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July 15, 1191
Morgan had no idea what had possessed her to wander into the forest in the middle of the night with her year-old son in tow. By the time she'd realized they'd left the bedroom, she'd been surrounded by trees. At least it was a warm evening, with no need of a coat for Kay.
The eerie quiet had not been confined to the castle. No owls called from their perches, no wolves howled at the moon. Not even the chirp of a cricket or the rustle of the wind. The world was a frozen stillness, sound no exception.
"So we finally meet." That voice, in some unfathomable way, did not fit the criteria of sound. "Welcome home."
She hadn't seen the woman before she'd spoken, but the figure hadn't appeared from nowhere. She'd been waiting, and waited still--staring amongst the trees rather than at Morgan and Kay.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that the world has waited a long time for your line to return to this place." Her head didn't move, but her eyes met Morgan's. Violet, even in the night. "Do you know the significance of this forest?"
Hadn't Naroni been a no man's land? Morgan bit her lip--but let go when she caught sight of a second figure. Her husband's former ward. "Searle?"
"He can't hear you." The woman glanced back at the still, seated figure--with a thing oddly akin to fondness. "No one in this kingdom can, no one and nothing. Think of time and space as a lover's body. If one knows what secret places to touch, they are clay in one's hands."
"You... stopped time?"
"I bent it. For all the world but the two lines immune to such distortions: yours, and mine." The woman smiled--or smirked, more like. "But you didn't answer my question. What is the significance of this forest?"
Morgan shook her head. "I don't know."
"Not many do. The world is rough place--rougher once than it was now, if you believe it. Rogue angels wondered about, mercenaries of a false god while the true creator watched their chaos spread, helpless in a cage of stars. Their lies nearly drove humanity to the brink of extinction. Brother fought brother, friendships were squandered, strangers were judged. Women were vilified and men became monsters. We set the world aflame with our backstabbing and raping and killing, destroyed ourselves as thoroughly as we destroyed anyone else. We were pawns in a game of deities, but how easily we took to such vile paths was equal to knowing and willing terror. Had we succeeded in killing off our entire species, we would have been well served.
"But the caged creator could take no more. Still, the Master Architect of the Universe, Being of All Creatures, Man and Woman and Both and Neither, sits imprisoned at the origin of the universe, where all began and all will end--but the decay of the earth was enough for them to launch from their bars a single shard of star. Where do you think that shard landed?"
Forest. Trees. "Here."
"Very good. Here, exactly where you stand now." The woman stepped closer--but still maintained a distance. "You're not the first to stand there. Another woman stood there, all those years ago. One of the a precious few decent people left on the planet. The blast of the shard engulfed her but she did not perish. A wave of calm tamed the beast of a world--not permanently, but just long enough. The magic of the shard took root in this forest and this land became the fountain from which all the magic of the planet springs. The descendents of the angels were drawn to this place, though their numbers dwindled in the absence of chaos."
Absence of chaos? "This is the most chaotic place I've ever lived!"
"It is chaotic by the laws of man. By the laws of nature, it is man who is chaotic, and this land bends for no man. That was why only the Nephilim dwelt here until recently. Humanity could only dwell here under the rule of one who defies corruption--someone who is more nature than man."
"You can't mean King Roderick. Or King Ietrin."
"No. I mean your father-in-law. It's hardly a secret who's really been pulling the strings all these years--though perhaps that will change, if the royal line manages to produce someone worthy." If she had any belief as to whether or not that would happen, her face didn't say. "But the magic has been waning for many years now. When the shard struck that woman--your ancestor--pieces of it vanished within her, tucked away in her blood. Your blood. Your son's blood.
"That is why you exist. The bloodline of your ancestor had dwindled until only your biological mother remained, and she was a sickly virgin dying in a convent. Had I not called in some favors from some otherworldly friends, you never would have been born, and it would have only been a matter of time before we once again plunged ourselves into darkness."
She thought she followed--logically. But, logically... what? "I don't know if I quite understand. Who are you?"
"My line serves your line. That is all you need to know." She would never even know this woman's name. "That, and that the magic of the world--the light of the world--is strongest when you are in this kingdom. How beyond fortunate it is that you married a son of Severin, as that family will always make its home in this land. Because you are this land. You, and your son, and any other children you may have and children they may have until the creator breaks from their prison and creates the world anew.
