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  We must listen. We must speak. We must envision and we must enact.

  Let the shackles fall.”

  The clanking armour of a group of four liveried guards interrupted them. With them stood a bulky healer and a pretty maid, flushed with embarrassment and repressed excitement. She dropped into a neat curtsy and addressed the scarecrow, and Mera half stood her attention flitting between the two.

  “Please forgive my interruption, when you are so astutely pushing forward on principle, but Princess Meredith and Prince Llewellyn must come with me immediately, by request of King Gaillardia.”

  Llew was surprised to hear his name, and such a formal request. “Of course, go ahead Prince, Princess, leave your things. I will have others see to them.”

  They rose and rushed forward. An uneasy feeling had started to coil in his stomach. The guards closed about them and they left the hall, heading south, towards the nobles living quarters. As soon as they left the hall and entered the relative quiet of a hallway Mera rounded on the maid, worry plain in her voice.“Tansy, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  Tansy, took up Mera’s hand, speaking in a low but reassuring tone.“Hush, nothing is wrong. Tis your mother, her highness has begun her birthing.”

  Llew felt a relieved dismay. Had it been that long already? It was really real, he was going to have a baby brother. Why was he needed? They didn’t expect him to watch did they… he had seen a foal born once and it was disgusting. He really didn’t want to see that.

  Soon they had walked down enough corridors and climbed enough stairs and stood outside the door to their parents suite. Behind them the great balcony that circled high up the oculus, over looking the great hall. Nobody spared a glance. The guards knocked on the open the doors, two stationing themselves within, and two without. The maid stood to one side as she entered, sinking into a deep curtsy. The healer followed her, with an elegant bow of the head. Within a panelled parlour, an odd mix of heavy furniture and airy drapes and flowers. The wide room held a large hearth with chairs and sofas, and a table grand enough to seat a dozen by the windows where his father stood with hunched shoulders. At their entrance he looked up, automatically waving his hand as a sign for the servants to rise. Llew had never seen him look so dishevelled. His hair was standing up as if he had been running his hands through it and he had removed his outer jacket, his vest open, with his sleeves rolled up. “Llew, Mera, I am glad to see you. It’s happening, the babe is coming. Come, let me take you to see her.”

  Llew and Mera exchanged a look. Was this what is was like, all nervous waiting? They followed his father through another door, that led to another parlour. This one less formal, cosy, signs of everyday use laying around. In one corner sat a large loom, half dismantled and unused now for awhile it seemed. By this sat many reels and skeins of thread and other accoutrements for such a hobby, nearby sat a large desk covered in carving implements and stacks of thin wooden rectangles with holes punched through them and parchments with endless streams of numbers. There was also a stand with mail and armour hanging against the backdrop of an exquisite tapestry depicting the lineage rose overlay on a map of Danua.

  His father flew to the couches where Jessamine sat, kneeling on the floor by her side to hold one hand, the other resting tender on her vast swell of pregnancy. Mera tripped on his heels, and dropped to sit by her mother’s side, giving her a quick kiss of greeting and a smile.

  Llew hung back from the scene, watching as Jessamine’s stomach roiled, one part protruding for a moment before sinking away again. There were surprised gasps and she smiled wearily at him. “Come Llew, would you like to feel? It seems your brother is eager to come and meet you all.”

  The healer that had followed them was talking quietly with the midwife, or whom he assumed the large brawny woman to be. He walked hesitantly toward his family, leaning over Jessamine but looking at his father. “Come son, it truly is wonderful. He is so strong, you an feel him turning and eager!”

  Llew glanced down and slowly placed his hand on Jessamine’s belly, for a moment it was still then there was a powerful kick. Llew swore he could feel the heel and toes of a foot. He yanked his hand back with a surprised yell. “It’s really a proper baby in there!”

  They gave a startled laugh and Llew started to withdraw once more. He hated being laughed at. Meredith half smiled at him, tears clinging to her auburn lashes.“I remember the first time I felt a kick like that too, it really does come as a surprise, you know there’s a baby in there, but actually feeling his little foot or elbow. Bizarre.”

