CHAPTER 3

COUNTESS PAPER

334 AR

Tarisa was waiting when Leesha finally managed to pull her gaze away from Olive, fast asleep in her crib. The older woman’s aura still looked like a rabbit backed into a corner, but she did not show it. “My lady must be exhausted. Come sit and I’ll brush out your hair.”

Leesha reached up, realizing her hair was still pinned from her homecoming, half the pins loose or missing. She wore only a sweaty and bloodstained shift with a silk dressing gown pulled over it. Dried tears crusted her cheeks. “I must look a horror.”

“Anything but.” Tarisa led her to the bedroom vanity, unpinning and brushing Leesha’s hair. It was a ritual they had performed so many times, it gave Leesha a pang of nostalgia. These were Thamos’ chambers, his servants, his keep. She had meant to share it all with him, a storybook tale, but her prince’s part in the story was ended.

Everywhere, there were signs of him, active pieces of a life cut short in its prime. Hunting trophies and spears adorned the walls, along with ostentatious portraits of the royal family. Three suits of lacquered armor on stands like silent sentries around the room.

Leesha dropped her eyes to the floor, but her nose betrayed her, catching the scented oils the count had used, fragrances that triggered thoughts of love, lust, and loss.

Tarisa caught the move. “Arther wanted to sweep it all away so you wouldn’t have to look at it. Spare you the pain.”

Leesha’s throat was tight. “I’m glad he didn’t.”

Tarisa nodded. “Told him I’d have his seedpods if he moved a single chair.” Leesha closed her eyes. There were few pleasures in life as soothing as Tarisa brushing her hair. Suddenly she remembered how tired she was. Amanvah’s healing magic had given her a burst of strength, but that had faded, and magic was no true replacement for sleep.

But there were matters to settle first.

Leesha cracked an eye, watching Tarisa’s aura. “How long have you been a spy for the Duchess Mother?”

“Longer than you’ve been alive, my lady.” Tarisa’s aura spiked, but her voice was calm. Soothing. “Though I never thought of it as spying. Thamos was still in swaddling when I was brought in to nurse him. It was my duty to report on him to his mother. Her Grace loved the boy, but she had a duchy to run, and her husband was seldom about. Every night as the young prince slept, I filled her in on his day’s activities.”

“Even when the boy became a man grown?” Leesha asked.

Tarisa snorted. “Especially then. You’ll see as Olive grows, my lady. A mother never truly lets go.”

“What sorts of things did you tell her?” Leesha asked.

Tarisa shrugged. “His love life, mostly. Her Grace despaired of ever settling the prince down, and wanted an account of every skirt to catch his eye.” Tarisa met Leesha’s eyes. “But there was only one woman who ever held Thamos’ attention.”

“And she had a shady past,” Leesha guessed. “Childhood scandal, and talk of bedding the demon of the desert…”

Tarisa dropped her eyes again, never slowing the steady, soothing stroke of her brush. “Folk talk, my lady. In the Corelings’ Graveyard and the Holy House pews. In the Cutter ranks and, Creator knows, the servants’ quarters. Many spoke of how you and the Warded Man looked at each other, and how you went to Krasia to court Ahmann Jardir. None could prove they’d taken you to bed, but folk don’t need proof to whisper.”

“They never have,” Leesha said.

“Didn’t tell Her Grace anything she wasn’t hearing from others,” Tarisa said. “But I told her not to believe a word of it. You and His Highness were hardly discreet. When your laces began to strain, I assumed the child was the prince’s. We all did. The servants all loved you. I wrote my suspicions to Her Grace with joy, and waited on my toes for you to tell His Highness.”

“But then we broke,” Leesha said, “and you realized your love for me was misplaced.”

Tarisa shook her head. “How could we stop, when our lord did not?”

“Thamos cast me out,” Leesha said.

“Ay,” Tarisa agreed. “And haunted these halls like a ghost, spending hours staring at his portrait of you.”

A lump formed in Leesha’s throat, and she tried unsuccessfully to choke it down.

“Some may be holding out hope you’ll announce Thamos has an heir tomorrow,” Tarisa said, “dreaming there might still be a piece of the prince to love and cherish in this house. But none of them will turn from you when they meet Olive.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Leesha said.

“I never knew my own son,” Tarisa said. “I was kitchen maid to a minor lord and lady, and when she failed to give him children, they paid me to lie with him and give up the child.”

“Tarisa!” Leesha was horrified.

“I was treated fairly,” Tarisa said. “Given money and reference to take a commission from the Duchess Mum, wet-nursing and helping rear young Prince Thamos. He was like the son I never knew.”

She reached out, laying a gentle hand on Leesha’s belly. “We don’t get to say which children the Creator gives us. There’s love enough in this house for any child of yours, my lady.”

Leesha laid a hand over hers. “Enough with my lady. Call me mistress, please.”

“Ay, mistress.” Tarisa gave the hand a squeeze and got to her feet. “Water ought to be hot by now. I’ll go see about that bath.”

She left, and Leesha allowed herself to raise her eyes once more, taking in the reminders of her lost love.

And she wept.

