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"I daresay Her Grace has an appetite for affection."
"My Lady?"
The Baroness smiled without raising her eyes from her needlework, relishing in the attention from her captive audience of younger noblewomen, all sitting in front of the fireplace to keep warm on a wintry night.
"It may be her nature, I fear. The way of the Northern wild, only half-civilized by the nurturing guidance of the late Archduke, may his flame burn forevermore. Underneath his teachings, I should not be surprised if she harboured tendencies of love distributed more…liberally."
Her sister-in-law craned her head to divine the Baroness' intention on her face, speaking carefully.
"But sister, surely you do not… Have you proof?"
"Proof?" The Baroness raised her delicate eyebrows. "One merely needs eyes to see. Is the First Shield of His Grace not a man most excellent in all ways, and so remarkably close to her? Does she not seem but a touch too elated to give him her favour when he emerges victorious in a tournament, as we all witnessed last harvest time? Is he not one with access to the private quarters of the Archduke and his wife…and their bedchamber? We may yet see her dismissed from the court in disgrace, should His Grace discover her licentious ways."
The three younger women all dropped their eyes on their hands, continuing their work with their cheeks shining red from imagining such scandalous things occurring in the capital. Meanwhile, the Baroness delighted in the stir she had caused in her company, but hid her satisfaction in a stern tone as she turned towards a figure in the corner.
"Girl. The fire is growing weak."
Without a word, the Bearer child stood and walked to the fireplace, adding a couple of new logs of wood and waved her hand to reinvigorate the flame. Her task complete, she returned to her place in the corner and the conversation of the ladies resumed.
She hoped the ladies would retire to bed soon so she could sleep, as well. She had to get up early for school the next morning, as the duchy had begun to require that all Bearer children be given time to gain a rudimentary education at least three days each week. She had not yet learned to write and reading was a challenge as well, but her teacher always praised her excellent memorisation skills.
He would be very interested in hearing her repeat what she had heard, word for word.
"I don't blimmin' get it."
In a dingy watering hole near the docks of Port Isolde, a Shield was rapidly transforming his wages to cheap ale, getting more animated in his manner the more his tankard was refilled.
"So, the Archduke? He's a looker, he's the blimmin' Dominant of the Phoenix, got more money and power than the Founder 'imself. Could have his pick of any woman in the realm, I reckon, or a different one for every day of the week if he fancied it."
The old sailor next to him continued to drink without comment, but the Shield was not discouraged.
"But you know what I saw one night back in Rosalith, when I was patrollin' the hallways? The Archduke in the flesh, pressin' someone against the wall and looking awfully pleased about it. Now, was none o'my business so I was going to make myself scarce when I heard the voice of the other person…and it was the fucking First Shield! Moaning the Archduke's name without titles!"
Having reached the climax of his tale, the Shield deflated on his seat, looking thoughtful.
"I know some o'the lads in the barracks prefer men, of course…but seems a shame, for a man married to a lady such as Her Grace to go after all that sweat and leather over a woman's scent…"
The sailor finally put his pint down.
"…Think I can see why you were sent out from the capital, with the way that tongue waggles."
"You callin' me a liar?" the Shield bristled. "I bloody well know what I heard!"
"Aye, and I'd keep my mouth shut about it if I were you. That story ending up in the wrong ears could cost you a lotta trouble."
Placated, the Shield guffawed.
"Thanks for the advice, old man, but I think we're all mates here. You're not gonna tattle, and neither is this upstanding gentleman," he held out a handful of coins to the barkeep.
"A drink for me and my companion, and somethin' for yourself too—I can trust you, right?"
The barkeep accepted the coins with a polite nod.
"My lips won't repeat your words."
After serving the new drinks and leaving the two patrons to their mostly one-sided discussion, the barkeep turned to the box of gil. After depositing the coins, he took out a piece of parchment and wrote down the Shield's name and rank, acquired earlier in the conversation, before slipping the parchment back inside the box.
"Respectfully, my Lord, I must disagree."
The wealthy merchant used a crystal to light her delicate pipe as her guest sampled his wine and eyed her curiously.
"Indeed? Let us hear your counterargument, then."
"That there is affection between the fair Lady of the North and the First Shield of the Phoenix can hardly be denied if my informants are to be believed," she said and released a puff of smoke, "and they are. In this we are of the same mind. The point on which I do not concur is whether His Grace is aware of the fact. He's no fool, that one—too canny to not notice such an entanglement practically under his nose."
"Then, you suggest he accepts it, and is content to watch his wife being wooed by another?"
The merchant's eyes crinkled.
"Accepts it? Nay, I say he abets it. To put it in another way, I think his Morbol does not dance to the lady's tune—yet he knows that an heir is needed to keep the duchy standing firm and the Seven High Houses in his pocket. But as it happens, he has a man at his side who has sworn absolute loyalty and who has Rosfield blood running in his veins. When the time for Her Grace's childbearing is come, who's to say which of the princes is the father?"
An elderly valet moved soundlessly in the room, tending to the fire, refilling the glasses and exchanging the full cup of ashes on the table to a new one. He only attracted attention to himself when he addressed his mistress.
"Anything else, madam?"
"That is all. I'll ring for you when the good lord Councillor wishes to return home."
"Very well, madam."
The valet bowed deeply and retreated from the room without raising his head. As the murmured conversation continued in the room, the valet turned right from the door and headed for the study, where the merchant's stolas snoozed on its perch.
Clive found Joshua at his desk, perusing a report of some kind.
"Anything interesting?"
"Most interesting indeed," Joshua nodded, rising to his feet with the parchment still in his hand. "The covert Undying always bring so many entertaining tales circulating in the realm. How about this one, about what you and I got up to during the diplomatic trip to Dhalmekia? I'm almost sorry it's not true—it sounds quite diverting."
Clive had stiffened despite Joshua's flippant tone, and reached for the parchment in concern.
"Are those kind of rumours spreading again? I told you we should be more careful—"
"They're not the only ones, either," Joshua interrupted. "Let's see…here, and here too. Your fondness for Rosaria's fairest has not gone unnoticed, and a number of our imaginative subjects are convinced that the next heir to the throne may well have the first prince for a parent—whether this is to be with my knowledge and consent or without remains undecided."
He tossed the reports on the desk and looked at Clive with an amused smile.
"What say you, brother? Shall you sire a child to rule this great nation?"
The First Shield could do nothing to stop the flush rising to his cheeks.
"Joshua…"
"My Lords, surely this conversation should include a third party?"
Both men turned to look at the figure at the door, Joshua with a pleased smile and Clive with a relaxing of his features despite his earlier fluster. Jill, of the house of Warrick by birth and now the incumbent Duchess of Rosaria, crossed the room in swift steps and kissed the First Shield on the mouth in greeting. He acquiesced easily, parting his lips to allow her in.
"My own wife, kissing my brother before her lawfully wedded husband," Joshua shook his head, feigning shock. "Perhaps I should fear an amorous coup after all."
"It is only prudent to pay respect to our elders," she said innocently, ignoring Clive's sputter, "and for you to learn the art of patience."
Her hand still clasped in one of Clive's, she kissed the younger brother in turn. After a moment, he pulled away with a rascally look.
"What cruel words, my Lady. Surely my First would not put me through such an exercise."
"Quite," she snorted, "he is most indulgent, indeed—if that Dhalmekian tale is to be believed. I'm sure Titan was most impressed."
"I see you've gone through my correspondence again."
"Of course. A wife must be well versed in her husband's affairs, after all."
Clive shook his head, chuckling as he watched the two exchange quips. It always reminded him of when they were young—Jill and Joshua had always been the most outspoken of their trio, each eager to find their equal in the dance of words. They had also been the quickest to disagree and fall out with one another; on a couple of memorable occasions in the earlier years, Clive had rushed in to separate them when their spats had degraded into fisticuffs. The quarrels never lasted, and ever if the matter was yet unsettled, a single whisper of Mother approaching would always stop the fighting, as none of them wished ill on each other even in the heat of an argument.
The reminiscence was interrupted when Clive noticed Joshua had turned his attention to him again, now wearing a more serious expression.
"Joshua?"
"Brother, I know I spoke in jest a moment ago…but in truth, I have wondered for some time: would it please you to have a child?"
Clive looked at him, uncomprehending. This sounded like continuation of the discussion from before Jill joined them, but Joshua knew as well as he that—
The thought process withered away when Clive realised Joshua had pressed a palm against his brother's abdomen, letting it rest there so gently yet full of meaning.
"Would it?" Joshua repeated.
Clive blinked rapidly, then spun his head to the other side to look at Jill as if to seek her aid. He did not expect the breathless expression on her face, her eyes suddenly shining like sunlit snow fields in the land of her origin. Her hand found his again, squeezing tightly.
"I would hazard the lady approves," Joshua said as Jill gathered her wits.
"Back…back when I was still new here and I missed my home so terribly, Clive would always comfort me in secret."
She turned her eyes to the knight with a wistful smile.
"Even though you were a child yourself, I would always think…surely, this is what a mother's love feels like. It becomes you, I think."
Without removing the hand on Clive's middle, Joshua stroked his brother's cheek with the other.
"I do not ask this as your Archduke, nor as your brother…but as the man who loves you and wishes to grant you the world when you ask for so little. Tell me true: would it bring you joy to bear our firstborn?"
A sharp inhale betrayed emotion, but Clive's face quickly twisted in consternation.
"It…would be a scandal. Impossible to conceal."
"We could leave the capital," Jill cut in. "It should not be difficult to explain that a northern woman wishes to connect with her homeland at such a crucial moment, and that her husband and First Shield should accompany her. There's a secret place of retreat beyond the touch of the Blight, a well built house in the mountains only my family knows."
"Splendid," Joshua nodded. "With the aid of the Undying, we shall want for nothing."
"I am tasked with your protection," Clive insisted. "Both of you. How can I do that if I'm—"
"Brother," Joshua straightened his posture, suddenly looking more regal, "perhaps you forget, but I am the Phoenix. Any who would harm those I've claimed as mine…will burn to the bone."
A glow of fiery aether in his eyes confirmed the threat's veracity.
"Well said," Jill concurred, not needing to touch the knife hidden in her bodice to know it was there.
Looking between his lovers, Clive sighed.
"I'm not going to be able to convince you it's not a good idea, am I?"
Joshua's expression softened.
"Only if you look me in the eye and tell me you do not wish for this."
"And you know I can't lie to you."
A moment passed in silence, a common chord ringing in the space between their hearts.
"It would seem that we are all in agreement," Jill said, enthused as if she had just heard a Sanbrequois bread basket was waiting for her at teatime. "When should we begin?"
"And you claim it's me who lacks patience?"