Dan Chernenko - The Scepter_s Return

Sosia had given birth in a special palace room reserved for queens. Limosa, only a princess, had had to do it in her own bedchamber. They'll need new bedclothes in there, Grus thought. Ortalis knocked before presuming to go inside. He waited till he heard a gruff, "Come in," too – only then did he open the door.

He came out with Marinus in his arms. Like any newborn, his son could have looked better. Marinus' head seemed misshapen, almost conical, and was much too big for his body. His face looked smashed. His eyes were squeezed shut. He was redder than he should have had any business being. Netta had put a bandage over the stump of the cord that had connected him to his mother.

"Isn't he handsome?" Ortalis said, proving all new fathers are blind.

"Congratulations." Grus held out his hand not to his son but to his new grandson. Marinus' tiny hand brushed against his forefinger. The baby clung to the finger with a grip of sudden and startling strength. Grus laughed himself then. He'd seen that with other newborns. It faded after a little while.

Ortalis looked down at the tiny shape in his arms. "A boy. A son. An heir," he said softly. Grus would have been happier if he'd left out the last two words.

Gossip about Limosa's back and the scars on it had quieted down in the palace. It revived even before the midwife left. Naturally, a couple of servants had been in there with Ortalis' wife and Netta. They blabbed about everything they'd seen. By the way the news sounded to Lanius, they blabbed about quite a bit they'd made up, too. He didn't think a person could have as many scars as they said Limosa did and go on living.

Naturally, the servants paid no attention to his opinion. The scandals of their superiors were more interesting and more entertaining than the possibility that a couple of their own number were talking through their hats. He'd seen that before. It didn't bother him. It was part of palace life.

That evening, Sosia said, "You can sleep in the bedchamber – if you feel like it." Her voice held an odd note of challenge. She'd made it plain he wasn't welcome there ever since she found out about Oissa.

"I'm glad to," Lanius answered. He paused. "Are you sure?" His wife nodded. She didn't hesitate before she did it. He found himself nodding, too. "All right."

When he came to bed, she was already under the covers. That didn't surprise him; the night was chilly, and braziers did only so much to fight the cold. "Good night," he said, and blew out the lamp on his night table. That was all he did – she'd invited him to sleep in the bed, not to sleep with her. But when she slid toward him, as though for a good-night kiss, he almost automatically reached out to take her in his arms. He jerked back in surprise when his hands found soft, bare flesh.

Sosia laughed a brittle laugh. "It's all right," she said. "You can go on – if you feel like it." The challenge rang stronger now.

"Why?" he asked. "What made you change your mind?" "Two things," Sosia answered. "If you don't do it with me, you will do it with somebody else. Even if you do do it with me, you may do it with somebody else – but you may not, too." She clicked her tongue between her teeth; that might have been too bald even for her. After a moment, she went on, "And we really ought to have more than one son – especially now."

She wasn't wrong. Marriages for reasons of state sometimes held love. Theirs had, on and off. Whether love was there or not, though, duty always was. Not getting out from under the covers, Lanius wriggled free of his nightshirt. "I'm glad to," he said as he embraced her.

He wasn't even lying. He'd never stopped enjoying what the two of them did together, not through all his other liaisons. He didn't think she understood that or believed it, but it was true.

Now he took special care to please her, kissing and caressing her breasts and her belly for a long time before sliding down to the joining of her legs. If she was angry enough at him, of course, nothing he did would bring her pleasure. But she sighed and murmured and opened her legs wider. He went on until she gasped and quivered. Then he poised himself above her and took his own pleasure.

When they lay side by side again, she asked him, "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

"Yes, I think so," Lanius said, adding, "I hope it was good for you."

"It was, and you know it was," Sosia said, which was true. After a moment, she went on, "If it was good for you, why do you want to look anywhere else?"

"I don't know," he answered, and muffled his words with a yawn. Sosia made a small, exasperated noise. Pretending he didn't hear it, he got up, used the chamber pot, and then lay down again. Before long, he was breathing deeply and regularly. Men had a reputation for rolling over and going to sleep afterwards.

But, reputation or not, Lanius wasn't asleep. He lay there on his side, not moving much. Sosia muttered again, more softly this time. Then she started breathing deeply and regularly. Maybe she was pretending, as he was. He didn't think so, though. He thought she really had dropped off.

Why do you want to look anywhere else? He knew the answer, regardless of whether he felt like giving it to Sosia, which he didn't. He knew it wouldn't make sense to her, and would only make her angry. Because I knew everything you were going to do before you did it. The serving girls he bedded weren't that much prettier than his wife, if at all. They weren't that much better in bed, if at all. But they could surprise him. He liked that.

He did love Sosia, as much as he could in their arranged marriage. Would he have chosen her if he could have picked from all the girls in the kingdom? He had no idea. For one thing, the idea of marrying for love and only for love was an absurdity. Most of him accepted that. The part that slept with maidservants didn't.

His deep, regular breathing became shallower and less regular for a moment. No doubt he had as much trouble surprising Sosia as she did surprising him. She'd threatened to take a lover now and again. He hadn't believed her or taken her seriously. He didn't think she was looking for variety, as he was.

Revenge? That might be a different story. He knew too well that it might.

But she could no more keep it a secret in the crowded world of the palace than he could. Servants always talked. It might take a while, but it always happened. He'd never heard anything that made him think she was doing anything of the sort.

A good thing, too. She was angry at him. He would have been much more angry at her. Maybe that wouldn't have been fair. He didn't care. It was how he would have felt.

Another child? He smiled and yawned, this time genuinely. Another child wouldn't be so bad, especially if it was a boy. He yawned again. If he had another son, what would he name him? He fell asleep before he found a name he liked.

Grus kept a wary eye on Ortalis. If his son was going to show signs of plotting, having Marinus to plot for might start him off. But he seemed no more than a new father happy at the birth of a son. Maybe I misjudged him, Grus thought. Or maybe he's just sneakier than I figured.

Every day that went by without word of trouble from the south, without word of pestilence or other natural disaster that might not be so natural, felt like a triumph to the king. He dared hope the Banished One was so weakened by everything that had gone wrong for him lately, he couldn't hit back at Avornis the way he would have a few years earlier. Grus didn't really believe that, but he dared hope. Hope marked progress, too.

He didn't need long to realize that Lanius and Sosia had reconciled. Neither his son-in-law nor his daughter said much about it, but their manner with each other spoke louder than words could have. Grus suspected Marinus' arrival had a good deal to do with that, but whatever the reason, he hoped it lasted. And so it would – till Lanius found another serving girl attractive and Sosia found out about it. Grus didn't know what he could do about that. Seeing trouble ahead didn't always mean seeing any way to stop it.