CHALPHY

Lord and lady got into their third fight of the road.

Two of them had been nothing more than the lord's exhaustion from traveling and how he hungered on the road to sit down at a table and eat. Still, even when crying, the lord wasn't bad. How a child with so much stayed so stiff she'd never get, but he was good . He had stomped his feet over time with her, sure, but he always went along with it.

The first night in Chalphy said otherwise. She'd gone to bed early, a lousy servant but a tired woman. Her lady let her go with no complaints, led to the guest quarters of Chalphy's lodging. Lady and maid were always meant for each other, with the cooling nights of summer, and if there was an emergency, purely. There was a pallet on the floor, the right place for a servant, but she could not see her feet anymore and could not imagine lowering herself to the floor, taking the bed. She'd slept through the mid afternoon and past a rushed dinner, sun gone from view, startling from a dreamless sleep (better than most) by a wicked crack of thunder. She swore the babe in her kicked, strong like a rabbit.

"But Mother!"

"You were sleeping. Why would you wake yourself?"

"You got up!" the lord complained. They argued just outside the door. The boy never slept alone when the sky acted up like this.

"Back to bed, Arvis."

"That's why I came for you."

"By yourself. This is the third time tonight."

"Mother!"

"Enough, Arvis."

One, two, three. Her dry mouth made itself known. No one said anything, so she carefully rose from the bed, crossing quietly to a pitcher of water. Lady Cigyun's face was sweet, but some of the lord's lesser habits stemmed from her. Her poor lady, stuck with a pouting son and a servant who thought more of sleep than her duties. Who else would her lady pick to visit the other duchies? Sunilda had a habit of gossip, but she knew when to be quiet.

She poured her drink, keeping the jug low to her cup. No need to make noise.

Could she call for a meal? She couldn't, but her lady could. They'd arrived too late for a formal dinner, slowed by the road, so she'd missed the meal. Was she allowed to eat with her here? She whined about the difference between her and her lady, but Cigyun did not care.

(Or Cigyun did not care at all, and only fed her so she would maybe, finally, perform her handful of duties.)

"Mummy."

Her drink soured in her mouth. She knew the lord just out of tot-hood, and on both hands could count the number of times he called her mummy.

One, two, three. She bore her own soft spot for the little lord. "Goodnight. I will not repeat myself, Arvis."

One, two, three. One, two. She heard no other word, followed by the quiet close-then-slam of a door. The door to their quarters opened next. Sunilda leaned back on her heels to see around the bedpost; Cigyun's mantle slid down her arms, pooled around her elbows. Tucked beneath her arm was a covered plate. Her hair stood taller in the back, obviously slept on. Her eyes found her, dragged up in a smile. "Sunilda." Her name almost distracted her from the bit of drama in the hall. "How was your nap, dear? I brought you some dinner, still warm. The Chalphys do not eat lamb, so it's fowl tonight."

There was a small table by the hearth. Cigyun nudged the chair out with her foot. "You made the lord cry," she replied.

"Eat, Svan. Then you may go comfort him, if you do not mind. I am his mother, and sometimes that means I must tell him no, much as it hurts." She unwrapped her dinner, a slight droop to her shoulders. "But you never need to. Isn't it a gift?"

*…*

Lady Cigyun, always, was true to her word. Why wouldn't she be? She'd gone quiet, sat in the frame of the window with an opened book. (She didn't think she was reading, given her eyes were looking out the window.) Cigyun did not dignify her with a goodbye - but she was coming back, so why say anything? She'd not taken long to eat, yet there'd been no peep out of the lord's room.

Her lord. The lord. A lord. Arvis. A child with smooth hands and a smooth face.

Two doors down. Sunilda knocked. "Are you up, my lord? I could…use your help." It wasn't a lie. She needed help to know what bothered him, that the lady had taken him out of her bed. He did not say she could not enter, so she did.

He sat in the guest bed, hair combed, in his sleeping gown. "What?" he asked, doing his best to sound hard.

It wasn't a lie if it comforted him. While the lord had grown on her, life was easiest with him happy. "Well, I'm afraid the thunder keeps me and the babe up. Lady Cigyun has cold feet. May I sleep with you?"

"Who keeps Mother company?"

"She has her pillow." His room was dim. She looked at his face, the slight grimace, before he took it away, crawling beneath his blanket; children could be picky, so they'd packed his favorite. Not a no, not a yes, so she slipped her shoes off, floor cold.

Another feather bed, apparently, pulling the provided quilt back. Her hips ached, heavy with babe, so she opted to stuff the pillow beneath them. He and his mean knees were far away, but her brief experience of sleeping with the lord told her it would be hellish when he eventually wound up against her. More silence as they laid there; Cigyun told him no tonight, and just as she could count the number of times he mummy'd her, she could likewise count the times she said no . Her heart rang for him, truly, but she did not know how to approach this conversation with him.

