Title: Songs from within the Gilded Cage Ch 3/4

Author: Kate

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. They're not mine and I'm not making a red cent.

Summary: Kalasin has news for Kaddar. A marriage faces its most serious tests to date via a pregnancy and a miscarriage. Kalasin/Kaddar, or Kallydar

Chapter 3

Kaddar woke in the suite that was now his and his alone, reaching across the bed for Kalasin. There was something incredibly comforting about wrapping his body around her in the night. He was still sleeping on "his" side of the bed, and reaching for her, though they hadn't shared a bed for weeks.

After the miscarriage, the healers had said that Kalasin needed peace and quiet. His things had been moved into the suite he originally intended to give to her. It was comfortable, but it wasn't home. Kaddar was starting to realize that without Kally and her sparkling blue eyes and her quick smile, no place would ever be home again.

But Kalasin's eyes weren't sparkling anymore. It had been two weeks, and she hadn't really left their—her—suite. Or even her bed, except to use the privy. She ate and drank little (only what Kaddar and Varice and the healer sent and bullied her into consuming). They stood over her and coaxed her into drinking medicine and a little broth; she obeyed, just so they would go away and let her sleep.

She was so tired, so sad. All she could do was sleep; she didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to bathe and put on a happy face or be brave and persevere. She wanted to act like a child denied a toy or sweets, she wanted (a little) to throw tantrums and scream her pain and frustration to the heavens. But tantrums required so much effort, and she really was so very tired. It was easier to close her eyes, and think about doing something when she was a little stronger.

Matters stayed like that for another two weeks, partially affected by sleeping drugs and cleansing potions, partially by a depression that Kaddar had never imagined possible for his wife. Those weeks became a period that was burned into Kaddar's mind as the closest to hell that he would every really remember. He was sure there had been times after Ozorne's transformation that were worse, but he had blocked them out or survived them by working. This he couldn't avoid, as much as he wanted to. He felt guilty for his discomfort, but he hated the sickroom, hated the thought of confronting Kalasin's blank stare.

Despite his own feelings, Kalasin's husband (who was beginning to realize how much he loved her) visited her three times a day. Sometimes he tried to talk to her, sometimes they just sat together, and sometimes he convinced her to eat just a little broth.

After the second week, when the healers topped feeding her potions for pain or sleep, Kalasin grew tired of sleeping, and a little restless, but not restless enough to get out of bed. She was sick of the paintings and the curtains. Every small thing about the room that had once annoyed her suddenly seemed to fill the world.

Three weeks after her body failed her, Kalasin hauled herself out of bed. She could not say why, but it was absolutely necessary to switch the painting of the dog and the painting of the University door. The effort left Kally dizzy, so she sat on the floor and suffered through flashes of hot and cold. The blood in her ears pounded uncomfortably. She concentrated on breathing—in and out, in and out. And eventually, she began to feel a little more normal. She crawled back to the bed and, unable to climb up into it, pulled a blanket down to her level to reward her effort with a nap.

Fazia, Kaddar's mother marched in and pulled the blankets off her sleeping daughter-in-law. "Get up," She ordered, all imperial glory.

Kalasin blinked sleepily at her, "What do you know about it?" She mumbles, not believing her own boldness.

"You are not the first woman to lose a child to Court games, and you won't be the last. I've lost three—one from my womb, one in the cradle and one fully grown."

This is how Kalasin learned that Aaminah, Kaddar's sister and Kalasin's first friend in Carthak, is dead. Tears began to leak out—they come easily these days, even though Kaddar tries to shield her from the world. "Her baby?"

Fazia didn't answer directly, only pulled at Kalasin's arm. "Get up, girl. You can't lie here forever."

"I can try." But Kalasin allowed her mother-in-law (surprisingly strong, for a "delicate" lady) to wrestle her into a chair. Kalasin asks dully, "How did you know?"

"These rumors? Ridiculous. As if my son… You weren't hiding your head over that. You've got more pride than that."

From Fazia, these words are not a compliment.

"And the dress fittings and the mood swings and the food cravings and the healers? You've been trying for an heir since you arrived. I put the puzzle pieces together."

If Kalasin had been more alert, she might've asked, "Rumors?" But she was not alert, so she did not learn the Court's surmise about Varice and Kaddar for some time. Fazia relented after she forced Kalasin to walk around her chamber three times. The Empress all but collapses into bed, weeping at her ruined muscles, which barely kept her upright.

