Chapter Text
"I realised, that she had been spoon-fed a story from the day she was born. She had been taught no other way to be. And yet, I saw that despite everything, some part of her was self-made. This part, small as it appeared at first, was forged in the fire of her own strength, and resisted her cage. And I understood...that this part was made of steel. The part who she truly was.” Ead Duryan - The Priory of the Orange Tree
Ead Duryan is the most persistent of all my ghosts.
By all rights, even my fevered and sick mind should banish her to the distant land she flees to when I needed her most. The Night Hawk is convincing in his assessment of her secrets. The many holes in the fabric of her cover identity whisper in my heart during weak moments when I miss her. Ead is one of many apparitions that haunt the corners of my dark tower as I waste away with only one truth for company. So many people leave me, in the end, Liveelvyn, Glorian, mother only to return in shade form. I will not perform the Oth of Relinquishment and allow Igrain Crest the power of the throne. The spectre of Ead Duryan should be the one to come to me when I am at my sickest.
Consciousness is a fleeting thing that wavers from one moment to the next, but it feels strange to think that this version of the ghost is laughing at me with a peculiar light flicking strongly in the yawning darkness. Igrain long ago forbade light in my new prison, not even the pleading of her grandaughter and heir was enough to sway that the madwoman. Of course, both tormentor and prisoner have the losest grip on sanity, but at least I have enough strength to remember the sacred duty.
"Dam, you intransigent fool. I have crossed the South and the West to get back to you, Sabran Barethnet and you reward me thus?" the laugher and mockery are achingly familiar.
My world falls apart than in the best way. Ead spends a few moments trying to explain the situation outside the darkness earnestly. My state of undress must fully register because she cradles me tenderly and lingers to me cry and beg for forgiveness for the many sins done in the name of this Queendom. My early religious instruction rebels against seeking absolution from a probable witch, but the words come in a helpless tumble.
"Let's get you warm. There is time enough for explanations later. How dare Igrain lock you away like this, in the dark." Ead sounds ominous even with a gentle whisper.
"A weak queen is a compliant one; her strategy was almost successful." I rasp out as my teeth chatter."
Ead Duryan is many things, but tenderhearted wouldn't be amongst the words I would use to describe her. I spend more time than is wise thinking about ways to describe this woman, even after her supposed betrayal. That desperate night of passion is one of my beloved memories in recent years. Ead is crying as she holds me closer as cradling a small child waking from a nightmare. In a way, that is what I feel like, small and vulnerable.
"You are neither of those things, My Sabran. Loth and I will help you grow strong again and banish the dark. You are not alone anymore." Ead whispers kissing me again.
As if to prove her point Ead brings up her hand and a blazing mage light streams into the room, somehow it is more comforting than frightening. I am too tired to think about how frail and sick I look without the benefit of concealing shadows. Ead doesn't comment merely arranges our limbs, so I am wrapped more securely against her and the heavy blankets. If anybody were so come in now, there would be no explaining such intimacies away. Not that such things matter overly much one half my court may be in the pocket of Igrain and however many of her retrainers.
"Stay..."
I am too weak to move far, but I cling to Ead when she starts to move away from me. Warmth is beginning to enter my bones again, and the bluish tint to my fingers is easing. Her words float somewhere over me for a while. My only focus becomes listening to the steading thudding of her heart. Nothing feels real until the sound echos, banishing the whispers and speculation. Ead rocks me gently giving up on communicating verbally for now. The sounds of battle rage on distantly in the background, neither of us are the centre.
***
The Sight of Hope.
"Don't leave me."
The part of me that is my mother's daughter recoils at the desperation in my voice. I haven't needed anybody in this way since I was fourteen and griefing the loss of the only parent I have known. I may not be able to claim some of the great virtues of the queens of legend but nor am I a child desperate for guidance. Igrain miscalculated there. My heart needs Ead Duryan is only for this terrible night. Somehow I feel impossibly warmer with her presence whatever the dark magic be.
"I am only going to find some water and fresh supplies for a bath. I'll only be in the next room. There is plenty of light now you can see me the whole time." Ead replies soothingly running a hand down my cheek.
"Roslain did her best to care for me, despite what her grandmother attempted in the end. I was either too sick or delirious to cooperate." I suddenly shrink down, ashamed.
"You will be well again and ready to banish any darkness. The first priority is to get you warm and in some fresh clothes, are the any wounds I should know about?" Ead says the words like a sacred vow.
"The fever robbed me of appetite, strength and my sanity for a while, but Roslain did not let her grandmother hurt me directly, except when she had no choice." I gesture to the marks at various points.
"She and all her subjects will pay for this, Sabran." Ead hisses touching the worst bruise with care.
"Yes, I will administer Inyish justice. fiercely and swiftness on behalf of the Queendom, Truyde utt Zeedeur and all those caught in the great web." I reply, struggling to sound imperious.
The Ead before me is too worn to be a ghost. Her look was never conventional to the ladies of the court; she was an expert at playing the role of quiet eloquence. This version of Ead has worry lines at the edge of her features, and there is the slightest tremble in her hands as she prepares different objects. There is too much dirt and grim on her clothes to be from a single encounter or battle. No, this Ead Duryan is real for how much that fact is worth to me in current circumstances. I watch Ead obsessively as she makes her way over to me, looking for a sign of magic or trickery, though saints know I am no expert in such things.
"The state of my court must be dire if they let you in here without questioning, the speculation about you did not begin and end with the Dutchy of Justice. Is there wreckage outside these walls to rival the battles of old?" I whisper my throat still burning from screaming and long periods of silence.
"Depends on your point of view of the past, My Queen. The state of your palace is still a matter in dispute, the right side will have the best of it if the Beck siblings have their way. Drink this, please."
Strangely I do not question her as she guides a cup into my hand and helps me swallow whispering words of encouragement. The taste is simply water with a mix of honey and herbs. Less vile than some of the things Igrain forces down my throat in the early days of my fever. Ead's light blazes inconsistently but I can still see the track of silent tears down her cheeks. I reach up and use a shaky hand to brush at them ineffectively. Ead doesn't look away and continues to whisper.
***
The Touch of Hope.
Ead's touch is different this time.
She does not trust either the state of my legs or the political unrest in the castle. Ead prepares a simple bathing tub free from the demands of the full royal treatment. There may be witchcraft in the way she sources the hot water, but my former lady in waiting possess many practical skills that a queen will find baffling. A part of me longs to call for Roslain my only comfort in these many months, but she suffers equally if not more torment than I at the hands of her kin. Besides, it will not be long before demands are pulling Ead and me apart again.
"Esay now, lean on me as much as you need." Ead says, bracing me around the waist.
Ead lowers me into the small bath that is barely big enough for somebody of my full height. The water is thoughtfully not too hot as to shock my limbs aching with cold. For somebody likely here by deception, Ead Duryan knows her duties well, even under such trying circumstances. She gently lathers the tangles in my long hair and sets about untangling them. Her next task is to wash my body, scraping away weeks with of stench.
"I have been sick for weeks. Speculation is rife that I have the childbearing sickness that is common to so many before, would that it were that simple." I lean against the sides of the bath.
"You can set the rumours to rest soon enough, Sabran. Your people will not begrudge you such a loss in the face of your resistance to bloody treason. For the next hours and days focus on rebuilding, that starts with your health. There are good and loyal people who will be at your side in the task." Ead gently runs and brush through her hair.
"Is there any way of knowing if you are either of those virtues, Ead Duryan, whatever your pretty words at my time of greatest need?" I ask, looking at her in the flickering light.
"You can not know me as a queen knows her lady and the traditions of courtly virtues, but my loyalty to you is true and without measure." Ead replies, holding my look even as she rinses the cloth.
"How many measuring sticks for trust and connection do you think a Queen of Inys has available to her, Mistress Duryan, if that is even your name?" I reply bitterly.
"The same is true somebody in my role, Sabran. Let me serve you in this way one last time. The answers will come in good time, before witnesses and with Loth to add his tale to the mix." Ead pauses her attentions to wait for an answer.
"Few can demand such liberties, but at least I do not believe you implicit in this particular brand of treachery. Igrain is too prideful and vain to make an ally of founding from the South with no direct ties to Virtudom." I concede tilting my head back.
***
The Taste of Hope.
My appetite has always been a fickle thing.
Ead is not the first of my companions to despair of my health in this way. She is the first to try and force-feed me while battling wages for the very soul of my Queendom. I feel moderately revived by bathing and the sheer intimacy with somebody I thought lost to me. However, Ead only lets me test the theory when helping me hobble to the receiving room and my most comfortable chair. When I protest about being idle why my people need me Ead points out that they need me alive and in full health more. She raids the supplies of light food and snacks Rosalind keeps on hand to try and tempt my senses.
