White Blood (41 page)

Reluctant as she was to delay, Maryn devoured the bread and cheese gratefully. A full stomach dispelled the last of her shakiness. As she finished, the guard arrived back, accompanied by two others who flanked the bedraggled Tior. A rip in the shoulder of his uniform flapped open, a bruise spread across one cheek, and he walked with a limp. But he brightened when he saw Maryn and hurried to her side. “You’re all right!”

She rose and threw her arms around him in a quick embrace. “Oh, Tior. How can I ever thank you enough?”

He shrugged and pulled away, blushing. “It was nothing. But you—that was amazing! It was like you were on fire with magic. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

It was Maryn’s turn to blush. “I’m lucky it didn’t kill me.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the bedroom door. “Come on. I’ve got to tell the princess everything you did.”

She ignored his protests. The guards nodded and let her open the door. Maryn held up a hand to warn Tior to be quiet, and he stilled as she led him into the bedroom. Princess Voerell hadn’t moved since Maryn had left; her eyes were closed, her head bowed over Barilan. Maryn worried that the princess had fallen asleep and dithered over whether to wake her, but Voerell raised her head. Her eyebrows rose when her gaze fell on Maryn’s companion.

“Excuse me for disturbing you, your Highness, but this is Tior. You saw how he stopped Priest Vinhor. And before that, in Ralo, he helped me so much.”

Voerell edged her body around to face them, careful not to wake Barilan. “Ah, yes. Go on, tell me more.”

Maryn poured out an account of all that Tior had done. Tior hung back so she couldn’t see his face, but she was sure it must be bright red. Voerell paid close attention, but Maryn couldn’t tell from her expression what she was thinking.

When Maryn finished detailing how Tior had interrupted Vinhor’s spell just before he finished it, Voerell nodded. “Come here, Tior.”

Tior stumbled forward and fell to his knees before her chair.

“So, has Madame Maryn given an accurate account of your actions?”

Tior squirmed and sank into a deeper obeisance. “Close enough.”

“You’re one of Captain Tennelan’s men?”

“Yes, your Highness.” Tior turned pleading eyes up to Voerell. “Please forgive me, your Highness. I should never have followed Captain Tennelan when he turned against you. I deserve to be punished. And I broke my oath and disobeyed a direct order—” He stopped and looked at the floor.

Voerell freed one hand from its hold on Barilan and waved expansively. “All is pardoned. Rise.”

Tior obediently climbed to his feet, raising questioning eyes to Voerell.

“I saw how you nobly and courageously defended my son. Such devoted service deserves to be recognized. I wish to offer you a position on King Barilan’s personal guard. I plan to assemble a division of the finest soldiers in Milecha to be responsible for his protection; I want you to be among them.”

Tior stared at her, his face pale. Maryn wondered if his weak stomach could stand the shock. He took a deep breath, and swallowed. “Your Highness, I’m not worthy of such an honor. Surely others—”

“I disagree. Your actions have proven you more than worthy. I know of no other I would trust as much with my son’s welfare. Will you accept the appointment?”

Maryn was unhappily certain that Tior would refuse, but he surprised her. He glanced at Barilan, gulped, took a deep breath, and drew his stout body to its full modest height. “Your Highness, I would be most honored to accept.”

“Excellent. I’ll inform the Captain of the Palace Guard. You can begin your duties tomorrow.” Voerell tilted her head, regarding Maryn and Tior. “I’d like to invite both of you to dine with me in my private quarters this evening. I think it would be wise for me to become personally acquainted with those to whom I trust my son’s safety.”

The prospect dismayed Maryn. She would have much preferred a quiet evening with Barilan to collect herself after all the chaos. But she dared not refuse the princess. And she was glad for the honor to Tior. “As you wish, your Highness.”

Tior brushed at his torn and dirty uniform. “I’m afraid I’m not in any fit state to dine with Milecha’s regent.”

“That can be taken care of.” Voerell gestured at the door. “Have the guards escort you to the garrison so you can get cleaned up and properly outfitted.”

Tior bowed to her and turned to leave. He gave Maryn a crooked grin as he passed. But he carried himself with a tentative assurance that made Maryn confident he’d rise to his new position admirably.

Maryn curtsied to Voerell. “Thank you, your Highness. I know you won’t be sorry.”

“I have every confidence in Tior.” She sighed. “I’ll spend a few more minutes with Barilan, and then I must leave.”

Maryn nodded and slipped through the bedroom door. Tior was following a guard toward the main entrance of the nursery suite. Maryn hurried over to him and clasped his hand. “Thank you again, Tior. I’m so glad we’ll be serving Barilan together. I promise, the worst you’re likely to encounter in this duty is a few smelly diapers. And they’re not even that bad. Though after he starts eating solid food they’ll get much worse.”

He grinned at her. “Well, I know how to deal with that.” He mimed putting a perfumed cloth to his face and inhaling. Maryn giggled.

Tior stepped back and saluted her formally. “I welcome the opportunity to protect my king and his nurse.” He turned on his heel to follow the guard out. But at the last moment he spoiled his official facade by glancing back and winking at her.

Maryn smiled to herself as she returned to her seat by the fire. She spoke quietly with Litholl for a while, expecting Voerell to emerge from the bedroom at any moment. But more than half an hour passed, and the princess remained within.

Litholl rose from her seat. “I must be going. I have several mothers I promised to check on today before Voerell called me. I think you should be fine, but if you have any difficulties, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“I won’t.” Maryn walked with her to the door.

After Litholl left, the nursery was quiet. Maryn stood for a moment, uncertain, looking at the bedroom door flanked by its silent guards. Finally she took a deep breath and nodded at them as she went to open it. “Your Highness?” she called softly. “Are you ready to leave?”

