Quintana of Charyn

‘One of the men has also been sent to the Sarnak border,’ Harker whispered. ‘To find a woman with a babe.’

‘Why?’ Phaedra asked. ‘Do they think none of us, including Tesadora and Japhra, can take care of a newborn?’

Harker looked away, pained.

‘Harker,’ Jorja asked. ‘What does this mean?’

They heard a sound behind them and turned to find Quintana leaning against Cora, her hand clutching her belly.

‘She’ll be here to feed my son,’ Quintana said. ‘Won’t she?’

Harker didn’t respond.

‘It’s what they do when a mother dies and leaves a babe behind. They find a woman with breasts full of milk.’

Quintana’s eyes filled with tears.

‘I’ve become greedy. I’ve always thought it was enough to birth him. But I want to see his face. Promise me I’ll see his face.’

Later, Ginny entered their cave, fear and pity etched on her face. Was it fear of them, or Donashe and his men who guarded the cave outside? She held a large bowl of a thick substance that she placed in front of Quintana.

‘You need to eat, Your Highness.’

‘Majesty,’ Cora hissed. ‘You refer to her as Your Majesty. She’s your queen.’

Ginny pushed the bowl towards Phaedra.

‘They say she must eat. They don’t want the little King dead before his birth.’

Phaedra heard a pitiful sound come from deep within Quintana, and then a mutter of heart-wrenching desperation spoken so fast that all Phaedra understood was the plea in her voice and the name Froi spoken over and over again.

‘I meant no harm,’ Ginny said quietly. ‘Gies came searching for his friend when the hangman failed to return to camp. It was chance. It was chance,’ she sobbed. ‘And I was so happy to see him. I told him to keep our secret like Harker and Kasabian and the Mont were allowed to keep yours.’ Ginny’s hands wrung. ‘I would never bring harm to you. To any of you. I’m sorry,’ she wept. ‘I’m sorry.’

Florenza stood and approached Ginny and slapped her hard across the face. Ginny cried out and stumbled, stepping onto the bowl and snapping it in half. Phaedra watched the warm liquid spread against the stone.

One of Donashe’s men entered the cave.

‘What’s taking you so long?’ he shouted at Ginny. ‘Clean up this mess.’

Ginny fell to her knees, gathering the pieces in her hands, hurrying to collect the rest. She watched the man leave and looked up quickly.

‘They say the Lasconians and the Turlans are camped across the hill from Bestiano’s army, two days’ ride from here,’ she whispered before getting to her feet. ‘And that the Lumateran is travelling with them.’

When Ginny left the cave, Cora placed a bony arm around Quintana’s shoulders, soothing her.

‘See? He’s two days’ ride from here. He’s coming for you and from the way I see it, watch anyone who gets in the way of the Lumateran and his precious girl.’

But Quintana was shaking her head with despair beyond reckoning.

‘How long does it take to birth a child, Jorja?’ she asked, her voice small and broken.

‘Sometime hours, sometimes almost a day, brave girl.’

‘I’m not very brave, Jorja,’ Quintana whispered. ‘Not at all. When they put the noose around my neck, I was the least brave girl in Charyn.’

Florenza crouched before Quintana and took her hands in hers.

‘I will cut out the tongue of anyone who says that Quintana of Charyn is not the bravest girl in the kingdom! I will carve it on every piece of stone in Charyn, so everywhere the little King looks he will see the words Quintana the Brave.’

‘What if I don’t hold him in my arms?’ Quintana lamented. ‘What if I never get to see his face?’

‘You must stop thinking that,’ Phaedra soothed. ‘Froi and his army will be here in two days and when you give birth, you’ll have all the time in the world with the little King.’

Quintana squeezed tight her legs and Phaedra saw the water puddle around her. She heard Quintana’s whimper.

‘Don’t fret, my queen. There’s no shame in soiling yourself,’ Phaedra fussed.

But Jorja stared in horror.

‘She hasn’t soiled herself,’ Jorja said. ‘Her water has broken. The babe is coming.’

Chapter 39

It was a boy, as they had always suspected. They said he looked as if he was sleeping, and it was the only thing that brought any reprieve to them. It was the cord, they said, that had wrapped around his little neck.

He didn’t remember much about that day except those who engulfed him in an embrace to comfort him, but then they’d weep themselves. And that the women wouldn’t allow him to see his wife until they cleaned the blood from her body and the walls. And then later, people began to arrive on the mountain from Balconio and beyond; August and Abian and Celie arrived from the Flatlands and then Beatriss and Vestie and the Priestking. His father was coming from the palace, so Finnikin knew it would be some time more before he saw him.

Each time a visitor arrived, the women disappeared inside Yata’s home, and the men stayed outside. Some of the younger Mont lads wept, others paced with fury at an unseen enemy. Lucian stayed by Finnikin’s side. It’s what Finnikin remembered most in days to come. And that the wound at his thigh, created as a pledge between Lucian, Balthazar and him to protect Lumatere all those years ago, began to seep.

And then Yata was there before them.

‘Finnikin,’ she said, ‘you can see them now.’ He felt the tremble in the old woman’s hands as she took his. How many children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren had she outlived?

Inside the large chamber, the Mont cousins and aunts stood weeping around a basin, bathing the little, still body in the water they had gathered from the river mixed with the sap of a forest tree and the sage grown on a Flatland farm. It was to prepare the babe for his place in the arms of the Goddess who had once come from the ground. Finnikin had told the children of the Rock that story months before. Or was it years? It felt a lifetime ago. One of Isaboe’s aunts placed the babe in Finnikin’s arms and he pressed a kiss to its brow, a blessing between a father and a son. And then he returned the babe to the Priestking and followed Yata to where Isaboe lay behind the curtain. Her eyes were closed, not in sleep, but weariness. Apart from everything else, she was exhausted. The birthing had lasted most of the day and night.

‘Did you see him?’ she asked quietly when she opened her eyes.

He nodded.

‘I told Beatriss that I want him buried alongside your sister, baby Evanjalin. It will be good for their spirits to be together.’

He nodded again.

‘Where’s Jasmina?’

‘With Aunt Celestina.’

‘Good. She’ll be kept happy. You know what your aunt is like. She’ll not let anyone upset her.’

Isaboe looked so small and pale, he reached out to touch her cheek. But still he couldn’t speak. Everyone had told him to be strong for her, but Finnikin didn’t know how to be strong for himself.

He felt one of the women at his shoulder, and Finnikin wanted to shout at them to leave. He wanted to be with his wife. Hold her in his arms.

‘And your father? Have you seen him?’ she asked.

Finnikin shook his head.