The light of new dawn shone upon the Jewel of the Desert. Manservants held their breath as Lady Hyacinth led her entourage into the Great Hall. To be honest, they were nervous every meal. It wasn't a strange sight. Even when she had emerged in a mellow mood—which she didn't—her temperament could swing in the opposite direction once she received her letters and heard her agenda for the day.
A high-ranking official handed a stack of letters to Healer Hasif once she'd assumed her spot on Amoriah's right hand. Amoriah snatched herself a slab of unleavened bread, then poured a pond of olive oil over it.
"So, Kellis. You found a connection between Healer Hasif and the brothel, yet?" She asked, shooting a dark look at the freeloading Hadrians. Baroness Sylvia glared back.
Coris closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Cleygar and Lors had been lying blind and mindless for days because of Amoriah's negligence. A decent ruler would be ashamed visitors had been harmed under his watch and would do all in his power to help. Just how much quality seed was Amoriah promised from the king?
Zier, meanwhile, was toying with a tomato and didn't seem to be paying attention. Father remained calm, apologetic even, as he shook his head.
"None so far, but we shall continue to investigate. My men are worse than dead, Amoriah. Their families will demand answers. I hope you'd let us impose on you a while longer."
Before Amoriah could do more than huff in exasperation, the great doors opened a sliver. In edged a guard who came scurrying down the aisle.
"My lady, a delivery from Jaise."
She reported. The news brought a grin of triumph to Amoriah. The Hadrians knew enough not to react. Like his parents, Coris simply fixed a wary eye on her.
"Fresh seed!" Amoriah threw up her hands in jubilation, "Bring them in and unmask them. They'd better not be dregs this time around."
The guard bowed and hurried back up the aisle. She heaved back both doors, revealing five chained, masked and cloaked figures led by a similarly obscured figure. The guard escorted the warden and his prisoners towards the Lady. At her nod, he stripped them of their masks, revealing five pairs of glowing green eyes on olive-skinned faces.
Gasps and murmurs rose from other occupants of the main table—Amoriah's three hulking daughters, her wards, and high-ranking officials. Castle workers on the long tables stood up and craned their necks to see what the commotion was about. Amoriah was temporarily speechless, before her cheeks darkened from an influx of boiling blood.
"Greeneyes?!" She screeched, banging her fist on the table, "As if we need more Greeneye seed diluting our pure blood! Off to the Needlehouse they go! I'll have Winterwen answer for this!"
The warden, to his credit, didn't flinch. He produced a ring of keys from his sleeve then slotted it into the manacles on his nearest captive. Once the man was freed, he gave him the key so the man would free his fellows in turn. He turned to the seething Amoriah. Coris noticed the pair of lips behind the metal grille—thin, beautiful, painted in shiny black.
"You're in luck, it appears." The warden spoke in a familiar deep, serene voice. Coris's heart leapt.
"Winterwen?" Amoriah cried, eyes bulging. Lady Jaise unmasked and lowered her hood, revealing her beautiful, high-cheekboned face, freeflowing black hair, and one glowing green eye. An ornate circlet with tassels of glittering jet shrouded her empty eye socket from view.
"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Amoriah.
"I heard my convicts are subjected to punishments my bereft hadn't called for." Winterwen glided up the steps to the main table. Amoriah strove to look unfettered.
"Before being sent to repent in the man-brothels, convicts you deem unfit to impregnate your women would be sterilized in the Needlehouse, which is not in their sentence. Greeneye convicts would also have their eyes taken out, making them mindless dolls. Also, not in their sentence."
She stopped before the table, frowning in contempt,
"How would they repent if they couldn't remember their punishment? How would they repent if not given a second chance at life? What is your answer to that, Amoriah?"
Silence. Lady Hyacinth was forming her retort—Coris noticed the furrow of rapid thinking between her brows. Winterwen glanced at Healer Hasif. She stood at Amoriah's side, pale and tense.
"I believe Healer Hasif is in charge of the Needlehouse?"
"She is." Amoriah shrugged, "Still, you can't blame me for what wasn't stipulated in our contract, Winterwen. You loaned your convicts to me. I have the right to make use of them as I please. I paid for them. You delivered them to me. Time is up, I return them to you the way they arrived. Even the sterilization is reversible, is it not, Hasif?"
