Asha’s father was a wiser man than Rahim’s grandfather had been. Rather than resting his fate on the patronage of one of the continent’s fair-weather kings, he’d kept his business to himself, constantly on the move whenever another warlord crested the horizon. A lack of permanent roots had been a small price to pay for deep pockets. Rahim had been a scholar with a decent mind for numbers when Asha married him.
And now here he was, another fair-weather ruler with a storm on the horizon.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
He wasn’t sure who he was addressing—Asha reading a letter in her favorite chair, Mama with her needle letting out one of Asha’s gowns, Baba lightly napping by the window, or Freda, the midwife’s daughter, humming as she swept.
Baba stirred out of his doze. “We all knew this wasn’t forever,” he mumbled.
“We hoped it would be longer,” said Mama, clucking her tongue. “Didn’t I tell you we should leave when we had enough money to sail to Asran?”
Baba sighed. It was their longest-lived argument. “We have enough to sail and nothing else. Better to own land here than be destitute in Irazad.”
Rahim found his eyes drawn to Freda. Her mouth was tight, her lips pale. She had money to eat, to live, to buy medicine when she was sick, to buy warm clothes for winter and toys for her nieces and nephews. She did not have the money to sail anywhere.
“There’s still enough money to escape, if it’s needed,” he said. “There’s enough for all of you to reach Asran. And if I don’t come, there’s a little more to live once you arrive.”
Three sets of eyes turned to him sharply; Freda kept hers on her work. “Why in Patron’s name would you not come?” Mama demanded.
“These people need me—” he began.
“These people? Orany has a king. When he comes and takes this place, these people will be his problem, not yours!”
“I walked here from the Garnian palace, I have seen what people look like when they are Orany’s problem!” Rahim snapped. “All the worst parts of Etien—the press gangs, the looting—and at least Etien knew not to take so much in taxes that the laborers starved while fancy food rotted on his table!”
“And you think you can do better than either of them?” Mama demanded. “When war comes to our doorstep and we grow desperate?”
Rahim thought of the tunnel, of the palace that stood empty while Lord Armel’s corpse was dragged through the mud. “I already have.”
“It is not so simple, habibi,” said Baba. “Your mother is right. If you stay, if you hope to defend against invaders, you will need soldiers. Not everyone who needs to fight will want to. There is a reason Etien resorted to press gangs.”
He would need soldiers, and he would need to feed his soldiers. He was already running the numbers in his head, how much the farms produced each year, how much one person would need to eat, multiplied by how many he needed in a fighting force large enough to have any hope against Orany.
With a sigh, he collapsed back into his chair with his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “But I can’t leave. Even if I weren’t…” The word king stuck stubbornly in his throat. “Even if everyone didn’t need me, Asha can’t travel like this.”
“The baby is due soon,” said Asha.
“You can’t travel right after, either.”
“What if we don’t go to Asran?” Baba asked. “Asha, your family—would they take us in?”
“Yes,” she replied. “But they wouldn’t walk through an active war to fetch us. We would have to meet somewhere safe. And in order to meet, our letters would need to reach us and them.” She held up the one in her hand. “I’m lucky to have this one at all. We’d have to be lucky at least twice more.”
Mama returned to her stitching, her mouth a tight line. She could tell Rahim to abandon Greymare and the people living there. She could not tell him to abandon his wife and unborn child.
Rahim threaded his fingers together and squeezed until his knuckles ached.
“Freda,” he said. “You’ve grown up here. What do you think?”
Freda squared her shoulders, gripping the broom handle tightly. Nearly a full minute passed before she replied.
“D’you know how Greymare got its name, sire?” she asked.
“King—ah, Etien told me that one of the kings who held it the longest named it after his favorite horse,” said Rahim. “I always wondered how the name outlasted him and all the kings that came after.”
“I was told that a grey mare appeared out of the woods and led him to it,” said Asha.
A sardonic smile flickered across the girls face, before she ducked her head and hid it behind her brown hair. “That’s the story we tell outsiders, ma’am,” she said to Asha. “The mare didn’t lead him to this place and let him rule it. She came out of the woods when he was clear-cutting it to build his castle. She ate him.”
“Ha,” Mama said dryly.
“There’s stories come out of Orany,” Freda went on. “They say King Coram latches on to the land and its people like a tick, drains ’em dry and moves on when there’s nought left. He’s the sort to clear-cut a fairy’s woods to build himself a castle.” She paused. “I dunno if the people’ll fight, sire. I think most are hoping we won’t have to.”
“The fairies did not intervene before,” Asha said, but she looked thoughtful.
“They weren’t clear cutting the forest,” Baba said quietly. “Just burning one human town. Why should they care for one human town?”
“Perhaps,” Asha began, and paused.