  Llew realized that they weren’t laughing at him, but that the laughter had helped ease some of the tension. He smiled back at them, maybe his family wouldn’t be so bad. His father’s arm settled about his shoulders and when he looked up at him, he knew pride.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Ace of Pentacles, Reversed

  Mera paced in her rooms, worry tightening her face and stomach. She had chewed her lip until the coppery taste of blood spilled into her mouth.

  Where was she?

  Part of her longed to burst into tears, another kept her moving, firmed her resolve. It had been four days since her mother went into labour, four and a half. It was now the midwinter solstice, the whole palace was pent, all celebrations and festivities cast aside, and everywhere lay a thick, waiting tension. Two days ago her mothers waters had broken, the midwives had reassured her family that the labour would go swiftly from that point on. But it had not.

  When she had been allowed to visit her mother she had found her weak and pale, her hair sweat soaked and matted to her brow. Hard contractions had wracked her body regularly. The midwife and healer had fed her their own wine early on, Mera had been furious when she heard. She had tried to tell them of the one she had given her, but they had dismissed her as a child, saying one would do much the same as the other. After her mother’s waters broke she refused to drink anymore, saying it made her feel sick. They had been coaxing her to drink whilst Mera was there. Her mother had taken up the chalice and thrown it at the healer, telling her to get out. Mera almost smiled at the memory, almost.

  She had overheard the midwife talking to the King, saying the problem was that her mother was not widening to allow the babes passage. Now it was clear they were beginning to panic. Her mother hadn’t eaten or slept at any point, she was becoming increasingly weak. She heard them speak of poppy and blades. She knew mamma could die if the babe didn’t come soon, that both mother and babe could die. The tears threatened once more.

  She wouldn’t let that happen. She had seen the herbs they had given her, none were what Cerid had told her of. Some were beneficial, yes, but not the best. Earlier her mind had shifted to something Cerid had told her of and in her desperation she had sent Tansy to fetch them. Her maid had not argued, but she left with red rimmed eyes.

  Where was she?

  Her door opened and Mera spun round, rushing to meet Tansy in the hallway.

  “Do you have them?”

  “Yes, yes! I picked the best ones I could find, only the bushes closest to heat of the kitchens had any left, I thought for a moment I would have to find some dried.”

  As soon as Mera had heard the yes, she grabbed Tansy’s arm and pulling her toward the door. Soon they were rushing down the halls, heading up the few flights that led to her mother’s rooms. Those they passed spared taunt glances their way, sympathy vying with the fear that some new and terrible news hurried their footsteps. The guards immediately let her through. In the formal parlour Llew sat by the window, when he looked at her she could see him pale and worn, gangling limbs tucked all askew. The king sat at the table, slouched, his face long and drawn, beard and hair unkempt, clothes unchanged now for days. A healer and the midwife was standing before him, talking quietly. At her entrance he looked up and Mera saw despair on his face, his eyes hollowed and dark with a threatening grief. She remembered then that Llew’s mother had died in childbirth, taking what would have been a daughter with her
to the Otherside. She felt a flash of sympathy, but didn’t let it settle.

  “I need to see my mother.”

  The women looked at her in annoyance at her rude interruption, but the King just stared at her for a moment, a painful sympathy written there. He nodded.

  It was enough. She stalked through the door, Tansy at her heels. As they had agreed earlier, the door was closed firmly behind them. Immediately Tansy began to look by the drinks cabinets, searching for the wine Mera had prepared. She trusted her to gather what was needed.

  Mera walked through another door, the one that led to her mother’s bedroom. A window was thrown open to permit cold gusts of wind and sleet, whilst a steady fire burned in the hearth. The bed had been stripped down to simple white sheets and coverlet. Her mother was standing, shakily, over a chest of draws. Her hands white knuckled where she gripped it, bent at the waist and panting. Mera immediately went to her, firmly rubbing circles on her lower back. Her mother had said it helped last time. When the contraction had passed, her mama looked at her with her beautiful brown and green eyes, lines of fatigue framing them. She spared her a small smile, trying to push her hair away from her face.

  “Help me sit, daughter.”