Leesha kept the curtains pulled through the day, staring at Olive with her warded spectacles, glorying in the strength and purity of the child’s aura. Olive ate hungrily and slept little, staring up at Leesha with her bright blue eyes. The magic in her shone with an emotion beyond love, beyond adoration. Something more primal and pure.

There was a knock at the door, startling Leesha from the trance of it. Wonda went over to answer it, and there was muffled conversation. The door clicked as Wonda closed and locked it again, then came back to the sleeping chamber.

“Arther’s waitin’ outside,” Wonda said. “Been tellin’ him yur busy, but he keeps coming back. Wants to talk to ya somethin’ fierce.”

Leesha pushed herself upright. “Very well. He’s seen me in dressing gowns before. Tarisa? Please take Olive into the nursery while we talk.”

Olive clutched Leesha’s finger painfully in her little fist as Tarisa pulled her away. Her aura made Leesha’s heart ache.

Lord Arther stopped a respectful distance from the bed and bowed. “I apologize for the intrusion, Countess Paper.”

“It’s all right, Arther,” Leesha said. “I trust you would not have done so if it wasn’t important.”

“Indeed,” Arther said. “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I understand this was…earlier than expected. I trust all are in good health?”

“Thank you, we are,” Leesha said, “though I expect Wonda has already told you as much.”

“She has, of course,” Arther agreed. “I came with another rather urgent matter.”

“And that is?” Leesha asked.

Arther drew himself up straight. He wasn’t a tall man, but he made up for it in posture. “With respect, Countess, if my command of the house staff has been relieved and I am dismissed, I do not think it too much to ask that I be informed directly.”

Leesha blinked. “Has someone informed you indirectly?”

“Lady Paper,” Arther said.

“Lady…Night, my mother?” Leesha asked.

Arther bowed again. “Lady Paper moved into the keep a week ago, when news of your new title reached the Hollow. She has been…difficult to please.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Leesha said.

“It is her right, of course,” Arther said. “Without word from you, she and your father are the ranking members of your household. I assumed you had sent them to ready the keep.”

Leesha shook her head. “It meant only the keep has richer furnishing than my father’s house.”

“It is not for me to say,” Arther said. “But this afternoon, after announcing your daughter’s birth, she told me my services were no longer required, and that house staff would be reporting to her directly.”

Leesha groaned. “I am going to strangle that woman.” She looked at Arther. “Be assured the Core will freeze before I give my mother dominion over my household. I will make it clear to her before the end of the day.”

“That is a relief,” Arther said. “But with the dismissal of Gamon and Hayes, I cannot help but wonder if I am next in any event. Do you wish my resignation?”

Leesha considered the man. “Is it your wish to remain in my employ, with Thamos dead?”

“It is, my lady,” Arther said.

“Why?” Leesha asked bluntly. “You’ve never approved of my policies, particularly entitlements for refugees.”

Indignation shocked through the man’s aura, but Arther only raised an eyebrow. “My approval is irrelevant, my lady. It was my responsibility to keep the prince’s accounts balanced and see his funds spent wisely. I questioned every spending policy proposed by the council because I would have been remiss in my duties not to. Nevertheless, when His Highness made a decision, it was carried out diligently and without delay. You may have every confidence that I will do the same for you, if you will have me.”

There was no lie in his aura, but her question remained unanswered. “Why?” Leesha asked again. “I expected you would volunteer your resignation soon after my arrival and return to your family holdings in Angiers.”

An image flashed across Arther’s aura. It was distorted, but Leesha could make out a once great Angierian townhouse, fallen into disrepair. It linked to Arther with shame, and with fierce pride.

“My family’s holdings were mortgaged to buy my commission in the Wooden Soldiers,” Arther said. “That and a bit of luck saw me squire for young Prince Thamos. My life was his. Gamon is no different.”

Another image. Thamos, Arther, and Gamon, inseparable as brothers.

“But now the prince is gone.” Arther gave no outward sign of the pain tearing across his aura. “As is the Angiers we left. Euchor’s Mountain Spears occupy the city now, with their flamework weapons. The Wooden Soldiers will soon be relegated to policing the boardwalk, breaking up domestic disturbances and illegal Jongleur shows. There is no longer anything for us there, even if we wished to return.”

Leesha had not considered that. “Where would you go, if I asked you to resign?”

“I remain quartermaster for the Hollow’s Wooden Soldiers, unless you relieve me of that as well,” Arther said. “I would return to the barracks while I sought employment among the barons. Baron Cutter, perhaps.”

“I am still not certain of your loyalties, Arther. I fear I must be quite blunt,” she tapped her spectacles, “and see the answers in your aura.”

Arther looked at her a long moment, eyes flicking to the lamps and curtained windows, and then to her warded spectacles. His aura was active, but it was too complex for Leesha to read, as if he was still sorting his own feelings about this invasion of privacy.

At last he sniffed, pulling himself up straight. “You are forgiven, my lady, for any blunt questions you put to me. As it was my due diligence to question your policies, it is yours to question my loyalty before taking me into your service.”

“Thank—” Leesha began.

“But,” Arther cut in with a raised hand. “If we are to work in good faith, you must agree that you will never again subject me to this…” he waved a hand at Leesha’s spectacles, “…undue scrutiny without just cause and evidence.”

Leesha shook her head. “If you feel I have invaded your privacy I apologize, but my spectacles are a part of me now. I won’t take them off every time you enter the room. There are going to be changes in the Hollow, Arther. If anyone in my employ is uncomfortable about ward magic, I will of course provide excellent references and generous severance.”

“Very well, my lady. I shall inform the staff. As for myself, if you have additional questions regarding my integrity, pray ask and let us have it done.” Arther’s aura roiled with growing indignation. He considered himself above reproach and was offended by her mistrust.

Leesha knew she must step carefully. She might find Arther loyal, only to drive him away by refusing to give trust in kind.

Leesha crossed her arms. “The child is Ahmann Jardir’s.”

Arther’s aura did not change. “I am not a fool, my lady. Even if my lord had not informed me months ago, your mother would be shouting it from the turrets if the child belonged to Thamos.”

“And still, you would remain in my service?” Leesha asked.

“Ahmann Jardir is dead,” Arther said. “Whatever might have gone before, I think any ties you had to the Krasians died with him. After the Battle of Docktown, there can be no doubt that the new Krasian leader sees the Hollow as his enemy, and I know you well enough to trust you will not surrender it to him.”

“Corespawned right,” Wonda said.

“My lord is dead as well,” Arther said, the indignation in his aura gnawed away by a growing emptiness. “I know you loved him, and he you. Both of you were…free with your affections before you met. It is not my place to judge.”

“You sent regular reports to Minister Janson,” Leesha said.

“We all did, including His Highness,” Arther said. “Thamos hid nothing from the ivy throne.”

“Janson is dead now, too,” Leesha said. “And the ledgers of the Hollow are closed. You said yourself, the Angiers we knew is gone. The Hollow must find its own path.”

“You mean to be Duchess of the Hollow,” Arther guessed.

“And if I do?” Leesha asked. “Is your loyalty to me—to the Hollow—or to the ivy throne?”

Arther took a step back, unsheathing the ceremonial fencing spear on his back. Wonda twitched, but Leesha stayed her with a hand as Arther laid the weapon on the floor before the bed and knelt. “To you and the Hollow, my lady. I swear it by the Creator, and will swear again in the sun.”

Leesha held out a hand, and Arther took it. “And I swear to be worthy of your trust, First Minister.”

Arther kissed her hand. “Thank you, my lady.”

He rolled back on his heels, getting smoothly to his feet as he took a writing board from the satchel at his waist. “In that case, I’ve received dozens of requests for your calendar already, and there are a number of pressing matters…”

Leesha sighed, but felt much of her stress wash away with it. She glanced at the nursery. “You have until Olive begins to cry, Minister.”

Leesha’s back spasmed as she scrawled the words for what seemed the thousandth time. Thamos’ chair was a great carved monstrosity, chosen more for intimidation than comfort. Magic helped speed her recovery, but she did not want to grow dependent upon it, especially with Olive suckling hungrily a dozen times a day.

She put one hand on the writhing muscles at the small of her back and stretched. She’d been signing since midmorning. Outside the office window, the sky was darkening.

Minister Arther snatched up the paper, laying it atop the completed pile even as he placed another in front of her. “Fifty thousand klats for horse barding bearing Baron Cutter’s arms.” Arther swept the pertinent numbers with the end of his pen before drawing a quick X at the bottom. “Sign here.”

Leesha scanned the page. “This is ridiculous. I’m not approving that. The baron can spend his own money dressing up his horses. There are hungry mouths to feed.”

“Your pardon, mistress,” Arther said, “but the order was completed a month ago. The baron has his barding, and the vendor is owed payment.”

“How did it go through without approval?” Leesha asked.

“His Highness left Baron Cutter in charge, and the man would rather box a wood demon than pick up a pen.” Arther sniffed. “Apparently among the Hollowers, spitting on your hand is considered a binding contract.”

“Most of them can’t read, anyway.” Leesha grit her teeth as she bent and signed, then glanced at the tall, unruly stack of papers the baron’s clerk had sent over. “Are they all like this?”

“I’m afraid so,” Arther said. “The people needed a symbol to rally to in the absence of the count and yourself. Especially after Mr. and Mrs. Bales disappeared. In that, Baron Cutter was a great success. As an administrator, he…left much to be desired.”

Leesha nodded. She could not pretend this was news to her; she had known Gared all her life. The people loved and trusted him. He was one of them—first of the Cutters to answer Arlen Bales’ call to take their axes into the night. He’d put himself between the Hollowers and the demons every night since, and they all knew it. Folk slept better, knowing Gared Cutter was in charge.

But he was much better at spending money than he was at counting it. Leesha could stamp an endless number of klats, but they were only worth as much as the people believed them to be.

“Would you still seek his employ if I asked for your resignation?” Leesha asked.

Arther blew a breath through his nose. “That was an empty threat, mistress. Baron Cutter goes through clerks faster than mugs of ale. Squire Emet resigned after the baron threatened to tear his arms off.”

Leesha sighed. “And if I ordered you to go, and him to take you?”

“I might break my oath and defect to Krasia,” Arther said, and Leesha laughed so hard it rasped her throat.

Her eyes moved back to the pile of papers, and the humor left her. She rubbed her temple, massaging the dull ache that would soon blossom into pain if she didn’t have something to eat and an hour alone in her garden. “Gared needs a clerk that’s not afraid of him.”

“I don’t know where you’ll find such a man, this side of Arlen Bales,” Arther said.

“I wasn’t thinking of a man,” Leesha said. “Wonda?”

“Don’t look at me, mistress,” Wonda said. “I’m worse with papers than Gar.”

“Be a dear and fetch Miss Lacquer, then,” Leesha said.

Wonda smiled. “Ay, mistress.”

“Thank you for coming, Emelia.” Leesha swept a hand at one of the chairs by her desk. “Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you, Countess.” Rosal dipped a smooth, practiced curtsy, snapping her skirts as she rose so that when she seated herself, not a fold was out of place.

“Please just call me mistress,” Leesha said. “Tea?”

Rosal nodded. “Yes, please, mistress.”

Leesha signaled to Wonda. The woman could thread a needle with her bow, and she had an equally adept pour, carrying two steaming cups and saucers in one hand like a pair of klats.

“How have you found the Hollow thus far?” Leesha asked as she took her cup.

“Wonderful.” Rosal dropped a sugar in her tea, stirring. “Everyone’s been so welcoming. They’re all excited about the wedding. Even your mother has offered to help with the planning.”

“Oh?” This was the first Leesha had heard of it. It seemed unthinkable that Elona might offer to help anyone out of the goodness of her heart, Emelia Lacquer most of all.

Rosal nodded. “She’s introduced me to the best florists and seamstresses, and offered some…interesting advice on the dress.”

“My mother isn’t one to waste excess cloth,” Leesha said. “Especially on top.”

Rosal lifted her cup with a wink. “I’ve worn worse than anything your mum can dream up. But not this time. Rosal was for other men. Gared’s going to get a bride out of a Jongleur’s tale.”

“Gared’s not getting anything until his paperwork gets done,” Leesha said, indicating the pile on her desk.

Rosal nodded. “Papers aren’t Gar’s strength. After the wedding I can…”

“That’s not going to do, dear,” Leesha said. “Need I remind you of your debt to me?”

Rosal shook her head. Leesha had kept the Duchess Mum from throwing her in prison after the scandal at court. “Of course not, mistress.”

“Good,” Leesha said. “Amanvah’s dice said I could trust you to be loyal to the Hollow, and I need someone like that on my side right now.”

Rosal set down her saucer and sat up straight, hands in her lap. “How can I help?”

Leesha pointed to the stack. “Tell your promised he doesn’t get his seedpods drained until you sit him down and make him balance his ledgers.”

Rosal raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk twitching at her mouth. “Why, mistress, I have never once drained the baron’s seedpods. We are unwed! Think of the scandal!”

The smirk spread into a smile. “But I keep his tree at attention. Told him I won’t have it out of his breeches unless he’s tied down. Now whenever we’re alone he runs for the shackles.”

“Creator,” Leesha said. “You’re as bad as my mother. Be careful he doesn’t have his night strength, or he might break those shackles.”

Rosal’s eyes glittered. “Deep down, mistress, he doesn’t want to.”

“All right I wait outside, mistress?” Wonda cut in.

Rosal smiled at her. “Why, Wonda Cutter, you’re blushing!”

“Like listenin’ to you talk about my brother,” Wonda said.

“I’ve two brothers myself,” Rosal said. “I know more than I’d ever wish about their love lives.” She winked. “But I won’t say the information wasn’t useful.”

“Can I assume, then, you will quickly have the problem…ah,” Leesha smiled in spite of herself, “…in hand?”

All three women shared a laugh.

“Think no more on it, mistress,” Rosal said. “I’ll put the shackles under his desk.”

“The sun is set, mistress,” Tarisa said.

Leesha pried Olive from her breast, handing her to Elona. “Is everyone arrived and given tea?” Tarisa moved to fix her neckline, adding deft pats of powder.

“Lot of ’em been waiting over an hour, now,” Wonda said.

Leesha nodded. Keeping the councilors waiting was something Thamos had done to show his power, and it seemed apt to keep the practice for her first council meeting since she returned.

More, by calling the meeting late in the day, Leesha could wait out the sun, which flooded the western windows of the council chamber in the evenings. She slipped on her warded spectacles and rose, gliding out into the hall. She’d been home a week now and couldn’t put this off any longer.

“Leesha Paper, Mistress of the Hollow,” Arther said simply as he ushered her in through the royal entrance to the council chamber, all but hidden behind Thamos’ monstrosity of a throne. Eventually Leesha meant to be rid of the thing, but for now it served its purpose well, looming over the council.

Leesha had purposely removed the title from her name. Countess was something given to her by the throne of Angiers, but she had no intention of remaining beholden to them. It was high time the Hollow stood on its own.

Everyone rose, bowing and curtsying. She nodded in acknowledgment and swept a hand for them to take their seats. Only Arther kept his feet, taking up position beside the throne.

Leesha looked over the councilors. Her father, Erny, spoke for the Warders’ Guild. Smitt for the Merchants’. Shepherd Jona had taken Inquisitor Hayes’ great wooden chair, but Hayes had found another nearly as grand and sat next to him. Likewise, Baron Gared had Captain Gamon beside him. Darsy and Vika had the far end of the table, Darsy in the great padded chair Leesha once occupied. Next to them sat Amanvah, Kendall, and Hary Roller, master of the Jongleurs’ Guild.

“Thank you all for coming,” Leesha said. “I know there are many preparations to make for tonight’s ceremony, so we’ll keep this first meeting brief. First, as you all know, Lord Arther will retain his position as first minister.” She nodded to the man. “Minister?”

Arther stepped forward, writing board ready. “The Hollow has sixteen baronies now, mistress, not counting Gatherers’ Wood. Eleven have active greatwards. Four have begun to pay taxes. The others remain…unstable as the people settle into their new lives.”

Most of those baronies were formed of refugees from the Krasians, a steady flow over the last year. The Hollow had grown exponentially to accommodate them, printing klats to start their economies and providing structure and materials to rebuild their lives.

“All of ’em are sendin’ folk to join the Cutters,” Gared noted. “Got recruits comin’ in every day, which is good. Demons are getting pushed out by the greatwards, but it ent thinnin’ their ranks. Anythin’, it’s gettin’ worse.”

“We’re using molds and stencils to ward their weapons and shields,” Erny said. “Not as effective as those warded by hand, but it’s allowed us to keep up with demand. We’re working on bolts of cloth, as well, to mass-produce Cloaks of Unsight.”

Leesha nodded. “What are we doing to rebuild the cavalry?”

“Jon Stallion has more horses coming,” Smitt said. “The Wooden Lancers…”

“Hollow Lancers,” Leesha said, looking at Gamon.

“Eh?” Smitt asked.

“The Wooden Soldiers are dissolved as of today,” Leesha said. “Any who wish to join the Hollow Soldiers shall be automatically enrolled and keep their rank and pay, upon oath of allegiance to the Hollow. The rest…”

Gamon held up a hand. He and Arther had already discussed this. “I have spoken to the men, mistress. There are none who wish to return to Angiers.”

Leesha gave a nod. “We will see them back to strength soon, Captain.”

She looked to Jona, sitting with the rigid Inquisitor Hayes. “And your Tenders, Shepherd?”

“It will be some time before they are returned to strength,” Jona said. “The Krasian invaders executed Tender and Child alike, whenever they found them. We have only a handful to minister to many. I wish your blessing to appoint Inquisitor Hayes to speak for the Hollow’s first Council of Tenders.”

Leesha and the inquisitor eyed each other. He, too, had worn spectacles to the meeting. Leesha could see wardlight dance across them, and knew he was watching her aura as she did his.

This, too, had been agreed in advance. A way for both of them to keep face as they followed their script before the council.

“How do you think Duke Pether will react,” Leesha asked, “if you renounce the Church of Angiers and swear oath to an independent Church of the Hollow, with Jona as Shepherd?”

Hayes sketched a quick warding in the air. Leesha could see the script ripple across the ambient magic, impressed at his skill. His own eyes were drawn to it as well.

Leesha smiled at the dawning understanding in his aura. The Tenders have more power than they know.

Hayes shook off his surprise. “I trained Pether. He will take this as a personal betrayal. The Church of Angiers will declare me a heretic and likely issue a warrant for me to be burned alive if I set foot on Angierian soil ever again.”

“And still you wish to do this?” Leesha asked.

“I was sent here to quell heresy,” Inquisitor Hayes said. “To bring the Hollow back under the control of Shepherd Pether and the Church of Angiers. But in the months I have served here, I have seen people of tremendous faith and courage, and witnessed things the Angierian Council of Tenders can only imagine.

“I do not pretend to know the Creator’s Plan, but I know that He put me here for a reason, to stand between these people and the Core. To let them know the Creator is watching, and He is proud.”

His aura shone with conviction, and Leesha gave a bow of her head to Jona. “You do not need my blessing, Shepherd, but you have it.”

“Thank you, mistress,” Jona said. “We will begin promoting Tenders and bringing in new Children, but it may be years before our ranks are secure.”

“Of course,” Leesha said. “Perhaps it is time to promote Child Franq?”

The auras of both men colored. They cast nervous glances at each other, and Gared. Slowly the color rippled around the table, until it was clear everyone else knew something Leesha did not. Even Darsy.

“What?” she demanded.

“Franq’s a small part of a bigger problem,” Darsy said. “One growin’ like chokeweed in the middle of the Hollow.”

“The Warded Children,” Leesha said.

“Can’t tell ’em anythin’ anymore!” Gared slapped one of his giant hands on the table, and the whole thing shook, rattling everyone’s tea. “Don’t show up to muster, don’t listen to anyone but their own.”

“They live in the Gatherers’ Wood,” Smitt said. “They refuse to sleep inside walls.”

“Like they ent folk anymore,” Gared said. “Becomin’…somethin’ else.”

It was Leesha’s turn to slap the table. “Enough of that, Baron. These are not demons we’re talking about. These are brothers, sisters, and children of the Hollow. We’re talking about Evin and Brianne’s son Callen.” She looked to Smitt. “Your son Keet and granddaughter, Stela.”