Rahim was at her side in an instant, because Asha was not the sort of woman who spoke unless she knew exactly what she wanted to say and how to say it. Rahim’s parents stared intently at them both. Freda went still, as if bracing herself to dash for the midwife.
After a moment, the thoughtful tension left Asha’s face, and she sat back with a shaky sigh. “Not yet,” she said. “But soon, very soon.”
Mama slumped in her chair, muttering half to herself. “Patron protect her, protect us all.”
“I will speak to Afra,” Baba said quietly. “Lambing season was good to her. Her herd has swelled. We will need a sheep to slaughter for the child.”
Asha sat up, one hand bracing her belly. “Perhaps more than one. We will need a party.”
All eyes turned to stare at her again, this time with confusion. “How can you think of such a thing at a time like this?” Mama asked.
“How can you not?” Asha shot back. “The people are scared. War may be on our doorstep—it is already around us, trapping us here, keeping us from leaving. They need—they need levity, and joy, and fun, or they will run mad and tear themselves and each other apart.” She took Rahim’s hand and squeezed. “The birth of a new prince or princess is the perfect excuse, is it not?”
“I’m not a king,” Rahim said, not for the first time. “The town priest isn’t high enough to crown me, and if he tried, I’d duck.”
“Garn and Etien are gone,” said Asha. “You are no one’s vassal, and you hold Greymare alone. What else would you be, in these lands?”
Rahim’s flight from Garn had nearly doubled Greymare’s population. Still, they made sure to invite them all. Matilda, now secure in her place as the town headwoman, accepted her invitation with cool grace. Etien’s former vassals, Rahim’s brothers in arms, had not officially sworn themselves to him, but were seemingly content to behave as if they had, and answered their summons with gravitas. Johanne, Lord Armel’s widow, came to thank him personally.
The effect was immediate. The deathly quiet of fear eased, just a little. People talked amongst themselves, eager for the festivities. Many even smiled.
“How long will it last?” he wondered aloud. They were alone in Asha’s solar—the first moment alone they’d caught since announcing the baby’s welcoming party, aside from when they slept.
“A full day of festivities,” said Asha, without looking up from her writing. “Will the kitchens and great hall accommodate the feast, do you think? We have a lot more people than we used to, and if need be we can set it up out of doors.”
“I mean how long will one party keep their spirits up?” Rahim asked. “For all we know, Orany might launch an attack in the middle of it.”
“We ought to start a spy network,” Asha mused. “How does one do that, I wonder? It sounds like an interesting skill to learn.”
“Matilda suggested the town square,” Rahim said, belatedly. “It has the space, and plenty of kitchens in the village nearby. The bakery and the inn, and such.”
“They’ll be happy for the business.” Asha said. “We should invite the fairies.”
Rahim went still. “Pardon?”
Asha put her quill down and turned to him, with some difficulty. “The idea entered into my head the moment I thought of having a party,” she admitted. “It’s only right. They are our neighbors.”
Pulling a chair closer, Rahim sat beside her. “They’re dangerous neighbors.”
“Dangerous enemies,” said Asha, with a gleam in her eye. “Let us become friends, then, so that our enemies become theirs.”
“You’re suggesting…” Rahim broke off. She was doing more than suggesting, and he wasn’t about to insult her by repeating what she’d already said. “That is a dangerous game, beloved.”
“We live on their land,” Asha pointed out. “They are more than neighbors. It seems far more dangerous not to do the polite thing and invite them.”
“I suppose…”
“We already have enemies in Orany.”
“The greenwood is a pleasant enough place,” Rahim conceded. He glanced at her desk and realized that she hadn’t just been writing; they were invitations, written in Asha’s lovely calligraphy. Two of them, he realized with a sinking heart. “The Stained Glass Queen sounds… reasonable, as fairies go. I’m not sure I like the stories I’ve heard of Lady Eisendusk. I don’t suppose we could just invite—”
Asha’s hand shot out like a striking snake, seized the front of his tunic, and yanked him down until they were eye to eye. “Rahim,” his wife said, calm and cool as a very thin patch on a frozen river. “Heart of mine. Beloved. We have had one war forced upon us. May the Patron leave me penniless in the cold before I willingly step into another. We are inviting both good and hospitable ladies to our party.”
“I see,” said Rahim, even as fear grasped his throat with ice-cold claws. “We will invite both, then.”
The next time she gripped him with such ferocity was the following night, when she startled him out of the beginnings of sleep with the words he had been most anticipating and dreading.
“The baby is coming.”
She did not let go of him for the rest of the night. He was forced to shout for Freda so that she could run to fetch her mother. Upon their return, Asha snarled at the suggestion that Rahim leave the room. Rahim, well out of his element, simply did whatever the stern-faced old woman told him while letting his wife grind the bones in his hand to a fine powder.
Their daughter raced the sunrise and won.
