A Song for Orphans

She was going there to try to find the truth about who she was and where she fit into the world. Maybe those answers would give her enough stability to be able to raise her child. Maybe they would give her a place where things would be all right. Maybe she could even call for Kate, telling her sister that she’d found a place for all of them.

“You… have options,” Cora said, the hesitation in her voice hinting at what those options might be even before Sophia looked at her thoughts.

“You want me to get rid of my child?” Sophia said. Just the thought of it… she wasn’t sure that she could. How could she?

“I want you to do whatever you think is best,” Cora said. She reached into a pouch on her belt, next to the ones that held makeup. “This is rakkas powder. Any indentured woman soon learns about it, because she can’t say no to her master, and her master’s wife doesn’t want children who aren’t hers.”

There was a layer of pain and bitterness there that a part of Sophia wanted to understand. Instinctively, she reached out for Cora’s thoughts, finding pain, humiliation, a nobleman who had stumbled into the wrong room at a party.

There are some things even we shouldn’t intrude on, Emeline sent across to her. Her expression betrayed no hint of what she felt, but Sophia could feel the disapproval there. If Cora wants to tell us, she will tell us.

Sophia knew she was right, but even so, it felt wrong that she couldn’t be there for her friend the way Cora had been there for her with Prince Rupert.

You’re right, she sent back, I’m sorry.

Just don’t let Cora know that you were prying. With something like this, you know how personal it can be.

Sophia knew, because when it came to Rupert’s attempt to force her to be his mistress, it was something she didn’t want to talk about, or think about, or have to deal with again in any way.

When it came to the pregnancy, though, it was a different thing. That was about her and Sebastian, and that was something big, complicated, and potentially wonderful. It was just that it was also a potential disaster, for her and everyone around her.

“You put it in water,” Cora said, explaining the powder, “then drink it. In the morning, you won’t be pregnant anymore.”

She made it sound so simple as she passed it to Sophia. Even so, Sophia hesitated to take the powder from her. She reached out, and just touching it felt like a betrayal of something between her and Sebastian. She took it from Cora anyway, feeling the weight of the pouch in her hand, staring at it as if that would somehow give her the answers she needed.

“You don’t have to,” Emeline said. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this prince of yours will come. Or maybe you’ll find another way.”

“Maybe,” Sophia said. She didn’t know what to think right then. The idea that she would have a child with Sebastian might be a wonderful thing under other circumstances, might fill her with the joyous prospect of raising a family, settling down, being safe. Here, though, it felt like a challenge that was at least as great as anything they’d faced on the way north. She wasn’t sure it was a challenge she could meet.

Where could she raise a child? It wasn’t as though she had anywhere to live. She didn’t even have a tent of her own at the moment, just the partial shelter of the wagon to keep off the fine drizzle that fell in the darkness and dampened Sophia’s hair. They’d even stolen the wagon, so they had to feel a little guilty every time they ate or drank because of how they’d acquired it. Could Sophia spend her whole life stealing? Could she do it while she raised her child?

Maybe she would make it to the grand home in the heart of Monthys, and which lay just ahead. What then? It would be ruins, unfit for any human habitation, let alone a safe place in which to bring up a child. Either that, or there would be people already there, and it would take everything Sophia had just to prove who she was to them.

Even after that, then what? Did she think people would just accept a girl with the mask of the goddess tattooed on her calf to show that she was one of the Unclaimed? Did she think people would take her in, give her a space in which to raise her child, or help her in any way? It wasn’t what people did with the likes of her.

Could she bring a child into a world like that? Was it right to bring something so helpless as a child into a world that had such cruelty in it? It wasn’t as though Sophia knew anything about being a mother, or had anything useful to teach her offspring. Everything she’d learned as a child had been about the cruelty that came from disobedience, or the violence that it was only right for something as wicked as an orphan to expect.

“We don’t have to make any decisions now,” Emeline said. “This can wait until tomorrow.”

Cora shook her head. “The longer you wait, the harder it will be. It’s better if – ”

“Stop,” Sophia said, cutting the potential argument short. “No more talking. I know you’re both trying to help, but this isn’t something you can decide for me. It’s not even something I’m sure I can decide, but I’m going to have to, and I have to do it alone.”

