The battle rages on the streets above them, the shouting and clattering of swords and armor deafening at times. Felicite and Dulce can do nothing but remain in their hiding place while a war is waged all around them.
The early days are the easiest, despite the noise of battle that surrounds them, if sanctuary could ever be described as easy. There is no word from anyone, and Felicite is near mad with desperation to hear some news, any news. But there are books to read, and the food supply is plentiful. There is even wine, which makes the time spent in the damp cellar of the Abbey of Allium somewhat more bearable.
"Lissy, you must try to rest," Dulce sighs on the third night. "You've hardly slept. I promised Julien that I would see to your health, and that of the baby."
"I am fine," Felicite replies, going to the barred window for the hundredth time in the past hour. "Julien should have sent word by now! Why has he not sent word?"
"I am certain it is because he is doing his best to protect us, Felicite. He will send word when he is able. I hardly think sending correspondence is his priority at the moment."
"You do not think he is-"
"No, I absolutely do not think so, and you must not say such things," Dulce says sharply. "You must trust him. He will send word when he is able. He loves you, Lissy."
"He does not," Felicite says, her words slurring slightly as she refills her goblet with wine.
Dulce looks horrified. "Of course, he does! Everyone knows. The kingdoms are filled with tales of your great love for one another. Of the love story of the king and queen of the Three Kingdoms."
"He married me because he was given no choice."
"Do you not love Julien?"
"I wish I did not," Felicite sighs. "It would make things so much easier."
"What do you mean?"
"Allowing myself to fall in love with him, it made me a traitor to my own house. And a traitor to Jolis. Now nothing I do is Agincourt enough for the Agincourts, and I can never be Fleming enough to satisfy the Flemings. I am caught in between two worlds, trapped, and I've sentenced my boy to the same fate. If only Julien had taken his sword to my heart, as he did Jolis. "
"You mustn't say such things. You are the most beloved queen in the history of our people. Even more than our Lady Mother. The people adore you."
"But I am at odds with everyone at court. I can trust no one, no one but you, and Gabriel."
"And Killi, and of course Julien," Dulce adds. "Father would tell you that you are fortunate to have so many."
"I wish I had never been queen."
"You must not speak so, Lissy. You must be grateful. You've found your mate and you are able to be with him. You've money and fine things and a fine son. You've everything any princess could dream of. So why are you not happy?"
"My mate," Felicite laughs bitterly. "Oh, yes, I found him. But at what cost?"
"You love Julien, I know you do. And he loves you. I will hear no more of this talk. Some of us have been married off to one who is not our mate, and our fate is sealed. We've no chance of happiness. So I will hear no more of your self-pity, only prayers that your love and mine return to us safely."
"Well," Felicite says with a slow smile. "Now you're beginning to sound like a queen."
A week passes, and another week, and still there is no word.
Finally, a visitor arrives, and Felicite's spirits soar when she recognizes the fast-paced footsteps and the familiar scent of her guardian.
"Gabriel," she cries, rushing toward the doorway.
"Your Grace," Gabriel kneels, taking her hand in his. He rises, offering the basket he carries to Dulce. "I've brought cheese and bread. A few apples. And some more candles."
"Thank you," Felicite says, unable to fight the tears of happiness and relief at seeing her dearest friend alive and well. She wraps her arms around him, sobbing against Gabriel's neck until he grows uncomfortable enough to set her away from him gently. "Oh, Gabriel, thank the Ancestors you are alright. And I am so glad to see you!"
"I do not bear happy tidings, I am afraid," Gabriel says. "Julien is defeated in Ravaenna. He and Killian are alone now and have fled. I am sorry, Your Grace."
"Defeated? Fled? I...I do not understand!"
"They are alive, though, Gabriel?" Dulce asks hopefully. "They are both still alive?"
Gabriel nods. "Yes," he says, a bit reluctantly. "They are alive. But they have fled to Meridian. They are abandoned. Their men turned on them. Turncoats, all of them. I fought beside them for as long as I could, Your Grace, I swear it, but they had to flee for their lives. The king bid me stay behind and ensure your safety."
"Meridian? Why?"
"Their half-sister, the Dowager Duchess, Your Grace. She will grant them sanctuary while they rebuild their army and return to the Three Kingdoms."
"Who is king?" Dulce replies. "Who is the king now? Fionn? But he's just a child-"
"Your brother, Mariusz," Gabriel replies solemnly.
"Then we are safe, Felicite!" Dulce exclaims. "We can emerge from sanctuary."