"At least one of you must be in this kingdom at all times, for all of time. If you understand nothing else of what I told you, do you understand at least this?"
In her arms, Kay squirmed. For his sake, Morgan tried. "Yes."
"Good." The woman's hands dropped from her hips to her sides--the first they'd moved this whole time. "Now, go back to your castle. Put your son to bed and return to your husband. Expect a rough morning; the rest of the world needs to catch up to you."
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 16, 1190
"A boy! How delightful!" Though, Searle didn't doubt for a second that the lady would have been equally happy for Morgan had Kay been a girl. "Now she has one of each, doesn't she?"
"Yes. She has an adoptive daughter."
"How charming. Plus her stepchildren now, too. I am most happy for her."
"Shall I tell her?"
Not that Searle had ever been good at passing greetings secondhand. Or firsthand. But the lady shook her head, her raven hair adrift on the sea of her red silk. "Thank you for the offer, but perhaps you'd best not. She doesn't know me from Lilith, after all; she might be uneasy with a message from a stranger, even a congratulatory one."
"Maybe..." Did he dare? Lonriad had said he could have friends over if he liked. Though maybe Lonriad had only said that because he doubted Searle would make friends. Searle hadn't thought he would either. "Maybe you could come and meet her?"
"One day, perhaps. But for now, I believe I'll give her and the baby their peace. The first few months are critical to the mother-child bond."
"Oh."
"But it seems a shame to cut short a perfectly fine trip, especially with this lovely whether in these parts. Perhaps we should stop at the bakery in the village?" The lady smiled. Her face was sweeter than anything the baker could muster up. "My treat."
Searle beamed. "I'd like that."
NEXT CHAPTER:
July 16, 1189
It had happened shortly before midnight.
Elarys had been waiting for that moment for years now, and not for the first time. Her mother had waited. Her grandmother had waited. Before she died, she'd have to patch things up for Ellona so she'd know to wait too, and Ella or Eliana or Rahileine after her. It would be easier for them. They were so near the source.
The line had not been stable in generations. Rarely had a link in the chain produced more than one child, and children almost never came without difficulty. The last Heiress had been born only because Elarys had called in some favors from the other side, to the last of her line before her, a dying woman wasting away in the care of a nunnery.
With this Heiress, that moment had come once before. It hadn't lasted.
This one, Elarys thought as she stabbed at the logs in her hearth, would. It had to. The Heiress still had fertile years ahead of her, but with her family history, the universe damn well owed her--owed all of them--at least one living Heirling. If it were more than one, the better.
As of shortly before midnight, if the next nine months progressed as they should, there was at least one on the way.
Perhaps the future was more secure than the past had led her to believe. The line had gone to Naroni, after all. The land would offer some protection there, she hoped--and according to Neilor, the husband was a member of a prominent noble family. Given the Dovian tendency for not marrying within their own environs, any relocation was unlikely to be far.
Nevertheless...
It may have been time to make things clear. She'd have to visit Naroni, and sooner rather than later. Once the child had survived its delicate first years, maybe.
A lucky thing her contacts had produced that boy Searle.
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 17, 1187
"Ah, Lady Elarys." Ietrin greeted her through the ache of the false grin. He was in no way happy to see her, particularly unexpectedly, but fear and unease were no way to deal with this woman. She wanted him to fear her, and he did not want to please her. So, he'd do everything in his power to be sure she thought him unafraid.
Which he was, of course. What did a king have to fear from some common-born knight's widow?
"A pleasure, as always."
"Wish I could say the same."
Had he heard that right? Aggravating lack of 'majesty' notwithstanding, Elarys had always been the sort who took the roundabout route in her conversations, a cat playing with a mouse a while before she swallowed. It was not like her to cut so quickly to the point. "Sorry?"
"I'd prefer to be brief. I believe I warned you to stay away from the forests."
The forests again? So much for hoping she'd lost interest. Ietrin sighed. "I just want to clear a bit of land for a monument. How did you find out, anyway?"
"When I take an interest in something, I make sure to keep an eye on it--even if it's not my eye." If only it could have been. If each of her spies had eyes like hers, he'd know precisely who had to go. "You'll find that not much gets past me, and believe me when I say I couldn't be bothered if this wasn't important. If I hear of a single tree being cut down, life will become most unpleasant for you."
"And how do you think you can make life unpleasant for me?" Never mind how she dared threaten a king! "You're not anyone of consequence. You can't touch me."
