefully that will be possible," Miranda said, "though to be honest, I don't even know where Adémar's body has been taken yet. I am certain Lord Davorin had some sort of funerary arrangements in the works, but that's just one of many things that will need to be looked into in the immediate future."

"Then the sooner we return home, the better," Ailis told her.

Home. That was the last description Miranda would have thought to give Horthánthy just a few short years ago. Yet despite everything that had happened in the past eight years, she realized it had become their home at some point along the way.

"You're right," Miranda said. "As soon as the Lord Regent says it's safe for us to return, we'll head back."

#

June 23, 1465
The Île d'Orsal
The Palace at Horthánthy
Late afternoon

It had merely been a week since the night of the coup, but for Miranda, it somehow felt like a different lifetime ago. It had taken the combined forces of the Lord Regent, his Beldourian allies, the Duke of Bočna and other Tralian nobility loyal to the House of von Horthy, and the Gwyneddan forces sent by King Nicholas to round up those few courtiers and soldiers who had remained staunchly loyal to Lord Davorin and restore order to the ports of Horthánthy,  Orsalis, and elsewhere that the Corps Phénix had been sent in an effort to secure the Lord Pretender's hold on the Hortic Throne. Now the realm had resumed some semblance of normalcy, and it had been deemed safe for the Queen, the young Hort, the princesses, and the Queen's Household to return to the Summer Palace.

The small party of returning ladies and children had been conveyed via Portal from Rhemuth to Coroth, but as the Orsalian and Tralian populace were waiting to welcome them home publicly, and it was a fine summer day with a calm sea, it had been decided that they would make the brief journey across that narrow portion of the Southern Sea by ship, accompanied by an honor escort. Thus, the Queen and her family and entourage entered the port city to great fanfare and shouts of acclamation, greeted at the dock by the Lord Regent, who had arranged for a convoy of jinrikisha porters to convey the new arrivals up to the Summer Palace at the summit of Zöldhegy. It might have seemed like a typical festival day or one of the family's biannual trips between their Winter and Summer Palaces, except for a few grim reminders here and there of the recent coup. Fortunately the sight of the late and unlamented Lord Davorin's corpse and those of his loyalists were not among those reminders; the Lord Regent, mindful of the tender ages of the Royal Children and concerned that they had experienced quite enough distressing scenes already, had ordered the remains of the executed men taken down from their spikes shortly before the ship bearing the Queen and her entourage had entered the port.

In the central courtyard of Horthánthy Palace, the jinrikisha porters stopped to allow the passengers out of their conveyances. Again, as Miranda stepped out of the small carriage and Lady Ailis handed Létald to her, Lady Jadviga following close behind her with one of the young Princesses on either side, holding their hands, the Lord Regent dismounted from his own carriage and made his way towards them, stopping a few feet before the Queen Mother to offer her and his young sovereign a respectful bow.

"Welcome home, Your Hortic Majesties," he greeted Miranda and her young son before turning slightly to glance at the two princesses with a smile. "And to Your Highnesses as well." He beckoned another young woman forward, and to Miranda's pleased surprise she saw it was Lady Danelija, back in her regular form. "I believe you are already quite familiar with Lady Danelija, Your Majesty, and she is eager to return to your service."

"I am equally eager to have her back," Miranda assured them both.

"Danelija has been working hard with several of the Palace chambermaids and manservants to get your former chambers set to rights, but for the moment I've arranged for other accommodations for you. It occurred to me that your ladies might not feel quite ready to return to your former rooms with the unpleasant memories they must hold for you at present, but I have a proposal for you as to how your accommodations might be rearranged in future in such a way that I hope you will find to be more secure. But for the moment, I'll let Lady Danelija show you and your entourage to your temporary quarters and let you get settled in. Later, after the evening meal, we can go over the ideas I had in mind and you can let me know what your thoughts are."

"Thank you, Comte Réhon-Rogan," Miranda replied.

He smiled. "Just 'Réhon' is fine, my lady. Using the full version is apt to make me feel like it's either a very formal occasion or I've fallen into your bad graces."

#

June 23, 1465
The Île d'Orsal
The Palace at Horthánthy
Late Evening

After the returning Queen's Household had had some time to get settled back into the Palace, rest from their journey, and partake of a light meal, the Lord Regent invited Queen Miranda to accompany him to her former chambers, along with Lady Danelija to serve as the Queen's companion for propriety's sake.

Miranda had more than a mild sense of trepidation about returning to the part of the Palace where she and her ladies had undergone the most frightening experience of their lives only a week earlier. But to her surprise, none of the expected resonances from that night lingered in the area, not even in the guard room where she had expected to sense at least some lingering traces of recent violence and death.

"You've Cleansed the space," she observed as soon as she stepped out of the stairwell into the main entrance to the guard room. "Or at least someone has."

