“At some point, after we come to an agreement—”
“If.”
Orval ignored the implication. “I want to send a message back to Edenrich,” He said. “Don’t worry, you can read it before I send it. I’ll need your help because I’ve never tied a message to a pigeon’s leg before.”
Jerrold snorted. “Clearly.” He glanced at the bed and the two old friends.
“Mother will have to approve.”
“Oh,” Orval smiled, “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Chapter Forty-Three
If Queen Satia had to walk, everyone walked.
Caris suppressed a smile, following the Queen as the Guildmasters puffed alongside Satia, trying to make their arguments heard.
“A Guild charter, Your majesty?” huffed Merchant Guildmaster Evens. “Is this really necessary? Childbirth is only a woman’s matter, and usually handled by the women of the family. Surely there is no need for—”
Ah. Word had gotten out. It had taken time to draft the charter, but Plumestra had started at once to advise the Queen. Twice daily walks through the Palace. At least a quarter of an hour in the gardens in the sun. Plain tea and dry toast. Satia had not taken it well, but she had done as she was told. Not that she would admit it was working.
But it was.
“Are you saying that a woman’s health and care in childbirth are not important?” The Queen asked in a mild, dangerous tone. Caris noted that she picked up her pace a bit.
“No, of course not, your majesty,” Weaver Guildmaster Mator chimed in. Thin as a rail, he was having an easier time keeping up. “But these are matters of the body, usually addressed by the physicians and apothecaries.”
Evens was breathing hard. “Guilds govern matters of craft or trade and—”
“The safety of the Queen and her child are paramount,” Caris interrupted before they could keep digging the hole they were in. She kept her face demure, her eyes down, but put a threat in her tone. “Above all other concerns.”
“But Plumestra will sit on our Council,” Evens blurted out in a plaintive tone.
Ah. Caris had suspected that was the crux of the matter.
Queen Satia stopped suddenly and gave Evens a long look, with an arched eyebrow. “Guildmaster Plumestra.”
“Oh, yes, of course, your majesty,” Evens stammered. Both men bobbed their heads nervously.
“I fail to see how this threatens your Guilds or your livelihoods.” The Queen lifted her head imperiously. “I would hope that you are not placing your discomfort over my health.”
“No, of course not, your majesty,” Evens stammered again and started wringing his hands.
“The matter is settled. Good day, Guildmasters.” Queen Satia started off down the hall, leaving the Guildmasters open-mouthed in her wake.
Caris bobbed a curtsey to the men and followed.
This hall was lined with courtiers and nobles, some with actual business, some there just to be seen. Everyone cleared a path for the Queen, bowing and greeting her with her titles, wishing her well.
Few things pleased the Queen more than adoration; Caris could feel her contentment through the Bond. Satia strode the length of the hall, even stroking her belly to accent its roundness.
Nora appeared from the crowd and joined Caris.
“How does our guest?” Caris asked softly.
Nora rolled her eyes. “Men,” she scoffed. “He’s incoherent, claims he is dying, moans in his suffering. We just got through the latest round of puking. He’s asleep.”
“And if he wakes while you are gone?”