Maybe she didn't have to. She could just be here for him.

The storm rumbled outside. She'd first been told of this fear when the lord was shy of six. It'd made little sense, at first. Lord Arvis did not shriek at bugs or the dark, or strangers, or tall heights. A firm, strong boy, but then Velthomer's usually quiet fall erupted in never-ending thunderstorms, and his hand did not leave his mother's.

Her fears were sillier than thunder; even if she could judge, she wouldn't.

He jumped once more; she touched his back, and just as the baby squirmed, his blood thumped wildly beneath her hand. "Lord Arvis," she said carefully. He twisted away, halfway off his belly now.

"Would you like my pillow?" the lord asked. He spoke into the mattress.

"I would." And perhaps she answered too quickly, but if he found her rude he said nothing, when he was definitely a boy to say something. He squirmed beside her, pulling his pillow out from beneath his head. "Thank you." He huffed; the dark hid her smile, putting the pillow behind hers.

The lord continued to toss and turn; he was a sturdy boy, perhaps, but thunder made him young. She'd get no sleep with the kicking baby and whatever the lord was doing. He was comfortable snapping at her, so why not be free? "Lord Arvis. Come here, won't you?" He did not take, at first. They laid in silence until lightning flashed through their window again, followed by a clap of thunder. His arm pressed against hers. The storm was on them, was it? "Thank you," again, "milord. I think the storm's keeping the baby up."

Not completely wrong; the baby woke when she slowed for the day. They made it hard to sleep some days. "It keeps Mother up, too. Why would she…" condemn him to bed with her? She knew Lady Cigyun, herself, was not scared of storms, a fib for her son's sake.

"I don't know. Would you like me to ask?" He didn't hesitate to nod. "Alright. I'll see to it." It was an awkward way to sleep; she wrapped her arm around him instead. He didn't react with words, laying his head on her, so she didn't make a fuss of it either.

*…*

She fell asleep with the lord. The room was black when she woke, and she had to pick a hair out of her mouth. He was sleeping, at least, and she quietly tucked him in alongside the pillows. No complaint when she got up, but he twisted into the spot she once occupied. The storm had tapered off to a patter, so she felt fine leaving him.

Doors in Chalphy did not creak. No servants in their quarters - wrong, wrong. Only one servant in Lady Cigyun's quarters, if the lady needed help tonight. She'd done a fair bit of sleeping today, almost to the point of being tired again (the little baby in her). Seventeen steps from the lord's room to Cigyun's, careful in how she entered.

Her lady slept, though it was sloppily. She lay on the bed, her hair stuck under her, the bare sight of her knees peeking from beneath a white shift. She still wore her daytime stockings, and around her wrist was the small bracelet she'd gotten for her last birthday (from an anonymous sender in Belhalla). She'd get the beads caught in her hair.

Best to keep her sleeping. She slept little in Velthomer, and seemed too troubled to sleep anywhere else. The floors of the quarter weren't wooden, so no need to worry about creaking boards. There could be one or two more carpets, toes cold against the marble, but who was she to complain? She rarely got her lady during the day anymore, so she took what she could during the night.

Her knees didn't bend quite the way they used to. Still, her heels stayed on the floor as she squatted. Cigyun did not relax even as she slept, brow creased in worry. Poor woman. Still, she did not stir as Sunilda unsnapped the bracelet from her wrist. Weighted heavily in her hand, she passed quietly to the traveling chest full of dresses. Jewelry went in the small, brown box with no decoration, set beside a pair of earrings she did not like to wear. Too much unruly hair for jewelry.

A meeting with the Chalphys in the morning. Carefully, she touched her shoulder. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, confused much like her son could be. "No need to stir, milady. Lie down." Her eyes followed her lady's hands, smoothing across her own bare thighs.

"Sunilda," she muttered. "Come to bed me once more, have you?"

Bed her? Was she that obvious? "Again?"

"I know few others to share my bed with." To her regret, Cigyun sat up; she pressed her hands against her back, hearing a faint pop. Next came the candle, lit with a quick, steady flick of a match. The flame caught her lips first, and she knew better than to stare.

To share a bed. The lord's little hand fisted in the back of her dress. "Lady Cigyun," she started, trying to stay focused despite her lady grabbing her hand and pulling her down on the mattress, knees pressed together. "You've broken the lord's heart. I promised him I'd find out why."

Cigyun's barely-there smile dipped. "If anyone deserves to know, I suppose you do." And her son, of course. What could be so grave to keep Arvis from her heart? At least Cigyun's bed would have room- "I am pregnant with Prince Kurth's child."