"Not directly, perhaps--but I have my connections. I have people everywhere. If I sing the right note, the mockingbirds will match it." She joined her thumb to her index finger and rubbed the tips together, hand drawn to eye level. "It would be a pity if some of those little birdies got wind of the details of your father's death."
She could have struck him in the face with a diamond hammer and he wouldn't have been so stunned. "What details?"
"It was you who picked the wine, was it not? And you who pointed out your father's favorite cup?"
What? "Yes, but..."
"And it was brought to him by a cup-bearer you hired? Who just so happened to disappear the night after?"
"Master Finessa said he had to--"
"Now, now. I'm not accusing you." She smirked, laughing at some private joke. "But if such knowledge was to become common, it would only be a matter of time before someone did. Add that to the rushed funeral and your half-siblings' exile from your castle and your own obvious fondness of being king... well, that someone would hardly be unjustified in thinking what they will, would they?"
Who were these spies beneath his very nose? He'd fire every last one of them. He'd replace his whole damn staff. But first, he had to ask. "Did you have something to do with my father's death?"
"Me?" Another sickly smug smile. She thought she had him beat, more than well enough to be over-cocky. Trouble was, she was right. "And how could I benefit from the death of a foreign king? Like you said, I'm not anyone of consequence."
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 17, 1187
Most of the Naronians were wary about the forests. Searle didn't understand a lot of things, but this was a particular mystery to him. Once he'd finally worked up the courage to journey into one of these forests that Sevvie and Adonis couldn't seem to talk about without shuddering, he found it... comforting, almost, or as close to comforting as he knew. Like he was meant to be there. Like he belonged.
It felt like home.
And that was silly, because Searle didn't have a home. He didn't deserve a home, and had therefore never been given one. Cousin Lonriad did his best, but Searle was still the outsider, obviously so, and the others in the house didn't know what to do with him, much like he didn't know what to do with himself. So who was he to presume he knew what home felt like?
But he did know. It felt like the forest.
There was something in the air here. Something quiet, half-dead, a little sinister. Something rather like him.
"Hello, young man."
Searle stopped. He'd thought he was alone. He usually knew when he wasn't.
But one look up, and he'd been wrong in this instance. Standing in front of him was a woman--a lady--dressed far too well for a stroll in the woods, yet her magenta silk showed no dirt or clinging grass. She had coal black hair and a pale complexion, which combined with her heart-shaped face made for a curious ageless beauty. She was too far away for him to make out the color of her eyes, but they were fixed right on him, piercing through his core as she read the curses etched upon his heart.
He liked it.
"Hello, my lady."
"My lady?" She smiled, but she didn't blush. Perhaps she couldn't. She was all black and white, the only red upon her made of liquid fabric. "My, aren't you the polite one. My own sons don't even greet me so sweetly."
"You have sons?" She didn't look nearly old enough to be a mother. Nor scary enough.
"Two, and two daughters. My older three have given me grandchildren, even." The lady laughed. She must have noticed his gaping. "I've been told I don't look quite my age."
An understatement. Searle had never heard one before. "You're beautiful."
He'd blurted it out before it occurred to him that it might have been an inappropriate comment--but the woman beamed. "Thank you! You're a very handsome boy yourself. I'll bet you're quite popular with the girls."
Searle's face warmed. She might not have been able to blush, but apparently he could. "I don't know about that..."
"Ah-ha! Proof of it being so if there ever was. The most handsome boys never notice when girls like them." Did they? He got the feeling she'd know. She probably knew everything. "Besides--you're not like the others. You're special. You have powers."
Powers? His mother had accused him of that, though she'd always made it sound bad--evil. This lady, not so. In that moment, there were no two men he envied more in the world than her sons. "What sort of powers?"
"Well, they're quite complex," the woman started, drawing closer. Her eyes were violet, a color his mother had always loathed, a color he'd never quite seen before now. He decided it was his new favorite. "But you're a smart boy, and you deserve to have some idea of your own abilities. You see, this forest is a important place, and when you're here, you can distort the very fabric of time and space."
"Time and space?" He wasn't quite sure he knew what that meant. "Like magic?"
"Magic, and science. That's how I'm here. I live very far away, but thanks to you, I was able to travel here in a matter of minutes. I couldn't have done that on my own, you see; I'm only ordinary." She gave no hint of not believing it, but Searle didn't. She was easily the least ordinary person he'd ever met. "But I must thank you, for there is someone in this kingdom with whom I must have an audience. I would have had to put off the meeting for months if not for you."
