The Skull Throne
Page 91

“Mistress Leesha!” Wonda called, but she was miles away.
Leesha woke in her own bed. She sat up, looking around the darkened room in confusion. It felt like there were weights on her eyelids.
“Wonda?” she called.
“Mistress Jizell!” Wonda rushed to her bedside. “Gave us all a scare, mistress.”
Jizell appeared with a candle, squeezing Wonda aside. She lifted Leesha’s drooping eyelids with a firm but gentle grasp, holding the candle flame close to check dilation.
“Everything’s sunny, Leesha,” Jizell said, caressing her cheek. “You go on back to sleep. Nothing happening that can’t wait until morning.”
Leesha scraped her dry tongue around the inside of her mouth. “You gave me tampweed and skyflower.”
Jizell nodded. “Sleep. Gatherer’s orders.”
Leesha smiled, snuggling her head back into the pillow and letting blessed sleep claim her.
When she awoke the next morning, Leesha felt stronger than she had in months. Her thoughts were still fogged from the sleeping draught, but it was nothing a good strong tea wouldn’t fix.
Jizell was waiting as she shuffled out of her bedroom, clutching her shawl tight. Her mentor moved about Leesha’s kitchen as comfortably as she did her own. She pushed a steaming teacup into Leesha’s hand, deep black with a dollop of honey, like they had shared on countless mornings. “Bathwater’s hot. See to your privy and take a seat at the table. I’ll have breakfast ready before you know it.”
Leesha nodded, but lingered. “I’m so sorry for what I said.”
Jizell waved a hand. “You oughtn’t be. You were right about most of it. Could have been politer, but a pregnant woman who ent slept right in a month is apt to be prickly. Now go wash up.”
By the time Leesha had finished her bath and tea, her thoughts were clear. She chose her favorite dress and sat to breakfast. As promised, Jizell had a steaming plate of eggs and vegetables waiting.
“Examined you while you were out cold,” Jizell said. “Child’s heart thumps like a Cutter’s axe. Strong.” She pointed her fork at Leesha. “But you’re already starting to show. Thamos might not notice with his face buried in your paps, but the rest of the town will be happy to point it out to him, if they haven’t already. If you mean to tell him before someone else does, now’s the time.”
Leesha kept her eyes on her food. Jizell, like most of the Hollowers, assumed the child belonged to Thamos. “I’ll speak to him. I have to tend the Royal Garden today anyway.”
Jizell laughed. “That what you’ve been calling it? Good a name as any. You make sure that garden is good and tended before you tell him about the crop.”
The carriage took Leesha and Wonda right up to the entrance to the Royal Garden. Some of the count’s men approached, but Wonda moved to intercept them as Leesha disappeared into the boughs. None save her would pass into the garden with Wonda at the gate.
Her heart fluttered as she passed out of sight. Sneaking into Thamos’ Keep was ever a thrill. The fear of getting caught and the anticipation of sex was as strong as a bottle of couzi. But today was different. She would have him one last time as Jizell suggested, but as much for her as for him.
Leesha had once dismissed Thamos as a spoiled fop, good for little more than violence and easily manipulated. But Thamos had proven her wrong again and again. He was not creative, handling things in a by-the-book military fashion, but he was known for his fairness, and folk knew where they stood with him. He never hesitated to use his royal advantages, but neither did he hesitate to stand before the least of his people when the corelings came.
This visit might well end with their betrothal, and Leesha was surprised to find how badly she wanted that. The child would not come for half a year. Who could say what fate the Creator had in store between now and then?
In moments Leesha was through the maze of hedges and slipped through the hidden door into the count’s manse. Tarisa was waiting, escorting her discreetly to a waiting room with another hidden door, leading directly to Thamos’ bedchamber.
The count was waiting, taking her into his arms and kissing her deeply. “Are you all right, my love? There was word you fainted …”
Leesha kissed him again. “It was nothing.” She let her hand drift down, tugging at his belt. “We can steal an hour, at least, before Arther has the nerve to knock. You can take me twice, if you’re man enough.”
Leesha knew the count was up to the task. Thamos fought demons most every night, and she had worked hora into his armor and spear. The count was taller now than when she’d met him, and his lust, formidable even then when roused, was doubled now. Since their first night together, there had been no hint of the performance anxiety that had robbed him of stiffness. Already, she could feel his breeches tightening.
Surprisingly, Thamos pulled back, holding her arms at the elbow as he moved his manhood out of reach. “Nothing? You fell unconscious in front of half the Gatherers in the Hollow and it’s nothing?”
Thamos waited for her response, the silence heavy between them. He squeezed her shoulders, putting a gentle finger under her chin to lift her eyes to meet his. “If you have something to tell me, Leesha Paper, now is the time.”
He knows. Leesha wondered if it had been Tarisa who told him, but in truth it did not matter. “I’m pregnant.”
“I knew it!” Thamos boomed, grabbing her. For a moment she thought it was an attack, but his crushing embrace only lasted an instant before he lifted her from her feet, swinging her around with a whoop of joy.
“Thamos!” Leesha cried, and the count’s eyes widened.
He put her down instantly, staring at her belly in concern. “Of course. The child. I hope I did not …”
“It’s fine,” Leesha said, relief flooding her. “I’m just surprised to see you so pleased.”
Thamos laughed. “Of course I am pleased! Now you will have to become my countess. The people will insist on it, and I would have it no other way.”
“Are you certain of that?” Leesha asked.
Thamos nodded eagerly. “I can’t do this without you, Leesha, nor you without me. The Warded Man may be gone, but together, we can drive back the corelings and rebuild the Hollow into one of the great cities of old.”
Leesha could not deny the tingle his words brought to her. Her heart leapt into her throat as Thamos dropped to one knee, taking her hands in his. “Leesha Paper, I promise myself …”
Creator, he’s actually doing it. He has no idea it’s not his.
She froze. It was everything she wanted. At worst, she would have six months to plan. There were orphan children throughout the Hollow. Perhaps she could find a babe that looked enough like Thamos to make a switch and spirit Ahmann’s child to safety.
Or perhaps she was worried over nothing. She remembered Stefny’s words after the council.
Funny thing about children. People see in them what they want to see.
Thamos was swarthier than Leesha and often tanned. Her pale skin would burn, but no tan could take root. The child might be close enough to avoid scrutiny, especially if Leesha quickly delivered additional children, Thamos’ true heirs.
I will be a good wife, she promised silently. A good countess. You will not regret taking me as your bride, even if the day comes when you learn the truth.