CHAPTER FIVE

Pelemere, the Central Kingdoms

I shbel stood in her finery by the open window of Sirus’ palace in Pelemere. She had been at the palace almost two days. Today was her wedding day.

It was deep winter. Snow drifted in the window, scattering a few flakes over Ishbel’s bare shoulders and neck and down the front of her ivory satin gown.

She didn’t notice, nor seem to be aware of her goose-pimpled flesh. Ishbel stared into the palace grounds—half frozen and solid with snow—and thought about Serpent’s Nest, making a promise to herself. She would endure. She would make this marriage, for this was what the Great Serpent demanded of her, and it was for this that he had saved her from the charnel house of her parents’ home.

When it was done, and the Great Serpent’s purpose fulfilled, then she would turn and walk away. He had said that she would return home to Serpent’s Nest, that it would be her home forever, and thus this marriage was not a life sentence.

Until then she would manage with dignity. Maximilian was a personable and charming man (if with a will of sheer steel). It would not be terrible.

Ishbel made the sign of the Coil over her belly with her right fist, then sighed and shivered, as if she had realized for the first time how cold she was. She closed the window, brushed away the few snowflakes that had settled on her shoulders and gown, and prepared to do what was needed.

The sooner it was done, the sooner she would eventually go home. Perhaps that might even be sooner rather than later. Ishbel had heard no reports to suggest that the Skraelings were massing in the north, nor any rumors of a great evil rising in the south. Perhaps her actions had already prevented the disaster the Great Serpent had shown her. She still needed to make the marriage, but perhaps in a year or so…

A knock sounded at the door, and Ishbel briefly closed her eyes, gathering her strength.

Ishbel did her best, and she thought she did it well enough until that moment Maximilian slid the ring on her finger. Sirus had put on a lovely reception for her and Maximilian, replete with many guests, much wine and food, and music and entertainments. Ishbel managed to smile occasionally, and take wine and, surprisingly, to look and act as if she was enjoying herself.

Then came the ceremony and the stilted words, and then Maximilian took a lovely emerald and ruby ring from his pocket, and slid it on her finger.

Ishbel’s world turned instantly to mayhem.

Ishbel! Ishbel! We have waited so long for you! Oh, we are so delighted, and you are so delightful!

We—

“Ishbel,” Maximilian murmured, his grip tightening on her hand as her face went white with shock.

“Ishbel, it is all right. Take a deep breath. It is all right.”

Nothing was “right”! Only the fact of Maximilian’s grip on her hand kept Ishbel standing. She could barely breathe, and she was aware of nothing in the room save Maximilian and the whispers.

She was back in her parents’ house, her mother’s corpse gibbering and whispering.

“Be quiet!” Maximilian hissed under his breath and the ring fell silent.

“Ishbel, it is all right. Come on now, look at me, smile for me.”

His fingers were very slowly stroking her hand, and Ishbel blinked, managing to focus on his face.

It was very reassuring, his eyes warm and concerned.

“Ishbel?”

Amid her confusion and all the lingering horror, Ishbel realized that everyone was staring at her. She summoned every particle of courage and determination she had, and croaked out the words needed to complete the ceremony.

When it was done and Maximilian leaned to kiss her, he paused with his mouth close to her ear. “I’m sorry, Ishbel. I didn’t realize that would frighten you so much. If you put your mind to it you can block out the whispers.”

She got through the rest of the afternoon’s and evening’s public events in a fugue of shock. She supposed she said what was expected of her, and she even allowed Maximilian to lead her onto the dance floor for a wedding dance.

Then, gratefully, it was over and she and Maximilian were alone in their chamber.

The first thing Ishbel did was to slip the ring from her finger and place it on a cabinet.

Relief washed through her, and she relaxed a little, and managed to smile for Maximilian, who was standing watching her.

There were no servants present. The chamber had been prepared but for this night they had been left alone. Now Maximilian came over to her, sliding his hands about her waist.

“I shall have to maid for you, as we have been left so solitary,” murmured Maximilian, kissing her shoulder as he began, very gently, to unbutton her gown.