"Yes, my lady. Perfectly reversible after some time off the potion." Hasif nodded vigorously. Winterwen cocked her head,
"True, I can't demand compensation for foolishly assuming you have basic decency." A vein throbbed in Amoriah's temple. "However, I can withhold future deliveries until I have investigated those brothels. See they are up to Jaise's standards."
Amoriah darkened once more.
"They are up to Jaise's standards for convicts who are up to Hyacinth's standards!" She snapped and slammed another fist. Coris could've sworn the roasted goat leg jumped half a foot into the air.
"My city! My rules! I was foolish myself to assume you have common sense. You want standard treatment? Don't send us sub-standard seed. No Greeneyes. Or cripples. Or retards. Or straight to the Needlehouse they go. If you agree, then we ink it down here and now."
"Fine. Onto the next pressing issue." Winterwen accepted brusquely, sounding annoyed for the first time. Perhaps she was uneasy with Jaise's practice of sending rapists to Hyacinth's man-brothels, especially now she'd seen what would become of them, but she couldn't deny the Right of the Bereft.
"I heard Greeneye visitors to Hyacinth are being kidnapped for their eyeballs and thrown into brothels, to be used as pleasure dolls. I've no doubt some of them are innocent Jaisians."
Amoriah shot Coris's whole family a glare, grinding her teeth. Coris struggled not to look too pleased with himself.
"Their eyeballs are then sold to your trusted advisor, who uses it to fuel an alchemy project commissioned by the King."
Amoriah cracked a nasty smile. Behind her, Hasif remained wide-eyed and petrified.
"So, you've heard, you say?" She drawled, eyes sliding towards Baron Hadrian, "Why, I have a vague idea which little bird shat it into your Falls."
"Hadrian is grateful for your friendship and hospitality throughout these years, Amoriah. So long as you don't harm my people." Father stood, facing wrath with ice.
"You have no evidence connecting Hasif to those brothel Greeneyes." Amoriah threw out her arms, "The eyes she used are all donations. Those Dolls you found in the brothel are all rapists!"
"You fool! Are our yeomen rapists, too?" Mother snapped, exasperated at that sheer idiocy.
"I never said that. I said they ran afoul of the wrong crowd and got their eyes stolen, didn't I?" Amoriah retorted, "I offered my women in compensation, remember? You insisted on whipping up a sandstorm out of dirt in your eye! Your oh-so-precious men could've been found anywhere. It's the word of your son that they were found in that brothel. Your son, who spent his days in that cell, rolling in shite sarding that Greeneye—"
Amoriah called Meya a name reserved for loose women so insulting, a collective gasp tore through the hall. One of Amara's sisters covered the poor girl's ears and cried, "Mother!", Coris's sword was halfway out of its sheath, but Mother was faster—
"How dare you!" She screamed and launched herself at the foulmouthed Lady. Father stepped between the lunging women, fist clenched around Amoriah's beaded necklace.
"Insult my family or my men again, Amoriah, and there will be war." He warned through gritted teeth. Amoriah glowered but sealed her lips. Father freed her, but didn't retreat,
"We also have the testimony of Dizadh and Lady Agnesia of Graye. And your son, Ahmundi. I could have them summoned here to speak before this audience. Or you could save yourself any more disgrace than what you have already brought upon the name of your ancestors, and order an investigation on your advisor and that brothel now."
Amoriah trembled, eyes bulging, veins throbbing at her temple. The long silent Winterwen offered her cold ultimatum,
"Until I have made sure no innocent Jaisian is in that brothel, consider all trade between us suspended, Amoriah."
Silence fell. Hasif had eyes for none but her Lady, her most ardent patron. Amoriah glanced between Baron Hadrian and Lady Jaise, fear and pride battling in her eyes. At last, her shoulders sagged, her belly deflated. She hung her head, calling dully to her subjects,
"Guards, prepare transport to the Pleasure Lane for Lady Jaise, Baron Hadrian and I. And detain Healer Hasif for questioning."
Not a soul moved, a pause of shock only Hyacinthians of the court could fully comprehend. The Lady Hyacinth had condemned her most trusted advisor, ordered a woman of the revered Hasif blood to be imprisoned. It was unprecedented. Even Hasif made no attempt to flee. They still couldn't believe their ears.
