Leesha shook her head. “Vika will be seeing her husband for the first time in months. I won’t take that from them. There’s nothing she can do that Darsy can’t.”
“Ay, mistress,” Wonda said.
“You’re not to tell anyone what is happening,” Leesha said. “Not the guards, not Gared, not anyone.”
“But mistress…” Wonda began.
“No one.” Her words came out in a growl as Leesha grit her teeth through another contraction. It was like a serpent wrapped around her belly, squeezing. “I won’t have loose talk turning this into a Jongleur’s show. I’m giving birth to Ahmann Jardir’s baby. Not everyone will wish it well, and after the birth we’ll both be…vulnerable.”
Wonda’s eyes hardened. “Not while I’m around, mistress. Swear it by the sun.”
—
Wonda gave no sign anything was amiss when she exited the carriage, stepping easily into the stirrup of her moving horse.
The wardlight inside the carriage dimmed in the early-morning light, but it brightened as the door clicked shut. With it, the wards of silence reactivated, and Leesha let out a groan of pain.
She put one hand on the small of her back and the other under her heavy belly as she heaved herself upright. Heat wards had the kettle hot in seconds. Leesha poured steaming water on a cloth and pressed it to her face.
The reflection in the mirror was pale and hollow, dark circles beneath her eyes. Leesha longed to reach into her hora pouch, Drawing a bit of magic to give her strength through the ordeal to come, but it was too dangerous. Magic was known to send the child into wild fits. It was the last thing she wanted now.
She glanced at the powder kit, but she’d never had the skill painting her face that she had painting wards. That was her mother’s talent. She made do as best she could, brushing her hair and straightening her dress.
The roads of Cutter’s Hollow’s outer boroughs twisted and turned, following the curving shape of the greatwards she and Arlen Bales designed. The Hollow had over a dozen boroughs now, an ever-expanding net of interconnected greatwards that pushed the demons back farther every night. Leesha knew the shape as intimately as a lover, not needing to glance out the window to know they were passing through Newhaven.
Soon they would enter Cutter’s Hollow, the capital of Hollow County and the center of the greatwards. Just two years ago, the Hollow had been a town of less than three hundred souls—barely large enough for a dot on the map. Now it was equal to any of the Free Cities.
Another contraction took her. They were getting closer—just six minutes apart now. She was dilating and could feel the child sitting lower. She breathed. There were herbs that could ease her pain, but she dare not take them until she was safely ensconced in her chambers.
Leesha peeked from the curtain, immediately regretting it as a cheer went up in response. She’d hoped to keep her homecoming quiet by arriving before dawn, but there was no quieting an escort of such size. Even at the early hour, folk crowded the streets and watched from windows as the procession wound its way home.
It was strange, thinking of Thamos’ keep as home, but it belonged to her now as Countess of Hollow County. In her absence, Darsy had turned Leesha’s cottage in the Gatherers’ Wood into the headquarters for Gatherers’ Academy, hopefully the first of many establishments of learning in the Hollow. Leesha would rather be there training apprentices, but there was far more she could accomplish if she took up residence in the keep.
She wrinkled her nose as the fortress came into view. It was a blocky, walled structure, built more for defense than aesthetics—at least on the outside. The inside was worse in some ways, lavish as a palace in a land struggling to rebuild. Both problems would have to be addressed now that the place was hers.
The great gates of the keep were open, the road lined on either side by the remains of the Wooden Lancers, Thamos’ cavalry. There were barely fifty of them now, the others lost with the count himself in the Battle of Docktown. They were resplendent on their great Angierian mustangs, man and horse equally stone-faced at attention. All were armed and armored, as if expecting Leesha to command them into battle at any moment.
The courtyard, too, looked mustered as much for a war as a homecoming. To the left, Captain Gamon was mounted with his lieutenants before hundreds of men-at-arms, straight-backed with eyes forward, heavy polearms planted on the ground, points all at precisely the same angle.
Courtyard right, the entire keep’s staff—an army in its own right—lined up no less sharply than the infantry, uniforms clean and pressed.
It will be interesting to see what happens to those perfect ranks if I give birth in the courtyard. The thought was wry, but then the child kicked, and it ceased to amuse.
As Wonda warned, a knot of people stood at the base of the steps to the keep. Lord Arther was at their front, rigid in his dress uniform and spear. Beside him was Tarisa, the count’s childhood nurse who had become lady’s maid to Leesha. Gared was waiting with Rosal, his promised, and Rosal’s mother. With him were Inquisitor Hayes; Gatherers Darsy and Vika; her father, Erny; and…night, even Leesha’s mother, Elona, glaring daggers at Rosal’s back. Leesha prayed the early hour would succor her from that demon, at least, but as usual it went unanswered.
Wonda poked her head in the door. “Ready, mistress?”
A fresh contraction ripped through her. She felt hot, sweating even in the cold winter air.
Leesha smiled, showing none of it. Her legs shook as she got to her feet, and she felt the child inch lower. “Yes, dear. Swiftly now.”
Gamon dismounted as the carriage arrived. He, Arther, and Gared nearly tripped over one another in the scramble to offer their hands as she stepped down. Leesha ignored them all, clutching Wonda’s arm as she carefully descended the steps. It would not do to fall in front of the entire assembly.
“Welcome back to the Hollow, Countess Paper,” Arther said with a courtly bow. “It is a great relief to see you well. When we heard of the attack on Angiers, we feared the worst.”
“Thank you,” Leesha said as she steadied herself. All around the courtyard, there were bows and curtsies. Leesha kept her back straight, acknowledging it all with a dignified nod that would have done Duchess Araine proud.
Then she began walking. Wonda angled herself to take the lead even as she lent her support. Close behind, two meaty Cutter women followed.
Caught off guard, the men stumbled out of their path, but they recovered swiftly, scurrying after. Gamon was the first to match her pace. “My lady, I have prepared a roster of the house guards…”
“Thank you, Captain Gamon.” Leesha’s insides were churning. She clenched her thighs, terrified her water might break before she reached the house. “Be a dear and give it to Captain Wonda, please.”
Gamon’s eyes widened, and he stopped in his tracks. “Captain Wonda?”
“I hereby appoint Wonda Cutter captain of my house guard,” Leesha said loudly, continuing to walk. “A long-overdue promotion.”
Gamon hurried to catch back up. “If my command has been in some way unsatisfactory…”
Leesha smiled, wondering if she might vomit. “Not at all. Your service was exemplary, and your valor on behalf of the Hollow is without question. You will retain command of the Wooden Soldiers, but my house security will report to Captain Wonda alone. Order the men to fall out and return to their duties. We’re not expecting an attack.”
Gamon looked like he was trying to swallow a stone, but after months in Angiers not knowing if she was captive or guest, Leesha was tired of seeing Wooden Soldiers everywhere. Wonda had already hand-selected Cutters to take over the house guard, and signaled them to secure the entrance and sweep the manse.
Arther moved quickly to take the empty place as Gamon fell back, stunned. “The house staff…”
“…looks crisp and ready to start the day,” Leesha cut him off. “Let’s not keep them.” She whisked a hand, dismissing the assemblage.
“Of course, my lady.” Arther gave a signal, and the crowd began to disperse. He looked ready to say more, but Leesha’s mother pushed her way in front, Erny trailing after. Elona was six months pregnant, though she hid it well with low-cut gowns that masked her belly and drew eyes elsewhere. The men fell back like she was a coreling.