Guild Mage: Apprentice

"But I don't know why it should be Thomas Falkenrath coming, and not Bennet," Millie groused. "I should never have left Courland. We're simply too far away to know what's happening." She couldn't help but let out a huff of frustration.

"Have another cup of tea, Your Royal Highness," Evangeline Howe urged her. There was a pot on a trestle table set against the wall of the king's council chamber, full of lemon and ginger tea. Millie would have preferred chamomile, but the court chirurgeon, Giles, had advised against it for the duration of her pregnancy.

"If my son hasn't arrived yet, it will be for a good reason," Baron Elias Howe remarked. "It may be that he's reduced their fortifications at the pass and moved on to siege Whitehill itself." The baron sat at the king's right hand, opposite Queen Artemisia, and then Millie. Much of the long council table was empty, with so many of their close allies out of the capital.

"You've had no word from your father before now, Lady Cecily?" King Benedict asked, and every eye in the room turned to Millie's other lady in waiting.

Cecily Falkenrath lurked along the wall like a spectre, somehow having found the darkest shadow in the room. Behind her, a tapestry depicted the death of Sivis at the hands of Mirriam. "I received word at the same time you did, your majesty," she answered. "When they came through the waystone. I haven't spoken to my father or my brother since I left Courland with the princess."

Millie's father frowned, and wet his throat with a long sip from his goblet of wine. "I've learned never to trust anything until it's done, where the Summersets are concerned," he grumbled. "They're sly as foxes, particularly my father's bastard."

"She should never have been allowed to grow to maturity," Baron Howe remarked.

"You think I don't know that?" Benedict shot back. "My mother attempted to dispose of her on multiple occasions, but my uncle always protected her. I'll only breathe a sigh of relief when I see her head on a spike. She's been like a load of stones on my back for as long as I can remember."

The doors to the council chamber were flung open, and Thomas Falkenrath stalked in at the head of a great mass of men and women - more than Millie had expected. And some of the faces she saw were a cause for great concern. Duke Richard and Baron Kerlin Ward had been with the army when she'd left, but Ingram Ryder and Amelina Ridgley had flat out refused to support the war effort. Had the Falkenraths bought their support, somehow? And her great-uncle Caspian - he hadn't left Coral Bay in months. Cade Talbot, whose loyalty was questionable at best. Why was the Eldish ambassador in the room? There was even a priest - old, bald Eustace, who led daily prayers at the Freeport temple of the Trinity, and had blessed her wedding.

"Ah, excellent," King Benedict said, rising from his chair. Millie, her father in law, and her mother stood when the king did. "Duke Thomas, Duke Richard, here to report on the progress of the war, I imagine. We've been eagerly anticipating news of my son-in-law's victory. Barons, Baroness. Uncle. Please, be seated and have a cup of wine. You must all be thirsty from travel."

Thomas Falkenrath shook his head. "We'll stand."

That wasn't right, either - not even a duke should have refused the king's hospitality, or spoke to him in such an informal fashion. Millie felt a spike of the worry that had gnawed at her belly since parting with her husband when he marched north - like an ember that flared to life at a breath of air.

" - Cecily, to my side," Falkenrath was saying. Millie's attention had only strayed for a moment, but she'd missed something. She watched her lady in waiting walk the length of the room, leaving the side of the royal family to join the group clustered about the foot of the table.

"Speak, man," Baron Howe urged. His impatience was showing. "Is my son well? Has the rebellion been put down?"

"There is no further rebellion in Lucania," Duke Falkenrath stated, plainly, and at his words, Millie let out a sigh of relief.

"You'd frightened me, Duke Thomas," she admitted, lowering herself back into her chair. Millie should have waited for her father and mother to be seated first, but she'd found that now she was pregnant people were willing to make allowances. "I'd chide you for drawing it out and keeping us waiting, if you hadn't brought good news. I think I do need a cup of that tea." Millie reached her hand out, and Evangeline was there.

"There no longer exists a state of rebellion," Thomas Falkenrath continued, "because Whitehill will now be recognized as an independent kingdom, no longer a part of Lucania."

Millie, who had just been closing her fingers around the handle of the teacup, jerked suddenly and violently, spilling it over on its side and sending dark tea across the table.

"What?" her father said.

"The royal army was crushed at the border of Whitehill and Courland," Falkenrath continued. "Baron Galleron Erskine is dead. Baron Aldred Fane, dead. Reginald Arundell, Genevieve Arundell, and the Dowager Queen, were all killed in battle."

Each name felt like someone was hammering a nail through Millie's chest, a spike of cold iron, and she hardly even noticed that the hot tea had dripped down onto her skirts. "Grannie?"

"Your grandmother was unclean, woman," Eustace broke in. She'd never seen the priest like this before - face red, trembling with rage. "She trucked with foulness, sold herself to one of the old gods. She made blood sacrifices to the Vaedic Lady of Blood. She turned her back on the Trinity, and by my word is hereby expelled from our church. Millicent Loredan, once Sherard, is excommunicate. Her spirit is denied the shelter and protection of Our Lady of Changes, and consigned to the darkness."