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"Guards!" Amoriah snarled into the ringing silence, and the guards' training overtook personal reservations. Two gigantic female warriors strode up and seized Hasif's arms, steering her to the small backdoor.
"No! My lady! No! Please!" Hasif screamed and pulled and kicked and fought, tears streaming down her face, "You must understand! I have done no wrong! I am carrying out Freda's work. I have done nothing but dedicate my life to the betterment of Latakia!"
"We Greeneyes are a burden on this three lands! I must lead my people to salvation! We must earn our place in the Heights! We must pay the price of our existence! Let us free ourselves from this burden we are to Freda's land! Lest we sink to the bowels of the Lake! Unhand me! Unhand me!"
Her curses and sermons continued even after the guards had unhooked her foot from the doorframe and dragged her through, echoing further and further down the unseen hallway. Amoriah sank weak-kneed onto her chair, head in her hand.
Burden on the Land. Place in the Heights. Price of our existence.
Coris thanked Freda neither Meya nor Atmund were here to witness the tirade. Considering their past, they were no doubt the most susceptible of the eight Greeneyes to this poisonous faith that had already claimed Persephia. He stole a glance at his parents—Father was embracing Mother—then Lady Jaise, and was surprised to find her downcast, staring at her feet. There was a sorrowful, pondering expression on her face, as if she were shaken to the core by those words, even when she was not a Greeneye.
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Life in prison wasn't entirely unbearable for this particular cell. Since Coris had taken to spending hours-long stretches inside with Meya, reading Axel's memoir with her, giving her vocabulary drills, guarding her as she delved into the baby dragon's eye, even spending the night with her, the warden would drop in to change the hay and Meya's chamberpot, and freshen the air with burning incense.
Yet, there was no burning away the dampness and the cold. The stench of human waste fermenting in uncleaned chamberpots wafted over from other cells, along with morose glares simmering with jealousy from less privileged prisoners. Meya squirmed guiltily as she crinkled her nose. She looked forward to Lexi's visits, but she worried for his health. And he was a nobleman, too. This filth was unfit for him.
The warden's clomping footsteps echoed down the hallway, preceded by her long shadow. A second set of footsteps echoed alongside hers, but it didn't sound like Coris. Meya deflated and slumped against the wall. Ah, well. Probably someone else's relative.
The warden stopped before her cell. Meya's eyes widened at the sight of the visitor she had escorted over.
"Baroness Sylvia?" Meya scrambled to her feet, remembering only too late she was carrying things in her lap. She lunged after the falling book and papers, breathless with panic, "Where's Lord Coris, milady? Has Lady Jaise arrived? Or Lord Crosset?"
"Calm down, lass. You don't want to startle your babe." The Baroness scolded as she ducked inside. The warden stepped aside, just beyond their field of vision, creating an illusion of privacy.
Meya stood gawking, clutching her belongings to her middle. The Baroness settled on the purple silk cushion the warden had brought for Coris, prompting Meya to gather her dress and kneel down.
"Winterwen persuaded Amoriah to investigate the brothel. They're heading there now. Hasif's detained—in a more comfortable cell than yours, no doubt." spited the Baroness, then her expression changed to mournful anger, "We'll question her on the eyes' whereabouts, once we've brought the Greeneyes out safely."
The Baroness trailed away, her eyes distant. In the silence, Meya realized she hadn't actually spoken to her sort-of-mother-in-law-now since the day of the foreshock. This was the first time they were alone together since the day the Baroness showed her around Hadrian Castle, and the first time as who she truly was.
The same happened with the Baron earlier, but this was more unnerving. Perhaps because she'd actually talked with and seen genuine emotion from her, had admired her more than the cold, distant image of Baron Hadrian Coris had instilled in her.
After the lies she'd lived, the secrets she'd kept, the mere realization that this woman was Coris's mother birthed in her a knot of writhing guilt she couldn't find logic for. Meya dipped her head, staring at her trembling hands.
"Milady, I'm so sorry."