…

Was there a joke? She waited a few moments to react, and when Cigyun did not laugh, she let it process. Of course it was the prince. No smile was to be trusted, apparently. She'd no opinion on the prince, having no reason to know him, but his reputation—straight-laced, devout, committed to his country—did not have room for sleeping with married women. The prince touched her lady, in the depths of the night, perhaps, when the unsuspecting slept in a pallet next to her bed - no, because Sunilda was kept up most nights by the closeness of her. When? Cigyun barely got out from under Victor's roof to do her own shopping (the boon of a servant girl). What time was there to sleep with the prince?

The duke touched her for twenty counts of forty. It did not take long to bear a child, but where did the duchess find time to…to touch the prince? Why would she? The duke's hands, eyes, everything wandered, yes, but why would Cigyun, a woman so soft-faced, emulate a man so wicked? Her barely eaten dinner threatened to crawl up her throat.

"When ?" A child with the prince. She'd always been told the duke was a poor one and needed nudging, hence the frequent visits. Was that a lie? Did the prince only come for her lady's touch? Cigyun's birthday circled hers in the spring, and the prince had spent three weeks in Velthomer.

"The night of Victor's last birthday...bash," the duke's birthday, all the way in the fall, "Kurth and I snuck away to spend an hour together. It was not the first, nor the last, but now there is a child in me, and they are not Victor's. And, before you ask, I know it to be so, as I have not slept with Victor in that manner in nigh a year."

"That ?"

"Are you that naive?" Cigyun shook her head. "It matters not. Arvis cannot sleep with me as he likes because the little one in me is big enough to kick."

Sunilda frowned. Big enough to kick…the duke's birthday…how many days was she with child? "What...what about when the duke finds out?" The duke opened his hand on her, once and then almost twice, for something he did (why didn't she fight more?). Cigyun slept with another man than the one she was wed to - the duke did his things, but no one could tell him differently. "Grannvale is only so large. Velthomer can only be so far away and you are married -" Cigyun squeezed her hands. "What are you going to do when we return?"

That twinkle in her eye didn't soothe her. The simplest path would be passing the baby off as hers. The hardest would be trying to leave him.

"Well, that's simple. We aren't going back." Lady Cigyun's hand left hers. "I can no longer stand to be his wife, his duchess, or anything of the sort. I am returning to my home, and taking the four of you with me. I hope you don't mind."

Sunilda blinked. "Uh." Her lady had her moments of humor, and she sought it out in her face. A face like glass, no imperfections, and no inflections of a joke. "Home?"

"A tiny little place in Verdane."

"Verdane ?" she shrieked. She slapped her hands over her mouth, but her lady never scolded, only laughed. "I thought you Grannvalean!"

"I have been for these years." She smiled. "It's been neat, I do admit. I never knew you needed so many forks for one meal." Neat. Who was she talking to?

Lord Arvis did not know. How could he? He was angry enough when Cigyun took private tea with him. To know his mother — loved? a man besides his father (even one he soured on)—no way he could handle it.

She ran her hand along her face. Her baby woke up by now, banging some part of themselves against her belly. What a world to be born in. "If I leave," Cigyun carefully carried on, "it saves Kurth Victor's rage, doesn't it? Kurth is my friend first, and I want no harm on him. Bad enough I could not protect you. The last thing Victor needs is to piss off the crown itself more than he already does."

Piss! For the first time in two years, she wanted Cigyun to stop speaking. A child. The prince. Cigyun's Verdane home. Her face showed everything, for she could not hide her feelings like Cigyun so easily did. "Why…why don't you sleep on it? You in my bed. Who better to protect me from the storm?" What bed did you sleep in with the prince? she almost wants to ask, thinking of the red and white quilt they drag out of storage for winter. "That is why you came back, isn't it? I won't begrudge you."

The prince's hands on her lady. Was he kinder than the duke?

*…*

Chalphy, too, had a young lord. Much like Edda's dukeling, Lord Arvis took more interest in the castle library than the child, but, much like Edda, he could not get his way. "It's stupid, Sunilda," he mumbled, glancing up at her as she pulled his hair out of his collar.

The lordling of Chalphy was a boy nearly three years her lord's junior. His name was Sigurd, with loose blue hair on his head; the air was wet from the storm so his hair frizzed. As the lady of Chalphy took lunch with Lady Cigyun, he was with his nurse, who was a straight-backed older woman with her graying hair pulled neatly up in braids that circled her head.

"D'you wanna play tag?"

"No."

In a blink, the lord was tagged. Chalphy's lordling giggled, taking off. Lord Arvis looked up at her again. Did he know? "You're suppose to chase af-"

"I know what tag is," he snappily told her. She raked her fingers through his bangs. "You are making me play, aren't you?"

"I cannot make you do a thing, milord."

He huffed. "I don't like running."

"Your legs are long."

"How am I to keep an eye on you if I am playing tag?" Mother said to .

Did she need an eye in the yard? Where were they going? Nowhere. The baby was quiet today. "Lord Arvis."

"You've been nothing but mean since we left, woman."

