Chapter 32

Wren's POV

Sol had landed in arms that were wrong in every way. For a breath he went still. Then his nose wrinkled and his mouth turned down, and he began to squirm against Wick.

"There, there, no crying. Nurse has milk for you," Wick said, with a smile pasted on, shifting him to bring him to the breast.

Sol would have none of it. The squirming turned into fighting, and then into an outraged howl, and he pushed at her with his hands and his feet both. Wick's smile slipped.

It tore me up to watch. I went toward them. "Wick, he doesn't know you yet. Let me have him."

Fletcher put her arm out across my way. She was still smiling, but there was nothing soft in her voice. "Darrow, His Highness and Mistress Dunne both said the three of us are to look after him together. He has to get used to us some time. He can't only ever have you." She glanced at Sol, who was crying so hard he couldn't catch his breath. "Wick means well. Let her try. He'll settle."

Wick couldn't bear being shown up in front of me. Instead of letting go, she held him harder and pushed his head in against her chest.

"Stop that noise. Drink!"

Sol screamed as though he were being hurt and threw himself backward with all his small strength.

I couldn't stand it. I knocked Fletcher's arm aside and stepped in close. "Can't you see he doesn't want you? Give him to me."

That was when Dunne came hurrying in from the Prince's side of the house, and her face went dark at the sight of us. "What is all this? Shrieking like fishwives! Can't you hear the state he's in?"

"Mistress!" Wick got in first, aggrieved. "Thank the Goddess you've come. It's Darrow. Because he'll take her, she won't let either of us near him. How are we meant to do our work, or ever get him used to us?"

Fletcher looked anxious and kind, and took Sol out of Wick's arms as naturally as anything and began to jog him. "It's true, mistress. Darrow was up all night, look how pale she is. We only wanted to share the work, so she wouldn't wear herself out. And then..."

Dunne had been in great houses, and in the palace before that, for half her life. I watched her eyes go from Wick's face, to Fletcher's, to mine, a moment on each.

"Enough," she said. "Is this a market? You'll squabble over him while he screams?" She turned on Wick. "You can put that idea out of your head. Who he'll take and who he won't is up to him, and patience, and nothing you can snatch. If I see you force him again, if I see you frighten him once more, I'll tell His Highness and you'll be out of that gate within the hour."

The colour went out of Wick's face.

Dunne turned to Fletcher. "And you. You know how to behave, so behave. Keep your clever ways for somewhere they're wanted."

Last she looked at me, and her voice was a little quieter, but no softer. "And you, Darrow. His Highness said the three of you. This isn't a post you can keep to yourself. He leans on you, so you need to be more careful than anybody, and give no one a reason to talk."

She looked round at the three of us. "I'll say it once. Upset him again, put His Highness out of temper, and I won't care whose fault it was. Every one of you will go."

Nobody moved.

"Now. Give him to Darrow so she can feed him. After that the other two of you can take turns with him and get him used to you. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, mistress."

I took Sol back, still hiccuping and furious, and turned away and fed him. He was asleep before he was done. Dunne lifted him off me and laid him in the cradle.

* * *

I had not gone ten steps from the door when the place under my ribs caught fire. While I'd had Sol to think of I had hardly felt it. Now it came all at once, and I had to put a hand on the wall until my sight cleared, and then go on a step at a time toward my little room. At the mouth of the narrow passage that led to it, a boy of twelve or thirteen in a blue-grey tunic was hovering, looking about him. As soon as he saw me he darted over and pushed a small stoppered bottle into my hand.

"Goody Darrow, hide that, quick. My master sent it. It's for bruises. Takes the swelling down."

"Your master?"

"Master Theo. His Highness's man." He grinned. "I'm Pip."

Theo. The young man with the round face, who had taken me and Briar to the Green Lamp in the Prince's carriage on Midsummer Day. I had been stained brown with walnut that day and wrapped in a headscarf, and six months gone. He hadn't known me in this house, and I had been careful not to know him.

But nobody knew about this bruise, except the two of us who had been in that room last night. How had Theo found out? And why should he send me anything?

"He saw you hold your side when you came out this morning, he said. He thought you'd hurt yourself. And you're the young master's nurse, so you can't be laid up." Pip saw my face and added, "It's safe. It won't hurt the young master, not a bit."

"Thank Master Theo for me." I closed my hand on the bottle, and something warm went through me that had nothing to do with the medicine.

"Twice a day, and rub it in well," Pip said, and was gone.

In my room I barred the door and pulled the stopper, and a clean, peppery smell came out. I warmed a few drops in my palm and rubbed it into my side. It went on cold, and then the cold turned to a deep warmth that worked down into the bruise and loosened it bit by bit, until the burning had dulled to something I could bear.

I lay down on the narrow bed. My body was so tired it felt like it was full of water, but my head was clear.

Linnet. Would she be crying herself hoarse tonight, the way Sol had, with no milk of mine? I had chosen Sol, and Linnet was paying for it. I had to find a way to feed her too, and I hadn't even found my feet. Let her take the goat's milk, I thought. Let her take the barley water.

Moon Goddess, let me and both my children live.

* * *

The days after that went by like still water, and on the surface they were almost peaceful.

Sol still wouldn't feed from anyone but me. In the day he would let Fletcher and Wick hold him now. At night he wanted me, and only me, curled against my side where he could smell me. It made my place in the house safer, and it meant I hardly slept.

Wick still sniffed when she passed me, but Dunne had frightened her, and she kept her hands to herself. Fletcher was all smiles and "Darrow dear," and saved me cakes from her own allowance for my long nights. Everyone said how kind Fletcher was.

I remembered how she had stood by while Wick took Sol from me, making peace with her mouth and stirring it up with everything else. Someone like that frightened me more than Wick ever could. I thanked her for every cake. I kept exactly as far from her as I had to.

Then, after ten days or so, the house grew suddenly busy.

From the door of Sol's court I watched Dunne lead young women across to the Prince's side a few at a time, sixteen, eighteen, twenty years old, all dressed with great care, leaving a trail of scent on the walk. A little while later they would come back with their heads down.

The maids talked of nothing else. His Highness hadn't so much as lifted his eyes, they said. He let them make their curtsies and then waved them out. Dunne went over with every new batch looking hopeful, and came back looking grim. "Is it that nobody's good enough for him," I heard her say to Grayle, "or is it that he doesn't want any of them at all?"

She was standing in our court one afternoon, sighing after the latest lot, when Theo came across the yard almost at a run. His forehead was wet.

"Mistress Dunne! Quickly. There's a message from the palace. His Majesty wants to see the young master. His Highness is to bring him now, today. The man's waiting at the front." He caught his breath. "And the nurse is to go too."