The door thudded softly shut behind Lisbet leaving Garrick and Cindra staring at one another, as her footsteps trailed off down the hallway. Neither said anything or moved for long moments. Garrick felt a tiny trickle of blood working its way along the creases of his forehead.

“Garrick, you’re bleeding”, Cindra said, reaching her hand up towards his face.

“Don’t touch it”, he snapped through gritted teeth, his head jerking out of reach of her outstretched fingers.

His skull was throbbing dully, a burning pain flaring at the spot where her icy lips had touched his skin. He had not realised he was bleeding when he had awoken, there had only been the familiar aching wrench of separation and the fiery pain. But this time it seemed worse than the others, blood oozing steadily from the ragged mouth of the wound she had left. He felt ill, his stomach churning, an acid taste in the back of his throat. He had slept yet he still felt exhausted, it had been all he could do to drag his heavy feet down from the castle. He was desperate for more sleep and yet, he was so very afraid of what awaited him there. It frightened him too that there was a small part of him that hoped he would never wake up.

“Don’t you go talking to me like that Garrick”, Cindra shouted, her tiny fists clenching into angry balls, “It’s not my fault if you went and got yourself into another drunken brawl”.

From his viewpoint high above her she looked tiny, her cheeks flushed red with anger, her breasts heaving with each fuming breath. Not so very long ago he would have laughed and swept her up in his arms, kissing her red, screwed up face until she was laughing too, her anger forgotten. But so much had changed between them since now and the distance had somehow become too great for him to even reach out his hand and touch her.

“What is it Garrick… the third time this month?!!”, she shrieked, “I’m sick of you crawling back in here, drunk and bleeding. You are an embarrassment to yourself. An embarrassment to me!”.

“For you information woman I am not drunk. And I was not in a brawl. I just banged my head on a rafter in the stables. If you would just keep your nose out of places it doesn’t belong and leave me be then we wouldn’t have a problem”, he barked at her.

He couldn’t help the anger welling up inside him from the heady churning, mixture of fear and alcohol that dwelled inside him these days. It no longer mattered if he drank all night, she would still find her way into his dreams when he dozed off during the day, winding her frigid fingers amongst his hair, her icy lips whispering at his ear. He was so very frightened, frightened for himself but more importantly frightened for Cindra. He knew she had dreamt of Isabelle too. What if she hurt Cindra. He just couldn’t let it happen. If she would only leave him be. He was a dangerous man to get close to.

“I just don’t understand Garrick! You never speak to me anymore. What is going on?! I don’t believe that you just hit your head again. You come in here, bleeding and you won’t even explain to me what has happened. I’m frightened”, she raised her hand shakily towards his face.

It hung in the air between them for a minute, twitching like a puppet on a string, then fell to her side the fingers wringing folds of her skirt mercilessly between them.

“The only thing wrong is that I have a wife who thinks she can spend all her time hounding me with questions and no time in my bed. Someone should teach you to shut your mouth Cindra and open your legs because that’s all you’re any good for”, the words burned up like acid from his stomach, stinging his lips even as they opened to let them out.

“Not that I could care less. I’m too damn tired to even want that from you”, he snarled pushing past her to the bed.

He felt sickened by what he had said but perhaps it had done the job. Maybe now she would stay away from him. Maybe then Isabelle would leave her and little Atholt alone.

A soft sigh came from behind him, long and low as though Cindra were exhaling the final tattered remnants of the happiness of their life together.

He turned around and gazed down at her. Her soft pink lips were parted slightly as the breath rushed out between them. Her eyes were squeezed together tightly as she tried to hold in the tears he could already see collecting on her lashes. Her face was still flushed, the tip of bulbous little nose turning pink as it always did when she was upset. Her shoulders had slumped, her arms hanging limply at her sides. She stood there unmoving, a carved effigy of grief, the only sign of life the tiny trembling of her bottom lip as the last dregs of her sigh dragged over it.

Suddenly she crumbled, her plump lips opening into a silent sob, her tiny hand flying up to her face. The tears spilled free, pouring unheeded over the smooth curves of her plump cheeks. Her shoulders caved in around the frame of her body, her pretty head hanging low.

It was too much for him, he was not strong enough to hurt his wife like this even if it meant saving her from something much worse.

“Cindra I’m sorry”, he whispered, leaning down towards her, “I didn’t mean it”.

“I’m just so very frightened”, the words were out before he could stop them and suddenly she was standing straight again staring at him, her eyes wet with tears.

“Who did that to you Garrick?”, she murmured, her voice choked with tears.

He was very close to her now, his tall body bending at the waist so his face was beside hers. He could not bear to look her in the eyes, could not let his body touch hers.

“Isabelle”, it came out as a hollow croak, barely squeezing through his dry, constricted throat. The name that had once flowed from his mouth in happy ringing tones a dozen times a day.

His entire body was trembling uncontrollably, so that he felt he would shake apart if he didn’t find something firm to hold fast to. And then he felt two small hands on his hips, sliding softly around his bulky waist to rest warmly in the small of his back.

His body shook with a held back sob, as he plunged forward, his face meeting with the soft material covering her shoulder, his lips brushing against the flushed skin of her neck.

He felt her breath hot against his ear and heard her whisper, “Don’t be afraid my love, my dear heart. We won’t let her hurt us anymore”.

She had understood. He had not even had to speak the words. She was the very dearest thing he could imagine, his little wife.

He stood tall, pulling her against his body. She hung from his waist, her head drooping languidly on her neck like a wilted flower. He kissed her softly on the forehead, the warm scent of her hair filling his nostrils. It had been so very long since she had let him hold her close, so very long since he had felt worthy to do so.

“Lie with me Garrick”, her sad little mouth murmured, as she tilted her lips up to meet his.

“I just can’t quite believe she’s so small”, Lisbet mused, cradling the tiny infant against her shoulder.