  Mera led her to the bed, helping her to lower herself down. When she was finally comfortable, enthroned on pillows, she let out a sigh, heavy. Closing her eyes, her hands continuously moving over her belly. Tansy entered, relief on her face as she held the wine. She set about putting it in a warming pan over the fire, stirring in plenty of honey as instructed.

  “Mama? I’ve bought you some wine, and a little fruit. You need to keep up your strength.”

  Her mothers eyes opened, one hand seeking Mera’s. “No, no more of that foul concoction. I cannot think with it, it makes me feel sick. I am not hungry. Please, my sweet Meredith, my little wild girl, sit with me. I need to tell you…”

  “No. No, you can tell me once the babe is here, once you have your strength back. It isn’t healer’s wine, I promise. I prepared it, it’s your favourite, with plenty of honey. It’s midwinter, did you know? You must have a glass. And at least eat a little, just a few berries. Please mama, please...”

  Mera hadn’t meant to sound so forlorn at the end, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing her mother like this, knowing she thought she would die…suddenly the tears fell and she couldn’t stop them. Her mother’s hand rose to wipe them away. “Meredith, Mera, I will take a little. Don’t cry.”

  Mera unwrapped the hanky Tansy had wrapped them in, revealing seven fat juniper berries. She took up one and placed it in her mother’s mouth. Slowly and dutifully her mother chewed and swallowed all seven. Tansy passed her a goblet of the wine warmed with angelica, and her mother sat and sipped. She even gave a small laugh.“Well, this tastes much better than the other, thank you, I…”

  Her mother gasped, Mera quickly took the goblet away from her, holding her hand tight as another contraction hit. This one was longer than the last. When it had passed she gave her back the goblet and encouraged her to drink. They sat like this for some time, mostly in silence, holding hands. Mera wiping her mothers brow with a cool cloth, for an hour then two. A few times the healer walked in to ask if her mother was well, or as well as she was. During this time contractions came and went. It seemed to Mera they were getting longer, harder for her mother, and she embraced the quiet that Cerid had instilled and sought to gentle her mother’s pain. Soon she was asking Mera to help her up, to turn around onto all fours. Her forehead rested on the sheets, her hands near tearing the cloth with each wave. Mera thought there was more colour to her cheeks. “Send for the midwife, I…..ah, I want to bear down. I think it’s time.”

  Tansy rushed from the room, wearing a fragile hope on her face and Mera rubbed her mother’s back as another contraction hit, on the very tail of the last. Her mother writhed and cried out, and fluids ran down her legs. Blood, and a thicker yellow substance. A pungent odour hung on the air. The midwife and healer entered. She immediately moved to her mother’s rear and unceremoniously lifted her night dress. She let out a pleased humph, her hands seeking below. “I can feel the babe’s head, well done, my Queen. You are doing beautifully. It’s time now, you need to push dear, push with the next. I know you are tired, but it won’t be long now!”

  Even as the midwife was talking another wave rolled over her mother, Mera could see her exposed stomach roll and roil. She knew what happened during birth, but seeing it like this…why would women want to go through it?

  As the contraction passed they moved her onto her back. The healer supporting her legs, the midwife manipulating her opening. Her mother turned a slick face to her, eyes beseeching. “Please stay, my daughter, my, please…ah!”

  Her mother gripped her hand so tight Mera was sure it would break, but she held on. Returning that grip and giving her mother something solid to cling to as creation cleaved her mortal flesh.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Sun

  Llew sat and watched his father. He paced, then he sat, pulling his hair, only to pace again. He was white as the dead and seemed almost angry in his worry. Llew was rather frightened of him in that moment. He had been like this since Mera’s maid had rushed in to take the healers. Before that they had been telling them that if the Queen started to fade, their only option would be to accept the her death, but perhaps save the babe by cutting him out. Llew had felt sick listening to them. Is this how his mother had died? He rarely thought of her, couldn’t really remember her, but watching his father’s agony and hearing the screams that filtered through to them… he felt his lip tremble. Tears slowly seeped down his face. He didn’t know what to do.

