THE ORDER REMAINS

Elaris's POV

The four council guards escorted me on my way back from the meeting, not giving me a second glance.

I made sure to keep my mask on.

I did not tell them what the night healer had whispered in my ear before they took me.

She had said the second mate died first.

Her comment followed me through the entire procession.

I held no particular belief that the healer meant me.

There remained no reason for such a thing.

Yet.

My body knew something was wrong.

I kept my right hand near my stomach while I walked.

The child remained.

Alive.

A quick pulse against the touch of my palm.

That was enough reason for me to be careful.

When the door to the guest chamber slid open and the lock chimed shut behind me, I did not look back over my shoulder.

The order still held.

So did the warning.

The guest chamber seemed smaller than it had been that morning.

It could have been I was seeing it differently.

Or that I had simply changed.

Before the hearing, being confined here had seemed like an irritation.

A period of isolation imposed so the council could decide what was to be done with me.

Now.

I had the distinct impression of time passing.

A measured amount for a calculated decision.

The approaching blood moon had ceased to be a date.

It was an event.

A confluence of time.

I sat on the edge of the bed and rested both of my hands on top of my stomach.

It took several long breaths before the child responded.

It moved once.

A brief shift underneath the soft movement of my palms.

I needed to live to reach the appointed day.

Not simply survive.

Not live enough for someone to measure my pulse and take away my right to protest.

I needed to be alive enough so that no excuse could be made over what the council would find when they examined me.

My head lowered.

"Stay with me."

Another pulse answered me.

I closed my eyes to listen.

"That's all we need to do."

Someone had already decided it was a danger that I reach the blood moon.

Averic's second visit came in the form of a morning errand.

As always, the council observer came first.

He entered before anyone else did, taking the chair opposite me without wasting time on ceremony.

The observer opened the book she kept with her, flipping the pages before looking up at me.

It took a long second for Averic to speak.

"It has been decided that we must know more about your condition."

His gaze left my stomach, avoiding the swell of my dress over the curve of my hips.

He did not even look at the council guards.

He was staring at my face.

It was all the warning I needed.

"You have heard the healer?"

He gave the briefest of nods once.

Averic knew what she had said.

"The council has been informed of the healer's warning."

I wanted it to be enough for me, but this knowledge reminded me more than anything of the helplessness both of us felt in this situation.

"I want to know what happened to the healer."

"No servant may approach her without express permission and no healer may attend to her without a second physician on hand to witness every part of the examination," The council observer quoted dryly from her book.

"She refuses to tell the council anything more."

"Not even about Virelle?"

"Nothing."

I looked at my hands, my pulse hammering in my throat.

"She warned me."

"I know."

"Did she warn them?"

"No," He replied immediately.

The answer unsettled me.

If she had not told them what I had seen her warn me of, was that a privilege I held?

Averic leaned back as he answered.

"We cannot treat the healer's warning as formal testimony to the council, “I didn’t ask you to.”"

"I understand," His eyes locked onto mine.

"But I am treating it as a warning."

That was all the difference between the two responses.

He could not use what I feared was coming against me, but he did not have to treat it lightly in how he went about doing his duty for the council.

The observer turned her attention to her book, and Averic caught the shift.

His next remarks, though directed at me, were quiet enough that few would have heard them.

"The examinations will be moved forward," I stared at him in disbelief, but Averic made no move to explain his words.

"When?"

"Before the next full council session commences."

I wanted to argue, but I found myself more concerned over the implications of what he had just said.

"How soon?"

"I have not received the hour yet, but she will."

The observer looked up as Averic turned the subject to her.

"I have requested to be present," He told the council observer.

She made a notation on her book before finally announcing that our time was nearly up.

Averic stood, and for a moment he looked at me instead of away when he turned to go.

This time I understood the warning beneath his restraint.

The council was not sitting idly waiting for the appointed day, they were already pushing it closer to arrive.

Averic left with her in the end, and I remained standing where he had last been.

I spent the rest of the hour calculating the implications of what he had said.

If the council moved the preliminary procedures forward, Virelle would have less time to ensure her story held.

That did not mean it would suddenly be true, though.

She had defied accusations and turned them back onto me and against my right to protest.

Virelle always found the advantages within the disadvantages.

I should have been more concerned over how the council might use her against me.

Instead of thinking on this, I was thinking on the next possible move I had to take.

I looked out the window from my place behind the chair.

The palace grounds gave the illusion of peace.

I knew this peace had been fabricated.

Somewhere within the palace walls people were compiling their cases against me, and within their papers lay the means to keep every word and fact from being held as evidence in what would come next.

The formal notice arrived around noon, and no council aide needed to speak with me at all.

They simply set the parchment on the table and waited until I finished reading it before taking it away.

Both of the females were to appear the following morning for preliminary medical documentation.

Not the appointed day.

The first step in the process.

I read each line carefully before setting the writing aside.

I knew what was implied in the statements as well as what was said outright.

Gestational assessment.

Wolf-essence measurement.

Maternal health evaluation.

Pregnancy records.

