The Chronicles of Ursa

Part 1 Chapter 7

Raevan went into labor in the middle of summer. It was hot, even on the mountain, and the rains had pelted them for days, making the stone walls damp and the rooms feel heavy and tight. Lani had not been invited into the room where her sister-in-law labored, and for that she was profoundly grateful, as she did not want to be trapped in a room with Raevan and Ravinia for hours on end, nor did she want to watch a child come into the world that would have been younger than her own, her lost girl. Lani kept to her chamber while Tollredd joined Fennis and his companions down in the hall, celebrating the birth by much back-slapping and imbibing, as if they were doing any work at all to bring the baby into the world.

Lani had not wanted Tollredd to go but, as the rising king, his absence would have been seen as a sign of disapproval, and there could be no doubt that this royal child was accepted, since it was, for the moment, heir to the throne. The thought of Raevan's child inheriting made Lani burn, but she pushed back on her uncharitable feelings. This child had no choice to whom it was born; this child would be her little niece or nephew; a cousin to her own children someday (who would fall ahead in line for the throne). She did not like Raevan – and the feeling was certainly mutual – but she also felt sorry for the girl in her choice of a husband, and her lifelong comparison to her older brother.

If there was anything Lani understood, it was having a contentious older brother, though from her perspective Tollredd was a fair sight better than Waylenn, who had hated and feared her since very day she was born. Tollredd was perhaps indifferent toward Raevan but he did not dislike her, and he certainly did not seek out ways to torment her, like Waylenn had, parading her shyness in court as if she were incompetent. He called her unappreciative at first – spoiled, haughty, cossetted, intent on framing the way the court interpreted Lani's behavior. As she got older, according to her brother, she became cold, callous, and calculating, with designs on Waylenn's throne that had been years in the making. Each day was an exercise in new ways Waylenn could belittle his younger sister. His goal, which was to marry her off far, far away, was almost thwarted when dignitaries in Mare doubted Lani's ability to represent their kingdom well in any marriage at all, much less in a marriage to an Ursa king, but Waylenn convinced them, some with honest debate and others by lining their pockets with Mareish pearls.

Lani kept up a regular correspondence with her brother's court and made it a point to keep her letters as neutral as possible. She still harbored some paranoia that, if Waylenn knew how happy she was in her marriage, he would snatch her back, although she knew Tollredd would never allow it – nor, for that matter, would she. Once she and Tollredd had a child of their own, when Tollredd became king and she queen, then she could reveal her happiness to her brother, and imagine his long face going purple with rage as he read of her good fortunes from her own hand.

The evening stretched on and still Tollredd did not return. Lani was making a blanket for the new baby in a loose Mare stitch; the lightness meant the blanket would dry quickly when wet, though she suspected that Raevan would not give a fig, and the blanket would probably go directly into the fireplace. Finally, eyes crossing, she set aside the project and readied for bed, splashing her face with cold water and hastily plaiting her long hair. Crawling into the cold bed, she wondered vaguely if the baby had come, but not enough to poke her head outside the door and ask.

Much, much later, she awoke to her husband's weight pressing onto the mattress as he struggled with his boots. He smelled of smoke and ale and the whole bed frame wavered with his effort to undress, though he was trying to be careful. Finally, Lani lit the lamp next to the bed and took in his startled expression.

"Oh, good, it's you," she joked.

He was a mess: hair and face in need of a scrub, with his shirt half buttoned and one boot successfully removed.