"Lies," Benedict growled, slamming a fist into the table. Every goblet of wine rattled with the force of the king's blow. "You dare speak of my mother in such a manner? Dead or alive, she is a queen, and will be treated as such. Bring me the man who dares to accuse her, and I'll see his tongue ripped out."

"That man stands before you," Duke Thomas Falkenrath shouted back. "I have seen it with my own eyes, as have half the survivors of your own army. I was brought one of her sacrifices, and with the Falkenrath word of power have watched her perform the dark rites with her own hands, praise the old goddess with her own lips."

"On the wall, she conjured lashes of blood; drew it to her, and fed upon it to increase her power," Cade Talbot declared, stepping up to the side of the duke. "She turned her very form into living blood. If you would pull the tongue from every soldier who saw it, you'll have a hundred, two hundred tongues or more on your table, Benedict."

"We have the testimony of her guards," Falkenrath continued. "Not only those who survived, but the shades of the dead, as well. There is no doubt that your mother worshipped one of the old gods. The only question now is how far this rot has spread throughout the royal family."

"A question," Eustace cut in, "that we shall soon have an answer to."

"I am the king," Benedict shouted. "And neither I, nor my family, will be put to the question. The very idea is preposterous. Sir Alain!"

Millie looked to the door, daring to move only her eyes. She'd only ever followed what her grandmother had told her to do, and there'd never been any witnesses. Surely, she wouldn't be questioned. Her father had called for the captain of the royal guard, and -

"Your guards have been taken into custody," Caspian Loredan pronounced, speaking for the first time. "I have seen to it myself."

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"Uncle -" the king began, but was immediately interrupted.

"Do not beg for my protection now, you stupid, spoiled boy," the archmagus said, and his lip twisted in such utter contempt that Millie never would have thought the old man was capable of it. "You've brought ruin to our family. I tried, I tried to talk sense into you, but you and your mother both were obsessed. If she'd only shown a trace of kindness to Julianne, welcomed her, none of this would ever have happened. We could have had not one, but two archmages in the family, our rule secure for generations. But no, you had to pursue your idiotic grudge for the mere fact she'd been born."

"We've made peace with Julianne Summersett once before," Queen Artemesia said. Millie had no idea how her mother could manage such a calm tone, as the world crumbled around them. "Surely, we can make peace again. Brother -"

Baron Kerlin Ward at last bestirred himself to speak. "Do not look to me, Sister," he said. "I fought for this crown, bled for it, watched my men freeze to death. I can only pray to the Trinity that you haven't followed the Loredans into their foul cult - but we'll know soon enough. And no, King Benedict," he continued. "You won't have peace with Julianne Summerset again, because she's dead, and her husband with her."

Millie couldn't help let out a giggle at that. "It's done, then," she said, looking up and down the table. "It's done, isn't it? If we lost an army killing them, that's a small price to pay. Bennet can always muster another, and go back to finish the job. Matthew Summerset's a cripple, and Beatrice Crosbie won't be able to fight if we strike now."

"She won't, will she?" Cade Talbot asked, and his eyes fastened on her with the predatory, killing intent of some hawk or eagle looking down on its prey. "And why is that?"

"Well -" Millie hesitated. She shouldn't have said that; now everyone was looking at her. "She's pregnant, isn't she? I could swear I've heard that rumor making the rounds."

"Funny," Cecily Falkenrath said. "I hadn't heard that. And here I thought we shared all our gossip together."

"Perhaps I was thinking of someone else," Millie protested. "But that isn't the point. With Julianne dead, the entire rebellion will fall apart."

"As it so happens, it did not," Duke Richard said. The man limped over to a chair, pulled it out, and sat without so much as asking the king for permission.

"Then who?" Millie's father asked, and she saw the moment he realized in his face. "That bastard Eldish girl. The murderer. The cook's daughter."

"I watched Liv Brodbeck -" Richard began, but he was interrupted by the Eldish ambassador, who'd been silent this entire time at the back of the room.

"Livara tär Valtteri, of the House Syvä," Ambassador Sakari corrected him. "And I would request there be no further insults toward her."

"I watched Livara duel Archmagia Arundell through the sky above the pass," Richard continued. "From my cot, with the wounds she'd given me still wrapped in bandages and crusted with blood. It was like watching two goddesses fight - like a piece of the war, from twelve-hundred years ago. I thought I could beat her with an enchanted sword." He laughed at himself, a sharp, derisive sound of derision and regret.

"A blizzard came with her," the duke told them. "Like the heart of winter itself. Once it engulfed our soldiers, you couldn't see your hand in front of your face - just white, in every direction. Men huddled against each other for warmth, and died shivering. When the storm had passed, they were frozen inside hunks of ice."

Millie couldn't help but shiver. She remembered a flower of ice opening on the sand of the north beach, all those years ago, and the slip of a girl who'd walked out, with a frozen blade in her hand.

