‘Indeed, Majesty,’ said Duke Logar. ‘We will find a way.’
Janessa nodded her thanks to him, but as she did so she felt a sudden spasm in her gut. Marshal Farren began to speak, but Janessa could barely hear his words. She glanced towards Kaira, who stood motionless a few feet away. Janessa was suddenly desperate to catch Kaira’s eye, but her bodyguard seemed to be listening intently to what Farren was saying and failed to notice.
The room began to swim as the pain in her belly grew. Something stabbed at her from the inside and it took all her will to quell a cry of pain. She could not show weakness in front of these men. She was their queen and despite their experience in war it was expected she would lead them.
Lord Marshal Ryder had joined in now, speaking over Farren. It appeared the two men were at loggerheads but all Janessa could hear was a torrent in her ears. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. It was no good; she could stand it no longer.
‘My lords,’ she said, rising to her feet. The four men halted their bickering and instantly stood up. ‘I am feeling …’ Another stab at her loins. ‘We will continue this later.’
As she turned, Kaira was at her shoulder, but Janessa shook her head as her bodyguard tried to aid her. Fighting the pain with every step, Janessa walked from the war room as best she could and Kaira closed the door behind her. As soon as it was shut Janessa collapsed against the wall, gritting her teeth in agony.
How she made it back to her chamber she had no idea — she moved through the corridors in a daze. The pain was almost unbearable and it took all her will not to scream.
Once in her chamber Janessa slumped on to her bed. Something ran down her leg as another white-hot stab of pain coursed within her.
‘What is it, Majesty? Shall I summon the surgeon?’
‘Yes,’ Janessa screamed, any thoughts of keeping her unborn child a secret outweighed by her fear and pain.
She pulled up her skirts, feeling blood running in a steady flow between her legs. Kaira had already rushed for assistance, but as the agony inside Janessa reached a peak she knew it was too late.
FIFTY-TWO
Kaira had dragged the surgeon from his bed. In the end, however, nothing could be done to save the child. Janessa had wailed and thrashed as the surgeon made sure she did not bleed to death. As Governess Nordaine and the surgeon did their best to calm the queen, Kaira gathered the tiny body in a discarded blanket and held it in her hands. It weighed almost nothing and was small enough to fit in her palm.
Once Janessa had calmed and succumbed to the mercy of sleep, Kaira asked Nordaine to take away the small body, sure that the governess would treat it with the care it deserved. Before the surgeon left, Kaira reminded him of the need for discretion. He gave no word of argument to that.
Once he was gone, Kaira watched over Janessa as she slept. The girl would have to cope with her loss, and it was another battle she would have to fight alone. It only served to make Kaira feel helpless, knowing how little she could do for the girl she was charged to protect.
After what seemed like hours, Janessa finally stirred, and Kaira moved to her bedside, laying a hand on the queen’s brow. The girl opened her eyes and looked at Kaira, at first hardly comprehending what she saw.
‘It’s me, my queen. It’s Kaira.’
Janessa gave no response, but glanced away towards the window. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes and Kaira could see her anguish.
What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do?
Kaira sat on the bed beside Janessa and stroked her red curls, now matted and unkempt.
‘There is nothing to fear, Majesty. Your child is safe with Vorena now.’
Janessa said nothing.
Kaira was filled with pity for her. The young queen had lost so much, and so recently. Not just her child, but also her father and her most trusted advisor.
She was just a girl, lost and alone, charged with facing a battle-hardened warlord with a sorely depleted army. It was a responsibility Kaira would not have wished on anyone.
‘Is it a clear day?’ asked Janessa.
Kaira looked down at this girl who seemed so small and vulnerable. This girl with the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders.
‘I … I do not know, Majesty,’ she replied, rising and moving to the window.
Kaira looked out onto the Crown District and the city beyond. There was bustle and noise drifting in from the north. The city knew what was coming and it did not lament. It moved with urgency, preparing itself. Over it was a grey sky, the winter chill giving the air a strange calm.
The calm before the storm.
‘No, Majesty. The sky is dark, but-’
‘It is no matter,’ said Janessa, and Kaira turned to see she had risen from her bed. She stood unsteadily, using the bedpost for support, but there was a determined look to her eyes. ‘It is still a good day. A day for a new beginning.’
Kaira moved towards her. ‘Majesty, you must rest.’
‘I’ve rested enough, Kaira. I’ve hidden from this for far too long. I’ve filled my head with worthless thoughts. That will all change.’
Kaira wanted to argue. To tell her that she didn’t need to do this now, that there would be time aplenty later. That she had time to mourn her loss.
But she didn’t. The Khurtas were almost here. The time for rest had passed. If the people of Steelhaven were hoping for some miracle to come and save them, they would be disappointed. The only thing that would save them was grit and fight and sacrifice.
‘What would you have me do, Majesty?’
Janessa fixed Kaira with a determined stare. ‘I will need armour. Armour fit for a queen. And my sword.’
Kaira smiled. ‘Yes, Majesty,’ she said.
Janessa smiled back, and in that moment Kaira felt proud. Felt ready to follow this young girl anywhere she would lead.
FIFTY-THREE
Captain Garret had told Merrick how sorry he was to lose him, how he’d have been proud to have Merrick among the Sentinels when the Khurtas arrived. Merrick didn’t believe him. This was what Garret had wanted all along — for Merrick to be reconciled with his father, for them to be together, side-by-side, fighting for queen and kingdom.
It wasn’t quite so simple though — this was no reconciliation, after all. There was no hugging one another and lamenting the lost years. This was just a chance for Merrick to prove his worth. To show his father what he was made of. He had a long way to go, but it was a start.
And it was a bloody painful start and no mistake.
Merrick knelt in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by armoured Wyvern Guard. It might not have been so bad if he hadn’t been stripped to the waist. He’d seen these bastards stripped down themselves, and there wasn’t a one of them didn’t have a better shape to him than Merrick. In itself, that might not have been so bad — if it wasn’t for one of them tapping holes in his arm with a needle.
Tattoos were for whores and sailors, or so Merrick had always thought. Clearly he’d been mistaken, because they were for the Wyvern Guard too. The bloke beside him had been going at his shoulder for an age, and Merrick had long since started sweating from the pain. It hadn’t been so bad at first, and he thought he’d be able to handle it no problem, but as time went on it started to hurt like the hells and Merrick had taken to clenching everything he had that would bloody clench.
Keep it together, he’d told himself, this won’t last forever. It was weird how slow time seemed to go when you were in constant fucking agony.
‘Done,’ said the tattooist, wiping the blood from Merrick’s arm with a rag.