"You're welcome." Had he ever said that? He didn't think he'd ever been thanked before. He rather liked that too.
"That's very sweet. Now that I think about it, I suppose I have a few hours to spare; why don't we go to the nearest village, and I'll buy you something almost as sweet as you. Would you like that?"
He liked this, liking things. "I'd like that very much."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 19, 1184
Today was Elarys's son's seventeenth birthday.
She hadn't seen Landus in a while--there had been no pressing need to visit, now that Roderick was gone and his alleged lumber plans had died with him--but she had raised a glass to him at dinner. Seventeen was legal age in Dovia, so it seemed appropriate. It was also Landus's first year of study at that new university. He would still be a knight, of course, but why shouldn't she wish for his academic success? Not that his planned major in Physics would have been her first choice for him, but surely it could be useful somehow.
And he enjoyed it, didn't he? Why shouldn't he enjoy it? No one born before 1167 had even had a chance to attend the university in Naroni, or at least hadn't tried as far as Elarys knew. Even if he majored in flower arrangement and minored in squirrel-wrangling, he'd have a step up on most knights of his generation.
She hoped he'd made many friends, and would make more. The more friends he had, the more reason he had to stay in Naroni. Of course, her reasons for visits there had solidified when she'd sent the girls there, even if Catherelle had eventually returned to Spain, but when Neilor too had expressed an interest in a fresh start, she'd been eager to send Landus along with him. That gave her three children in the area. Elarys was not so naive to think herself immune to tragedy; Death didn't always arrive with the courtesy of a slow knock, and she might have dropped by unexpectedly on any of the children.
But what were the odds that she'd come for all three of those in Naroni before things had been settled? Them, plus all of her grandchildren?
Especially since it wouldn't be too many years now. It was coming--not so quickly that she couldn't revise plans if need be, but quickly enough. The Heiress had returned. Searle had seen to that, bless his soul, even if it hadn't ended well for him, even if he'd never known a damn thing. It was only a matter of time before the Trials began.
All that mattered now was that Ietrin left the forests alone. Perhaps she would visit him again, soon... and as a host's gift, she would bring the wine that killed his father. She'd remind him that he'd chosen it, that he himself had hired on Master Finessa, that he'd had tangible motive most would believe of him. Farrier had been instructed to leave hints, and Elarys had more than a few little birdies at her disposal; if she gave them the notes, they would sing.
So far, Ietrin had done nothing to outright displease her, but caution had been necessary. The Trials had to occur. The Heiress needed to take her rightful place. The Cycle could not be broken.
And she could not expect Ietrin's tiny little brain to comprehend why.
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 3, 1183
What a day.
Ietrin still wasn't sold on the idea of Raia as the university's chancellor, but the sponsors had made it perfectly clear that she and the university itself were a package deal, and the school would be enough of an asset to the kingdom that he'd--reluctantly--made his peace with it. His not being any more involved than he had to be made it easier to cope, but every once in a while, something required his seal of approval, and that did generally mean dealing with someone he preferred to avoid.
Today, for instance. He'd already approved the use of that part of the borderlands for the campus, but as the buildings would technically be public property, he had to approve their design, and who had Lord Severin put in charge of the architects? Lady Leonora. Good luck to any blue-blooded ruler forced to convene with some glorified sex servant over what ought to have been serious business without a cask of wine on hand.
And, as it figured--one glance toward his desk told him he wasn't done with low-born women in high places just yet. "Um... you're in my chair."
"A true king wouldn't need a throne to assert his authority."
She was probably right. That didn't make it any less his chair. "What are you doing here, Lady Elarys?"
"I had business in the area." She always had 'business'. Ietrin was probably better off not knowing what that business was. "I figured I'd stop in for a visit. Tell me, is your son well?"
"Holden? He's well." At least, someone would have told him otherwise, surely? He took a seat on the bench across from the desk; it wasn't the chair, but the distance and angle helped. "You're still upset about Kaldar."
"Oh, don't be absurd. If I want the throne for Kaldar, I shall have it." She looped a finger beneath the vertex of the compass on Ietrin's desk--a remnant of that Mistress Stephane, as he'd insisted she work under his steward's watchful eye--and lifted it, leaving it to stand freely. She drew back her hand and flicked it back down. "I thought I'd inquire about this university of yours; my Landus will be attending, after all. Tell me, where is the campus?"