Fazia returned the next day, and the day after. She and Kalasin do not like one another, but they grieve together, for Aaminah and her baby, and for Kalasin's little life. Kalasin knows that her grief is out of proportion to the injury, but she is bone weary. She has pushed herself to the edge with the work of governing, sprinting longer than she can endure. She weeps for the losses, but she could've endured it more stoically if she had had any reserves of energy or food left.

The recovery was slow, and painful. Eventually, she decided to leave her suite. Fazia had encouraged her, but it was Kalasin's choice. Kaddar had told the court that she was suffering from a sudden, and vicious attack of fever, so no questions were asked as the guards hovered behind her, and even supported her on the stairs. There were rumors of course, that the emperor had taken a lover, and sent the empress into a jealous fit. She looked haggard, and couldn't really hold extended conversations, but it was in some way good for her to see people other than Kaddar, her mother-in-law, the healers, and Varice. And it was good for the court to see that she truly had been sick, that she had not been hiding her shame over the rumors about Kaddar.

Fortunately, Kalasin was unaware of the rumors of Kaddar's lover. A vague suspicion lurked, but it was quickly quenched, until she finally heard from her hairdresser, on the night of her first Court function since the tragedy, that Kaddar spent the worst night of her life with Varice.

The empress assumes the worst. She is almost silent that night at the function, and people wonder about the fever that struck only one woman and altered her so completely. Her sparkle is missing, as is her interest in her people. She cannot speak her accusations, but she feels them every time she looks at her husband and friend. The two visitors she permitted during her confinement, the two who coaxed her to eat enough to live, that these two would betray her is almost unthinkable.

And yet, Varice Kingsford never left the Emperor's court, despite ample opportunity. She has had offers, and lovers, but she seems to like managing the parties here. How she can prefer this to a home of her own always baffles Kalasin, but she took it good naturedly, till this doubt crept upon her. Could Varice have stayed for Kaddar? It seemed ridiculous. She is older than he, too much so for love, Kalasin hopes. But sex is not always about love. If he took release from Varice, without loving her, is that better or worse than a long-standing secret affair between beloveds?

Kalasin has observed that Varice is allowed to speak her mind freely, while others must choose their words carefully. She remembers Daine's story about the night the mages lifted the party boats, when Varice hushed the heir as though she had the right. He has many sisters—he is comfortable with bossy older women. Their relationship is somewhat sister-brother, but not. Kaddar swears that he has been faithful, but how can his wife trust him? A man who would break a vow could lie about it too, couldn't he?

The worry is driving her to distraction, until Varice comes to her to tell her about the violence Kaddar did in secret. Kalasin understands with brutal clarity her husband's distress. Kally, who he married, would have been horrified that murder was done in her name. Kalasin, the harder woman who should be a mother by now, is not grieved. She feels little joy, but she does feel safer in a world without whoever cast the spell. It takes time before she chastises herself for that line of thinking—the mage didn't cast the spell for his own benefit. They have no way of tracing the mage's money back to its source. There is no way to punish the ones who were truly responsible, the ones who may still work against her and her heirs.

Kalasin cried the first time she saw a baby, and she cried when she saw pink and gold dresses (like the one she had been wearing that day), and she almost choked when the cook served her old favorite breakfast, which was forever tainted because it was the last meal before she lost her child.

She and Kaddar did not speak aloud about their loss—he because he didn't know how to begin and she because there were no words to fill the empty place inside of her. But about two months after, he came to bed and simply held her all night long. She knew then the reason he had stayed away. He had done murder without giving fair trial. It wasn't even an execution. There was no honor in a death at the jaws of wild animals. In some lights, it made Kaddar little better than a thug, who took justice on his terms. But in another light, it showed how human and how prone to human failings he was.

Kaddar and Kalasin did not make love for almost four months after she lost the baby (and despite temptations, Kaddar was faithful to their vows, with a little help from Varice, who chased away opportunists, and who didn't really want to make the Emperor her lover). After the first time their bodies joined, Kalasin wept into a pillow because even that didn't dislodge the void.

Kaddar lay on his side, listening to her tears, and felt as though he had just soiled their bond. Even the wedding night, when Kalasin had mostly laid still, trying not to tense, had been better than her weeping. He was glad, suddenly, that they were not sharing to same bed every night. But when he woke up, with her curled against his back, he had a momentary flash of what their lives had been, not so long ago.

And then he allowed himself the luxury of real tears.