The Priory of the Orange Tree (The Roots of Chaos)

When it was formally proclaimed that Queen Sabran was with child, the people of Inys ceased their mourning and celebrated in the streets. Prince Aubrecht was dead, but by gifting them the next ruler of Virtudom, he had bought them another generation of safety from the Nameless One.

Though she would traditionally stay in Briar House for half the year, no one grumbled when Sabran decreed that the court would return to Ascalon Palace for the remainder of her pregnancy. Every corridor in the winter residence was choked with memories of the prince consort, and it was commonly agreed that it was best for Queen Sabran to have a fresh outlook.

New gowns were made to accommodate her condition. The lying-in chamber was aired for the first time in decades. The palace was a butterfly house of chatter, and with every meal, courtiers raised their cups to the queen. Laughter rang bright and loud as a bell.

They did not see what the Ladies of the Bedchamber saw. The sickness that racked her at all hours. The relentless exhaustion. The way she lay awake at night, ill at ease with the change in her body.

Now, Roslain had told the ladies-in-waiting in private, was the most dangerous time in the pregnancy. Sabran was not to exert herself. She was not to hunt, or to go on vigorous walks, or to harbor unhappy thoughts. They would all have to work together to keep her calm and in good spirits.

The life of the child took precedence over that of the mother, since there was no evidence that the women of the House of Berethnet could conceive more than once. Little wonder Sabran had been withdrawn of late. The childbed was the one place where her divine authority would not protect her, and every day now brought her closer to it.

If she needed further confirmation of the dangers that surrounded her, the Dukes Spiritual saw fit to remind her daily.

“It is vital that we decide on our course. Yscalin could mount an invasion any day now,” Igrain Crest said to her one morning. “Our coastal defenses have been strengthened since Fýredel came, in accordance with your orders, but more is necessary. We have received word that the Flesh King has been constructing a new fleet in Quarl Bay. Some fifty ships are already built.”

It was a moment before Sabran spoke. “An invasion fleet.”

There were horseshoes of shadow under her eyes.

“I fear so, Majesty,” Crest said, gentler. “As does your cousin, the Lord Admiral.”

The Duchess of Justice had arrived while Sabran was breaking her fast. She stood in a bar of sunlight, which glinted off her patron brooch.

“We will open negotiations with Hróth immediately,” she said. “The wolfcoats will strike fear into Sigoso. To strengthen the chances of aid, we will, of course, take word that Your Majesty has at last accepted the long-standing offer from the Chieftain of Askrdal. Once King Raunus hears—”

“There will be no acceptance of Askrdal,” Sabran cut in. “King Raunus is a sovereign of Virtudom, and my distant relative. Let us see how many troops he offers us before we make any offers to him.”

Katryen pulled in a slow breath. It was unlike Sabran to interrupt Crest.

Crest, too, looked as if she had been caught off-guard. Nonetheless, she smiled.

“Majesty,” she said, “I do understand that this must be difficult, given the recent death of Prince Aubrecht. But I trust you will remember what I told you the day before your coronation. As a sword must be oiled, so a fellowship must be renewed. Best that you are not a distant relative to Raunus, but a near and dear one. You must wed again.”

Sabran gazed at the window. “I do not see the need for it now.”

Crest let her smile fall this time. Her attention darted first to Katryen, then to Ead.

“Majesty,” she said, in a reasonable tone, “perhaps we could continue this conversation in private.”

“Why, Igrain?” Sabran asked evenly.

“Because this is a sensitive diplomatic issue.” After a delicate pause, she said, “If you will forgive us, Lady Katryen, Mistress Duryan. I would like to speak to Queen Sabran alone.”

Ead curtsied and made to leave, as did Katryen, but Sabran said, “No. Ead, Kate, stay where you are.”

After a moment, they both stepped back into place. Sabran drew herself up in her chair and laid her hands on its arms.

“Your Grace,” she said to Crest, “whatever you wish to say of this matter, you may say in front of my ladies. They would not be standing in this chamber if I did not trust them absolutely.”

Ead exchanged a glance with Katryen.