She gave him a gentle nudge.

He did not immediately give into playing. He let the young lord chase him, tapping his shoulder when he veered too close. She kept it to herself, given her years of tag were behind her, but he could've put a bit more energy into it. (If the baby wanted to play tag, when they eventually discovered they had feet, would he play with them? If not, she could take the habit up again. Young enough, wasn't she? A bit old to be having her first, but not old enough to be in a grave.)

It was not pretty, watching him play. She'd never known the lord to know other children, shying away from his cousins (and siblings) that lived in the same castle he did. Always with one of his parents, or on his own. She'd done a fair bit of playing herself as a girl (mostly when she wasn't suppose to), between chores and…chores. The lord, quite simply, did not have the grace for being chased, for all the time he spent on his feet: he stumbled when tagged, heavy on his heels, toppled by a toddler.

Undoubtedly, her lord complained tonight. He could give them straight to his mother's ear when they reunited. Lady Cigyun: capable of bearing all his appropriately-sized grief while her past deeds existed to only two of them (three? who was she to think of the prince?).

The lord tripped backward on his heel once more, more leg than anything else. Would his buckled shoes be better? The heel was tighter, but the black rubbed off easily. They were his nice shoes, technically, and he (very rarely) threw fits when he could not wear his boots. His nice shoes weren't hard to scrub clean, so maybe she'd get them out. He stood himself up, needing no intervention.

The Chalphy boy hadn't done a thing, but tripping incensed him. Given a glare, as if she was to blame, so to placate him she smiled. He was not having it, feigning play even less than he had been. Purposefully lethargic, it upset the tot, making it one of those types of days. Lord Sigurd sought something hers could not give, stomping his way to the arm of his nurse. At the end of it all, Sunilda was just a woman, but Arvis came to her anyway.

She did her best to show, in her face, that she was not impressed. "You're a mean child."

"I told you I did not want to play."

"I've seen you play. We used to play."

"I don't want to. I don't do things I don't want to."

"It's not hard to be nice."

"Says you." Lord Arvis gestured her down. Better to do as he wanted than continually argue with him. She wasn't embarrassed by it, but a cursory glance at Lord Sigurd and his unnamed nurse said bickering (like this) was above her lord's station. "We can leave," he offered.

Leave? "You've just gotten here, milord." Barely an hour. Would it say something of him to leave so soon? "What excuse do you have? You've barely paid the boy any mind. Where are your manners?"

His jaw flexed." You can be ill. I would like to leave," he repeated, ignoring the last bit. She put her forefinger and thumb briefly on his chin, and he followed, straightening his head.

Leaving already! What would his mother think? Hopefully Lady Cigyun forgave her for caving. "My lord-"

Voice twisted, perhaps in a bit of a fib, "Sunilda."

…both the lord and lady were acting odd under Chalphy's sky. "I do feel a tad faint," she offered. It was not a lie, nor did it have anything to do with the baby (mostly; her back ached). She thought of a man's blue eyes, but not in the way a woman usually did. "The sun wears on me."

He grinned. He was not an unhappy child, despite the past hour, but so often he kept his face straight. She tucked the sight away, alongside the recent memory of his hand in hers. "Thank you, Svan." How could she say no? "You may have my teacakes, if you like."

The lord handled it, for it was something he did well. The nurse did not say anything, as she was a proper one, but Sunilda could not imagine being bossed around by a lord that was not her own. (Well, she could, but she did not want to be.) Giving orders was his birthright.

They entered the corridors of the castle. He stood on his tiptoes so she could straighten his collar and rid him of his coat. She dug through his pocket, looking for his handkerchief she'd put in there. Children's were half the size of an adults, from her vague times with adult men, but it was proportionate. "Hopefully there is a bell in the library. Maids are painful to talk to." His cheek was smarting, but he let her touch it, wiping dirt off his face. His nose crinkled. "You didn't scent it…" which she didn't bother to reply. She tucked it away in her pocket.

"Am I painful?"

"Not all the time."

She smiled. A glimpse of that sweet child.

Cheeks flushed more than the smarting, he turned on his heel and led them off.

*…*

Chalphy's cakes were almost too sweet for her. After the lord showed her the correct way to hold the little fork, she comfortably ate a piece and a half. She was careful to use each bite to dab crumbs off the plate. Flowers framed the plate.

Did Verdane have cake? She knew little of the country, knew little of Grannvale, so was it farfetched to assume Verdane did not have it? Verdane, supposedly, was full of barbarians. Large men with axes who spit , if the gossip was true. She was not very large herself, even towards the end of her pregnancy. How did Cigyun , fair faced, downy hair, a laugh like spring rain, come from Verdane? How could she be from a place supposedly full of hulking men and bear a son like Arvis?

Ridiculous. If she had cake before becoming a lady's maid, in the moneyless childhood she had, then those in Verdane had it.