  The screams reached a crescendo, then ceased. His father and he both froze, staring at the door that blocked them. The long and terrible moment held then there was a babble of voices. An undertone of surprise, a bleating squalling sound. The sound of a new born. His father’s face flushed with relief only to have a darkness sink into it as he stood, quivering, before the door. One hand resting just above the handle. They started as the door swung open. Llew looked up into the formidable face of the healer, who beckoned them forward. His father rushed past, not bothering to let her show them the way. Llew jogged to keep up.

  Jessamine sat propped on pillows, in her arms a naked and blood slicked babe with a little fist waving in the air. Mera turned at their entrance… with a little bundled babe in her arms too. He could see a small face blinking up at her, hands clasping her fingers. Mera bestowed them with a beautiful smile, placing the babe in his father’s arms. He let out a sound close to a sob, staring down, and moved slowly to Jessamine’s side. Llew felt drawn with him. “Twins? We have two?”

  “Yes Gallai, I was surprised too. This one here, he came first, and she came next, almost straight away. She was holding on to his ankle.” Jessamine's voice came throaty and with the lightness of unreality that comes from knowing great pain.

  His father looked down at the little girl in his arms, a smile sundering his beard. He turned that proud gaze on Llew. “Would you like to hold your sister?”

  Llew swallowed hard and nodded. Awkward at first as his father placed the tiny babe in his arms. As he watched his father reach for his newborn son, a small mewl dragged his attention down.

  She was so tiny, he couldn’t believe how small. A thick head of dark hair, some curls wisping out between some gross white gunk that coated her in places and her head was a funny shape, sloped and lumpy. He thought she looked strange. He loosened the blanket and tentatively stroked the back of one tiny, delicate little hand. That hand startled under his touch and wrapped around his finger, barely able to hold it all. Her eyes fluttered and met his, dark and huge they seemed in that tiny face. Llew felt his throat close sharply, and tears well up as amazement flooded him. Suddenly she didn’t looked strange at all. He looked up to find Jessamine watching him, smiling with shared joy, tears streaked her face too, but they were laughing when the little girl started to noisily suck h
is fingers. Jessamine spoke, her voice heavy with fatigue and joy. “They shall be named Dittander and Dittany.”

  His father spoke, his voice deep and gruff, the smile clear in his tones. “Prince Dittander and Princess Dittany of House Rosalind, your family welcomes you to the world.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Temperance

  Mera stretched upon the grass, soft spikes cushioning her pleasantly aching body, her vision was narrowed to the swaying tips of green, peppered with tufted seed heads. One particularly rotund one gave up its burden with a shiver and she watched the soft white umbrellas drift away across the periwinkle blue sky. It was vast and void of any clouds, the golden sunlight setting the blue hue ablaze. She almost fancied that if she lost touch of the earth she would fall endlessly into that abyss.

  Sometimes she felt like that when she gazed into Cerid’s eyes, but they were dark, not blue. If ever she did succumb to that urge she didn’t think it would be as pleasant as falling through the sky, in those depths there was knowledge and secrets and sorrow. Betimes she thought she must have lived a hard life, typical of any peasant women, but then she would look at her more closely and know there was far more to her than that. She would catch a glimmer of her true nature, but as yet she had been too afraid to ask.

  It was a strange relationship, theirs. Mera felt safe in her presence. Almost she could feel herself growing, her mind expanding. That morning Cerid had met her in the rowan copse just before dawn, sunlight merely a pale grey breath on the horizon, an they had walked deep into the woods in silence. Before Cerid had taught her how to listen, to recognize the sounds of the animals, to know the difference between the sound of a branch falling to that of one being trod upon. The tramp and skitterings of various animals, and the calls of birds. In times of silence she was told to listen. But that morning had been different, once they set out they soon settled into a comfortable rhythm, the dawn chorus started up in earnest and Mera listened. She lost track of time, and gradually it seemed to her that she could hear something other, the trees gentle sighs, the creep of vines, the small movements of the little plants as their flowers turned to face the rising sun. The brighter it got, the louder it became, as if the forest had become one entity crying out in welcome to the dawning sun. She felt herself an abnormality at first, then the more she listened the more she felt…accepted.