"By the delta in the southeast."
"So you didn't disturb the forests."
"No." Though I'm not sure why you'd care.
"Good. I trust you'll inform me if you plan on making any changes there?" Something in the slant of her eyes made him nod, for all he couldn't guess at her reasoning. "In that case, you should know that I have many notable acquaintances, several of whom have sons and daughters of an age to enroll in your university. Tell the chancellor that I will be spreading the word."
"All right." Was this dependent on not disturbing the forests? So much for hoping he was finished with Lady Leonora. "Might I ask why you're so concerned with the state of our forests?"
"Mmm. Let's just say I have associates with significant investments." Investments? Did people invest in the forests? Lord Severin must have been pulling some scheme behind his back. Maybe it had begun behind his father's back, even. Bastard. "Now, be a dear and direct me to Sir Casimiro's castle? It's been far too long since I've seen my grandchildren."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 12, 1181
"You're right on time." Elarys kept herself composed as she studied the man's face, though he seemed to be doing the same--no hint of smugness or indulgence or any other ill emotion she least desired in a contractor. As her sources had promised, his self-command was appropriately honed. "Many in your line of work have no qualms about keeping a potential employer waiting."
"The self-assured lack of punctuality gives an illusion of power and standing. I have no use for such bravado, and I don't delude myself about who is paying who to do what." All delivered without so much as a blink. She'd been told that he wore the mask of stone well among his clients. As he worked, though, he was ever the chameleon. The man she saw before her now would not be the one he presented to the mark.
"I appreciate that you respect our current hierarchy. On the purely business side, I can see why you've come so highly recommended." Mind games, after all, had no place in this field--or this part of this field, at least. "You've studied my contract, I trust?"
"Extensively." He reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out the piece of parchment. A swift motion later and its browned edges constricted as the flames of the hearth devoured it. Elarys would not have had it any other way. "My lady, I don't concern myself with my clients' motives, but I must express some caution in this case. The mark is rather... high profile."
"That depends on who you ask, but there is wisdom in your reservations. I would not have offered you such coin to swipe cake from an infant. I expect that under any circumstances, a job like this would require at least a few months' worth of biding time--and building up trust." She smirked; he only raised an eyebrow, but she thought the point came across. "I've pulled a few strings with the right people and have arranged an opening for you, one that lends itself to this unique asset of yours. It should last you through the end of the year; you'll recall that I don't want you to strike until the dwindling hours of New Years' Eve."
"I recall. With such a significant date, I'm guessing you want to stir a degree of suspicion."
"Some, yes. The prying eyes aren't liable to fall on little old me." As far as anyone else was aware, what motive did she have? There were parts of her duty she ought to have paid closer attention to, ought to have gone about differently, but keeping a low profile was not one of them. "So, what will it be first? The details, or the money? Half now and half after, of course."
"In the interests of your trust, I'll take the details." For the first time, she thought she saw a shade of a grin beneath his mustache. "I doubt I'd have such favor in your circle if I was liable to take your money and run."
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 23, 1180
It was about damn time that Neilor fired that steward. The man showed up late if he showed up at all, then spent half the day fraternizing with the maids and the other half napping at his desk. Any news that reached one of his ears wasted little time echoing off the walls of his hollow skull before bouncing out the other, and if someone called... well, that varied. Male caller? Possibly he'd get out of his seat, and possibly not just to pick a losing fight like he did if he'd started drinking a little early that day, but the odds of him announcing the guest's presence before he was distracted by some pretty young servant girl? Not exactly high. Female caller? Well, harassment was inevitable, so the poor woman would have to either leave, or push through and announce herself--or, if she was Raia, slug him across the face and tell him he must have lacked the required size for whatever feat he'd been implying.
But now, the one time he'd actually bothered to do his job, the person who'd shown up was...
...well, frankly the first person she would have preferred he'd drive away.
"Daughter." Ellona glowered. Her mother brushed some hair out of her face, other hand reaching behind her back as if for a hidden dagger. "You know, I've traveled quite far to be here. You could at least offer me a drink."
She would begin with the guilt. Elarys didn't even drink. "Neilor's not here."
"Never mind where your brother is." The edge of the violet eyes slipped beneath those practiced lashes. "I'm here to see you."