Verdane.

Lord Arvis knew much, she knew. He knew the average days from duchy to duchy. He knew his gods. He knew his prayers. He knew their horses were different breeds and could tell her the difference. He knew the splotches of countries on the map. Did he know anything about Verdane? More than her, surely.

No reason to bother him.

He was a quiet boy. Her fork on the plate was the only noise. The sky had quickly turned dreary under the encroaching rainy season. They'd been here over an hour. Tea took twenty minutes to arrive, and she hadn't been able to tell if Lord Arvis' indignation was true or a ruse. He'd settled down with a cup he poured, one for each; it wasn't proper, him serving her, but she barely knew tea rules anyway.

What did she know?

That Cigyun and the prince had…?

(Sometimes the lord is a child; they hide between the foliage and the wall of the garden. Lady Cigyun is close enough to smell the mint leaves she uses to clean her teeth. She's offered to share before, yet Sunilda wants to in the worst way possible. "Milady-" the little lord is near, for when he plays with his mother, never just her, he nearly giggles.

"Sh," Cigyun reminds. "The boy needs some challenge in life…"

"Mummy!" Three weeks before the lord turns seven - will he keep this?)

Not that she wanted to know. It was, perhaps, the worst thing her lady had done to her.

Lord Arvis sat down beside her once more, his elbow pressed into her arm. "Sunilda." She did not dignify him with a full response, humming. "Have you been this long out of Velthomer?"

"Not in a long time, milord."

"Is it really that important for women to talk?" She shrugged. Women, maybe not, but ladies were women who weren't, and she was a woman who felt more like a girl. "No matter. Mother has me." For now and forever, of course. Would he like Verdane? A beautiful woman like her mistress…where could she have lived? To the day she knew little about her besides son and husband, for the two years she'd served her. "I think I am company enough for her."

She set her plate down. This again. "You cannot always be with your mother, milord."

"Why not? She's mine." Because you're going to be a big brother twice over. It wasn't her place to tell him. It was her lady's error, but lying was not easy for her. "I am her son and Father is not with her. Who else will keep her out of trouble?"

Trouble. Lady Cigyun could hide her belly all she pleased. There was no hiding an actual baby. Sunilda didn't want to be around when he found out. "I don't know, milord."

"You never do."

No, she didn't want to.

*…*

Lady Cigyun sent them out on an errand the next day, to both her and the lord's relief. He could not be dragged into playtime if he had to babysit her , and she did not have to think about Cigyun's growing list of errs if she did not see her face. "You can read numbers?" Lady Cigyun asked. She nodded. Her lady scribbled a set of them down on a sheet of parchment, then folded it firm, edge perfectly creased. "You will take this and this," she handed her a small wooden box, which rattled some, "and accept no less than this number for it," the topmost one.

Certainly not an insignificant amount of gold. The lord, always home at one of their hips, stood on his tiptoes to see, so she lowered it for him. "What are you selling, Mother?"

She smiled. "Nothing important, sweetie. Just something Mummy doesn't need around anymore." Lord Arvis' brow creased. Cigyun smoothed it out with her thumb. "Nothing to worry about," she repeated. "Keep Svan out of trouble for me."

It did little to make the lord feel better. He kept his fierce face even when Cigyun kissed him and barely gave her a goodbye. For a boy shorter than her, he made good strides. He did not storm off entirely out of sight, waiting ever so patiently for her before stomping off a few more steps. Hopefully this wasn't a preview of what he'd be in Verdane.

Plus, at this stage, her feet weren't as cooperative as they once were. "Don't you want to know what your mother is selling? I certainly do," she said; his shoulders rolled back. This probably wasn't her best idea, given the sum of gold scribbled on the paper, but she rarely had them. He took half a step closer, near enough to touch. She thumbed the clasp down, popping the box open.

Jewelry. Not a piece she'd seen before; Chalphy's quiet skies muted the surely brilliant yellow shine of the bracelet. When they'd packed, her lady insisted she did not need much, certainly not in her jewelry, given she barely wore it. Her favored ring, her earrings, and her headpiece, tucked safely away under her folded dresses.

Arvis poked the small gem set against, presumably, silver. A lousy maid. "Oh," he said plainly. "Father gave it to Mother when we went to the lake-house. Why get rid of it?" Gold.

The lake-house. She'd not gone for the brief trip last summer, before things went somehow worse, but both lord and lady returned bit on their wrists and necks. "Well, why did she get it?"

Head cocked, "Father broke something. I don't remember what." The duke frequently broke things.

Once the lord tucked his hand back under his cloak, she snapped the box shut again. "Perhaps she's forgiven him?" Why keep an apology gift if there was no reason to be sorry? (Why give one?)

"I hope not." Perhaps they could always agree with each other. No rain today, according to the old croon in the kitchen this morning (her knees hadn't been wrong in years! ), so the only rush was their own. "Would you like me to carry that? You have no pockets."