“Callen broke Yon Gray’s arm,” Gared said.

“I caught Keet and Stela stealing from one of my warehouses,” Smitt said. “Food, weapons, tools. My own son knocked me down when I tried to stop them. I put a new lock on the warehouse, and the next time they came they kicked in the six-inch goldwood door like it was kindling.”

“What does all this have to do with Child Franq?” Leesha asked.

“It came to my attention that the Children had begun to self-train, forming their own rituals,” Hayes said. “Fearing a growing risk of heresy, I sent Franq to minister to them. Reports indicated they were hungry to learn warding, and Franq is a skilled Warder. He used it to gain access.”

“And?” Leesha asked.

Hayes blew out a breath. “He has…joined them, mistress.”

Leesha blinked. “You’re telling me that Child Franq, a man made entirely of starch, has joined the Warded Children?”

Hayes nodded grimly. “The last time I saw him, mistress, he had taken to wearing a simple brown robe.”

“That isn’t unusual,” Leesha said.

“His sleeves were cut away to show the wards tattooed on his arms,” Hayes said. “And he stank of sweat and ichor.”

“I’ll need to meet with them,” Leesha said. “And soon.”

“Ent a good idea, mistress,” Wonda said.

“She’s right, Leesh,” Gared said. “Children’re dangerous.”

“I trained ’em,” Wonda said. “Listen to me. Know they will.”

Leesha shook her head. “I need to see for myself. I assure you, we will go prepared and do nothing to provoke them until we have their measure.”

“Must be someone you can send,” Wonda said, “just to feel things out.”

“Normally that would be a job for my herald,” Leesha said, “but with Rojer gone, that position is empty.” She looked to Kendall. “The job is yours, Kendall, if you want it.”

Kendall blinked. “Me, mistress? Ent much more’n an apprentice…”

“Nonsense,” Leesha said. “Rojer himself told me you are the only one he’s ever met with his talent for charming demons. The Hollow needs that with him gone, and Rojer’s word is more than good enough for me. Guildmaster?”

Hary Roller smiled, producing a scroll and handing it to the young woman. “Your Jongleur’s license, Kendall Demonsong.”

“Ay, like the sound of that,” Kendall said, taking the scroll.

“So will you take the job?” Leesha pressed. “The license is yours regardless, but there is no one else I would have in the position.”

Kendall looked to Amanvah, who nodded. “Yes, mistress, of course.”

Hayes harrumphed. Leesha raised an eyebrow his way. “Something on your mind, Inquisitor?”

Hayes pursed his lips. “Only that your new herald appears to answer to an Evejan priestess first and her countess second.”

Amanvah’s brows knit together, aura spiking. Hayes saw it, too, and flinched. Leesha raised a hand before she could retort. “I trust Kendall implicitly, Inquisitor, which is more than I can say for your judgment at the moment. As for Amanvah…” She looked to the dama’ting. “You might as well tell them.”

Amanvah drew a breath, returning to serenity. “Sikvah and I will be returning to Everam’s Bounty after our husband’s funeral. The Damaji’ting of the Kaji was slain in my brother’s coup. I am to take her place.”

There were gasps around the table. “Damaji’ting…” Jona began.

“ ‘Shepherdess’ is the closest translation,” Amanvah said, “though it falls short, as it is a secular title as well. I will have direct control of the dama’ting and women of the Kaji, Krasia’s largest tribe.”

“Shepherdess and duchess both, then,” Jona said, bowing to her. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”

Similar sentiments echoed around the table. Amanvah acknowledged them with regal nods before turning to meet Leesha’s eyes. “I cannot speak for my mother and brother, mistress, but know by the blood we share that you and the Hollow will always have an ally in me.”

Leesha nodded. “Of that I have no doubt.” She turned back to Arther. “What news from Lakton?”

Arther eyed Amanvah warily. “Mistress…”

“There’s nothing you can say that Amanvah won’t learn on her return, Minister,” Leesha said.

Arther pursed his lips, choosing his words carefully. “The island remains free, though the waters now host a growing number of Krasian privateers.”

“And the mainland?” Leesha asked.

“Still under Krasian control,” Arther said, “but their positions are weaker. The remains of Prince Jayan’s army have not returned. Half have deserted, preying like wolves on any settlements they come upon. The rest have taken refuge behind the walls of the Monastery of Dawn.”

“And the refugees who took succor there?” Leesha had sent Briar Damaj to find any that may have escaped the slaughter.

“Briar’s been in and out,” Gared said. “Brought in a group already. Due this evening with the last of ’em, includin’ a couple of Milnese dignitaries he wants you to meet.”

Leesha took a sip of her tea. “Have rooms ready for them, and an invitation to call on me once they’ve had a day or two to refresh themselves.”

She set down her cup. “Amanvah, let us discuss tonight’s service.”

Elona was pacing the hall outside when the meeting ended, but she wasn’t waiting for Erny. Her eyes, and her aura, remained fixed on Gared as she gave her husband a peck on the cheek and sent him on down the hall with a shove.

None of the councilors noticed Elona’s fixation, not even Hayes with his warded eyes. All were simply grateful she was not focused on them, and hurried past. But Gared lingered, talking with Arther and Gamon. When Elona entered the room, the two men scampered away as quickly as their dignity would allow. By the time Gared saw her, Elona had closed the door and he was trapped.

