Quintana of Charyn

Phaedra looked away. ‘It was. We’re no different to animals when you think of it.’

Cora rolled her eyes.

‘Ah … it,’ Ginny said.

Phaedra felt Quintana’s scrutiny. The Princess had grown more savage-looking as the days had passed; her face was thinner, the untamed nature of her eyes more prominent. Sometimes when Quintana was consumed by her demons she just sat in the corner of the cave and rocked with fury. There was no warning, not even weeping. Just pure unadulterated fury and pain. The fury was there now, accompanied by clenching of her fists. Phaedra thought it best she take Quintana outside now that the rain was dwindling.

‘We’ll go for a walk, Your Majesty,’ she suggested. ‘You seem to be the only one of us who knows how to hunt and we could do with something to fill our bellies.’

Phaedra held out a hand to Quintana.

And surprisingly, the Princess took it, but by the time they were climbing down the rock face, Phaedra felt the nails of Quintana’s fingers digging into her skin.

‘Did he ask first?’

Phaedra looked confused. ‘Who?’

‘The Mont. Or was it force he used?’

‘No! No, of course not,’ Phaedra said, shuddering at the thought of any man taking a woman by force. ‘It may have been awful and primitive, but there was no force.’

Quintana let go of her hand and raced towards the stream.

‘Where are you going?’ Phaedra called out, catching her on the other side. She grasped her arm. ‘Don’t go too close to the Lumateran camp. It can be seen from the Charynite side.’

‘Tesadora’s moved downstream,’ Quintana said, satisfaction in her voice. ‘For me.’

They reached a small gully and Phaedra smelt the cabbage first and then heard Tesadora’s voice. The novices and Tesadora were scrounging for roots and seeds while one of the Mont girls was stirring the pot.

Quintana tossed a stone towards them.

‘Don’t!’ Phaedra whispered, gripping her hand and pulling her down.

They waited, concealed behind a fallen log. Then they both peered into the place where Tesadora and her girls were glancing in their direction. Tesadora approached and Phaedra saw a look of satisfaction on Quintana’s face.

‘I hope you’re being careful, my little savage,’ Tesadora said.

Quintana chuckled. Chuckled? All sharp teeth and wolfish smile. Tesadora didn’t seem afraid and held out a hand that Quintana took. Phaedra followed them into the clearing and stopped short, stunned. Lucian was there, his back to them, studying the fetlock of his horse.

Tesadora held out a bowl of hot stew and Quintana sat beside her, eating it up like the piglets Phaedra had seen on Orly of the Mont’s farm.

‘Are they not feeding you?’ Tesadora said, looking at Phaedra with disapproval. ‘She needs to eat more, Phaedra.’

Lucian swung around, his eyes dark and hostile, surprised to hear her name.

‘It’s not safe for us to be out here,’ Phaedra said quietly, looking at everyone but her husband.

‘Then don’t venture out of your cave,’ Tesadora said. ‘For now you’re fine, though. Donashe and his men know Lucian is here checking up on us and they won’t dare cross the stream. Come and eat, Phaedra. You look like the walking dead.’ Tesadora’s tone was one of irritation and Phaedra grieved for the days when they had befriended each other, short as they were.

It was silent. There was much staring at both Quintana and Phaedra. Scowls from the Mont girls. Phaedra opened her mouth to speak a number of times, but had nothing substantial to say. Then the silence became ridiculous.

‘She saw you swive,’ Quintana said to Tesadora, pointing at Phaedra. ‘With a scarred man.’

Phaedra closed her eyes, wanting the earth to shake and swallow her whole.

‘Swive?’ Constance asked, looking at Lucian. ‘I’ve not heard that word.’

Lucian bluntly interpreted. The girls gasped, giggling. Tesadora’s eyes met Phaedra’s.

‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ Tesadora asked coolly. ‘Watching us … swive?’

Phaedra didn’t respond, the dirty strands of hair covering her face.

‘She said it was quite primitive,’ Quintana continued.

Phaedra could see that Quintana was going to speak again and she shook her head emphatically, with a look of warning. The moment she saw Quintana’s attention turn towards Lucian, Phaedra almost leapt over to gag her.

‘You may not use force, but you rut like an animal,’ Quintana said to Lucian, coldly.

The Mont girls were agog, staring at Phaedra. They’d hate her even more for this. Feigning her death was one thing, but insulting a Mont lad in such a way?

‘Have I not said that over and over again?’ Constance said to anyone who would listen. ‘A few more tender words and a slower pace would work a treat, we Mont girls say.’

‘All true,’ Sandrine reassured Tesadora’s novices, who seemed most interested. ‘If you want to find a Lumateran man who takes the time for pleasantries, then go to the Rock,’ she added, nodding with certainty. ‘And then perhaps the River.’

Tesadora made a rude sound. ‘The men from the Rock are useless.’

‘A man has to pleasure you here, here and here,’ Constance said knowingly, pointing to her head, heart and the place between her thighs. ‘It’s what my yata told me. Pity she didn’t tell you, cousin,’ she teased Lucian.

Phaedra wondered for the umpteenth time what she could have possibly done to the gods to deserve the life she was living.

‘Excuse me,’ Lucian said calmly and politely. ‘I have an appointment in the palace village and need to be off.’ He walked away, but then turned back and Phaedra could see his rage. ‘I’m courting … did I mention that? A true Lumateran rose. A lady of discretion!’

Phaedra was stunned. Courting? Another woman? She must have made a sound because suddenly everyone was staring at her.

‘Well, it’s your fault for pretending you were dead and all, Phaedra,’ Constance said. ‘We were all speaking of how hopeful things seemed to be between you and Lucian until you died of plague.’

Phaedra scrambled to her feet, her whole being trembling. Courting another woman.

‘It’s getting dark now,’ she managed to say. ‘It’s best we go. Come, Your Majesty,’ she said briskly. She stared down at Quintana, cursing the awfulness this creature was able to cause merely by opening her mouth. Quintana didn’t take her hand. She wasn’t going anywhere by the look of things. Unable to bear being there another moment, Phaedra brushed down her skirt, to avoid giving the impression that she desperately wanted to cry. But then she could stand it no longer and rushed away, running through the undergrowth, wanting to get far away from them all. Behind her, she heard someone following and suddenly her arm was seized and she knew it wasn’t the Princess.

‘Is that what you do with your people?’ Lucian snapped. ‘Do you sit around and ridicule me? Call me an animal? Tell them I can’t pleasure my own wife?’

Phaedra looked away, shamed again.

‘I said no such thing.’

‘Then what did you say?’

‘Not the truth,’ she cried. ‘I didn’t tell them the worst parts. That when we mated you didn’t look at me. You didn’t say a word. Not once. And then you discarded me and lay with your Mont girls. So I’d have to hear the women in your village speak of how the Charynite girl was useless in all things.’

He pointed a finger at her face. ‘I don’t break bonds! I lay with no woman until you left. You. All this talk of the wife I sent back when it was your tears that begged me to send you back. Preferring to live in those filthy caves rather than share my home … my bed. Because I’m some animal.’

She stared at him through hot tears.

‘That’s not what I –’