This was the kind of thing she wished she could talk about with Kate, but there was still no answer when she called into the night with her thoughts. In any case, the truth was that Kate was probably better at problems that involved enemies to fight, or pursuers to escape. This was the kind of thing she hadn’t had to face, any more than Sophia had.

Sophia went to the far side of the cart, taking Cora’s powder with her. She didn’t tell them what she was going to do next, because right then, she wasn’t even sure that she knew herself. Sienne got up to follow her, but Sophia pushed the forest cat away with a flicker of thought.

She’d never felt as alone as she did in that moment.

CHAPTER THREE

The last time Angelica had gone to the Dowager’s rooms, it had been because she had been summoned. She had been worried enough then. Now, marching in of her own accord, she was terrified, and Angelica hated that. She hated the sense of powerlessness that followed her, even though she was one of the greatest nobles of the kingdom. She could do as she wished with servants, with so-called friends, with half the nobles of the kingdom, but the Dowager could still have her killed.

It was worse that Angelica had given her that power. She’d done it the moment she tried to drug Sebastian. This wasn’t a kingdom where the monarch could just snap her fingers and order a death, but with her… there wasn’t a jury of noble peers who would call what she’d done anything other than treason, if the Dowager chose to bring it to that.

So she forced herself to pause as she reached the doors to the Dowager’s rooms, composing herself. The guards there said nothing, merely waited for Angelica to make her case to go inside. If she’d had more time, Angelica would have sent a servant to request this audience. If she’d had more confidence in her power here, she would have rebuked the men for not showing her the proper deference.

“I need to see her majesty,” Angelica said.

“We were not informed that our queen would be seeing anyone,” one of the guards said. There was no apology for it, none of the courtesy that Angelica was due. Silently, Angelica resolved to see the man pay for that in time. Perhaps if she could find a way to repost him to the war?

“I didn’t know it would be necessary until a little while ago,” Angelica said. “Ask her if she will see me, please. It’s about her son.”

The guard nodded at that, and set off inside. The mention of Sebastian was enough to motivate him even if Angelica’s position couldn’t. Perhaps he just knew what the Dowager had already made clear to Angelica: that when it came to her sons, there was little she wouldn’t do.

It was what gave Angelica hope that this might work, but it was also what made this dangerous. The Dowager might turn and stop Sebastian from leaving, but she might just as easily have Angelica killed for failing to seduce him as well as she’d been told. Keep him happy, the old bat had told her, don’t let him think about another woman. It had been obvious enough what she’d meant.

The guard reappeared quickly enough, holding the door open for Angelica to step through. He didn’t bow as he should have, or even announce her with her full title.

“Milady d’Angelica,” he called out instead.

Then again, what titles did Angelica have that could stand up to a queen’s? What power did she possess that didn’t pale into insignificance beside that of the woman who stood in the sitting room of her apartments, her face a carefully composed mask.

Angelica curtseyed, because she didn’t dare do anything else. The Dowager gestured impatiently for her to stand.

“A sudden visit,” she said without a smile, “and news about my son. I think we can dispense with that.”

And if Angelica hadn’t curtseyed, no doubt Sebastian’s mother would have rebuked her for it.

“You told me to bring you any news about Sebastian, Your Majesty,” Angelica said.

The Dowager nodded, moving over to a comfortable-looking chair. She didn’t offer Angelica a seat.

“I know what I said. I also know what I said would happen if you didn’t.”

Angelica could remember the threats too. The Mask of Lead, the traditional punishment for traitors. Just the thought of it made her shudder.

“Well?” the Dowager asked. “Have you managed to make my son the happiest husband-to-be in the circle of the world?”

“He says that he is leaving,” Angelica said. “He was angry at being manipulated, and he declared that he was going after the whore he loved before.”

“And you did nothing to stop him?” the Dowager demanded.

Angelica could hardly believe that. “What would you have had me do? Tackle him at the door? Lock him in his chambers?”

“Do I have to spell it out to you?” the Dowager said. “Sebastian might not be Rupert, but he is still a man.”

“You think I didn’t try that?” Angelica countered. That part stung worse than the rest of it. No one had rejected her before. Whoever she wanted, whether it was out of genuine desire or simply to prove that she could, had come running. Sebastian had been the only one to ever turn her down. “He’s in love.”