"I have it, milord. But thank you." Cheeks puffed, he stayed at her side when they resumed walking. The harsh angle of his face she spied from afar slipped into being rare. Time away from the duke did that, it seemed, but Sunilda was dull in many ways, knowing he was here to get her from getting swindled. "After we do our," our? did lords have chores? "errand, why don't we get a small treat? I don't think milady will notice."

He glanced up. "A treat?"

"A treat. This trip's been long," and will only be longer. "Just between us."

The lord pretended to think it over, nodding. "We should get Mother something."

"Don't fret. Your mother always gets treats." She did not look down on her lord, but certainly had to look down at him. If, unfortunately, he was anything like his father, he'd be tall one day; if she was still with him then, she hoped to not strain her neck. "You should start thinking of your birthday. You'll be eight before we know it." Eight, halfway to manhood, and two little siblings to annoy him, one of whom to share his mother with.

"Mother knows."

"You've already thought of it?" He did not answer, chin hiked higher; hopefully whatever he longed for could be found in Verdane. "Whatever you say, milord."

*…*

She, of all women, met the duchess of Chalphy a few days into their stay.

Lady Ingund was young - closer to her age than Lady Cigyun's, if she had to guess, but guessing was not her strong suit. Light pink hair, nearly white, framed her face in loose curls, falling long past her shoulders, matched well to her dark eyes and full lashes. Taller than either of them, legs made longer by her knee-length skirt.

Lord Arvis went with Lady Cigyun today, and there was no good reason to leave her in their quarters by her lonesome. "I hope you don't mind if Sunny tags along," Lady Cigyun asked after breakfast. She, presently, held her hand out for the lord's handkerchief to fold it once more.

"Your maid girl?" she said. Lady Ingund looked at her; Sunilda did her best to sit still, but couldn't escape the tremor of her wrist. She'd not yet worn the yellow dress Cigyun insisted on, but the woman did not budge on getting her out of her standard day dress. Back into her blue dress her lady swore she looked neat in her, she said a silent prayer to not make a fool of herself. "That's quite alright by me."

Today was a good day to see the arena, and so they went to it, good entertainment. The Chalphys owned a curtained spectating box, complete with seating and staff; Cigyun tucked her hand into her elbow in familiarity, and Sunilda ignored the obnoxious negging that she, usually, kept that spot.

They sat, three to one, which she did not mind at all, completely uninterested in sport. She and Cigyun had gone a few times while the lord was with his tutors, but it was not her taste, far from it. Some days, when the fighters were too roughed up, the arena brought out other performers—dancers, clowns, anything that didn't involve blades, really. No fights during the church's holiday either, which, unfortunately, sent the fighters into the rest of Velthomer.

The baby, divorced from her thoughts and mostly quiet anymore, rarely hungry, didn't mind the time on her feet. (She was needy and horrible to a baby who might not even like her, though; she touched her hand to the side of her belly they so often kicked, pressing down with the heel in some effort to wake them.)

They did mind the stench of the arena. It strongly hit her nose; whether the smell was legitimate or not she didn't know, considering anything from Cigyun's gentle soaps to the smell of jam to their carriage drivers made her stomach flop. Nor was the babe a fan of the raucous crowd, suddenly kicking her hand. She barely saw from her seat. For one, the lord's head got in the way, and the floor was far below. Why fuss over nothing there? She pressed back down against them. Poor thing. Would they be this jumpy once they were born? She spent most of her life simply just living, and she tried not to think about his father.

(Darn men, darn man .)

Cigyun's eyes found hers just as a wet squelch got deafened by the joyous crowd, hiked with a smile; despite knowing them to be cloudy, pinpointing the actual shade never happened. Sunilda could not always be to her thoughts, she figured. "I know this is not for you," she gingerly began. Lady Cigyun fit her hand just in hers. "We will find something you want to do, surely, for all your kindness being here."

"It's…all right, milady." She scooted forward some in her seat to better grip her hand. She barely heard herself over the constant rush. "Will you - will you show me that knitting pattern? The one you started last holiday. Not that I'm good at any of it to start…"

"Of course I will!" She dropped her voice. "My grandmother nearly gave up showing me." A grandmother? The first she heard of one.

Sunilda barely saw past Cigyun or Lady Ingund, but she heard enough. Gladiators existed, with tomes and swords and axes. Lady Cigyun turned to her as if she wasn't Chalphy's guest. "Once we are where we need to be, it will be whatever you want, I promise. My home arena never held my interest."

This close, they could share a dozen and one free secrets, yet she was weak. "It's all right, milady. I mean it." A crack beneath them, then the roar of the crowd once more. For the best; how long could she manage? "I think your fighter lost. He's on the floor." She turned around, peering down with her son at the arena below (did the prince get her attention this easily?). Her luck in picking gladiators was as poor as her card skills.