"No, you must not!" Gabriel says. "Make no mistake, Your Grace, your brother is much changed. He will not ensure your safety if you leave sanctuary."
"He means to kill Fionn."
Gabriel nods. "I am sorry, Felicite."
"We will remain in sanctuary, then," Felicite says, nodding with finality. "Until my husband returns from Meridian."
"If he does not-"
"Do not speak it," Felicite replies sharply. "Julien will return for us. He has not abandoned us."
More weeks pass. Fionn is walking now, toddling around while holding onto Dulce or Felicite by the hand. His greatest passion is to drop an object and wait for his mother or aunt to pick it up for him and return it, and then to clap his hands with glee when drops it again. He is growing, despite the miserable conditions, and he does not seem to know that anything is wrong. That is a blessing.
Dulce grows more and more concerned with the ailing health of her sister, the queen. She asks Gabriel to please send for Felicite's ladies, but he warns her that it may be impossible to provide enough rations to sustain anyone else in sanctuary.
To make matters worse, Felicite is pale and weak. She grows more and more sickly, some days not moving from her cot at all.
"You must get up," Gabriel orders Felicite when Dulce tells him of her concerns for her sister. "It is not healthy for you or the child to lay about like this, and you will frighten Fionn."
"I do not care," Felicite replies. "Let me sleep. I am so tired."
"I will send for the physician-"
"I am fine, Gabriel!" she snaps, rolling onto her side so she is no longer facing him.
Gabriel frowns, and Dulce sighs.
"I do not know what to do for her."
"It is the loneliness and the isolation," Gabriel says. "It is not good for any of you. I shall see if I can find someone to join you."
"Thank you, Gabriel," Dulce says with another heavy sigh as she rolls a ball across the floor, watching Fionn laugh merrily as he chases after. "Will you ask after our Lady Mother and our sister?"
"I will," Gabriel promises.
"Thank you," Dulce says again. "Can I ask you a question, Gabriel?"
"Of course."
"You have seen battles and war. Will the tide ever turn in Julien's favor? Or are we lost?"
"I do not know if Julien can turn this to his favor. I pray to the Ancestors that he can."
"And what will happen if he cannot?"
"Mariusz will not harm you, Princess Dulce. If Julien loses, I will petition for your safety. And if I fail, I will find a way to take all of you to the Agincourt strongholds in Bruges. Do not worry. I will not allow anything to happen to any of you."
"What will Mariusz do to Killi?"
Gabriel smiles. "He is your mate."
Dulce nods. "Yes."
"Prince Killian is very smart. And he is a skilled warrior. I have fought beside him. He will not allow himself to be caught. And if he does, he will talk his way out of it, of that I am certain. Do not fear for him. Do not fear for any of us."
The city is quiet. Somber. There is apprehension hanging in the air.
"If Julien is killed," Felicite whispers to Dulce as she glances down at the child sleeping in her arms and her rounding middle. "What will become of the Three Kingdoms? Will they rebel, separate? What will happen to Ravaenna? Oh, Dulce, what will happen to my children?"
Dulce shakes her head sadly; not even she can lighten the mood anymore.
They spend their days sewing and playing with Fionn. Each night, Felicite insists on tidying their dark, damp quarters, in case Julien were to return to her the next morning. She refuses to let him see them living in squalor. Then they recite their prayers to the Ancestors with Fionn before retiring to sleep.
But tonight, something is different. Felicite can feel it in her bones, sense it on the air.
"Felicite, come and see!" Dulce calls from the tiny window, where the river flows just below; she has thrown open the casement and is gesturing toward the road beyond the river. "Soldiers! Soldiers are coming! And they bear the Fleming standard!"
"What?" Felicite demands, hurrying to the window to see for herself.
"Your Grace!" Gabriel's agitated voice calls to her, drawing her from the window. She hurries to the barred door to open it for her guardian, startled to see her own brother there.
"Richard!" she gasps.
"Lissy!" the boy calls, throwing himself against her and sobbing into her dress as she holds him, stroking his hair.
"You are not with Mariusz?" Felicite demands, taking him by his shoulders and setting him away, kneeling so she can look into his eyes. "You are not fighting with him?"
"No, Lissy, of course not. Please, allow me to stay with you. I will make a fine squire for the king. Or I could be a page. I would even be a kitchen boy if only you allow me to live, Lissy."
"Hush, now," Felicite says, embracing him again. "Of course you will live. Go now with Dulce and Fionn and have something to eat."
