Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

“How do you feel?” Graelam asked as he carefully eased her down again.

She gave him a wan smile. “I feel as though you must have beaten me, my lord. But I do not understand. All the blood, the pain i

n my belly.”

“You lost our . . . a babe.”

She stared up at him blankly. “I was with child?” At his nod, she felt herself grow cold. She whispered brokenly, “I did not know. Oh no!”

Tears filled her eyes and fell onto her cheeks, but she did not have the strength to dash them away.

Graelam wiped them away with the corner of the bedcover. He wanted to comfort her, but bitterness flowed through him and he said coldly, “I daresay even your mentor, Chandra, knew enough to curb her men’s sports when she was with child.”

The unfairness of his words numbed her. Did he believe that she lied about not knowing? Did he believe that she had willfully endangered their babe? It was too much. She slowly turned her face away from him and closed her eyes tightly against the damnable tears. I will weep no more, she told herself. “Perhaps,” she said so softly that he had to lean closer to hear her, “it would have been best had I died.”

Graelam sucked in his breath. “Do not speak nonsense,” he said sharply. “There will be other babes.”

Would there? she wondered silently.

“You will not blame Rolfe? He did not know, I swear it.”

“I am not a monster,” he said coldly, forgetting for a moment the tongue-lashing he had given his master-at-arms. “You must rest now and regain your strength. Your nurse is hovering outside to attend you. I will see you later.”

She watched him stride toward the door, so powerful, so unyielding. He did not look back at her.

The evening meal Etta served her was temptingly prepared for an invalid’s flagging appetite.

“Come now, my baby. The cook made the stewed beef especially for you, using the herbs and spices just as you taught him. And here is hot, freshly baked bread with honey.”

Kassia ate. When she was too exhausted to lift the spoon, she leaned back against the fluffed pillows. “Where is Lord Graelam?”

“In the hall,” Etta said carefully, eyeing her mistress. “Everyone is very worried about you. Poor Rolfe was ready to kill Bran.”

“ ’Twas not Bran’s fault,” Kassia said, closing her eyes. “He blames me,” she said flatly after a long, silent moment.

Etta did not pretend to misunderstand her. “Your lord is most concerned for your welfare,” she began.

“Do not spin tales, Etta. He believes a wife’s only worth is in breeding children. I was stupid, and forgot that.”

“You will carry another child, my baby. I could see no harm done.”

“Aye, it is my duty to do something my lord approves of,” she said dully. “I will not be so stupid as to want something more—ever again.”

“You will cease this silly talk!” Etta said sharply, her brow furrowed with worry. “ ’Tis a man’s kingdom,” she continued after a moment, searching for the right words. “ ’Tis men who rule, men who make the rules.”

“Aye, and it is a woman’s duty to give birth to more of them so they may subjugate the lot who have the misfortune to be born girls!”

Etta tried frantically to think of something soothing to say, for Kassia was becoming flushed. Her thinking halted abruptly at the sound of Lord Graelam’s voice. Oh my God, she thought frantically, how much had he heard?

“You speak the truth, my lady, but your words are overly harsh and bitter. Men rule because they are the only ones fit to do so. A woman does have worth, you are right, for men cannot continue unless women birth them.”

“Now I have no worth,” Kassia said matter-of-factly. She felt oddly devoid of feeling, and blessedly numb.

“I did not say that,” Graelam said evenly. “I trust only that you now will see to your woman’s duties.”

She looked at him straight, all hope in her quashed, and said very calmly, “If I but knew how to get a message to Dienwald de Fortenberry, I should be tempted to offer him that wretched necklace to take me away. That would please you. ‘Tis a pity that Blanche is no longer here to wed you.”

He clenched his teeth, feeling a muscle in his jaw jump convulsively. “But you do know how to reach Dienwald de Fortenberry, do you not?”