"We will not have you wasting away before the final battle with the Nameless One, don't you dare start talking about being barren and of no use. Our world needs more than mothers, even the great dynasties like Berethnet." Ead says in an unwavering tone.
She sets a few platers in front of me on the low table. There is also a steaming broth which is the only thing I can keep down reliably. Ead sits down and pulls me close before cradling the bowl in front of me. I resist the temptation to protest that she is not feeding a fussy child, but my limbs are still weak and uncooperative. If she is a witch weaving a dark spell, she is making a mistake giving me the tools to regain my strength again.
"You should not talk so freely of matters you do not understand. The dynastic integrity of Inys and the fate of the world's peoples is nothing to trivialise or scorn, even for one how beliefs herself apart from them. There is no security or safety without a clear line of sucession." I insist before swallowing again.
"We can continue this history lesson when you have eaten a full meal and rested for an hour or two. Those wounds on your wrists and arms need tending." Ead deflects my comment neatly with an offering of the fruit.
"Time is a fickle thing without the usual signs to rely on, I cannot even tell you how long I was confined here between the sickness and Igrain's imprisonment, it was so dark, and I was so scared to both sleep and wake. Monsters were waiting in either state, Ead."
"There will be light and strength in the morning, Sabran. You are one of the strongest and most resilient fools I know. Please eat some more." Ead coaxes.
"It will be Mid Winter soon; my insides roil at the thought of rich game meats and an array of sugars and spice. The people must see their queen at a time like this. She needs to guide without or without the comfort of an heir in her arms.
"Eat, you are you and healthy, despite the periods of long idleness. The Barethnet constitution will serve you will in moments like this, few would survive to this point."
I do as she commands grazing the food with little to no enthusiasm to keep her happy. Ead effortless mixes my favourites and small preferences that only a dutiful lady servant would know or care about, the best bit of cheese or the type of grape. She may be an effective spy, but what value is there in learning how to steeple tea to just the right temperature, poison perhaps? The conspirators already tried that and Sabran the IX proves surprisingly hard to kill, despite the long isolation and reclusiveness.
***
The Sound of Hope.
"Will you tell me what happened when I went away?"
Ead says the words softly, but I still feel myself stiffen in anger. She makes it seem like she left on an errand rather than fleeing in the night. My bed still feels hollow after waking up without her. The Night Hawk did not need to work hard to fosters doubts. My mind was already racing with possibilities and terrors. There is a reason I was so obsessed with eternal youth and the workings of the alchemist. The idea of intimacy was truly terrifying.
"Will you tell me endless lies about where you have been? Will you disappear into the night without a word again, with nothing but rumors and gossip in your woke." I am well enough for my tone to sound imperious.
"I did not leave you of my own free will. Returning you has been and will remain my greatest desire. We do not have time for me to weave the tale. The truth will tack far longer than the false counterpart." Ead says calmly.
I am too weak for a true argument, and Ead main focus seems to be making me comfortable with a large number of fresh blankets and a roaring fire in the grate, generating both heat and light. We are huddling together and our faces light in the soft glow. Many of my pleasant dreams revolve around this concept, not with so many secrets between us. My eyes are heavy with sleep, but I want to hear as much of this conversion and confession as possible. The Night Hawk's lessons are not entirely lost on me even as a young girl. The more accurate knowledge I have, the greater my power.
"Stay with me for awhile, at let me sleep without nightmares?" I ask, instead of answering.
"I will tend those wounds for so you may be more comfortable in bed. There will be plenty of light and warmth to banish the shadows. You need not fear this place anymore." Ead replies, taking my hand a letting me back to the bedroom.
Both of our hopes are likely nieve. Many of my current nightmares feature Ead in a staring role, and there is no guarantee that my saviours will triumph in the end. Igrain may have allies in the courtiers that fled the scene not long after my fever. My heart still beats in foolish hope at the idea.
***
The Smell of Hope.
Duty will call me again in a few hours.
Igrain Crest and her retainers did me one favour in their coup attempt. My public close on the heels of the fevers means that people believe me near death. I can put my faith in Meg, Loth and my most loyal Knights of the Body to put the world to rights again. Any queen, with the possible exception of my daughter's namesake, are of limited use in direct conflict. Ead is insisting I stay in the room while she tends the minor scratches on my wrists.