The Baroness said nothing. Meya felt the heat of her gaze on the top of her head. At last, she sighed and looked away,
"You saved my sons many times. You've more than atoned for your crime, but that isn't what you're apologizing for, is it?"
Meya shivered at her cold voice. Coris had inherited more than his eyes from his mother.
"I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't prefer my son marry a highborn woman, that I have no doubt in your intentions for him, but that isn't my problem with you."
She paused, suffocating Meya under the mounting pressure.
"You carry his child, my grandchild. Because you stupidly, selfishly, fooled my dying son into lying with you." She hissed, then exploded, "He gave you the choice! Why did you do it?"
Scalding tears spilled down Meya's cheeks. She curled in on herself, hiding her face in shame.
"I'm sorry, milady. I'm so sorry." She gasped between sobs. The Baroness was right to be furious. Had Coris known she wasn't Arinel, he wouldn't have even given her the choice. She hadn't been honest. That was why she'd wanted to start over. However, those first nights made sure there was no turning back—it was before she'd started on Silfum.
She and Coris had been indebted to each other, had loved the other over the years, long before Freda allowed them to reunite. But to the Baroness, she must have been no different from those peasant women, looking to trap rich men with bastards that might not have been theirs, even.
"Lexi knew we only gave our blessing because we fear he'd die at any moment." the Baroness refused to spare Meya even a glance of contempt, "I fought Kellis to let him find you and wed you, but only because I'd lost all hope then. I wanted him to find some happiness before he—"
The Baroness broke off, strangled by grief. Breathing deeply, she shook her head in frustration,
"But look at him now. He's alive. He's bursting with energy, with hope. And it was thanks to you."
Her voice trembled. Meya gathered her courage and stole a glance. The Baroness's eyes were red-rimmed and overbright, blazing silver. Meya stupidly lingered, and Sylvia turned around and met her eyes.
"You led my son astray. I can only pray it was in the right direction."
Meya bowed her head. It was the best she could hope for. Their beginning was tainted with her lie. There was no changing that, but she'd try her damnedest to prove herself worthy by the end.
"Your prayers will not be in vain, milady. I swear by Freda."
Silence. Then, to Meya's surprise, the pleasant weight of a soft, cool hand on her head. She perked up before she could stop herself. The Baroness wasn't smiling, yet her expression had softened to disgruntled affection. Meya thought it wisest to refocus on the floor and leave her to fume in peace. Sylvia retracted her hand then edged away, making herself comfortable in the corner.
"Lexi told us he's leaving the choice to you. About the babe."
Meya looked up, bewildered. She had an inkling which choice the Baroness would prefer. She clutched fearfully at her middle, then her grip slackened when she noticed sorrow in those beautiful gray eyes. Of course. Perhaps there was an unexpected purpose to the Baroness's sudden visit—other than grilling her for stealing Coris's virginity, that was.
"The Baron said, milady," She began timidly, jolting when the Baroness turned around, "You were pregnant three times before you begot Lord Coris?"
She held her breath. The Baroness regarded her silently, lips pursed into a thin line. At last, she nodded. Meya sighed, then filled her lungs once more for the actual worst. But she must know. And she had no alternative. Mum wasn't here. Even if she were, Mum had never faced this choice. It had to be Baroness Sylvia.
"D'you regret it, milady?"
She whispered, as if lowering her voice would soften the blow. The Baroness shuddered, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes scrunched up against an onslaught of tears. She nodded.
"Seeing my sons now, I can't help wondering what could've been." Sylvia clutched the chest of her gown, rocking in place,
"I was young, selfish, impulsive—like you. When I held Lexi for the first time, it wasn't love I felt. I'd just realized what I'd done. It destroyed me. I drowned my pain in parties and plays. Kellis forgave me, then. He tried his best to mend our marriage. And so, Zee came. But still, I couldn't bear to look at my boys. They reminded me of what I did. I didn't dare draw near them. I was scared of what I might do to them."
She gasped, then covered her face with her hands, shuddering with sobs. Meya wasn't sure what she should do, what she was allowed to do. Fearfully, she crept forward, reached for the hem of her crimson dress, and tugged gently. The Baroness nodded as if in gratitude then surfaced, wiping her tears.