Elona turned to Leesha, who saw the same frightened urge to flee ripple through her own aura. She liked to think she had better control of her mother, but auras didn’t lie.

“Bit of privacy, dear?” Elona’s voice held a dangerous edge. Gared looked at Leesha in panic.

“Sorry, Gar, this is overdue. You and my mother have things to discuss.”

Leesha turned and Wonda opened the door to the royal entrance. The two of them swept through, closing the heavy door behind them.

“That’ll be all for now, Wonda,” Leesha said.

“Mistress?” Wonda asked.

“I may need to step back into this,” Leesha said. “Do you want to be anywhere near it when I do?”

The panic rushed through Wonda’s aura now. Night, was there anyone in all the world not terrified of Elona? “No, mistress.”

“Off you go, then,” Leesha said. “Run and find Rosal. Ask her to fetch her promised from the council room.” Relief flooded Wonda’s aura as she turned and sprinted down the hall.

Since returning to the Hollow, Leesha had forgone wearing the pocketed apron of an Herb Gatherer. Araine had told her it was not dignified or proper for a countess, and much as Leesha resented it, the woman was right.

But neither was it dignified or proper for Leesha to hide who she was. She had everyone address her as mistress, and her gowns were covered in stylish pockets, filled with herbs and warded items.

She selected a delicate warded silver ball dangling from the end of a fine silver chain. She set the ball into one ear, pulling the chain over and behind her ear to hold it in place. Inside the ball was a broken piece of demon bone. Leesha had left its twin on her throne, and through it she could hear everything occurring in the council room.

“Been avoiding me, boy,” Elona said, but it wasn’t the snappish tone she took with others. This was the purr of a cat sleeping atop the mousehole.

“Just been busy,” Gared said.

“Ay, you were always busy,” Elona agreed. “Until you had a stiff tree in your pants, and then you were at my door, beggin’ like a wolfhound.”

“Ent gonna do that anymore.” Gared’s words sounded more a plea than an order. “Promised Leesha and swore by the sun.”

“Easy to make an oath like that,” Elona said. “Lot harder to keep it—believe me. Easy now, with that Angierian skink draining your seedpods night and day. Always like that at first. Think you’ll never need another woman. But she’ll tire of the chore, and untie your breeches less and less. Then one day, when your pods are fit to burst, you’ll come looking for me, knowin’ I’ll take you leaves-to-root and use tricks that young debutante of yours never heard of.”

Gared gasped. Was she touching him?

“What do you think, boy?” Elona asked. “She empty you like I can?”

“W-we ent…” Gared stuttered, “done that yet.”

“Must be backed up to your eyeballs!” Elona laughed, and it sounded triumphant. “What say I do your young promised a favor and skim some off the top for old times’ sake?”

There was a sound of stumbling and shifting furniture.

Elona laughed. “Want me under the table, ay? Let me take care of you in secret while folk buzz about?”

More shifting furniture. “Ent happenin’ again, Mrs. Paper,” Gared growled. “Deliverer said I could be a better man, and I aim to.”

“You’re bein’ an idiot, boy,” Elona snapped. “You can do better than that girl.”

“Ya don’t even know her!” Gared said.

“Had enough tea with that simpering girl and her idiot mum to drown a water demon,” Elona said. “She’s got nothing to offer now that my daughter’s single again.”

Night, Mother! Leesha thought. Still?!

But Gared surprised her. “Don’t want Leesha. Shined on her, I know, but that wern’t ever gonna work.”

Honest word, Leesha agreed.

“It’s not just Leesha, you idiot,” Elona snapped. “You marry her, you could be Duke of the Hollow. Night, one day you might be king of Thesa!”

Her voice turned back to a purr. “Now that she’s had a few spears, she’s ready for a real tree. And when she’s not climbing it, I’ll keep the fruit plucked.”

“W-what about Erny?” Gared squeaked.

“Pfagh,” Elona said. “He’ll hide in the closet and pull at himself until you’re gone, like always.”

Leesha had enough, slipping off the warded earpiece and opening the door. Gared was using the council table like a shield, frozen as a deer on the far side.

“Creator be praised.” Gared hurried over. Leesha wanted to laugh at the sight of Gared Cutter, seven feet of pure muscle, cowering behind her.

“Fine, keep it in your pants!” Elona growled. “That don’t change what it’s left behind!”

“Ay, what’s that supposed to mean?” Gared asked over Leesha’s shoulder.

“It means I’ve got your babe in my belly, woodbrain,” Elona snapped.

“What?!” Gared demanded. “Just thought you put on a few pounds.”

It was the worst thing he could have said. Elona’s aura went red, her eyes bulging.

But then the council room door opened and Rosal stepped in.

“Night!” Elona threw up her hands. “Does everyone in this ripping keep have an ear to the door?”

Rosal smiled. “I was just looking for Gared.” She threw him a wink. “He’s got paperwork to do.”

Gared looked pale as Rosal looked back to Elona. “It’s not as if this is news to me. Gared has tells whenever your name is mentioned.”

