Sisters Three (Completed)

34. Morna

Somehow the bombing did something that her sister couldn't do, and that was to drag Morna firmly from the haze and fog of her grief into the reality of their situation. With Robbin ordering all those involved to be caught and punished, and the rest of the mob having been broken up by armed guards on the night of the incident, Morna could no longer hide in her own mind. This would have been her country had things gone differently, and she still felt partially responsible for not only the citizens but her sister and brother-in-law as well. They were only on the throne because Afton was not and that did not give the mob a reason to try and attack the palace.

As it was, they'd attended the funeral of five guards killed on that night trying to quell the mob, and Morna had faced the graves in the Latterstill monastery's graveyard with as much strength as she could muster. Wives and mothers had wept and Morna kept her mind from straying to the last cemetery she'd been in. Then the service was over and they went home, and Robbin called in his generals to discuss what to do about the unrest in the city.

That left Morna on her own to wander the castle, finally taking in the massive and ancient building they'd now call home.

There was no way that anyone could fully discover every corner and room in the Anjeluund seat of power, but Morna thoroughly explored the section by her bedroom. The maids, at first, would snap to attention and curtsey at the entrance of the queen's sister, but as Morna barged in on them cleaning guest rooms more and more often, they soon grew used to her presence and greeted her with smiles and a bit of gossip. The guards never quite lost the habit of bowing, but they too began to talk to her with ease and warmth. She felt more comfortable with them than trying to fit in with Brenna and her ladies. They always talked in sober tones of the unrest, kitted out in perfect dresses in a perfect parlor, all staring at Brenna as if she might give them something. It stifled Morna, and she found comfort in the simple ways of the servants and guards. They reminded her of her old nurse, and that felt more like home than anything in this palace.

At the moment, Morna wandered into one of the unused studies and lifted a hand to wave at the two maids who made sure everything stayed clean and tidy in the event of a guest being assigned to the room at short notice. They looked up and smiled, the younger one hopping to her feet and rushing to take Morna's hands.

"How are you today, Lady Morna?" she asked, her red cheeks shining with her mirth. Morna couldn't help but smile back at the fresh young face before her. The girl was not even into womanhood yet, and she exuded innocence. Morna ran a hand over the girl's tight braids.

"I'm doing well, thank you, Liddy," she said.

"You look a mite pale, miss. Maybe you should sit," Liddy said, bringing Morna to one of the hard chairs that stood in front of the massive desk that stood as centerpiece to the room. A dustcover obscured the embroidery, but Morna was certain that it probably cost more than the dress she was wearing.

The other maid, finishing with polishing a statuette, half-turned to get a glance at Morna. "Aye, you do look peaky, ma'am. Are you feeling ill?"

Morna shook her head. "Only a bit tired." An understatement, as she'd been feeling so sluggish and sleepy that some days she contemplated just sleeping through the whole thing. Also unadded was the fact that she'd been vomiting up everything she ate for the past few weeks. However, she tried to keep the true nature of her sickness to herself, not wanting to worry Brenna and Robbin when they already had much more to worry about.

Liddy nodded sagely and patted Morna's hand as if she were an old wisewoman. "My mother has the same thing happen to her when she's in that way."

Morna frowned. "Your mother has the same malady?"

Liddy laughed and shook her head. "No, no, not now, thank goodness. Will was the last, and so far it looks as if he'll remain the last."

Perhaps it was the tiredness impeding her mind, or maybe Liddy wasn't quite sure what 'malady' meant, but Morna wasn't understanding what the conversation had suddenly turned to. "I'm sorry, Liddy, but you're not making sense. Your brother is sick now, as well?"

"No!" Liddy's eyebrows drew together but she kept her smile. She looked just as confused as Morna. "I'm talking about the baby."

Morna shook her head, still not following.

"Well, it's true isn't it?" Liddy asked, the first seeds of uncertainty over her own words crossing her face. "We heard rumors that you were expecting a child. The physicians in the city said that it must be the cause for your lethargy and illness, and Queen Brenna seemed convinced when your maid back in the countryside—"

"What." All the air left Morna's lungs, leaving her emptied and struggling to breathe.

The other maid approached, her brow creased. "The attack on the castle the night of the coronation was about the baby. The true heir. Did no one tell you what they wanted?"

Morna shook her head slowly, her vision blurring around the edges. "I think I need to go out and get some fresh air," she said automatically, fumbling to her feet.

"Do you need help?" Liddy asked, trying to take Morna's elbow.

"I'm fine." Morna pulled her arm away and made her way to the door, focusing on keeping her legs moving and not letting herself drop to the floor.

Feeling the eyes of the two maids on her all the way until she closed the door, Morna forced herself to hold in the panic until she dashed down the guard-lined hallway and into a corridor that no one used. In the cool darkness, she stumbled to a stop, her knees giving way and the paving stones slamming into her hands.

The air felt like water, choking her and dulling her senses. Her whole body shook as she tried to process what Liddy had told her.

The illness she'd thought merely a fever, could it really be a child? She cast back to the way she'd be unable to eat, the constant nausea, her fatigue. Her hand stole to her belly, trying to sense if a small life grew somewhere deep within.

Somehow she knew it was true. Though she'd had no experience with women that were expecting a child, she could feel the truth of it in her bones. A piece of Afton lived on in her, and though she knew she should be overjoyed by this reclaiming of him, she could only feel a crushing panic that his loss would never die. This child would remind her over and over again that he'd been there once, been hers to hold, and that he was gone. She'd give birth, raise a child, entirely on her own. Like a towering wave, it loomed over her, threatening destruction with its power. She couldn't have a child. Not Afton's child.

Struggling to her feet, she staggered down the corridor, not knowing where she was headed. Her mind looped over and over, blocking the passage of time and space, until she blinked and saw she was standing in a different hallway, staring down at a large bucket of water someone had left out while washing the floor. The flagstones all around her glistened with wet, and the old call burned in her chest.

With her fatigue and fright, any chance at resisting the water's call fled. No fight to stay out of it took her over, and she merely stared blankly at the surface as she walked toward it, her hands reaching for that siren's song.