"It wasn't until my parents stepped in that I pulled myself together. I cannot change the past, only the future. Still, I could never have imagined just how much damage I'd inflicted upon my sons. It was my fault Coris massacred the Cristorians. It was my fault Zier stole The Axel."
She said, her voice dead as the look in her eyes. Meya shuddered, her fingers fidgeting on Sylvia's dress as she edged closer.
"But—you were married, milady. Ready or not, you must consummate the marriage. You didnae have a choice."
"But I did. Our parents were pressuring us, true, but Kellis was reluctant, too. I could've waited, but I didn't. A whiff of Silfum, a sprig of pennyroyal would take care of the side-effects, so my good friend Amoriah reassured me." She cocked her head, chuckling bitterly, "And I did it. Not once, but thrice."
She threw her head back with a sardonic grin. Meya bristled in silence, struggling for an argument. Sylvia rested her hand on hers.
"I know. It's unfair, but men have their short end of the stick as well. There are consequences to our choices. One comes of age by facing them. It's hard, but when is there ever honor in what is easy?"
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind Meya's ear.
"I don't have the right to judge you, but you must know before you choose. And you must remember, it's not just you."
Meya closed her eyes, hoping to fool herself she was back in Crosset, that Mum was caressing her freckled cheek with the back of her fingers. However, reality refused to be silenced. Tears bubbled up to her eyes.
"He said 'tis me choice, but I just know, milady. He really wants me to keep it." She rasped through the lump in her throat. The Baroness nodded slowly.
"I expect he does." She whispered. She must have known, of course. Why else would she and the Baron have pushed Coris so hard to marry Arinel and have a child?
Meya handed her the little straw doll. Sylvia froze, eyes widening in surprise, then brushed her fingertips over it.
"He made me this. And he was gushing about us having a babe together and everything. He just can't lie." Meya blew out a frustrated sigh. The Baroness smoothed her hair tenderly.
"I bet you miss your mother."
Meya nodded, tears spilling now. Sylvia continued caressing her hair.
"Our Alanna, isn't she? And you have three brothers and sisters each, is that right?"
Her voice brimmed with pride and camaraderie. Meya only remembered then that Baroness Sylvia came from Noxx, like Mum.
"Yes, milady."
"Lexi mentioned you're particularly worried about your father."
Meya froze. She could guess where the Baroness was going. The mere thought of Dad's reaction when he learned of her pregnancy, how it had happened, sent shivers down her back. The Baroness resumed caressing her hair.
"We might have to stay quite a while here to sort out those poor Greeneyes. Lexi wants to arrange for your family to visit. He wants it to be a surprise. I don't think that's wise, but I do agree you must let your parents know."
Meya stared down at her lap, gripped by fear and indecision. The Baroness gathered her into her arms, as Meya sat bug-eyed in shock. Her warmth thawed her, spreading to her shivery heart. Meya let herself melt into the embrace. It seemed she had softened the Baroness. A little.
"Thank you, milady."
The Baroness gave her a few parting pats on the back, then released her. She gave the cell a sweeping glance.
"This is no place for a pregnant woman." She muttered, rising to her feet, "Let's see if Winterwen can't give Amoriah another little nudge."
"Milady, there's no need—"
Sylvia pressed a finger on Meya's lips, shushing her with a smile. She straightened up and brushed strands of hay off her gown.
"The children are anxious to see you." She said airily. Meya gawked, then blushed deep red. Frenix—that royal pain in the arse! The only reason he'd want to visit was to torment her. And because he wouldn't get a gander of prison bursting with bare-breasted brown ladies otherwise. No. No way in Fyr's Lake.
Before Meya could protest, the Baroness threw her a farewell smile and left. The warden locked the door then clomped away, leaving Meya alone to brace for the arrival of Fyr's boat.
Meya fell against the wall, exhausted. A dull chime reverberated from her sleeve as it hit the hay-strewn floor. She raised it to find the ruby brooch she had pinned inside out of habit—the mark of her first night with Coris. She unpinned it and laid it on her lap, feeling its smooth facets, smiling at the bittersweet memories it held, the courage she often derived from it. Then, with a deep breath, she pinned it at the collar of her dress.
There were consequences to her choices. It was time she left behind the peasant girl she was and faced the challenge as Lady Hadrian.