"The peace was not negotiated with Matthew Summerset," Duke Thomas declared, once Richard had finished speaking. "He's knelt to this woman, along with Baron Crosbie, the Grenfells, and at least two Eldish houses, probably with more to come. Congratulations, Benedict - instead of a duchess at your northern border, now you've got a queen. They call her the Lady of Winter, like she's one of the old gods returned."

The feet of the king's chair scraped against the floor as he finally sat down, his eyes unfocused, roaming around the room without locking on anyone or anything in particular. "The terms," Millie's father said, hoarsely. Then he coughed once, and spoke again, with more strength. "You negotiated terms, Duke Thomas? On behalf of this crown? What were they?"

"First," Duke Falkenrath said. "Forgiveness and amnesty for everyone who fought on behalf of this 'Northern Alliance.' That includes the Grenfells, the Everys, and the Corbetts. The Everys and Corbetts are confirmed in their lands and titles, while the Grenfells will have new lands in the north, apparently."

"That's standard," Millie's mother said, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "So long as they forgive our fighters in return."

"Secondly, Houses Loredan and Sherard, and their vassals, will be put to the question," Falkenrath continued. "All found to have indulged in the worship of the blood goddess, or given succor to her cult, will be cast out of the church and burned."

"A duty I will be glad to oversee personally," Eustace promised.

Millie clenched her hands into fists underneath the table, where no one could see.

"Third, the borders to be recognized. I've negotiated ransom for the noble prisoners this new queen was willing to part with," Falkenrath said, without any trace of eagerness. "Ransoms I have every intention of being fully reimbursed for."

That was something, at least. Millie pressed a hand to her chest. "That will be where Bennet is, then?" She nodded, and looked to her father-in-law for help. "Of course. It makes sense why he isn't here with you. We'll pay whatever price she's asking, so long as my husband is returned to us safely."

"In that, Princess Milisant, I regret to inform you that you will be disappointed," Thomas Falkenrath said. "Livara tär Valtteri was unwilling to ransom Lord Commander Howe, along with Baron Seton, Merek of House Sherard, and Sir Emory, commander of the Arundell Lightning Guard. She hanged them all like common criminals, before we marched south."

For a moment, the words seemed to lack meaning, as if somehow there was a blockage, or an interruption, between Millie's ears and the part of her mind that made sense of things. The individual sounds were familiar, but taken together, they simply made no sense.

"Bennet…" she said, lamely, her own voice sounding weak and unsteady even to herself.

"Is dead," Baroness Amelina Ridley said, stepping forward from the crowd to pin Millie with her cold, unsympathetic gaze. "You are a widow, child, and you had best get used to it. You may recall that I warned you there was a limit to what we would put up with. You have reached, and exceeded that limit. I only pray, for your own sake, that you were never involved in your grandmother's disgusting sacrifices."

Millie looked to her father-in-law, who had collapsed back into his chair with an ashen face; to Evangeline Howe, who was already weeping; and to her father, whose eyes were darting back and forth among the nobles confronting them, with all the desperation of a mouse who's been cornered by a tomcat on the prowl.

"This is a rebellion," King Benedict said, and the words, by their very utterance, seemed to change the atmosphere of the room.

"No." Thomas Falkenrath shook his head. "We are simply doing what is necessary to set this kingdom to rights. I believe, personally, that were your father still alive, King Roland would support us wholeheartedly. The fourth term of the peace is that both you, Benedict of House Loredan, and your daughter, Milisant, will abdicate your rights to the throne of Lucania."

Someone in the room was sobbing, and it was only after it had been going on for some while that Millie realized that person was her.

"In favor of my uncle, I suppose," Benedict said, his mouth twisted in disdain. "And the laws will be re-written to allow it. You were always jealous of the throne, Caspian."

"If I had truly wanted your crown, I could have taken it long ago," the archmagus said. "What I wanted, Benedict, was for our family to prosper. For a dynasty tracing its lineage back to Mirriam herself not to falter while I yet lived. In that goal, I regret that I have failed."

"There will be a council of regents," Duke Richard explained. "Until the princess's child comes of age. Three seats, with all the powers of the crown wielded by majority vote between them. The seats will be held by Duke Thomas, Archmagus Loredan, and myself, and pass to our heirs should we perish before the next monarch has reached their majority."

"My baby?" Millie said. "You're going to let my baby rule?"

"That child is perhaps the only member of our family who bears not the slightest fault for what has happened," Caspian Loredan said. "You will remain here at the palace, under guard, until you have brought the infant to term. At that time, Princess Milisant, you will join your father and mother in exile. The heir to the throne will remain here, to be raised by the council of regents."

"No!" Millie screamed. Her stormwand was in her hand before she even realized she was moving. "You won't take my baby from me!" Lightning gathered around the tip of her wand, then died as Archmagus Loredan raised his hand, palm outward. A great weight crashed down on Millie, and she staggered beneath it.

"Æn'Ceiēs," Caspian Loredan said, and the words sunk into Millie's brain like a warm blanket, like her mother's lullaby. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and she was only dimly aware that she was caught up in strong arms before she hit the floor.