“I do?” Gared asked.

Rosal’s eyes flicked over, holding his. “You’re not in trouble for anything past, so be smart and keep quiet now. I’ll handle this.”

Gared blew out a breath. “Ay, dear.”

Elona put her hands on her hips, fixed on Rosal now. “Smarter’n I gave you credit for, girl.”

Rosal gave a mocking curtsy. “I know you’re something special here in the Hollow, Lady Paper, but I went to school with dozens like you. I don’t mind that you broke Gared in, but on our wedding night I’m going to do things that will make him forget all about your bumpkin wife’s tricks.”

Elona’s hand darted out, reaching for Rosal’s long, thick hair, but Rosal was ready for it, slapping the hand aside and stepping out of reach. She had a dancer’s balance, and Leesha knew she could strike back if she wished.

But Rosal kept control. Her voice was quiet, smile still in place. “He’s not yours anymore.”

“Core he ent,” Elona said. “Got his brat in me.”

“You’ve got a child in you,” Rosal agreed. “But is it Gared’s? Who can say? You’re a married woman.”

“And when the babe don’t look like Erny?” Elona asked.

Rosal shrugged. “I doubt any will be surprised. You have quite the reputation. ‘What’s Lady Paper done now?’ is a drinking game among the servants, did you know?”

Elona’s aura darkened again, but she stood frozen.

“But…what if it really is mine?” Gared squeaked. All eyes turned to him.

“Told the Deliverer I’d be a better man,” Gared said, his voice slowly gaining strength. “Ent lookin’ for scandal, but I ent any kind of man, I can’t stand by my babe.”

Rosal went over to him. He flinched as she reached for him, but she only laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Of course not, my love. I would never ask that of you. But there are many ways to stand by the child, if we learn it’s yours.”

“Ay?” Gared asked.

“By the time the babe comes, we’ll be married,” Rosal said. “And our marriage contract will put our issue first in your succession. After that, you’re free to claim the child if you wish.”

She put a hand on his face. “But you may find it easier for all to simply visit often and shower the child with gifts.”

Elona crossed her arms. “And if I start the scandal, myself?”

“You won’t,” Rosal said. “Not without proof, and likely not even then. You’re not as smart as you think you are, Lady Paper, but you’re smarter than that. You have more to lose than Gared.”

Leesha spoke up at last. “I can call Amanvah if you wish, Mother. With a drop of your blood and a throw of her dice, she can give you proof. We can settle this all here and now.”

“You, too, girl?” Elona spat on the rug, turning on a heel to storm from the room.

Gared let out a groan, and Rosal patted his arm. “Breathe, love. You did well. We haven’t heard the last of this, but the worst is over. You just keep your distance and leave Elona to me.”

She turned to him, catching his eyes and holding them with her own. “And come our wedding day, you’ll never want her to climb your tree again.”

“Don’t want it now,” Gared said.

Rosal caught his beard, pulling his face down for a peck on the cheek. “Smart boy.”

Gared put his hand over hers. “Thought ya’d never understand, ya knew what I done.”

Rosal smiled. “Past is past, we agreed. Yours and mine.”

She looked to Leesha. “Thank you, mistress.”

“Ay, Leesh,” Gared said. “Came in like the Deliverer just then.”

“Hardly,” Leesha said.

“Demonshit,” Gared said. “Ent the first time. Yu’ve always been there when folk need ya most, Leesh. You an’ Rojer an’ Arlen Bales. Came to the Hollow together when we were beaten, and turned it around. Ent no one whose life ent changed by ya.”

“Now Arlen is gone,” Leesha said. “And Rojer. People are going to realize I’m no Deliverer when they see the foolish choices I’ve made.”

“Ent gonna see any such thing.” Gared waved an arm dismissively. “Broken folk come to the Hollow, lookin’ for the Deliverer, but the first thing they see is Leesha Paper, takin’ care of ’em.”

Leesha shook her head. “You’re the first thing they see, Gar.”

“Ay, on the road, maybe,” Gared agreed. “Cutters make ’em feel safe, but safe don’t give them a place to sleep and a full belly. Safe don’t heal the cored. Safe don’t put clothes on their backs and put ’em right back to work. Don’t give ’em a new life before losing the old one even has time to set in. You do that, Leesh. Time ya stopped bein’ so guilty about it.”

“Guilty?” Leesha asked.

“That yur alive and Rojer ent,” Gared said. “That ya had to kill those Krasians came to murder the duke. Poisoned them Sharum last summer so they couldn’t turn on us. Stuck the demon of the desert. Ya done what ya done to help people, every time. Wern’t selfish, or evil. Quit tellin’ yurself otherwise.”

Leesha looked at Gared, trying to peel back the years to their childhood romance, or the young man she had hated for so many years. The man who had ruined her reputation and arguably her life. The man in front of her was both those men, and neither. The mistakes of youth had cast both of them onto new paths.

Those paths had been difficult, but they’d led inexorably to them becoming the most powerful people in Hollow County.

And somewhere along the way, he had become like a brother to her. He was a woodbrained oaf even now, but he was a good man, and she loved him still. Leesha reached out, taking Gared’s and Rosal’s hands in hers. “I am truly happy for the two of you.”