I swoon in her proximity and the little details that are coming back to me now that my mind is clearer. There is a distinctive smell that Ead can claim as her own. To my knowledge, she wears no perfumes unless Meg forces her to for a court occasion. Sometimes I would catch a hint of the odour even though there was no breeze in the slowly stagnating tower. My impertinent hunger for such details wasn't something that stuck me with Lievelyn or any of the other courtiers male or female.
"These are minor, but that need more skilled hands before you address the court, there is no need to start tongues moving any more than they will already." Ead instructs wiping my wrist gently.
"The lack of a new daughter for the House of Berethnet will guarantee such speculations. The state of my wrists will be of no consequence." I point out grimly
"As wonderful as your Glorian would have been, her loss and the loss of future children does not singularly define you."
I bite my tongue to keep from making another caustic comment. Neither of us has the energy to go round in such circles again. Ead will submit to my interrogation in the morning, willingly or not. At this moment, all I focus on is her closeness and the heady mixture of healing herbs in the air. My body already feels less traitorous under her careful attention. I don't feel like it will collapse at any moment under the pressure of day or night. If there is magic in it, this will be a useful kind.
***
"May we come in, My Queen?"
This voice is barely a whisper, but I am awake enough to catch the request and recognise Margaret Beck's cadence. For somebody so weak and sick, I am now too sharp to sleep fully. Ead is dosing beside me, having fallen to exhaustion. Perhaps her magic working took more than it seemed at the time. I suspect her claim of crossing oceans to reach me is no idle boast of a hopeful suitor. If I asked her she would recount every league, which may happen in the morning hours.
"Meet me in the outer chamber." I instruct them keeping my voice firm.
People who are with either of the Beck siblings than I can trust them implicitly. Still, there is no sense in people coming across Ead in my bed in the ways of a lover and not a Lady of the Beachcomber. There is nothing scandalous about our appearance, but if anybody can tell the difference, it would be the other ladies. There are enough scandal and speculation without adding fuel to that particular fire. I may adore Ead with a helpless passion, but I am not ready for such a conversation.
I am steady enough on my feet to make slow progress through the room. Those of my most intimate acquaintance will foregive my wild looks even if it rankles at queenly pride. Ead assures me that my countenance improves greatly with bathing, tending and clean clothes. I suspect that Mistress Durayn may be blind with the infatuation of love and tender feelings. We may not be brave enough yet so say the words out loud. My blood still churns with immense anger. However, we give ourselves away with looks and touches. Any spymasters would despair at the lack of suitability.
"Oh Sabran, my queen, it is so wonderful to see up and about again. These days banished from your side has been the worst form of torture."
Margaret Beck is the product of her formidable mother's teaching and expectations. Even in times like these, she will not break with protocol. It is up to me to bridge the gap between us just this once. She will be the next Lady of the Bedchambor. The promotion is long overdue, especially now that Ead will need a new place in court and my life. I pull her to me for a brief embrace. Kate and Roslain are behind her. Roslain is leaning heavily on her taller companion.
"Ead was planning on tearing the place to its foundations if it meant getting to you. I see she succeeded in the first of her missions, there is some colour in your cheeks, and you aren't so incredibly cold." Meg says, grasping my hands worriedly.
"Ead has been tending me with care and devotion, if not the traditional means of a lady in waiting. I will need proper dressing in the morning as well as preparations for the feast."
My words are admission, statement and command in one, of my ladies and the woman of the court. These three are likely to know and understand the implications. I am not the first queen to seek solace in such a way, but there is still a risk, especially because I am still on the throne.
"You have a right to whatever comfort, Ead or anyone else can offer you. Our loyalty always and will remain with you. Whatever lies the soon to be former Dutchess of Justice spun in your ear in the dark." Meg vows as the others nod.
"My grandmother was more intent on games of the mind that causing our queen physical harm, though the two evils feed of each other readily enough." Roslain says still in great pain; she forced herself to come doubtless against healers objections.
"Are you well?" I ask slowly gesturing to the Bone Settler's work.
"I will heal, Your Majesty." she says with great formality.
"As will I and the Queendon we love so well."
The declaration is premature; there is still far too much work ahead of us and too little time. The shadow of the Nameless One and the Flesh King hang heavily over in the air. There are traitors inside and out. However, like my ancestors, I will find the resolve to fight with these people at my side come what way.