Formal statements of the known circumstances of conception.

Everything would be recorded by the appointed council healers.

I read the last note twice before letting my gaze settle on the aide who had given me the notice.

Refusal or interference will be considered obstruction of council proceedings.

"Thank you."

I took the notice with both of my hands, and she held out her waiting until I had signed that I had read the document.

Once she left I knew for certain that tomorrow would be the first time the council documented my pregnancy as part of their dispute.

Up until this moment people had been throwing accusations at me, tomorrow the council would start taking records about my child.

I read the notice over again, and I found greater concern with what the documentation meant.

Preliminary documentation implied measurement and comparison.

Virelle would have to undergo the same procedures as her condition was considered by the council-appointed healers.

Her story was no longer just the word of others, it would have to be defended based on what could actually be seen.

That should have given me some reassurance, but the truth was this meant greater caution on both our sides.

Should the preliminary readings be manipulated in any way, the first official reading would serve as the foundation for everything else that come after.

I thought on the tampered medicines.

Calming draft.

The missing attendant.

The night healer.

The number of other people who had already handled evidence before it arrived at the council's hands.

Carefully, I folded the notice and set it aside.

The examinations might reveal the truth.

It was still another matter to get the truth into their examination room.

I placed the notice by the side of my bed.

Tomorrow was no longer a mere appointment.

It was the start of the formal documentation of my child's existence in the council's records.

My afternoon was uneventful.

The meals came at regular intervals, and different guards took their turns entering and exiting.

No one said more than was necessary.

There was no need to ask about Neryss.

The night healer.

Virelle's notice.

The last question lingered longest in my mind as I pushed away from the tray.

I did not ask anything over my condition, preferring to conserve my strength.

I lay down each time the child became restless, drinking the water set aside for me and eating what I could when I was at my strongest.

I did not want to be weak when I got to the examination room tomorrow, giving the council another reason to doubt me.

By the time evening arrived, my body protested against the rest.

I set my palm beneath my stomach as the child pulsed once against my touch.

"Tomorrow,"

I did not sound any different.

The word simply contained a different meaning now, as well as a greater sense of purpose and foreboding.

Averic came one more time that evening.

The second visit lasted barely long enough for us to sit.

The council observer stood this time, taking down nearly every word that was spoken.

"How is Maevra?" I asked.

"Unchanged," Averic replied bluntly.

"She remains vital but stable."

I nodded with enough understanding.

"And the night healer?"

"Still contained."

"Does she remember anything else?" I pressed.

"Not yet."

The observer's hand moved quickly over her book at the pause in conversation.

Averic noticed her reaction and chose his next remark with particular care.

"I requested permission to be present for your preliminary documentation tomorrow."

"And?" I asked sharply.

"The request has yet to be answered,"

It took me a moment to understand the implications of this, but when I did I found myself angry at the subtle method the council had chosen.

Nothing was outright denied, and nothing was offered.

Everything remained in a state of suspension until another decision was made with the council's will in mind.

Averic stood when the observer indicated we had finished.

"Rest tonight."

"I will."

He departed, and this time I waited in the doorway even after he was gone.

I had been doing that more lately, watching as the night settled over the guest chamber.

The attacks were starting to feel like a series of unrelated incidents.

The tampering, the threats, the falsified evidence, the fall, the silenced attendant, and the night healer.

All of it was rapidly becoming secondary in the eyes of the council.

Their attention seemed to be shifting, focusing instead on the twin pregnancies and whose child would be found worthy of the claim when all was said and done.

The investigation into what had brought about these accusations had not vanished, but it was steadily losing its position as the center of the council's attention.

It frightened me more than another accusation might have.

Because if the council believed the blood moon would settle everything once and for all, they might prove themselves unprepared for anything else that happened before then.

I looked toward the direction of the door to our chamber, wondering if the guards remained where they always did.

I did not have a habit of second-guessing my assumptions any longer since spending time in the palace.

If anyone listened to what happened behind these walls, they likely knew I had a reason.

I folded the notice and placed it beneath my pillow before laying down.

The child pulsed once before settling still.

My eyes did not close entirely.

The last thing I remembered was the feeling of something pressing against my back before I let out a long, slow breath.

It was far too late in the night when the door opened, but I sat up anyway.

A different guard entered without explaining his purpose, crossing the room to place a small folded scrap of paper on the table before leaving as quietly as he had entered.

I waited until the sound of his footsteps had disappeared before rising to cross to the table.

I knew what the script looked like on the back of the small paper before I even finished unfurling it with my hands.

Neryss's writing.

My stomach twisted at the thought.

She had not been permitted to visit me.

She should not have been able to write to me.

I unfolded the note, finding three simple words scrawled across the inside.

West wing door open.

I re-read the message.

The west wing.

That is where Virelle slept.

That is where I believed anyone else would find her, behind the protections the council had placed around her quarter.

The same wing which was supposedly under the most watchful protection of the palace.

I looked toward the locked door in my own chamber.

The door behind me.

If Neryss was telling the truth, then it had just been opened.