"One of these days I will get it right," she sighed. Several things needed to be made right . How did a woman so striking manage to ignite such terror? "Luckily all I bet was my pride, short supply it may be." Then, remembering she was the duchy's guest, surely, Cigyun let go of her hand. Verdane's arenas had room for chatting; their guest room did. (Pregnant! Both of them! And not far behind the other; what did it mean? She knew what it meant, never that dull, and Cigyun did not know immediately, laid out, hopefully loved by a man better than the duke.)

Lady Ingund said something to her, hers first. Swallowing the forming lump in her throat—the babe's doing, surely—she wondered if the lord's luck was better, or if luck meant a thing in Verdane. Luck was not everything; hers was rotten too. What did luck matter if they weren't betting?

What was she thinking about? She crossed her ankles. Another roar of the crowd, stifling in her ears. How anyone found this fun she didn't know, no different than boys scuffling in the yard. Lord Arvis felt her staring, turning in his seat. He hooked his chin over the back of the seat. "Svan." His feet dangled above the floor, a slight kick to them. He could not cover the gap between them, scooting her whole seat forward; it scraped against the floor in an unfortunate way. "Would you like to bet for me? Mother says I'm too young." A boy who wouldn't scuffle yet gambled. For shame.

"Not really, milord." He huffed. Down and below, the losing gladiator and his horse (wonderful for the dull smell) were led out of the arena to the belly. "When you're older." His hair curled at his temple, always ruined by the air; brushing it back made it fall limply back into its spot. Chalphy would be behind them soon, and his obscene bangs could return.

One of these days. Verdane was mild, wasn't it?

*…*

"What if I didn't want to go with you?"

"Hello to you too, Sunilda."

Sunilda told herself (unless Cigyun asked really nicely) she would not be helping her tonight. Frustration only built under her skin. Each time the lord asked a question, or gave her a hidden smile, or blathered on about being with his mother. Cigyun's smile turned her stomach to stone. "What if I didn't want to go with you?" she repeated. "What if I wanted to stay in Velthomer, or in Grannvale? The child is the prince's. He needs to know. And - and why are you convinced I'd be willing to-'' live with you: give up the one thing I know for-

Lady Cigyun sighed. "Goodness, girl. Let me get my slippers off." She'd put the lord to sleep tonight, sat on the edge of his bed and still struck dumb by his innocence in this. For once, she knew something he didn't. Carrying her own babe and now the idea of her lady's, and it had to be hers and hers alone.

She waited. A bit quick, wasn't she? Cigyun took her slippers off, then her shawl. Sunilda sat quietly. She knew better than to jump her like that. Still, Cigyun did not scold her nearly as often as she needed to. Some part of that first duchess had to still exist; her reputation was not kind, at first, going through maids on the weekly. Hard to please , a poor assignment, until she dropped her breakfast across her wedded carpet, spending the past two years at her side.

Cigyun got undressed all on her own. "There. Now, what bothers you to jump me right through the door?"

"You."

"Me?"

She tugged on her own hands, playing with them in front of her lap. "You. You have done things with the - you know who. What was your plan with it?" It? It. That. The child? The prince? Ever taking her dress off? Her husband, her son? Had she thought at all ?

Cigyun cocked her head. While the storm was over, the air was wet, so her bangs mocked her son's. "Are you feeling well? I don't think I've had you so outright."

Alright . Cigyun bore it all some nights ago and now she ignored her. "No, I don't. I've not slept a wink since you told me." Her lady took a couple steps forward, now within arm's reach. "No. Do not check my temperature. What were you thinking?"

Cigyun sighed. "I told you. Kur-" who could be listening? Cigyun swallowed. "He's something dear to me. I like him, and quite a bit at that. I did not think. He's been a wonderful friend all this time. Then I kissed him some time ago, and it went from there. I have no doubt he'd do right by me if I told him, but I also know what Victor would do to him. He may not care for me, but his wife with another man? Imagine the rumors," as if the duke was not infamous enough.

Caring for the prince — laid out with him while a party went loudly in the distance, but not caring enough about him to count the consequences. One, two, and three; say it four times and it made twelve: a married woman with a child, wife to a man with a loose belt, now lover to a man even higher. Caring but thoughtless, apparently, an odd rock in her belly at the mention of any of them.

Well, one rock wasn't weird.

"As for you, you've never talked about kin or a home or anything of the sort. I never considered you not wanting to be with me." There was always that. Still, she did not have to say it.

"And if I didn't want it?" Her? It? The carriage ride, the lord, the other castles. Anything. It.

She laughed! A cruel woman. Cigyun stepped closer, twisting her fingers in the scrunched fabric of her hips, palm just where the bone jutted out. "Truly? I would've left you in a quiet village with most of the cart. You and Arvis and your little babe would have a quiet life, while I went on by my lonesome with mine." Arvis ? Why leave him with her? All he wanted was her , day in and day out.