Eidel was making small snuffling noises through her open mouth as she squirmed against her. Lisbet sighed, hoping fervently that she wasn’t about to spit up again. She did not have many gowns that fit her swollen body, and her other was already spattered with milk splodges which Eidel had burped up after her last feeding. And she had forgotten to bring a cloth to cover her shoulder with in case it happened again.

She softly patted Eidel’s back whispering into her tiny shell-shaped ear, “Please be a dear and don’t spit up on your Ma again”.

Cindra giggled, hoisting Atholt into the air, “I know. They always seem so very tiny at that age don’t they. You remember what Atholt looked like, he was as wrinkled and tiny as a dear little raisin. I could’ve have eaten him up in one bite”

She gazed at the baby speculatively, “You wouldn’t think it to look at him now though, would you?”.

The baby gave her a gummy smile, chuckling breathily. He waved his chubby arms frantically, kicking his legs with all his might.

“I mean would you just look at this fat little tummy”, she lifted him up to her face, kissing and blowing raspberries on his round belly.

He squealed in delight, desperately patting at his mother’s head with his waving hands, his legs pedaling in the air.

He was such a happy baby. All Eidel seemed to do was cry till her face was a squishy red blob and then burp up, bubbly milk all over Lisbet. Lisbet felt guilty for wishing she could have a wet nurse, but it didn’t matter anyway. There just wasn’t the possibility.

And it wasn’t that she didn’t love her daughter. She did. She could not help but look at her in awe, marvelling at the tiny fingers and toes and her husband’s soft grey eyes blinking up at her from the baby’s cradle.

She was just completely exhausted. Eidel had such bad colic and it was lucky if she slept an hour without hearing the trembling high-pitched wail starting up from the cradle. Hepsie had told her that soon things would be better, that Eidel would start sleeping through the night but Lisbet was beginning to despair that it would never happen.

“Give Eidel a nice smile like you just showed me”, Cindra giggled, turning the baby towards Lisbet and her daughter.

Eidel screwed up her face into a tight red ball and began to wail. Atholt looked at her in horror, trying to shrink back to the comfort of his mother’s soft breast.

Lisbet stroked Eidel’s face, wiping away the tears and hoisited her up onto her shoulder again until the baby’s crying subsided.

“Trying to play matchmaker with our children already Cindra”, she asked with a wry smile.

“Oh… no, well it would be so very sweet don’t you think?”, she grinned blushing.

“Somehow I think your husband might have higher aspirations for little Atholt than the daughter of a knight”, Lisbet had not meant to sound so bitter.

“Oh, let’s not think about that now, I can’t bear the thought of Atholt growing up to be a big hairy man. I want him to stay my chubby little baby forever”, Cindra hugged her son tightly against her ignoring his uncomfortable wriggling.

There was a knock at the door.

“Oh, that must be Igrayne. Come in dear”.

“Good day yer Ladyships”, Igrayne said shyly, peeking around the door.

Lisbet grimaced then hastily smoothed her features into an indifferent smile. Cindra had warned her about the girls face, but it was more of a wreck than she had expected. Lines of pale new skin were tugging at the corner of her lip. She suspected Igrayne’s loose hair was hiding the worst of it too, she caught a hint of ragged puckered skin peeking from beneath the curtain of golden hair that was flowing down Igrayne’s shoulders. Her skin had lost its ruddy sun-kissed complexion, even the freckles had begun to fade from the long weeks spent indoors. Her green eyes were tired and surrounded by dark circles like tiny tendrils of moss growing deep in the shadow of the towering canopy.

She was suddenly glad Cordell had escaped with only a clean cut across his cheek. She would hate to see his dear face mangled so.

“Oh! Is this bein’ little Atholt then”, she cried, bending over to tug at his toes, “Why, isn’t he a chubby little thing!”

“We were just saying the very same thing!”, Cindra replied with a giggle, “I’m glad you like him though. Hold him for a minute”.

She thrust the baby into Igrayne’s arms. By the way the girl was juggling the baby, trying to support his head as he squirmed in her arms, Lisbet could see she had never held one before. She knew exactly what that felt like. She well remembered the first time she had held a baby, her sister’s firstborn scrunching it’s face up into a wrinkly, red ball and wailing at her. She had been terrified that it would simply fall to pieces in her hands, so tiny and fragile was it. And now she had her own and it was, if possible even tinier and more fragile.

“Oh you don’t have to worry about his head dear, once they get to a certain age they can support it themselves and Atholt’s neck is definitely fat enough to hold up the weight”, Cindra said, turning to the chest of drawers and rummaging around inside tossing gowns this way and that, “Now… where is it”.

“Beeee”, Atholt squealed, happily clutching two big fistfuls of Igrayne’s long hair and pulling as hard as he could.

“Ah, here we go”, she tossed a gown onto the bed and began to disentangle Igrayne from Atholt’s grasping paws, “Give me this big lump. It’s time for his nap”.

She desposited the baby into the cradle and turned to Igrayne with her arms spread wide.

“So my dear, Mistress Rawtharn is already finished with your new dress, and I thought you might like to try it on”.

“Oh, yes that would be bein’, I mean that would be lovely”, Igrayne stuttered.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to put Eidel in with Atholt, she’s finally sleeping and my arms are aching that much”, she peered down into the cradle.

“You wouldn’t believe it but Atholt’s already asleep!”

“Just like his father”, Cindra’s face went momentarily dark like a cloud crossing before the sun and then she grinned again and winked at Lisbet, “just you watched he keeps his hands to himself. They’re a bit too young to marry”.

Lisbet flopped down on the bed with relief., “God knows, I ache all over. And I’m that tired I think I could fall asleep right here sitting up”.

Cindra came to sit beside her as Igrayne changed into the dress.

Lisbet gazed enviously at the young woman’s body as she stripped down to her shift. Her stomach was trim and flat beneath the thin fabric, her breasts pert. Lisbet ran her hands over her own rippling belly. She could feel the sagging weight of her breasts on the back of her wrists.

“I used to have a fine body like that”, she whined, “my stomach was flat too! When will it come back?”

“Oh you’ll get it back honey, it always feels the worst this first month”, Cindra replied soothingly.