"Yes," Réhon affirmed. "Or at least I finished the job properly. Someone else had dealt with the worst of the resonances beforehand–I assume that was either Lord Davorin or Lady Jesaminda, since Davorin had laid claim to the Hort's chambers and Lady Jesaminda was briefly in yours–but given that they also added their own personal and rather dark imprints to the space, the overall effect was not much of an improvement." He tried to think of an apt comparison. "Imagine the psychic equivalent of trying to cover up the stench of a chamber pot left out in the summer heat, not by emptying it of waste and then scrubbing it thoroughly and airing it well, but by simply pouring out the contents and then rinsing the still dirty pot with the most obnoxious perfume one can find. They might have found the effort sufficient to needs if all they could smell was the perfume, but others might well have cause to object."

Miranda couldn't help but laugh at the incongruity, especially since the most obnoxious perfume she could recall ever smelling happened to be the fragrance Lady Jesaminda especially favored.

"With Lady Danelija's help, I have had all of Lady Jesaminda's belongings moved back out, as well as those belonging to her companions, and what we have managed to locate of your own belongings have been moved back in and returned to their proper places, although should you decide you don't wish to return here, they can of course be moved elsewhere for you. But before you decide one way or another, here is what I am proposing, since I am sure you must be feeling a bit of trepidation about the thought of returning to a space where you might not feel as assured of your safety as you once did."

"I do have concerns about that, yes," Miranda admitted.

"That's quite understandable," said the Lord Regent. "So here are my thoughts for your consideration." He led her past the guard room into the first antechamber of the Queen's Wing, which was originally her main reception room. "The main security problem with this part of the apartment block was that while you had access to a Transfer Portal which provided a handy means of escape for at least some of you, the closet where that Portal was hidden was also too easily accessed by your attackers, since it was actually outside your main living space rather than within it. That might have been less of a problem if those attackers didn't know how to access your private chapel from that closet, but since Lady Jesaminda knew how to open the secret door between the two spaces, that's how the mercenaries ultimately ended up gaining access to your apartment. Your guards were putting up a decent defense, but that breach allowed them to be attacked on two sides. So what I would suggest in this area is keeping the Portal, but making it safer for you to access discreetly and impossible to access from outside of your apartment."

Miranda nodded. "That makes sense."

"The other major problem I noticed was that there was no way to access the Royal Nursery except through the guard room. What I would propose, if you decide you would like to continue using that area for that function, would be placing a connecting door between there and your chambers somewhere in this wall," he said, pointing out the space in question. "The current main entrance could be walled in. That would also mean that in the hopefully unlikely event of another similar incident taking place in future, anyone in the Nursery would also have access to the same Transfer Portal you used to evacuate."

"I suppose you're right, although right now I don't think I can bear to have them in a separate area just yet."

"At their tender ages, they could just have a chamber of their own within your main suite if you'd prefer that," Lord Réhon agreed.  "Though children have a way of growing up more quickly than we are ready for, and it won't be long before the princesses will want a separate space from their brother, if they haven't reached that age already. If the former Royal Nursery ends up becoming an apartment for your growing princesses, then you definitely won't want it opening up directly into a guard room and barracks housing a dozen or more randy young man-at-arms, especially once they reach their teen years!"

Miranda briefly considered how much more trouble she and Mellie might have gotten into if their old apartment in Rhemuth had opened up directly into a guard room filled with young men only a few years older than themselves. "Yes, I think moving the entrance would be a much better idea!" she agreed.

"Although an alternate idea I had was to turn the former Hort's chambers into the Royal Nursery, at least in the short term until your son has reached the age of needing greater privacy," the Lord Regent continued. "That way the children would already be directly connected to your bedchamber by that series of small chambers which could serve equally well for your nursemaids' sleeping rooms."

"Are you not using that apartment, my lord?" Miranda asked, startled.

Lord Réhon smiled. "I'm not the Hort, and I'm perfectly happy remaining in my own guest apartment here for the moment, although once my wife and children join me in a few months, we may seek larger accommodations. She is expecting my heir soon, so my mother-by-marriage is most insistent on keeping her and our daughters close by until she's out of her confinement and things are a bit more settled here. So as Létald grows to an age to need his own space, we can set the room up accordingly. Besides...." The smile turned to an amused grin, "If my Natalija were to discover I'd selected a room for myself that directly connected to another woman's bedchamber, I might not live to meet my heir!"

Miranda laughed. "I hadn't considered that, but yes, that would be awkward. How old are your children?" She felt a twinge of envy at his wife's good fortune to be married to a man who cared enough about her feelings to avoid even the appearance of impropriety with another woman.

"My daughters are six and four, and my son will be born around the turn of the season, so they are all close to being agemates with your children. Depending on how soon we can get the Palace set back to rights, I might bring my daughters here a little sooner so their mother can have a little more rest once our son is born. But that's assuming we have a nursery set back up to bring them to by that time. Otherwise, they will stay in Furstánán a little longer."

Next chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3506.0.html

[tmcd]

A pity that Miranda didn't get a chance to wave goodbye to Lord Protector Hort Demerol. Or at least to make some other hand gesture at him. Yeah yeah, she still could, but it's not the same when directed at someone who is metabolically challenges like Hort Devember.