knew the fate of Froi and was holding it from us, I’d relish the torture.’
Phaedra dared not look at the older woman. When she had lived in the mountains during her marriage to the Mont, she had heard stories of what this white witch had done to a man who had been taken to the cloisters where she once lived with the novices. The man had been in pain, complaining of stomach cramps, and the witch had sliced him from chest to navel and left him open to die while his family watched. Worse still was the story that it was the mother of the white witch who had cursed Lumatere whilst burning at the stake.
‘But if I was to know that your kinsman Froi was safe,’ Phaedra said, ‘I would tell you. Without torture.’
Phaedra chanced a look at the Mont. She imagined that once, when his father lived, he would have been a kinder lad and full of warmth. But she had not seen that side of him and when he insisted that she return to her father earlier in the year she had been relieved to be far from him.
‘I need to go back up the mountain,’ he said, getting to his feet, and she could hear weariness in his voice.
One of the girls clicked her tongue with dismay. ‘Whether you reach the mountain tonight or early tomorrow won’t make a difference, Lucian. Stay.’
He shook his head. ‘My father never spent a night away from his people.’
He mounted his horse and then he was gone, leaving Phaedra on the enemy side of the stream with the white witch staring at her in the dark.
‘You’ll never find your dwellings across the stream,’ she said. ‘You’ll sleep here tonight.’
Later, when everyone slept, Phaedra was awoken by the sound of a horse. She had heard the same sound from her side of the stream on other nights and had wondered who would ride down the mountain at such a time. She heard a shuffling at the entrance of the tent and then the flap was pulled back, revealing the Lumateran Guard they referred to as Perri the Savage. In the light of the moon she could see the hideous scar across his crown, saw his cold dark eyes search the room. Phaedra whimpered. She was a fool not to believe that it had been a plot all along. They had sent the most brutal of the Guard to deal with her, after all.
She watched him creep stealthily across the space and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying to Ferja, the goddess of courage.
‘What was that sound?’ she heard the Savage whisper.
‘Probably the wife Lucian sent back,’ the white witch responded sleepily. ‘Thinking you’re going to torture her.’
He gave a snort. ‘After more than a week without a break and a day on the road?’
Phaedra heard the rustle of clothing being removed.
‘You were a fool to come without resting,’ the white witch said quietly.
‘I’ll find time to rest when you come home,’ he murmured, and Phaedra’s face was aflame as she heard sounds that had little to do with torture and more to do with pleasure.
‘We have a home, do we?’ the white witch asked.
‘I’ll build you one.’
This time it was Tesadora who sighed. ‘Sleep. You’re too tired to be of any use to me tonight.’
He chuckled and soon they slept and Phaedra was comforted that such a man would build a woman a home. That such a woman would speak words with tenderness.
She was forced to spend a second night on the Lumateran side of the stream translating her chronicles of the Charynites who arrived each day in the valley for Tesadora and the novices.
‘I hope you’re not promising them anything,’ Tesadora snapped from her bedroll as the others slept.
‘It wouldn’t matter if I did,’ Phaedra said. ‘Charynites don’t trust promises.’
The next morning she woke to a party of people arriving with more soldiers than she had ever seen. They came with women and children and some of the Mont girls she remembered from her time in the mountains. She felt uncomfortable with their stares and would have done anything to be on her side of the stream. The women who sat in the tent were dressed for the cool mountain air. Phaedra could see they were women of wealth. She had no idea how to determine the age of a child after seeing so few in her life, but the smallest was a tiny cherub with the greyest of eyes, her hair covered by an oversized cap. She stared solemnly from her mother’s lap. The other little girl was older and so beautiful it made Phaedra’s heart ache.
‘What a strange way to live,’ one of the younger Monts said, coming into the tent after having observed Phaedra’s people from across the stream.
‘No different to the trogs up on Finnikin’s Rock,’ Tesadora said.
It was a noisy room of talk and giggles and hushed gossip. Tesadora laughed heartily at what the young woman with the grey-eyed child had to say. There was love between these people and, as always, Phaedra felt so far removed and lonely from everyone, even her own.
The conversation between them changed constantly and finally settled on the Charynite camp.
‘They’re so dirty,’ one of the Mont girls spoke. ‘I tell you, I spent a day helping Tesadora and I could barely stand the stench when I stood beside a group of women.’
‘Constance,’ a fair-haired girl warned.
Then there was silence and the Mont girl’s eyes flickered to Phaedra. Phaedra’s face felt as though it was on fire. So many eyes suddenly on her, pity in some. But what shamed her more were the stares from the children.
‘
‘
She heard hisses of ‘Shhhh’ and ‘Enough!’ The stares continued and then more silence, so much of it that even the Lumaterans looked uncomfortable.
‘They escaped through the sewers,’ Phaedra said quietly.
Phaedra felt the eyes of every person in the tent on her. Although she had never been called outspoken, she had an awful habit of speaking out of nervousness. ‘Enough now, Phaedra, my sweet,’ her father would say.
Still no one spoke.
‘They were imprisoned in the province of Nebia,’ she said, her voice small and insignificant. ‘The woman Jorja and her daughter Florenza. Jorja’s husband Harker had information about a number of Serkers who are said to live underground and Harker was arranging to have the Serkers smuggled to the province of Alonso. What he didn’t know was that his contact was a spy for the palace.’
Enough now, Phaedra, my sweet.
‘His wife and daughter found this out only after they were arrested in Harker’s place. They escaped through the sewers of their city.’
Phaedra looked at the Mont girl who had spoken. ‘That’s why you could barely stand the stench of them. Because they escaped through the shit of their people to save the life of Harker and twelve Serkers.’
Phaedra caught the wary stare of the young woman with the grey-eyed child.
‘If you believe us to be filthy demons, then it is wrong of you to bring your precious babes into danger,’ Phaedra said, looking at the woman and her child. ‘If they were ours, we’d never place them in harm’s way.’
The young mother stared back at Phaedra with fury. She stood, placing her daughter on her hip. ‘Now I have Charynites telling me how to bring up my child!’ she said, before walking out.
The fair-haired young woman stood instantly to follow, but another took her hand. ‘Let her go, Celie.’
‘I meant no offence,’ Phaedra said, hanging her head with shame.
A handsome woman with kind eyes shook her head. ‘She’s tired. Leave her.’
‘But Lady Abian, someone should go to her,’ one of the Mont girls said.
Lady Abian smiled ruefully. ‘In my early days with Celie, Augie’s mother persisted in telling me what to do all the time. The poor Queen may not have a mother-in-law, but every person in Lumatere has something to tell her about how to rear a child.’
Phaedra turned away in horror. She had insulted Queen Isaboe of Lumatere.
‘Finnikin’s Great-Aunt told her that she should no longer have Jasmina in their bed,’ the one named Beatriss said. Phaedra had heard of her. Once, she had been betrothed to the Captain of the Guard.
‘And that Jasmina is too old to still be at the breast,’ a Mont girl joined in.
‘Well, I have to agree there,’ said another.