It was well and good for Cindra to say, but then she still looked like a round little butterball. Lisbet thought she had scarcely changed with her pregnancy, whereas she had used to be thin and lithe, and now she felt fat and lumpy. And it was the strangest thing to squeeze out a baby the size of Eidel and still have this round swollen belly. To know that she was suddenly empty inside, a bit hollow cavity and yet it was still there bulging on the outside. She felt disgusting. It was no wonder Cordell had not bedded her since the baby was born. Of course they had both been too exhausted to do anything but sleep in the short intervals when Eidel was not crying. But still.

And now that she though about it she remembered that he had wanted to a few nights before and it had been she that refused. And he didn’t think her swollen breasts and round belly ugly, he had praised them and told her she was beautiful. Still it did not help, she still felt disgusting.

“Oh you look beautiful!”, Cindra cried in delight and Lisbet looked up to see that Igrayne had wriggled into the dress.

It fit perfectly, the heavy folds hugging her trim hips and then flowing graciously to the floor. The shining golden trim matched the colour of her hair beautifully. There was no doubt about it, Mistress Rawtharn was a talented seamstress. Perhaps when her body was back to the way it had been Lisbet would commission her to make her a dress. She still had some material. If her body ever returned to normal, she thought with a sigh.

“Oh oh, I know!”, Cindra clapped her hands in excitement, “I can put your hair up too and show you how to wear it nicely”.

“But won’t my scars show then”, Igrayne asked softly.

“Oh you poor dear heart. They are not so very bad and they are fading every day. And I promise you nobody is going to notice any scars with a body like yours poured into a dress like that”.

Lisbet felt an guilty ache for the poor girl. While her body would return to approximately its original shape, Igrayne would wear those scars for the rest of her life, “Don’t worry love, Cindra is very good at this. There’s nothing she loves better than to do someone’s hair and have a good gossip”.

“Oh well then, I guess I’ll have to be doin’ my best with the gossipin’ too then, though it’s like to be awful hard for me”, Igrayne replied with a naughty snicker.

“See Lisbet, I told you. She’ll do just fine with us. Now hold still”, she began to part Igrayne’s hair.

Lisbet leaned her head against that backboard of the bed. Perhaps she would just close her eyes for a moment…

“Come now, I’m done! Come and look at yourself in the mirror”, Cindra wrapped her arm around Igrayne’s tugging her to her feet.

She had wound Igrayne’s hair into a pretty knot, pulling her hair down to partly cover the scarred side of her face. It did not do much to hide the torn skin, but they young woman looked beautiful nonetheless. Suddenly she had transformed from a ragged, messy kitchen maid, to a distinguished lady’s maid. Once again Cindra had worked her wonders.

She planted Igrayne in front of the mirror. Lisbet saw the young girl’s look of surprise at her appearance reflected in the mirror.

“You look beautiful”, Cindra whispered.

“That’s for sure Igrayne. The menfolk aren’t going to know what’s hit them the next time you saunter by”, Lisbet called from the bed.

She could not help it, she was jealous. She couldn’t imagine men’s eyes turning to watch her anymore as her lumpy figure waddled past them, with a shrieking baby perched on her dimpled hip.

“Yes, you look simply delicious. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble attracting whichever man you want. Speaking of which, have you got your eye on anyone in particular”, she waggled her eyebrows comically, “Oh do tell Igrayne. I am simply dying to know and then I can help you catch him”.

“Oh well Yer Ladyship, I dunno… there ain’t bein’ than many men to choose from after all are there”, Igrayne replied blushing pink.

“There is someone isn’t there! Oh who is it Igrayne, you simply must tell me. And please, do call me Cindra. Your ladyship sounds so stuffy and formal”.

The door suddenly swung open and Garrick stumbled in, grumbling and rubbing his head. Lisbet could see there was a freshly bleeding cut at his hairline.

He looked up in surprise, as he noticed his room was full of women.

“Sorry ladies, I didn’t mean to disturb you”, he mumbled gruffly.

“And I’m sorry Garrick, I seem to have taken your place in the bed”, she said with a congenial smile rising to her feet.

“Come Igrayne, we should be leaving them in peace”, she leant down to pick up her sleeping daughter, “How about you bring Atholt and we continue our gossiping elsewhere and let these two have some alone time”.

She knew that Cindra and Garrick were barely speaking these days and she was desperate for her friends to be happy again. Cindra hid it well, but at moments when she though noone was looking it made Lisbet almost cry just looking at her little crumpled face.

“You kids be nice to each other”, she said and carefully shutting the door behind her.

“I can only stay for a little while today my love”, Radomir said congenially as he carefully sat on the edge of the bed, “If you are lonely I can ask one of the women to come and sit with you”.

It had only been in these last few weeks that he had finally gotten the courage to lie on the bed beside his wife again. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had the right to demand whatever he asked of her and yet he wanted to wait. What he wanted was for her to want him, but he might as well have waited forever. So finally, one day he had crept onto the bed and sat beside her. She had turned to look at him with her blank, glazed eyes but she had not protested.

It had been a few more days and he had slid across the bed, his body lying close to hers so that he could feel the heat of her fevered body pressing lightly against his side.

“Are you feeling any better today my dearest”, he asked with a brave smile knowing that he could not expect an answer but desperate to break the silence somehow. His voice sounded deep and commanding in his ears, not as gentle as he had wanted.

“I am feeling a little sick”, she replied softly, turning towards him.

His heart gave a surge of joy, his hands beginning to tremble. Her mouth was drooping sadly at the corners, her eyes staring blearily at him. But still she had answered him!

She must finally be getting better. Not only that but she did look a little better. She was finally beginning to eat again properly, gaining some weight which Goodwife Cade said was a very good sign. Her arms looked round again, so that he longed to squeeze them between his meaty hands. He could see the soft curve of her belly beneath her gown where before there had been only a concave hollow.

And she was looking at him, her eyes searchingly gazing into his own as though trying to determine what lay behind them. For the moment they seemed clear again, the haze of fever departing. He could see there was even some colour returning to her cheeks and it did not resemble the flushed red of the long nights where she had writhed in the depths of the fever.

He carefully slid his heavy body across the bed, inch by inch.

“Don’t you frighten her then” his mother’s voice whispered in his ear as they crept towards the baby deer. It was staring at him with wide dewy eyes, its gangly legs shivering, ready to take flight at any moment. Still they had crept ever close, his mother’s warm hand in his, his clumsy feet struggling to tread lightly, the leaves crackling ominously beneath them. “Let’s stop here”, she had said, but he had wanted to get closer, he was not satisfied with just watching. He wanted to touch it, to feel its soft fur beneath his hand, to feel its trembling subside under his firm strokes. He had pushed on ahead until a twig had cracked in half beneath one misplaced step and the deer had bolted hysterically into the trees.

“Can I come a little closer”, he whispered softly, but his voice was rasping in his ears, grating from somewhere on the back of his palate. He was trying to smile but he felt his ugly wide mouth curving into a sneer.

“Yes”, she breathed, a faint wheeze coming between her chattering teeth, her eyes wide and frightened.

He could see that her legs were trembling, beneath her gown.

He put his arm around her frail shoulders, pulling her body against his chest. He wrapped his thick fingers around her arm, feeling the round softness of it. God how he wanted her. It had been so very, very long. He gently kissed her face, his lips trailing down her cheek searching for her mouth. He kissed the very corner of her sad, drooping lips, reaching for her, but then she turned her face from his, her body squirming away.

He caught her firmly in his arms pulling her sharply towards him, pressing his hot wet mouth against hers. She shuddered for a moment and then froze, completely still as his lips tried to prise hers open, his tongue thrusting into an unyielding mouth. She did not move, her lips hanging open, her tongue limply retreating somewhere far back inside her mouth so that when he brushed against it, it was like touching something freshly dead.

He pulled back from her, her eyes staring blankly at his face, the life he had seen in them moments before drizzling away. Her lips were pursed so tightly they were beginning to turn white, her whole body sagging, shrinking away from his massive form.

He had done it again, stumbled onwards ever closer until what he wanted most had scrabbled desperately away from his grasping embrace.

“I should be going”, he choked, pushing himself hurriedly from the bed as she subsided into her usual position, her face blank, her hands clasped atop her stomach.

He opened the door and strode out.

He found he was not alone in the corridor. One of the guards was talking to the steward’s sister. His muscular body was looming above her as she shrank towards the wall her shoulders hunched, arms wrapped protectively around her slender waist.

“I’m really so sorry for what yew saw Lyiss”, the guard was saying, his body leaning closer as her’s flattened against the damp, swollen boards.

She was mumbling something Radomir couldn’t hear, her lips barely moving. Her mud-coloured eyes were wide and frightened, her face so pale he could see every freckle standing out.

All he could see of the guard were his broad shoulders, blocking out the young girl’s body and the grim set of his unshaven jawline.

It was obvious to him that this man was threatening the young woman somehow and it was certainly no way to behave to the sister of the King’s steward. He drew himself up to his full height, pulling his recently slumping shoulders back, setting his face into a scowl.

“What is going on here?”, he boomed.

The guard jumped startled, turning away from the girl to stare at Radomir.

“Oh… oh… nothing Yer Lordship. I was just apologising to Lyiss here for something”.

Radomir recognised him as the guard that had been injured… Hildfirth or something like it. His handsome face was marred by ugly ragged gashes zigzagging across it.

“Cornering her alone in the corridor doesn’t make it seem like the most noble of apologies. And I am not sure she is appreciating your kind words. Perhaps your actions would speak louder and you should leave her alone”.

The guard stared at him insolently, folding his arms. His face twisted into an ugly grimace, the pattern of his scars changing shape with his expression.

“Well perhaps yew should ask her what she thinks Yer Lordship, rather than sticking yer nose where it doesn’t belong”, he retorted angrily, “What do yew care anyway?”

Radomir felt the rage bubbling up inside like molten lava, threatening to burst explosively from him in the form of his fist connecting with this upstart’s nose.

He took some rapid deep breaths to try and control himself and not frighten the poor girl more than she already was. He could see her trembling from the corner of his eyes, her fingers shaking at the end of stick-like arms.

“I care because you are obviously harassing this lady with unwanted attention and she deserves better than to be hounded by an unwashed, scarred nobody like you!”

The smirk slid off the guards face like cow’s hoof jelly on a tilted plate, the skin around his scars puckering. His shoulders drooping dejectedly.

“Begging yer pardon Yer Lordship, my temper was getting the best of me”, he turned quickly to Lyiss his eyes not meeting hers, “I am very sorry”.

Then he turned on his heel and left.

Radomir was left standing alone in the corridor with Lyiss. She was staring up at him, her eyes wide and frightened, her lips pursed so tightly they were almost white. Her face was beginning to blush a furious red that hid even the darkest of her freckles and was stretching all the way down inside her bodice. The nostrils of her wide nose were flared very slightly as she sucked air in through them, not daring to open her mouth. Strands of her long, lank hair slid slowly down around her face. He stared into her eyes, noticed the golden flecks amongst the brown, like autumn leaves trampled into the mud by heavy feet.

He tried to smile kindly at her, but the corners of his mouth felt uncomfortable so that he wondered if his expression was not more a leer.

“Was he bothering you Mistress Elmvarn?”, he asked, “I can make sure it doesn’t happen again”.

She shook her head slowly, all the while staring at him, her eyes never leaving his.

Her shoulders were hunched, the entire length of her body pressing up against the wall as though she were trying to disappear into it. He recognised the action, she was trying to make herself as small as possible so as not to appear a target.

He suddenly realised he too was looming over her, his bulky body thoughtlessly leaning towards her frail one as the guard’s had.

He hurriedly stepped back, giving her some space, unable to hide his dismay.

He knew she had seen it too, her eyes were fixed on his face, watching his features curiously. He felt uncomfortable under such scrutiny, like he wanted to open the nearest door and run from her. Then he remembered his wife was waiting on the other side and her blank stare would sear his soul even deeper.

“Thank you My Lord”, she murmured, detaching herself from the wall and hurried off down the hallway, her skirts swishing around her long thin legs.

He watched as she left, her thin arms swinging awkwardly at her sides, one little, pink ear peeking out from beneath her hair.

It was a relief to be outside. The air inside the ship had been close and heavy, hanging with tension. It was too hot to work on her embroidery and definitely too hot to listen to Nyawe’s complaining. It was not that she did not pity the woman, it could not be comfortable carrying such a large belly through the hottest days of summer. It was just that she always felt that Nyawe was trying to make her jealous, rubbing her belly with a sly smile on her face and patting Lyiss’ arm and telling her in a patronising voice that she was sure Lyiss would find a husband too.

And then there were the times when her brother would come into the room and Nyawe would try to touch him or kiss him. It was so awkward to watch his body cringing away from her pawing hands, his face flushed with embarrassment. She knew that it mirrored hers as she gazed down at the tiny flowers she was stitching, feeling the thread catch as she yanked it through the material. At these moments she wished fervently she was anywhere else. She would often stumble from the room with a muttered excuse of going to check on the Crown Prince. But today the Queen had been playing with Kendrick so she had gratefully left to take a walk.

She felt sticky and hot, her dress clinging to her damp skin, her hair hanging limply against her flushed face. And she felt miserable. Every day as she watched Nyawe’s belly swelling beneath her gown she was reminded of what was lacking in her own life. She rounded the corner, running her hand against the rough underside of the ship, sharp ridges of barnacles scratching the soft skin of her fingers. If only she could…

Her mouth dropped open in shock, her cheeks burning hot at what she saw before her. A group of the guards and the ships crew had stripped off to take a swim in the cool sea water.

Lyiss froze, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight before her. They were edging their way gingerly into the foaming waves, the cool waves lapping at their naked calves.

Lyiss’ eyes were drawn inexorably to Kelgar’s body as he carefully waded into the water. His body was lean and muscular, his chest covered in dark hair that continued down his belly. Her eyes followed the line down as it trailed over his flat stomach, below his belly button and down to…

She suppressed a gasp of surprise at what she saw. Somehow she had never imagined… that! It hung lazily between his legs nestled amongst a patch of thick dark hair, somehow powerful and frightening even in repose. Was that really what all men looked like beneath their clothes! Her brother! Nyawe had told her many things she did not want to hear but she had never mentioned this.

No, perhaps there was just something wrong with Kelgar. Her eyes darted to the other men to check whether they possessed something similar but their lean bodies were already streaking through the water.

Lyiss knew she should turn around and leave, they hadn’t seen her. It had been an honest mistake. But somehow she couldn’t, leaning her flushed cheek against the cool water-soaked wood of the hull. The waves spattered hundreds of tiny droplets into the air where they hung for long moments, diffracting the sun’s warm rays in flickers of rainbow. She watched as strong shoulders sliced through the waves sending up large splashes, as muscular backs surfaced occasionally from the water’s foamy midst.

She watched curiously as the first mate emerged from the water, his dark body streaming water, his long black hair clinging to his face and coiling down his shoulders. She quickly glanced down and noted something quite similar to what was dangling between Kelgar’s legs. She had always been a little frightened of him and his sister. Nyawe had told her that they came from the Southern continent, further than she could imagine. His sister, Lekha, the Captain’s wife kept mostly to herself and most of the other ladies did not seem to mind, finding her presence rather awkward.

Then he looked up and his liquid brown eyes met hers.

“Oh… look like we have someone who peek at us”, he purred with his thick accent.

The ship’s Captain grunted disinterestedly and flopped down onto the sand.

Lyiss stared in horror, not knowing what to say as the ship’s mates eyes raked up and down her body.

“She shouldn’t watch. Bad girl”, he shook his finger at her with a smirk, “Perhaps she want to join. The day is heated and her clothes are warm”.

“Oh… oh no please”, Lyiss gasped, “I didn’t mean to… I was just walking… and… oh”.

She was panicking, her face so flushed and red she thought it would burst into flames. The heat was rising off the sand and rushing over her body in waves, her heart beating rapidly. She was beginning to grow faint, the edges of her vision blurring, her ears ringing.

“What you think friend Kelgar?”, he asked with a catlike grin, showing rows of pointy white teeth.

Kelgar was just emerging from the water and had not yet noticed Lyiss.

“What’s that Mahavir? Oh God Lyiss!!”, he looked over at her in stark horror and then his hands flew down to his crotch desperately trying to cover his nakedness.

Lyiss was frozen to the spot as surely as if the gritty sand beneath her feet was sucking her slowly down, the small particles tumbling against one another her weight pulling her lower until her legs were held fast. All she could do was gape in dismay watching Kelgar’s face turn as red as she knew her’s was. A broad flush was spreading from his cheeks, down the thick corded muscles of his neck and even as far as the top of his hairy chest.

“Mahavir… for God’s sake man! Cover yourself”, he snapped from his crouched position.

“I have no thing to be ashamed from. Only body that by the God’s graces I have been gave. It would shame me to cover myself”, he replied with a grin, still gazing boldly at Lyiss.

“Come back in the water with me then… leave the poor girl alone”, Kelgar pleaded inching his way back towards the relative safety of the water.

“I’m sorry Lyiss”, he yelped, not daring to meet her eyes and then he dove for the water.

“You no want a swim girl”, Mahavir asked again in his broken English his voice soft, “My wife, she did sometimes come. She no ashamed”.

“No… oh no… oh dear I’m very sorry”, Lyiss cried, her lips caught between her clattering teeth so that she could taste blood.

She heard the rustling behind her, the crunching of tiny pieces of shell and rock beneath sure feet. Lekha, the Captain’s wife strode along the sands toward her. She came to stand between Lyiss’ trembling body and those of the naked men. Her thick dark gown hung heavily from her body, not stirring in the hot breeze that was playing at the hem of Lyiss’ dress. Her head was covered with a shawl of the same intricately woven material, every strand of hair carefully tucked away so that it was difficult to imagine she even had any. Only her brows curved thickly above her dark heavy-lidded eyes.

Despite the heat and her heavy robes there was not a drop of sweat on her brow. Lyiss felt damp all over, her dress clinging unpleasantly to her hot skin, tiny droplets rolling from the back of her neck and down inside her bodice.

“What is going on here?”, she snapped, the corners of her mouth sourly turning down.

Lyiss hung her head in shame.

The Captain hoisted himself to his feet, his bearlike body stalking over to where they stood.

Lyiss dared not look up, terrified to see more, especially with the man’s own wife standing before her.

Lekha crossed her arms and stared angrily at him.

“Hallo wife!”, he boomed, “Come to see your dear husband then. Perhaps you too wanted to strip off and come for a swim, the steward’s young sister here was thinking of it”.

Lekha bristled, “You would have me take off my clothes and show my self to your friends?”.

“My hair!”, she spat, “They are not fit even to gaze on the boots I walk the earth with yet you say these bad things. Perhaps you also shall not be allowed to see”.

Rasmus replied with a great booming laugh, his eyes lighting up with mirth, the scar that ran down over his left eye pulling tight, “Oh wife, you cause me great mirth. It was only being a joke is all. I would not share a woman like you with the very best of friends”.

He thought for a moment and then laughed even louder, “Particularly since the best of my friends is being your own brother!”.

“My brother!”, she hissed, “Mahavir, have you no shame?

She spat out a string of words that Lyiss did not understand but which did not sound flattering. Mahavir did not answer, looking into the distance with his hands planted insolently on his bare hips.

“We meant no harm wife, Mahavir was just having some fun with the girl is all. It would have gone no further. Perhaps you should be asking her why she was staring at us in the first place. I think she was liking what she saw here”.

Lyiss cringed in humiliation tears filling her eyes and threatening to run down her cheeks, “No I…”

“Come now”, Lekha said, gripping her arm firmly, “They are not fit for tears of you. You will walk with me and we walk the other way”.

They trod carefully along the hot sand away from the men. Lyiss could feel tiny grains of sand working their way inside her boots, scratching at her feet.

“I am sorry for what you see. My husband and brother have not been kind”.

“It’s just I…”, her face flushing red again, “I never expected it would look like that“.

“No woman ever does think it look that way. Best you forgot and not worry about it until you have no other choice”.

“I’ve got to be thankin’ yew that much fer comin’ to see us Hepsie, we’ve been that worried over this I’ve been barely sleepin’”, Darina’s voice grated like the spinning wheel clicking rapidly between her legs.

Engin was well and truly sick of the creaking sound that damned contraption made. Lord knows Darina was at day and night, the wheel endlessly turning, her nimble fingers pulling the thread through with an soft, dusty dragging sound that made the hairs on the back of Engin’s neck stand on end. He was actually glad to get outside collecting the meager harvest they managed to get planted before it turned cold last year. Anything to get away from that confounded noise.

“Oh Darina! It’s bein’ no trouble at all. To tell yew the honest truth I’m just glad to get a bit of walk outside, I’ve been feelin’ that cooped up and Juzzy is watching Thaell for a few hours”.

Hepsie was glowing, her smile as genuine as it had ever been but perhaps a touch more radiant. Motherhood definitely suited her. Engin remembered the weeks after Aisling was born, Darina pale and wan, snapping at him from between thin lips. When she had finally let him bed her again, the skin on her belly had been stretched and flaccid, her breasts leaking milk.

He could see that Hepsie’s belly was still swollen but he thought the gentle rolls would be firm if one ran their hand along them. He could always ask Steen but he didn’t think the lad would be impressed. There were some men you could discuss these things with and some you simply couldn’t. Hepsie certainly had more energy than Darina had, had for months after. Though, Darina had eventually gotten it back. Unfortunately most of it was expended making dresses for the ladies and not nearly enough on being a good wife to him.

“Well then dearie… let me just be takin’ a little look at those ears of yers then”, Hepsie crooned reaching her hands out towards the small girl.

Aisling whined and clung to Engin’s arm, pushing herself away from Hepsie’s searching hands.

“Come on then love… it won’t be hurtin’. Hepsie just wants to be takin’ a little look”, Engin tried to pry Aisling from his arms but to no avail. She squealed and clung still tighter.

“Aisling love! Yer alright… she won’t hurt yew!”, Engin chuckled.

But Aisling was not deterred and she clung to him tightly with tiny bunched up fists and then, with a tearful sniff, buried her damp face in the crook of his neck.

He wrapped his arms protectively around her, stroking the soft hair on her head with his big, calloused hands. He had never felt anything like the downy hair that grew in patches, blonde as his own, on the crown of her head. She loved to be held like this, safe against his chest she would rub her nose sleepily against his stubbled cheek. Then he would kiss her, all over her face and neck, the warm scent of her baby skin in his nose. She was beautiful. His little girl. His Aisling.

And she loved him like no one ever had. He knew that Darina had some sort of love for him, in her own shrewish way but it was not like the soft innocent love of Aisling with her patting hands and her occasional careful smiles. She always clung to him when he had to leave, big tears rolling silently down her trembling cheeks.

“Sorry Hepsie… she’s bein a shy little thing she is”, he laughed as Aisling buried her face deeper beneath his hair. Her warm breath was tickling his neck, her hand tugging gently at his beard.

“Oh… it’s bein’ no problem Engin. I wonder whether Thaell is shy. I guess he’s still at the lyin’ about and lookin’ at nothin’ in particular stage. Though I tell yew, he’s certainly not shy about askin’ fer milk that’s fer sure”, Hepsie replied with a warm smile.

“Stop, foolin’ around Engin and let Hepsie be seein’ those ears”, Darina snapped from behind him.

“Alright love, hold yer horses”, he replied, prying Aisling’s hands from his neck and beard and holding her out so she faced him.

“Come on now Aisling, love. Hepsie just wants to be takin’ a little look an’ then yew can go back to yer hidin’. How does that sound? Will yew be good fer yer old Da?”, he asked with a gentle laugh.

Aisling replied with one her rare smiles. It had only been recently that she had learned, one day as he gazed down at her in her crib with what was possibly the most goofy grin a man had ever had the occasion to smile. She had blinked up at him and then smiled shyly. It was god’s own grace that she hadn’t copied his stupid smile, he wasn’t sure she would impress the boy’s much with that one. His heart gave a jealous ache at the though of boy’s and men in his little daughter’s future. He would worry about that later. For now he would be the only man she loved and that was the way he wanted it to stay.

“Well Darina, yew weren’t wrong. They are bein’ rather pointy aren’t they”, Hesie said, examing the tips of Aisling’s ears as she squirmed in her father’s arms.

“I haven’t been seein’ that before but Lord know I haven’ got as much experience yet as me old ma. But I shouldn’t think it’s anythin’ to be worryin’ yerself about. They’ll probably be growin’ rounder as she gets older. She’s bein’ perfectly healthy an’ normal”.

“Perhaps those old rumours about there bein’ fae blood in yer family are bein true after all Darina”, Engin teased with a wide grin at Hepsie.

“Don’t yew ever be sayin’ that Engin damn yew!”, Darina snarled the wheel grinding to a halt with a squeal of protest.

Engin turned in suprise,shocked by the ferocity of her tone.

“Yew don’t know what they been doin’ to my cousin Mable. She was bein’ born with ears like those”, Darina sighed heavily, her face pale through the haze of tiny dust particles that spun slowly in the filtered rays of summer light.

Her shoulders drooped as she continued, “But I seen what they done. She was bein’ the shame of the family. Them scars never did heal properly”.

His baby’s beautiful ears! He hadn’t thought anyone could be cruel to her because of them. He hugged her warm, heavy body closer to his chest, “But her ears are bein’ beautiful Darina… just beautiful like all the rest of her. An’ we ain’t ashamed… well at least I sure as hell ain’t. There the best damn ears I’ve ever seen that’s fer sure.

“People wouldn’ be hurtin’ her would they?”, he choked, the last sentence catching in his throat which was rapidly closing. He swallowed loudly.

“Don’t yew be swearin’ Engin. An’ don’t yew have anythin’ better to do than be standin’ around here. Get yerself outside an’ see to those crops!”, Darina’s voice was hard but Engin thought he detected something wavering beneath and it was this that made him answer kindly.

“Alright love, I’m a goin’. I know when I’m not bein’ wanted. ‘Cept perraps by yew little one… yer goin’ to have to be lettin’ go now”.

Aisling whined, desperately trying to cling to his tunic as he set her down on the floor.

“Yew shuffle over an’ give yer old ma a cuddle then. She be sore needin’ one”, he winked at Darina who scowled back at him.

“Now don’t yew too be worryin’ yerselves”, Hepsie said with a reassuring smile, “It’s a good bunch of folk we got ourselves stuck with on this here island an’ no one would hurt her that’s bein’ fer sure. yew really needn’t be worryin’”.

“Thanks fer droppin’ by Hepsie. It’s was bein’ awful kind of yew, ’specially with yer little ‘un waitin’ at home. I know how difficult it’s bein’ to leave ‘em behind”, he grinned down at Aisling who was sitting dejectedly on the packed clay floor, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh no Engin, it’s really bein’ no trouble at all”, Hepsie replied, ” I should probably be headin’ off though”.

“Oh Hepsie no!”, Darina interrupted, “Yew must be sittin’ down fer a cold drink while be tellin’ yew who the Baroness comissioned me to work on a dress fer. Yew’ll never be guessin. It think it’s bein’ a terrible idea myself but yew know these noble folk…”

“Alright then, but just for a little while”, Hepsie replied, lowering herself into a chair as Darina began to prattle.

Engin could hear them gossiping as he strode through the door into the hot summer sun.

“Isn’t he amazing?”, Madlenka sighed happily as she gazed down at her son’s sleeping form.

“He is the most perfect prince that ever was”, Eallair replied expansively, a tender smile on his face.

“I just can’t believe we made him”, she murmured.

“It does boggle the mind doesn’t it”, Eallair chuckled.

“Really, I think I could just look at him all day long”.

Kendrick stirred in his sleep with a sigh, eyelashes fluttering and rows of chubby fingers twitching as they reached for some invisible treat. He had finally collapsed onto the plush rug, exhausted from a tiring day of trying to master the art of sitting up. This he had not yet managed alone, plummeting face first towards the mercifully soft rug with its bounteous golden flowers and twisting vines, more times than could be counted on both fingers and toes. Eallair had confessed that his hands ached from the clinging of tiny, but strong sausage-like fingers, that had held on for dear life as the tiny prince swayed from side to side trying desperately to keep his balance.

His chest rose and fell, mouth slightly open as Eallair’s was when he slept. One hand was perched haphazardly on his round little belly, leaving a track in the folds of his velvety tunic as with each breath it slid closer to the floor.

“He looks like you when you sleep”, Ellair crowed, “He has your pouty little mouth”.

“I was just thinking the same thing, but it was the way his mouth hangs open that I was thinking of”, she giggled, “Although at least he doesn’t snore like you”.

“I don’t snore!”, Eallair cried in mock-outrage.

He thought for a minute, “Do I?”

“Yes but I still love you”, she giggled.

“Well at least he doesn’t make little snuffly noises like you do”, he glanced sideways at her, his lips trying not to curl up into a smile.

“I do not!”, she cried with a laugh.

A sighing snuffle came from the prostrate figure at their feet.

“Or maybe I was wrong”, Eallair chuckled, “guess he takes after his mother”.

“Better a snuffle than a snore!”, Madlenka scolded.

“That my dear Maddy, is very very true”, he wrapped an arm cosily around her shoulders pulling her against him.

“Oh Mads, I believe he is the best thing I have ever done”, Eallair sighed, “And I, a King. Let us hope he is a far better man than his father”.

She crept into his lap wrapping her arms around his drooping shoulders, “Eallair, don’t say things like that. You are the very best of men”.

“Oh love, I know you think so and it is kind of you to say, but I know that I am not”, he replied with a wry smile.

Madlenka knew that while Eallair was a good man he was not a good ruler. He fumbled and faltered at the worst of moments, his lack of confidence becoming more and more apparent to his subjects with each awkward hour he spent sitting on his throne. She knew that it had been even harder for him since she had given birth to Kendrick. She was no longer at his side all day long, watching and listening so she could advise him in the evenings.

Eallair had never been meant to rule but she had. She was born to be a Queen. And to think of the tantrum she had thrown when her father told her she was to marry the third son of the King of Branwhuld. The third son! She who had been prepared her whole life for something grander, to be shipped off to such a life at the request of her stepmother. A woman barely older than herself! It had not sat well, and all the long journey she had alternated between sobbing into Nyawe’s hair and raging between clenched teeth at the unfairness of her life.

And then she had pulled aside the curtains of the litter and he had been standing there, his mustache tickling the edges of a wide grin.

“You must be Madlenka”, he had said cheerfully with a bow, “but I was sort of hoping I could call you Maddy. Would you mind awfully”.

She had been so surprised she had simply nodded as his warm, strong hand had reached up to help her down from the litter and into her new life. From that day onwards she had never once regretted being sent to marry only the third son.

And now she was a Queen but it was no longer what she desired.

“I just, wish he had let me come along too”, Eallair pouted.

Lochan had led a group of men out to search the ruined church many hours ago. The Duke had done all but demand Eallair remain behind, he was the last of the bloodline and so on and therefore he must not endanger himself.

Madlenka had not pointed out that Eallair was the King and so he could choose for himself and did not have to listen to Lochan’s demands. It was selfish but she was frightened for him and she did not want him to go. And so, Madlenka of Lomorrad, raised to rule had behaved in a manner that did not befit a Queen. But she did not care, she thought recklessly. That Eallair lived mattered more to her than anything else, much more than the struggling remains of the Kingdom of Branwhuld.

“What if something terrible has happened? What if they have been attacked?”

“I’m sure they are fine my love, Lochan is a very capable commander and he has good men with him. They will be fine”.

He sighed mournfully, his mustache drooping with corners of his mouth.

“Perhaps I can distract”, she said with a wicked grin and then lunged towards him, her lips finding the sensitive part of his neck. She nipped at the warm skin there, her hot breath teasing up little goosebumps were it went.

“Maddy, oh Maddy don’t… oh you know how it tickles when you do that. Oh stop… oh”, his laughter became a moan as her mouth moved down to his collarbone and her hand found its way between his legs.

“Maddy…”, his whispered hoarsely, tipping her back and kissing her hard, as he gathered her into his arms, his body pressing her against the soft cushions of the seat.

The scratchy material of his tunic rubbed against the tops of her breasts illicting a moan as his hand slid up beneath her dress.

There was a tap at that door and then heavy footsteps behind the screen that separated the room.

She leapt off Eallair’s lap, struggling into a sitting position as she hastily straightened her dress.

Lochan strode around the corner. The King’s steward was busy writing up the year’s grain budget and so there had been no one to announce his entrance.

Madlenka smiled at him trying to look nonchalant. She felt Eallair’s body tensed beside her and wondered if Lochan noticed the fierce blush spreading across her face and probably forming splotches all the way down her neck.

By the disgusted look on his face she rather thought he had.

The Lochan of old would have made a joke or some sarcastic comment but this Lochan merely stood, staring at them with disapproval.

She supposed that flirting with your wife while one’s subjects were on a dangerous mission was not exactly the behavior of a good King.

“Lochan…”, Eallair squeaked, scrambling to his feet.

“Your highness”, Lochan drawled, his tone scathing.

“Is everyone alright? No one hurt?”

“Yes everyone is fine. We searched the whole place and the surroundings from top to bottom. We couldn’t find any sign of them. Nothing”, his voice was sour and flat, “Not a damn thing”.

There was a stirring at the hem of her gown and a small snuffle. Kendrick looked up, his eyes blinking sleepily. He let out a small whimper at suddenly being surrounded by big boots and tall people and tried to push himself up into a sitting position.

“Well hello then young fellow”, Lochan said with a softer tone, “You look very tired”.

“Yes he has been falling on his face all day long”, Madlenka said, bending down to scoop him into her arms.

“Trying to sit up”, Eallair explained hastily.

“I see”, Lochan said, the bitter edge returning to his voice, “There is something else too. We found a book.”

“A book? What kind of book? Where?”

“At the church, shoved into a crack in the wall behind where the altar must have sat. It seems to be a daily journal but it is difficult to tell since it has been so damaged by the weather. Perhaps it can prove some use though. I have enlisted Father Harndall to help me in deciphering what we can”.

Kendrick had begun to squirm in Madlenka’s arms whimpering as his little legs kicked uselessly against her waist.

“What is it my little man”, she gazed at his face noting a pouting lip that was trembling and eyes that were beginning to fill with tears.

She stroked the soft, downy hair on the back of his head. It had begun to grow in the last months but there was a bald patch at the back where his sleepy head rubbed against the bedspread each night.

“Still tired?”

He whined sulkily, wriggling in her arms, the floods of tears threatening to burst free at any moment.

“I’d better feed him and put him to bed”, she said, crossing over to where Eallair stood.

“I’ll see you later then”, Eallair said, reaching out to gently stroke her waist through the folds of clothing, the heat of his gaze on her face.

“Good evening Lochan”.

“Good evening Your Highness”.

She sidled from the room, Kendrick burying his wet face in her hair as he clutched at it with his stumpy fingers. She could still listen to what they said from the next room. Then perhaps, when Eallair came to their bed she could be his Queen once more and advise him.