“I hardly need a maid. I was not used to one at…at the place I grew up.”

“But you are a queen now. You need a bevy of servants”—Maximilian kissed her other shoulder—“and more finery than you can ever wear in a lifetime.” The dress had fallen to the floor now, and Maximilian was unlacing her underclothes.

“I am a woman of abstemious nature,” Ishbel said.

“Then I shall have to corrupt you.”

She laughed, surprising herself. Perhaps she’d had too much wine, but more probably it was the sheer relief at finally losing the ring.

He turned her about to face him. “Was that a laugh, Ishbel? I have never heard you laugh before.”

She was sober now, her hazel eyes very clear and calm. “I was raised to be serious and quiet.”

“Then I shall have to teach you mayhem and ribaldry.”

Her mouth twitched again. “Why can you laugh so much, Maxel”—this was the first time she had called him by his diminutive name—“when you have endured so much in your life?”

“Maybe you need to endure hardship in order to learn to appreciate laughter.”

“But still…”

“Ishbel, this may surprise you enormously, but tonight is not the time I want to talk about the Veins.

Perhaps when we are old and tired and can think of nothing else to entertain ourselves, eh?”

“When we are old and tired then, Maxel,” she said, knowing that would never happen.

A few months, a year, and then she could go home. Surely.

He smiled, pulled her close, and kissed her with increasing passion, and she let him do with her what he wanted.

An hour or so later Maximilian lay by his wife, gently stroking her shoulder and arm. There was a lamp lit in a far corner of the chamber, and it cast a soft light over the room and its occupants. It was very late now, but Maximilian did not feel like sleeping. There was far too much to discuss.

The ring.

He ran his hand down to hers and lifted it.

“I am sorry the ring frightened you,” he said. “I should have warned you. It was a shock.”

She said nothing, but her entire body tensed into rigidity.

She was terrified!

Maximilian had no idea why. Yes, the ring would have startled her, perhaps even frightened her, but he’d not expected this depth of reaction.

“It is just the Persimius rings,” he said. “They mean no harm. They are irritating, but sometimes also they can be—”

“I do not want to talk about it.”

“It is nothing to be frightened of, Ishbel. It—”

She whipped her face about to his. “I do not want it to touch me again.”

“Ishbel—”

“I do not want it to touch me again.”

Maximilian was glad at that moment that his own ring had kept its silence throughout this day—perhaps it understood Ishbel’s fright.

“Ishbel, why so frightened? It is nothing of which to be scared.”

She burst into tears, which disconcerted Maximilian so greatly he could say no more. He gathered her into his arms and cuddled her close until she finally began to relax, and her tears abated.

Why so frightened?

Eventually she leaned back a little, just enough to wipe her eyes. “What happened with Garth the other day?” she said, a little too brightly and in a patent effort to distract him away from talk of the rings.

“We’ve not had a chance to talk about it since. What did he feel from me?”

Maximilian felt as if he were suspended over a great chasm of doom. How would she react to this snippet of news?

“Garth wanted to warn me against marrying you,” he said. “He thought you a loose woman, a harlot, a—”

“What? Why should he think—”

“You’re pregnant, Ishbel. Garth realized it. He had no idea that we’d already…‘met.’”

The chamber was only lit softly, but it was enough for Maximilian to see Ishbel go almost white with shock. She actually stopped breathing, her eyes wide and horrified.

“Ishbel…breathe.”

She drew in a harsh breath, then sat up suddenly in the bed, hugging her arms about her breasts. “No. I can’t be. I can’t be pregnant!”

“Garth has the Touch very, very powerfully, Ishbel, and he isn’t mistaken. You’re only a few days pregnant, a week or so, but you are pregnant.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Maximilian said softly. “It is what sometimes happens, Ishbel, when a man and a woman lie together.”

She glanced at him. “I’m sorry. I’d just not thought…a child…no.”

“Ishbel…” He slid his hand over her belly, and she flinched. “Oh, for gods’ sakes, Ishbel, what is wrong?”

“Everything,” she whispered, then lay down and rolled away from him, and would not speak to him again.