In Which Medea Is Abandoned

November 4, 1157

There was someone sitting on the other side of Medea's bed.

It could only be Octavius, she reasoned--Octavius, eager to spring another baby on her. As if a damn set of twins hadn't been enough for that man.

But no... whoever it was, she could tell by the feel of their weight on the mattress, was considerably lighter than her husky husband. Whoever it was, he was slender and lithe.

And, she learned as she opened her eyes a sliver, wearing a pair of heavy leather boots, no doubt trailing mud all over her clean duvet.

Perhaps she would scream. If she screamed loud enough, she would wake Octavius and the servants, and then they would deal with this rogue, and she would be left to sleep in peace. Or perhaps she should...

"Relax, Medea," a familiar voice addressed her, "it's only me."

"Geneva?" she muttered groggily as she lifted her head from the pillow. "How'd you get in here?"

Geneva sighed. "With much difficulty. Had to use the damn front door. Why in God's name don't you have any windows in this castle of yours?"

"Or maybe I should be asking why you're here, and why you're dressed like some rogue knight," mused Medea, lightly stepping onto the floor. "Come to rescue me from my tower room or what? And why on earth did you cut your pretty hair?"

"Easier for traveling," answered Geneva promptly. "I borrowed this outfit from the reeve--had to seduce him senseless, but it's infinitely better than running about in a dress."

Medea rolled her eyes. "And you didn't enjoy it at all, I'm sure. Anyway, dear, what's this about traveling? It isn't your poor brother now, is it?"

"My brother?" the other woman repeated. "No, Karlspan is... well, he's not any better, I don't think, but I haven't had any news of him being any worse."

"Is it your sister, then?" Medea inquired. "Is she with child? Is she due soon?"

Geneva shook her head. "Not that I know of, no."

"Well, what's this about traveling, then?"

Sighing, Geneva suddenly took Medea's hands in her own, as if determined to prevent her from going anywhere. "Medea, as my best friend... do you solemnly swear not to judge me?"

Try as she might, Medea couldn't help but laugh. "Judge you? Geneva, if I haven't judged you before, then why should I judge you now?"

It had seemed the sort of comment that would provoke a smile from Geneva, but instead, she merely nodded. "Thank you, Medea. Now... how to begin...?"

"Just say it," Medea urged; as much as she enjoyed talking to her friend, she was rather tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

"All right," Geneva agreed. "I'm leaving. I'm leaving Roderick, I'm leaving Naroni... I'm just leaving."

Her explanation, of course, did not stop there, but Medea heard barely more than the occasional word. To her, "I'm leaving" said it all. She wished she could have listened--she did owe her best friend that much--but right in that moment, it was impossible.

"...and that's why it's better for my family," Geneva concluded as she sat down on the couch beside Medea. "The children will be happier, I'll be free of all this royal nonsense, and Roderick will be free to indulge himself with as much royal nonsense as he pleases."

Medea could not even look at her. "I see," she replied bluntly, her eyes never leaving the floor.

"Medea, are you all right?" asked Geneva. "You seem a little upset."

"Oh, not at all!" she answered sarcastically. "It isn't as if I'm being abandoned by my best friend in some godforsaken, sorry excuse for a kingdom, with no one but my worthless husband and our two screaming brats. Oh no, not at all!"

Her friend sighed. "Medea..."

"What?"

"I am not abandoning you," the queen insisted, slinging one arm over Medea's shoulder. "Don't think I won't come and visit you whenever I can. I don't know exactly where I'm going yet, since I can't stay here and Dovia is out of the question, but I don't imagine I'll ever be too far. Does that help?"

Medea smiled faintly. "A little--but you're still abandoning me, I hope you realize."

Geneva shook her head. "I'd ask you to come with me, but I know you never would, seeing as you hate traveling enough when you actually do have a carriage."

"It's a moot point, then," sighed Medea.

"It is. I'm sorry."

Nodding, Medea stood, turning away from Geneva; if she did cry, she didn't want her to see the tears. "I'm going to bed. You can stay if you like, or you can go--do as you please, as you always do."

Resigned, she pulled back the duvet once more and settled into the bed, a dread she had not known since the eve of her wedding coming over her; the sort of dread that occurs when one is fully aware that tomorrow will be among the worst days of her life.

Geneva was all she had. Alina despised her, and she got the impression that meek little Celina was somewhat afraid of her. Roderick tolerated her, but a king couldn't be bothered to spend any time making small-talk with a humble baroness. Dalston seemed wary of her, and Severin was not particularly fond of her either. If she spent more than a few minutes with Octavius, she might give him the impression that he was growing on her. And then of course, the children had their nurse, so she needn't be bothered with them.

This was it--she was alone.

As she closed her eyes, she felt Geneva slip under the covers on the other side of the bed, heavy boots and all--Medea did not envy the maid in the morning.

"I'm not abandoning you," she whispered softly as she clenched Medea's hand in her own. "I promise you, I am not abandoning you."

Medea said nothing.

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