“No,” Voerell said. Maryn was about to withdraw, but the princess continued. “I must, though. I have official business to tend to that I’ve put off too long already.”

Maryn entered the bedroom and went to stand beside Voerell. Barilan was still deeply asleep, his head lolling on his mother’s shoulder. Maryn held out her arms, but Voerell made no move to surrender him. Maryn dropped her hands.

After a moment Voerell spoke. “Is there anything else you need, Maryn? Anything else I can do for you?”

Give me Barilan and go away.
But Maryn certainly couldn’t say that. Instead, she thought for a moment. “The midwife in Ralo, Siwell Narila—I mentioned her when I was telling you about Tior. She risked a lot to help me. She’s the one who taught me to fight off the compulsion spell. If you could find a way to reward her…”

“It will be done. Do you wish me to bring her to Loempno to attend you?”

“Oh, no. Not unless that’s what she wants. I’ll be fine with Litholl if I need any help of that sort.” Not that she’d need a midwife’s expertise any time soon, Maryn reflected sadly. If a second marriage and more children awaited her somewhere in the future, it wouldn’t be for a long time yet.

Perhaps a similar thought passed through Voerell’s mind, for her face was pensive for a moment. Sighing, she rose to her feet. She stroked Barilan’s head, then extended him toward Maryn. “I must be going. But I look forward to seeing you in my quarters at suppertime.”

Maryn wasn’t looking forward to it. She was afraid the meal would be terribly stiff and awkward. What right had a simple servant like herself to socialize with the princess and regent of Milecha?

After she transferred Barilan into Maryn’s arms, Voerell paused, looking at the two of them. “Be sure to bring Barilan with you, of course. I want to spend more time getting to know him. My duties will never allow me the kind of relationship with him that you have. I accept that. I’m tremendously glad he has someone who can give him the love and attention he deserves. But I want to be closer to him than my father ever was to me, to any of us. Maybe if he’d spent a little more time with us, Carlich wouldn’t…or maybe not.” She shook her head, a quick, convulsive movement. “In any case, I’d like to make it a custom to share supper with you and Barilan whenever my duties permit.”

Maryn ducked her head. “Whatever you wish, your Highness.”

Maryn thought that was the end of the conversation. She expected Voerell to turn and go, but the regent just stood looking at her. Maryn shifted her feet. “Your Highness?”

Voerell reached out and put her hand on Maryn’s arm. “Would you…would you call me Voerell, please? When we’re in private?”

Maryn stared at her, scandalized. Voerell hesitated, then rushed on. “My family is gone. My husband, my father, both my brothers…I’m alone now. There’s no one I can relax with and be myself, not the princess or the regent. I know you lost your family, too, your husband and your child…Neither of us can make up for what the other has lost, but maybe, if you’re willing, we could try to be friends. We both love Barilan; that’s a place to start.”

The hurt and loneliness in Voerell’s words and voice resonated strongly in Maryn’s heart. But she resisted it and turned away, a bitter lump in her throat. “I’m your servant. Do I have any choice?”

“You do.” Voerell’s voice was fierce. “It’s not as princess or regent I ask this; only as another woman who’s suffered some of the same sorrows you have. You are free to refuse, if that’s your wish.”

Voerell took a step back. Curtains began to veil again the openness and vulnerability that had shone momentarily from her eyes. Maryn felt a pang of regret to see the offered hand withdrawn, stung by her rejection. She found, suddenly, that she believed Voerell. The princess really did want to try to be a friend. To reach out, perhaps for the first time in her life, to another person based not on rank or status or wealth, but only on what their hearts shared.

Would the princess really be able to put those things aside? Maybe not, but Maryn realized she was willing to take that risk.

Maryn put out her hand. Voerell’s eyes widened, and she slowly reached to grasp it. Maryn drew a deep breath. “I think…I think I’d like to be your friend—Voerell. I’ll be happy to join you for supper, tonight and every night you’re able. I think Barilan will benefit greatly from spending as much time as possible with you.”

Voerell broke into an uncertain, uncharacteristically shy smile. “Well, in that case…I’ll see you then.” She gave Maryn’s hand a brief squeeze, released it, and strode quickly from the bedroom. Maryn trailed after her into the nursery. The guards converged on Voerell and ushered her into the hall. The door shut behind them, and all was quiet.

Barilan stirred in Maryn’s arms. He opened his eyes and began to fuss, chewing on one fist. Maryn hugged him close. “Hungry again already? Are you trying to grow as big as your grandfather before you’re a year old? Just because you’re the king now doesn’t mean you have to fill his shoes for quite a few years yet. Your mother will do that very capably until you’re ready.”

The infant king squirmed in her arms, showing her in every way he knew how that he was hungry, and thirsty, and needed the closeness and comfort of her breast. Maryn didn’t mind. Barilan would have to grow up far too soon, with far too many responsibilities thrust upon him at a very young age.

Who would he become, as the years passed? Would he grow to be as strong as his mother? Or might he choose to follow the same corrupt path as his uncle?

Maryn didn’t know. Nor did she know if anything she or Voerell could do would alter that outcome.

Only one thing was within her power. She could give Barilan the love and care that would form the foundation on which he would build his life, for good or ill.

Maryn sank into the large soft chair by the hearth, pulled down her shift, and settled Barilan in to nurse.

Author’s Note

A
lthough
White Blood
is fantasy, a number of elements in the story are drawn from history. The idea that children who breastfeed from the same women become siblings has been held by various cultures. The upper classes of many times and places employed wet nurses to care for their children. The mirror test that Coewyn gives Maryn’s milk is based on a real practice. And the phrase “white blood” has been used to describe breastmilk because of the multitude of living cells, enzymes, and active immune factors it contains. If you’d like to learn more about this fascinating subject, visit my website at
www.angelaholder.com
.

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