The woman tending it wore a blood-red robe, her back hunched slightly from her long years bent over the brew. Her face was pale and smoothtonight, untouched by time, her probing amber eyes deep set and shaped like fine almonds.
She stepped into the chamber, her voice too loud in the quiet. “I need to see Aimee.”
The robed woman turned slowly, her eyes reflecting the candles but showing none of her usual fire. “It’s been a while, Katella.” Her watering gaze flickered down to her womb. “I take it her teas have worked for you and the king?”
“It’s urgent, Madame Toranaga,” Katella pressed, her words rushing out. “I cannot keep it.”
“I see.” Madame Toranaga merely twiddled the gold tassels at the end of her robe. “Your wedding night was last month.”
“And it has been two cycles without my bleed,” Katella said.
“Breathe, dear. John might be generous, but you are worried about upsetting him. Is that right?”
Katella nodded, the lump in her throat growing.
“Kings are permitted to keep their bastard children all the time. Surely you can ask.”
“It is not a bastard child.”
Madame Toranaga crossed her arms, skeptical. “Come, now. Who was it? A friend? A farmhand?”
She blanched and shook her head.
The witch’s eyes narrowed. “Thenhow?” Madame Toranaga demanded.
“I don’t know.” Katella’s voice was barely a whisper. “I thought it was a dream, a pleasant dream?—”
“He died in the attack,” the witch whispered, suddenly tugging her back to the door. “In the ambush. Alor is dead, Katella. Stop being ridiculous, you’re doing yourself no favors by being here. Say nothing about this. He isdead, you hear me?” She shook her at the arm. “Dead.”
Katella sobbed, and she reached into her cloak pocket, producing a crinkled piece of parchment. “I should have stayed awake, comforted him, assured him it was going to be all right.”
Madame Toranaga’s eyes danced fleetingly across the paper. She didn’t even finish it before crinkling it and stuffing it back into Katella’s palm, shutting her eyes against the words she consumed. “You were never here,” the witch breathed. “I will not end the king’s pregnancy.”
Katella shookher head fervently. “But you don’t understand. It’s not?—”
“I understand enough, Katella. In doing so, I’d put my entire business and the girls in jeopardy—I’m sure you understand.” Madame Toranaga drew near. “If I get word you tried to end it yourself, Iwillcome after you.”
Katella tried to resist, but the witch was strong. She cried and begged, until Madame Toranaga gripped her by the shoulders.
“It’s early on enough. Tell the king’s physicians the child came early, that’s all. It happens often. More than you think.” She brought her porcelain face near. “Burn that letter.”
Katella’s crying stopped, and despair took over her darkened features. “But you help women like me all the time.”
Madame Toranaga shot her a dangerous look. “Those are not women like you.”
“But—”
The witch left her a moment, disappearing into the array of low shelves that lined the northern wall. When she returned, she pressed a small book—the green one—into Katella’s hands. “Hold your head high, keep your mouth shut, and never, ever repeat this to anyone.”
Madame Toranaga shoved Katella back into the darkened hallway and slammed the door in her face.
Blinking through her tears,wiping at her face, Lilac waited to be thrust back into the sanctum.
But she remained there in the silent dark, the cries and desperate bellows of her ancestor’s pleas ringing out into the desolate pit of memory. Fear filled her, and she violently rubbed at her eyes, only to open them to…
The foyer.Herfoyer.
Sunlight streamed in as bright as day, and there was a small crowd at the open doors.