"And," Cigyun smelled of berries, this close to her; what did women do when she wasn't looking? "you aren't subtle." Subtle . A shock ran up her spine. "If you are truly so dissatisfied, I will gladly send you back to Velthomer, even. Is that what you want, girl?" she asked, suddenly hard. What was in Velthomer without her? No lord, no lady, a lowly born maid with an unwanted child. What would there be for her? Nothing much.

"…no, milady. I just wish you'd asked, first. I packed expecting us to return."

"What else did you have to pack?"

"Cigyun."

She smiled. "I wish you called me by my name more. I'm no more born than you." No, she wasn't. A tiny place in Verdane . Velthomer was small compared to Belhalla, so what did tiny mean? "I will not be your lady forever. I will simply be Cigyun soon enough."

*…*

They left Chalphy in the morning. She thought their guards were up to no good last night, given how now they shielded their eyes from the sun and leaned heavily on each other as they packed the luggage away, but it wasn't her place to say. Lady Cigyun talked to Lady Chalphy gleefully just out of sight, but close enough she spied Lady Chalphy's hand on her shoulder. ( She was picked.)

She opened the door of the carriage for Lord Arvis. First, she helped him in. He moved precariously closer to her, so she laid her hand back on his hip to make sure he did not fall face first. "Are you and Mother done being weird?"

Weird . If he only knew half of how weird she felt. "Yes, milord."

"Good. I can't like people Mother doesn't. Here." It was her turn to be helped into the carriage. He was a strong child, doing it with ease. He hovered in the doorway still, waiting for his mother. She didn't like it, keeping her touch on him. It'd only take one wobble to mar his face. "I didn't think you had the head to argue with her."

"I really don't."

"Me neither. Do you have mints?"

"If you sit." He sighed, forgoing the mint. She'd give it to him later. Was he longing again to go to her side? Likely. They'd spent too much time apart. "She's coming, my lord."

He grabbed her wrist, undoubtedly going to move her hand. "The Chalphys are touchy," he said. She peered past him to see what inspired it, her lady's face pink as Lady Ingund said something right to her ear, again.

She thought all she and her lord had done. "Do you dislike it?" He didn't answer her; she pulled him in the carriage one step back, then took her hand off of him.

Could she tell him? That in a few months he'd never have to share his mother with his father or a duchess again? But that there'd be a little baby vying for her attention? He deserved to know more than she did. But she could barely tell him it was dinner time, let alone that his mother was -

No.

No, maybe it was all wrong, and Cigyun's baby would have a head of red. They'd be the duke's second real child, red haired and as stubborn as their brother, and they could all forget about the prince.

What a lousy trip.

Eventually, her tinged pink lady returned. Arvis stepped wholly into the carriage to make room for her, bright-eyed once more. "You are remarkably kind, Lady Ingund. I will try my best to entreat Victor to guests, but, well, only he may have company." Was Lady Cigyun truly common born? She sounded no different than anyone else. "Men do not live forever."

"Even if they did, there is always Belhalla." Lord Arvis reached for her hand, and Lady Cigyun found it without looking, pressing her thumb against the back of his hand. "Sigurd liked your boy's company, too."

"Oh, that I am glad to hear." Somehow . Were she a little child, the lord would be the opposite of her ideal playmate. Did Cigyun's first home have children? No, no, all places had children, but would the lord find them worthwhile? What about her own babe? And the…the prince's? Cigyun's. A second baby, barely anything for the first. She was still convinced her lady did not think, dull like her for a moment. "I cannot guarantee any sort of return any time soon, but-"

Lady Ingund stopped her, bold she was. The lord's foot tapped. "I will write to you in Velthomer, and we will go from there." Another secret to her ear, which did nothing to help Cigyun's complexion.

Odd.

Despite Lord Arvis' clutched hand, her waiting arm (who was she?), or the carriage staff, she accepted Lady Ingund's hand. "I make no promises about a reply. I've always been a mite empty-headed." There'd be no response, not anytime soon. Was Cigyun always a liar? Was this lying? It was a truth, wasn't it? No reply, certainly not; catching mail in a castle did not live in? A woman of many talents, but not the impossible.

Stepping up into the carriage, assisted by Lady Ingund, she moved her hand from the lord's to his head. "Do you have all your road treats?"

"Yes."

"Good. A shame I cannot let you stretch your legs, but we can keep you sharp." The lord, played-out he was, was a boy. The ride was steady from Velthomer, from Belhalla, from Edda (though Sunilda's limited travel experience was not impressed with the roads, or maybe their drivers), with scant time to frivolously get out the carriage. Now she knew why her lady pushed the pace, sick the reason was.

A woman so perfect, yet…

"I thank you one last time, Ingund. May we meet again."