Peter Brett - The Skull Throne

But then she opened her eyes, and saw the room was still dark, lit only by the soft glow of wards.

The thumping continued as Leesha fumbled on her robe, staggering out of the room. She had deliberately not used hora tonight that she might sleep naturally, and now felt worse than she had the morning after she got drunk at Arlen’s wedding. Her head throbbed with agony at every rap on the wood.

Either there’s someone bleeding to death on the other side of that door, or there’s going to be. Leesha made no effort to disguise her displeasure as she opened the door, only to find her mother on her front porch.

The Creator is punishing me, she thought. It’s the only explanation.

Elona looked her up and down as she stood frazzled and fuming in the doorway. “Putting on a little weight, girl. Folk are already whispering that the count may have an heir on the way.”

Leesha crossed her arms. “Rumors you’re no doubt fueling.”

Elona shrugged. “A wink here, a nudge there. Nothing to hold before a magistrate. You put your klats on the table when you got drunk and stuck the count in front of his carriage driver, Leesha. Too late to pull the bet now.”

“We didn’t do it in front of …” Leesha began, but cut herself off. Why was she even engaging? Her bed still beckoned. “Why are you here in the middle of the night, Mother?”

“Pfaw, it’s barely midnight,” Elona said. “Since when are you in bed so early?”

Leesha breathed. It was a fair point. She was used to receiving visitors at all hours, but most of them sent word first.

Elona tired of waiting for an invitation and pushed past Leesha. “Put the kettle on, that’s a girl. Nights are turning chill as a coreling’s heart.”

Leesha closed her eyes, counting to ten before closing the door and refilling the kettle. Elona, of course, didn’t lift a finger to help. She was in the sitting room when Leesha brought the tray. Bruna’s rocking chair was by no means the most comfortable place to sit, but Elona took it anyway, if only because she knew Leesha preferred it.

Leesha kept her dignity as she settled on a divan, back straight. “Why are you here, Mother?”

Elona sipped her tea, made a face, and added three more sugars. “Got news.”

“Good or bad?” Leesha asked, already knowing the answer. She could not recall a time her mother had ever delivered good news.

“Bit of both, from where you stand,” Elona said. “I don’t think you’re alone.”

“Alone?” Leesha asked.

Elona arched her back, rubbing her free hand on her stomach. “Might have my own scandal brewing, just in time to distract from yours.”

Leesha tried to speak, but no words would come. She stared at her mother a long time. “You’re …”

“Sick as a cat, and my flow ent come,” Elona confirmed. “How that’s even possible is beyond me, but there it is.”

“It’s certainly possible,” Leesha said. “You’re only forty-f—”

“Ay!” Elona cut her off. “No need to throw barbs! Ent talking about age. Quarter century ago Hag Bruna—your sainted teacher—told me you were my womb’s last chance. Ent had a lick of pomm tea or made a man pull out since, but not an egg in the warmer. You mean to tell me all of a sudden I’m a fresh flower again?”

“Anything’s possible,” Leesha said, “but if I had to guess, I’d say it was the greatward.”

“Ay?” Elona said.

“Everyone in Cutter’s Hollow has been living for nearly a year on a ward that charges the very land with magic,” Leesha said. “Even folk who don’t fight are getting a bit of the feedback, making them younger, stronger—”

“—and more fertile,” Elona guessed. She lifted a biscuit, then gagged and put it back on her saucer. “Ent all bad, I suppose. Your sibling and your child can crap the same crib and chase each other in the garden.”

Leesha tried to imagine that, but it was just too much. “Mother, I have to ask …”

“Who’s the da?” Elona asked. “Core if I know. Gared was sticking me regular the last few years …”

“Creator, Mother!” Leesha cried.

Elona ignored her and went on. “But the boy’s gotten all religious since he stood up for the Warded Man. Hasn’t touched me since you caught us on the road.”

She sighed. “Could be your father’s, I suppose, but Erny’s not the man he used to be. You’d be amazed, what I have to do just to get him stiff enough to …”

“Augh!” Leesha covered her ears.

“What?” Elona said. “Ent you the town Gatherer? Ent it your job to listen to this kind of talk and help folk figure things out?”

“Well, yes …” Leesha began.

“So everyone else is good enough, but not your own mum?” Elona demanded.

Leesha rolled her eyes. “Mother, no one else comes to me with stories like this. And what about Da? He’s a right to know the child might not be his.”

“Hah!” Elona laughed. “If that ent the night callin’ it dark, I don’t know what is.”

Leesha pressed her lips together. It was true enough.

“He knows, in any event,” Elona said.

Leesha blinked. “He knows?”

“Course he knows!” Elona snapped. “Your da has many failings, Leesha, but he ent dumb. Knows he can’t plow the field well as it needs, and looks the other way when I get it done proper.”

She winked. “Though I caught him watching a couple times. Didn’t need help getting stiff those nights.”

Leesha put her face in her hands. “Creator, just take me.”

“Point is,” Elona said, “Erny’s fine so long as no one rubs his nose in it.”

“Like you do every chance you get?” Leesha asked.

“I do no such thing!” Elona snapped. “I may talk that way around you, but you’re family. Ent like I’m telling the prissy wives at the Holy House that your da likes to—”

“Fine!” Leesha would rather give her mother the win than endure this conversation a moment longer. “So we don’t know who the father of your baby is. We can be run out of town together.”

“Core with that,” Elona said. “We’re Paper women. Town’s just gonna have to get used to us.”

“Apologies, mistress,” Tarisa said, trying for a third time to fasten the back of Leesha’s gown. “The material appears to have shrunk. Perhaps you should choose another while I have the seamstresses let it out.”

Shrunk. Tarisa, bless her, was far too discreet to ever tell Leesha she was putting on weight, but it was clear as day in the silvered mirror. The face that stared back at her was plumper, a change shared by her bosom, which seemed to have doubled in size over the last fortnight. Thamos was paying them more attention, but had not yet put the evidence together. Tarisa, however, had a knowing look in her eye, and a hint of smile at the corner of her mouth.

“Please.” Leesha stepped behind the changing screen, running a hand over her stomach as she slipped out of the gown. It remained flat enough, but that wouldn’t last. Her mother had told her the gossip was already beginning weeks ago. None dared speak of it to her face, but the moment her belly began to swell, there would be no stopping the goodwives from swarming her, causing such a stir Thamos couldn’t help but notice.

Her hands clenched as panic took her. Her heart pounded, and it felt like her chest was bound tight, unable to draw a full breath. She gasped for air, eyes beginning to water, but she bit back her sobs. It would not do for Tarisa to see her so.