"Of course you are." Because why wouldn't she be, when she hadn't paid Ellona a shred of attention since she'd learned she was pregnant with Kaldar? Even if Elarys was the type to pay international social calls at whim, this would have been suspicious. "What do you want?"
"You assume I need some selfish ulterior motive to visit my own child?" She adorned her lips with a teasing curve and her brow with an offended twitch, but not even Elarys could mask her eyes. She knew as well as Ellona did that the assumption was not unfounded. "It's been a while since I last saw your pretty face, dear. And I've never even met my grandchildren."
And you won't, Ellona wanted to spit back in her face. Good thing Kaldar had a playdate with Sev, and Ella with Rennie. "They're not even here."
"That's quite all right. It's not as if I'll have any shortage of time with them."
"Sorry?" That couldn't have been right. Her mother hadn't been any more loving with Neilor growing up than she had with Ellona--less so, perhaps, as Neilor was a boy and as far as Elarys was concerned, no one with a penis could be anything but a pawn on her chessboard--but with that in mind, surely she wasn't foolish enough to think Neilor would let her stay with him long-term? Neither he nor Landus seemed at all starved for her love...
"Oh, perhaps I should have mentioned. Here." Her hand folded back behind her once more and returned this time with a scroll in hand--reasonably fresh parchment, perfectly curled, tied with a ribbon. "This will explain more thoroughly than I can. Even if it couldn't, it's best that you see it anyway.
"This is official business, after all. Can't leave any windows for legal liabilities now, can we?"
Official business? Legal liabilities? Ellona tugged at the bow and unrolled the document to be greeted by a black wax stamp at the bottom, a mark she vaguely recognized as that of a Dovian ambassador. Frowning, she snapped to the top of the paper and processed word by word, letter by letter, each bold stroke an omen in itself. If any part of her had dared hope for good news...
Well, no part had. But even knowing Elarys could not have prepared her for an edict such as this.
"What is this?" She dropped the scroll and jumped back, half-expecting it to explode in flames, the gates of Hell itself born of its ashes. "What the hell is this?"
"It's exactly what it claims to be: an intervention of guardianship." The words might have been honey on Elarys's tongue. "You see, dear... your children's father is a Dovian by blood, as is their maternal grandmother, and you live in a kingdom that has made little change to the law of its motherland. And while Dovian law does not outright prohibit an... unwed woman--" Her mouth sneered in some private joke. "--from raising her children alone, the right to seek custody belongs to any well-meaning relative of higher repute."
"Well-meaning?" If phrases had flavor, she'd just tasted bullshit. "Higher repute? You dare declare yourself my better when Landus is walking around with Sir Searle's stupid face on his head? And 'well-meaning' my ass! You just want a signature on Ietrin's stupid document, don't you? You want Kaldar to be king one day, never mind whether it's what's best for him. Hell, that's why you sent us to court, isn't it? You always wanted one of us to be Ietrin's mistress! You always wanted one of us to give him a son! You always wanted--"
"Oh, please. Consider all the factors I can't account for; nothing's stopping Princess Jedaline from having a son of her own, at least nothing I can influence." But Elarys held herself with the triumph of knowing even biology dared not stand in her way. "I am simply doing what any loving grandmother would do. Most don't bother with this law, lacking the spare affection to waste on bastards, but I wouldn't dream of standing idly by while my own flesh and blood are stifled under the thumb of a loose cannon of a woman such as yourself."
"Better a loose cannon than a scheming, lying bitch!" The blood in her eyes cast the world in red tint. She couldn't take this. She wouldn't take this. Her children, her babies. No. Not Elarys. "My children aren't going anywhere with you! I'll beat you at your own game. I'll have Neilor--"
"Invoke the same right I have?" It sounded much worse when practically laughed. "Pointless, I'm afraid. This is one law where 'first come, first served' can be and typically is applied. Now, if you were to find a husband, he could legally block my intervention, but... well, that doesn't seem too likely at this point, does it?"
Ellona scowled. One more barb and she swore she'd start breathing fire. "Shut up! You can't take my children. I won't let you! I don't care about any fucking laws!"
"Is that so?" The words could have been said innocently, but Elarys hadn't bothered to try. She'd even taken to grinning. This was how hyenas looked with bits of zebra in their teeth. "In that case, you might want to work on your choice of wording. I doubt you'll find a judge who allows for cursing in court."
NEXT CHAPTER:
