The days pass in the same pattern. I wake and tend to the garden and then spend my days preparing teas for the high-fae royals and tinctures for good health and various ailments in the afternoon. I use all the supplies that I collected from the forest, ensuring none of them go to waste. All of them except the small cluster of moonstones that I tucked into one of the leather bags. I’d found them in the small pot by the garden gate where my coven had placed them to charge with power, and now they’re infused with centuries-worth.
No matter how many times I tell myself that I'm a healer and nothing more, that this war is not my own and my fate is to marry Prince Soren and aid him to take his throne, not to protect these people, I can’t deny that I grabbed them without thinking of a tincture or elixir.
I thought of war.
How far do I offer such knowledge and protections? How far am I willing to go for these people?
Even the part-bloods and lower fae look at me with fear and wariness. Though Firna explained why the Unseelie fae folk recoil from me, I know the people of this kingdom are never going to thank me or even think kindly of me, no matter my words or actions here. I knew this before I stepped foot in the Ravenswyrd Forest once more, and I knew the Fates were not commanding me to take the moonstones from the garden, yet I did it, and the die was cast. No matter how busy I keep myself, they whisper at the back of my mind until I have no choice but to make a plan.
The Ravenswyrd Coven does whatever needs to be done with no payment required, but I never expected preparations for war to be included in this creed.
When the maid comes down the next morning, bright and early, for the tray of teas, I hold up a hand to her to stop her from taking them. “This is Prince Roan’s, and you may take it to him, however Princess Airlie will need to come down here to see me with the baby.”
The maid looks taken aback at the instruction, but I don't give her time to make protests as I continue, “I need to check the baby and discuss with Airlie her condition before I continue making tea, otherwise it could bring her harm. I must discuss this with her and no one else. Her medical decisions are hers alone to make.”
I almost feel sorry for the maid when she blanches, but she takes the freshly brewed cup and places it on the tray, then steps out of the room.
I brace myself for Prince Soren to appear in the doorway, slinging insults and curses faster than he can draw his sword, but I'm pleasantly surprised when only minutes later, there’s a sharp knock and Airlie steps through.
The baby is sleeping in a simple sling across her chest, stretchy fabric in the royal blue hue bound through a silver ring. The princess is wearing a far more simple gown than her usual attire, still in the royal blue and trimmed with silver but without the lush skirts or intricate embroidery. With buttons down the front to assist her in feeding her son and sleeves that are looser on her arms for her comfort, it’s exactly the type of gown she should be wearing.
She smiles at me as she steps in, no signs of worry on her face, and when she steps up to the workbench I gesture at the small wooden chair there. “Sorry it's not more comfortable. I would have come up to see you instead, but I have something I need to discuss with you as well.”
There's no point dancing around the topic, and though Airlie’s brows pinch together at my revelation, she nods, rubbing a hand over the fabric of the sling and resettling her son as he squirms against her.
“Whatever it is, I'll be happy to help. Is Soren giving you trouble about your garden? Because I've already told him there's nothing to fear about plants.”
There’s plenty to fear about plants.
Her husband was almost killed by a poison derived from one of the flowers growing a few paces away from us in the freshly tilled soil, but I keep that small observation to myself for now. It won't help my case, and I need her help for this.
“If nothing else, I hope I’ve proved to you that I mean you and your son no harm. I’d do just about anything in my power to stop harm from befalling him.”
She cocks her head and nods. “Roan and I have agreed on that much, though my cousins are still skeptical.”
I think skeptical is far too soft a word for their feelings, but I’m not about to muddy the conversation by pointing that out. I finish brewing her tea and push the china cup across the table to her, meeting her clear gaze as she thanks me for it.
“I have a lot of knowledge of magic outside of healing. When I was a young girl, I was trained to take over as the Mother of the coven someday, and I learned the skills to create talismans for many uses. I brought back enough ingredients from the forest to create a ward around the castle. Do you know what a ward is?”
Her frown deepens, and she takes the tea cup, sipping at the bitter flavor without wincing, accustomed to it now after days of my care. “I’ve never seen one myself, but you're talking about a boundary around the castle.”
I nod slowly, reaching out to take the baby from her and laying him on a small bundle of cloths on the workbench. I check him over, carefully looking at his reflexes and feeling the hefty weight of him now that he’s flourishing with her milk and hard work.
“It would be undetectable to the high fae and the witches, but it has many uses that could help if they attack.”
She purses her lips and turns to look out the window at the guards that walk the walls. The extra protections haven't eased up, and while reports of more attacks throughout the kingdom arrive every day, there’s been no sign of the witches advancing here yet.
My greatest concern now are the wagons that should be traveling here from the Western Fyres, carrying a month's supply of food for the people of Yregar. There’s no doubt of where the witches will attack Prince Soren next. It’s outside of my abilities to protect them—I’m limited by the prince’s distrust of me—but the wards aren’t. Better they all know as little about them as possible; it will help me to convince them to allow it.
I keep my eyes on the prince in front of me as I fuss with him, keeping my voice light as I say, “Think of it as an early detection system. I’ll know the moment they arrive at the wall, and I'll be able to help you guard the baby until the soldiers have fought them off.”
Airlie sighs and looks down at her son, sleeping once more on the table, undisturbed as I button his small suit back up. I’m happy with the flush of his skin and the plumpness of his limbs, all great signs of a healthy baby.
“I was taught how to swing a sword from the same age as Soren—all Celestial children are. I was apt at the skill, but I’d rather not fight with my son in my care, not unless I have to.”
Leaning forward, I clasp her hand with mine. “You’re heavily guarded here and are the priority of the entire castle, not just your husband and cousins. From what I’ve seen of the people here so far, I doubt you’ll be taking up a sword anytime soon, Princess.”
I wrap the baby back up in the blankets, and she finishes off the last of her tea. “Did you fight while you were in the Sol Army, or were you only a healer in your time?”
