A Wintertide Spell (2 page)

“Of course not. Women’s bodies are
made to have babies.” The Queen finished shedding her skirts and held out her
arms. Calypso ran into them for a hug, joined by Susannah. “Healer Naudo will
be with me every moment.”

“Will Suze and I have babies?”
Calypso asked.

“Only when you are much older. And
married.” She kissed the children’s cheeks and smiled tightly as a
purple-frocked maid burst through the chamber door. “Go with Evette. Mama needs
to rest.”

Reassured, her daughters left with
the maid, with the promise they could play “Who Shall Be Queen?” on the thrones
in the receiving room.

“I told you not to go shopping,” Binny
nagged her again as soon as they were alone. “You don’t have to do everything
yourself anymore. You are the Queen. You have servants.”

“I like to do things myself.” She
breathed deeply as another pain hit her. This babe was coming fast, and all the
stalking she’d done today had doubtless accelerated matters.

Another ill to lay at her husband’s
door, should he ever deign to walk through it.

“This is what happens when you do
too much.” The nurse bagged the soiled garments and helped Geneva into soft,
absorbent pantaloons, pantaloons she wished she’d worn today before haring off
on her angry mission. “I hope you weren’t anywhere near a stables when your
pains began. The babe will look like a horse.”

“I don’t believe in superstition,” Geneva
gritted out.

Binny snorted. “It’s not
superstition if it’s magic. Will it be a bath or the birthing chair?”

“Just the chair, I think. I may be
too far gone for the bath.” In a clean pink nightrail, she paced to the window
that overlooked the courtyard. She stared through grey skies toward the city,
where her husband even now might be bedding his new lady. Frolicking,
lovemaking, while his wife endured labor pangs with a side dish of heartbreak.
“Ring and see if he has returned.”

“He hasn’t, or he’d be here.” Binny
clutched Geneva’s hands as another pain nearly doubled her. “I’m sure he planned
to be back before the feast.”

“That might be too late.” The feast
wasn’t due to begin for several hours. “Have them send out location spells.”

“Are you sure?” Binny asked. “They
don’t come cheap.”

“I  know.” That, and privacy, were
why she hadn’t been able to use them to track him in the first place. “Do it
anyway.”

She could wring Reginald’s neck for
putting her in this position. She didn’t want the staff to know there were
problems with the royal couple. The kingdom was in enough of an uproar as the
fall-out from the Female Curse trickled down. They owed it to their citizens to
present a calm and competent face to the world. It was their job. Their duty.
Just as it was her duty to endure, somehow, her husband’s christening gift and
its consequences.

She’d known he was to love thirteen
women when she married him. Was it his fault that he’d merely succumbed to his
fate at last? Perhaps not. But he should fight it. He should have found a way.
For her. For their children. For Foresta.

Why the fairies claimed the gifts
were always for the best, she had no idea. That was why, when Malady placed a
nasty christening curse on baby Susannah, Geneva had had enough. She’d
pressured Reginald, who’d pressured the Emperor, to ban Malady from the human
lands. To prevent her from yoking any more babes to horrid fates like adultery
and sadness.

The other twelve kings had been
eager to join in the ban, for Malady had long been a pestilence. In fact,
shortly before Susannah had been born, Malady had treated the Emperor’s new son
to body odor, of all things. It was ridiculous to claim body odor would ever
help the poor boy in the future.

As with so many things related to
the fairies, Malady had had the last laugh. She’d shown up uninvited for the
ceremony and finished laying her Female Curse before the Emperor had ratified
the ban. So far the nobility had experienced five years of female babies. Some had
attempted trickery—fairy bribes, rituals, passing commoners’ boy children off
as their own--but the Female Curse had held true.

Daughters were no burden, but a
lack of sons to inherit would eventually cause such chaos, the Middle Kingdoms’
very existence would be in jeopardy.

Geneva rested her flushed cheek
against the window. The double paned glass was the only thing between her and
the snow that had begun to fall. The fine, powdery flakes sparkled when light
hit them. Another contraction preceded another trickle of hot liquid between
her legs. And she felt the urge to push begin to build inside her like rage.