When Richard is gone from them, Felicite turns to Gabriel.
"Why have you brought him here? Mariusz will kill us all."
"He asked," Gabriel shrugs. "Keep him close. He is a good boy. Mariusz will be his death."
"And what news of the soldiers?" Felicite gestures to the window. "They bear the Fleming standard!"
Gabriel nods. "Julien mustered men. Eight thousand, I believe. Mariusz has more, and they are marching on Ravaenna now. So many northern lords have flocked to his standard, Felicite. He is certain of Julien's defeat."
"And Julien? What is he doing?"
"He is marching north to meet Mariusz to keep the fighting from the city. His brothers Torran and Florian are with him. I saw this myself. He rode down the line on his horse and worked them all into a frenzy, calling for them to fight and praising them for choosing the right side, for the Fleming brothers have never lost a battle. Killian rides beside him, loyal as a dog, that boy! And I shall bring up the rear when I leave you now. I will keep watch over the road behind."
"Will he win, Gabriel?"
"I do not know, Felicite. I do not know."
"We should make camp," Killian remarks as they ride north along the road.
Julien nods, but before he can give the order, he is interrupted by the arrival of the three scouts he has sent ahead of his army.
"Your Grace! The Agincourts are here. They are just north, and in battle formations."
"Where?"
"A few miles south of Solei. We will not be able to get through, Your Grace."
"How many?" Killian asks.
The scouts do not know. "The hour grows late. They are more than our numbers."
"How many more?" Julien demands.
"Twice our numbers, Your Grace. Perhaps more."
"Go," Killian orders. "And keep this information to yourselves. Tell no one else." He nods in dismissal and the scouts ride on.
"Well, Killi," Julien says, "What do you advise?"
Killian's brow furrows. "We could make camp, wait for morning. Or fall back to Ravaenna. If we arrived in time, we could fortify the city. We would have a better chance of holding it. Any word of reinforcements from our dear sister?"
Julien shakes his head. "We cannot just sit here and wait for them. That is not an option. And I've not heard word of Meridian ships on the Narrow Sea."
"Then we fall back?"
"No. We go on."
"I must advise against it, Julien-"
"We will meet them on the road. I will not lead them straight to my wife and my children, Killi."
"They outnumber us two to one, if the scouts are to be believed."
"We go on," Julien replies.
"It is too late for an attack. Too dark," Florian says.
"That is exactly right," Killian says as he begins to realize Julien's plan.
"We will not attack in the dark. We attack at dawn. Battle formations, Killi," Julien orders. "And absolute silence. No fires. No meals tonight, no tents. We move into formation and we attack them at dawn. Go now and tell the men."
As the men scurry about in the darkness - the moon has not yet risen - Julien sends his scouts to light fires in the trees a mile to the west to give Mariusz something to worry about. Then Julien slides to the ground from his own horse, sending him with the page boy to be fed and to have water.
"Let the horses rest, and care for them, but leave their bridles on," Julien orders. "We must be ready before the sun begins to rise in the sky. And Killian, post a watch. Where is my squire?"
"Here, Your Grace," his squire, Asa, says, bowing.
"You will go to my wife. You will take this to her," Julien says, handing Asa a folded slip of paper. "If this battle fails, she is to take Fionn and go to this man. I have seen him already and paid him, and he will take in the queen as his kinswoman. She is to wait a year, and then find a home for herself and for Fionn. She must raise him strong so that he can reclaim his birthright. When she has read the name, you are to burn the paper and forget what I have told you."
"But Your Grace, I should be beside you-"
"This is more important than the battle. I am entrusting you with the safety of my wife and my heirs. When you have delivered the message, you will return to me. I will need you."
"Yes, Your Grace," Asa bows and Julien calls for a horse for him.
"Wake me at midnight," Julien tells Killian before removing his cloak and spreading it on the ground. "Two hour watches. Standishe will take the first, then Killian and Torran. Check the line and make sure the men are prepared, and send out scouts to be certain of Mariusz's position. And send someone to our sister to demand reinforcements."
He removes his hat and covers his face, and Killian removes his own cloak and spreads it over Julien.
"Goodnight, big brother," Killian says with a snort of laughter. "He could sleep through a war."
"I do not like these odds," Standishe remarks, rising.
"The worst I've ever seen," Killian says good-naturedly. "But our king is protecting his people, and his mate, and the Ancestors will surely see this and take our side. Julien is a good commander. We may still win, Lord Standishe. Courage, and faith."
"Courage and faith," Standishe repeats.