Although Bardic Hall and the palace were both within the Citadel walls, there was no chance of an accidental meeting with His Gracious Majesty, King Theron. He lived surrounded by insulating layers of people and protocol and moved in circles far from those of a lowly Bard. Even while growing up with the full rights and privileges of a princess, she'd gone for months without seeing her father.
But Theron could have called for her at any time. Their father had often spoken with the bards just returned from Walks rather than relying solely on the records. Apparently, it hadn't occurred to him that a bard who'd spent the first fourteen years of her life learning politics and protocol might make useful observations.
It didn't take Bardic Memory to recall the message that had accompanied the invitation to her cousin's joining—Theron had added a pompous declaration of forgiveness for the mistakes of her youth. Well, he'd been the one who'd cut her off from everything she'd known and she hadn't forgiven him. She'd said as much in the message that had gone back to the palace. All she'd wanted was for him to say that he was sorry for the way he'd hurt her. He never had.
It didn't matter. As the captain had said, the bards were her family now.
Annice slid one hand inside her jacket and pressed it against her waist. She remembered how Theron had looked when he'd laid his heir in her arms. He'd stared down at his daughter as though she was the most amazing creature he'd ever seen, as though she was the only baby ever born.
Annice tilted her head to watch the sky as lights began to break up the block of shadow dusk had wrapped around the palace. I want to feel what Theron felt when he looked down at Onele. I want something I can love that much.
A gust of wind, cold across her ear, brought her head around in time to see a kigh disappear below the eaves. So much for quiet contemplation; she wouldn't be alone for much longer.
"Although, come to think of it, I haven't exactly been alone for about nine weeks."
Stasya Sang the kigh a gratitude and beat her head lightly against the casement. Annice was on the roof again, sitting at the base of one of the chimneys where the ridge of slate flattened out for about a foot all around. It wasn't actually as dangerous as it seemed, or the captain would've put a stop to it years ago, but it was a habit that drove Stasya crazy.
If she wants to be alone, why doesn't she just close the bedroom door? Stasya hadn't gotten an answer to that question at any time over the last ten years and wasn't expecting one any time soon.
"Nees?" She directed her voice up and over the edge of the eaves. "Nees, you're going to freeze or fall off or something. Why don't you come down?"
Annice's voice, equally directed, drifted back. "Why don't you come up?"
"Because I don't have a death wish."
"Chicken."
She's going to cluck in a minute. Stasya tucked the ends of her scarf into her jacket, and stepped out onto the small balcony just as the henhouse noises began. Considering that she never even saw a chicken that wasn't covered in some kind of sauce until she was fifteen, she's not bad.
The steeply pitched roof of Bardic Hall almost met the floor of the balcony. Bolted down beside the gabled window, a narrow metal ladder—intended for use by the chimney sweeps who descended on the Hall once a quarter—stretched up to Annice's perch. Stasya peered up at the dark on dark silhouette against the late afternoon sky, blew on her fingers to warm them, and began to climb. Having spent her childhood clambering about the rigging of her parents' ship, she had no problem with either the physical effort or the distance from the ground, but she couldn't get her head around the concept.
"Why the roof?" she asked, as she'd asked a hundred times, sitting down beside Annice with a heavy sigh.
"I think better up here. With nothing around me but sky…"
"… your mind is unfettered. I've heard you sing the song, Annice. I've sung it myself. I just keep hoping you'll come up with a reason that isn't such a bardic cliche." She sat back and swept her gaze over the view. "Palace looks a lot smaller from up here."
"Last time you said it looked bigger."
"That was then. This is now. Nees, are you sure you're not having this baby just to get the king's attention?"
Annice twisted around to stare at her. "Are you nuts? Stas, if he finds out, I'm dead. And so is the baby."
"You don't really believe that."
"I have to."
"You don't."
"Stasya." Annice made the name a warning.
"All right." She threw up her hands. "I think you want a reconciliation, but you're just too stubborn to make the first move and you've finally come up with something he can't ignore. But you don't have to listen to me."
"I'm not."
"I also think that's a really bad reason to have a baby."
Annice glared at her for a moment, then pointedly looked away. The brittle silence that followed stretched into an uncomfortable length of time.
"Nees?"
"You're wrong."
"About what?"
"Everything."
Then why didn't you have the captain tuck you away out of sight? Stasya asked silently. But all she said aloud was, "All right. It was an accident. Then why are you keeping it?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Maybe because we all want to know."
"I'll tell you the same thing I told the captain. I want a family. I lost the one I had and now I have a chance to start another."
"Babies don't love unconditionally, Annice. I helped raise four younger brothers and you wouldn't believe how self-centered the little shitheads can be."
"Maybe I want someone I can love unconditionally."
"What am I, fish guts?"
"It's not the same."
"I should hope not."
"Stasya, when I think about this baby, I feel the way I feel when I Sing; that sense of everything snapping into place and being, if only for a little while, absolutely right."
"Oh." Stasya reached out and laced her fingers through the other woman's. "Why didn't you say so?" She still believed Annice was making a deliberate attempt to attract King Theron's attention, but she was willing to allow for the rise of stronger feelings. "It might be kind of nice to have a baby around."
"So you don't want to move out? Find a new set of rooms?"
"Not unless you start going all esoteric Mother-goddess on me."
Annice snorted. "Hard to be an esoteric Mother-goddess and puke your guts out at the same time."
"Good point. What did Slane say about it when he took your recall?"
"It didn't come up. Unlike certain other bards, I don't kiss and tell, even under trance. Besides, I found out this morning and the Walk ended last night."
"Another good point. Nees, I can't feel my butt any more. Can we go in now?"
"Sure." Annice stood and had to make a sudden grab for Stasya's shoulder as a kigh whipped around the chimney and almost sent her off the roof. Heart in her throat, she watched it disappear into the clouds, eyes so wide they hurt. "Did you see that?"
"Yeah. I saw. Let's get inside. Now."
"I'm sorry, Annice. I should have warned you. Your pregnancy is affecting your orientation to the kigh."
"What do you mean? Air kigh don't like babies?"
"No, but they're jealous. You always Sang strongest in air and they can feel that changing."
"To what?"