Where was he? How could he leave
her?

“Binny,” she said, her heart
resigned, “the babe will wait no longer. She’s impatient.”

“And he’s not here.” The old nurse
tsked and fretted. “He knew how close you were to your time. Had no business
traipsing off like this, no more than you did, missy. Both of you, I swan.
You’ve learned your lesson, I daresay, but I’ll shake a knot in that boy’s
tail, I will.”

“He is your King, not your charge.”
She grunted as a second pain struck her, and her belly hardened like iron.

“I nursed him when his dear mother
passed. I changed his diapers and taught him to piddle in the potty. I stood
beside him when he was crowned, and I helped him find the perfect Queen.
Believe me when I say I can and will shake a knot in his tail.”

“Then a knot he shall have. I
shan’t stop you.” Everything Binny said was true, but not even she could thwart
a christening curse. Thirteen women would the King love. She supposed she
should be thankful she’d had several years of devotion before his curse
engulfed him.

But oh, how she loved him. His charm
and his generosity and the care with which he treated his subjects. His strong
arms and his twinkling eyes and the way he gazed at her as if she alone was all
he needed to keep from straying. Her heart beat only for him, her children and
her duty to her kingdom. He claimed to love her as well. Had claimed it first,
in fact.

Until last month, she’d believed
it.

Even though her life was in
turmoil, even though labor pangs struck at her like curses, Geneva allowed
herself the brief, vicious satisfaction that Malady had been banned. Fairies
longed for human gold but couldn’t mine or work it themselves. Bargaining with
humans was their only way to lay hands on the substance they craved.

Now Malady had none and no way to
get more. No way to trade for it, no way to come into the human lands and get
it. And she, Geneva of Foresta, the Queen of the smallest of all the Middle
Kingdoms, had shaped this thing to punish the wickedest of fairies.

It was worth it. It had to be worth
it. No matter what happened in the future, to her dear little Susannah with her
own burdensome curse. Malady had finally been banished.

But then waves of serious labor
crashed into her, and she could think of nothing but the hard road that lay
ahead, the road she was to walk without her husband at her side.

Chapter 3

King Reginald was feeling
munificent after the success of his liaison. In a jolly, bartering mood, he
inspected the merchandise of the Dandy Fairy Pawn Shop before heading home.
Wintertide was tomorrow, and if there was one thing he loved, it was the
excitement on the faces of his ladies, both big and small, when they opened
their gifts under the evergreen tree.

To tell the truth, there were many
things Reginald loved, but bringing joy to women was one of his chief
pleasures.

Yet to his surprise, the
proprietor, who’d been so helpful until now, tried to talk him out of the
dainty magic flutes.

“The princesses already have flutes,”
said the old man, who looked human but wasn’t. “Your wife bought them today.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Reginald
laughed at the thought of Geneva doing anything as idiotic as tromping about
town this close to her confinement. Of the two of them, he was by far the more
foolish one, and he wasn’t exactly known for poor choices. The broadsheets had
begun to refer to him King Reginald the Just, for the growing accomplishments
of his Justice Chambers.

He was often right. This meant his
lovely Geneva was
never
wrong. It was sometimes annoying, but that was
the way of it.

But something niggled at him. His
wife was right. Normal. He enjoyed buying presents. Normal. Ah. The fairy had
said the princesses had flutes, which meant he must have recognized Reginald,
even in his huntsman disguise.

Which meant he’d known who Reginald
was, all this time, through all these dealings.

Interesting. And a bit unsettling.

Before he could question the man, a
marble of light pinged through the door and zipped up to the King. It began to
whistle.

The proprietor cursed and slapped
it out of the air with an agility that seemed impossible at his age. But then,
he was a fairy.

Reginald backed away from the
entrance. “What was that?”

“Location spell, cued to you. We
can’t have them finding you in my shop with the necklace in your possession.”
The oldster jabbed a wand Reginald hadn’t seen him grab, and the secret door
cracked open behind the counter. “Quick, hide in the back room. Don’t make a
peep.”

Before Reginald could leap over the
counter, the location spell was followed by a castle guard. Instead of
attacking anyone, the young man screeched something frantic about the Queen.

Reginald felt his heart stop in his
chest before it increased to double time. “What about my wife?”

“Your Highness, you’re needed at
the castle. The babe comes,” the young man gasped out.

 The old fairy slammed the hidden
door and swiped his mouth with a hand that shook slightly. “Jumping Jack Gilly frogs,
I thought it was the FAE for sure.” He bagged the flute for the King. “Take it.
In fact, take three. You’ll need multiples.”

“Thank you.” Reginald accepted the
sack and patted the treasure in his coat pocket. The excitement and tension of
a birthing begin to energize him. A baby. Another precious baby, and this one
an unusually special child.

“Best hurry,” the proprietor said.
“The timing is crucial.”

“Wish me luck,” he replied,
although he was confident he didn’t need it.

For Reginald had a secret, a secret
he hadn’t told anyone, not even Geneva. All right, perhaps he’d discussed it in
general terms with his eldest daughter, but Susannah was five. She couldn’t
possibly understand the ramifications of what he’d done. He just loved the way
her wee forehead scrunched up when she concentrated, the solemn questions she
asked as she considered everything he said.

Just like her mother. Susannah was
going to make somebody a heck of a Queen some day. Too bad it wouldn’t be his
kingdom, because his son would inherit that.

Chapter 4

“Off with his head!” screeched the
laboring Queen when her errant husband finally showed his face in the birthing
chamber.

She would have grabbed her rapier
and chopped his fake smile and big fuzzy head off herself if another
contraction hadn’t hit her the moment she tried to stand.

“I want the pain spell,” she
snarled at the slender court healer in his plain, red tunic and trousers.
“Now.”

“It’s too soon. It will slow your
labor.” Naudo eased her back into the padded birthing chair, Binny clucking and
smoothing the strands of blond hair that had come loose from Geneva’s tight
queue. “I must warn you, emotional upset will also make the birthing more difficult.”

“Tell that to him.” Geneva groaned
and pointed a trembling finger at Reginald, who had the good grace to look
ashamed of his tardiness. Not to mention the fact he’d been tupping some other
woman instead of holding his wife’s hand and bathing her brow. He hadn’t left
her side for one minute during the first two princesses’ births, and she felt
betrayed for many reasons.

So many, many reasons.

“My dear,” her husband said
hesitantly, “I have a gift for you.”

“I’ve got something for you, too,”
she snapped at him when she could vocalize without screaming. She shoved her
heels into the stirrups of the chair and straightened, her hands gripping the
blue linen that modestly covered her belly and thighs. “Come over here and get
it.”

If she pulled hard enough, she
could rip the linen. She was sure of it. She’d seen Binny make bandages out of
it for the stillroom. Then she could strangle him with the rope.

“Er.” Reginald retrieved something
small from his waistcoat pocket. “Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

“This is not funny, Reginald.” She shoved
aside the cool rag Binny was using to wipe her forehead. “I’ve been here alone
for hours and hours. And Naudo won’t give me the pain spell.”

“You’re not alone,” the healer
pointed out, the bright fairy lights in the birthing chamber gleaming off his
bald, brown pate. “We would never leave you alone. And you’re not ready for the
pain spell. You’ll need it more later.”

She ignored the one man to focus on
the other. “Reginald, where have you been? You almost missed the baby’s
crowning.”

His eyes widened, and he paled.
“We’re that close? You aren’t just angry at me?”

“Yes, we’re that close, you
bastard.”

“But the girls took hours.”

“This one’s different. She’s fast.”
Of course he hadn’t answered her question. He’d never confess his sins in front
of the nurse, the healer, the assistant healer, the assistant nurse and
everyone else in the birthing room at the current time.

He might not even confess them to
her. That was why she needed proof, so he could be punished. With rapiers.
Wielded by her. Reginald the Just would meet her justice.

He hurried to her side. “My dear,
this isn’t like you.”