The Consort, Chapter 6
three months later…
Ambrose walked into the drawing room, checking his timepiece. The ambassador from Flornistan had been waiting for ten minutes, and he was a cantankerous bastard under the best of circumstances, which these decidedly were not. The man couldn’t have chosen a worse time for a state visit.
Ambassador Montevo jumped to his feet the minute Ambrose entered. “I have been kept waiting here long enough!” he shouted.
“Indeed, Mr. Ambassador. Please come with me.”
The man grumbled and ruffled his feathers, but came along willingly enough. Ambrose braced himself for the tirade that was sure to ensue once he realized he wouldn’t be seeing the Queen, as he clearly expected to. He led Montevo to Cain’s office and opened the door, leading the man inside. Cain got up from behind his desk, tugged on his vest and came around. “General, may I present Ambassador Montevo of Flornistan. Ambassador, His Royal Highness the Queen’s Consort, General Cain.”
Montevo was turning several shades of purple. “Unacceptable!” he spluttered. Cain made no reaction except a slight arch in his right eyebrow. “I came here to speak with the Queen!”
“Her Majesty is unavailable. You can talk to me, or you can leave,” Cain said, evenly.
“Unavailable? Unavailable?”
“We were not apprised of your visit in advance, Ambassador. Is it reasonable to expect us to drop everything just because you happened by?” Ambrose smothered a chuckle. Cain had a way of putting stuffy diplomats in their places.
“I demand to see the Queen!”
Ambrose could tell Cain was getting irritated. “Mr. Ambassador, as you may have heard, the Queen’s mother is dying. Her Majesty is attending her in her last days. I’m not going to call her away from her mother’s deathbed because you think you’re too good to speak to me. I have the Queen’s full authority and she has empowered me to deal with you on her behalf.” He crossed his arms. “You know, your insistence is making me wonder if you chose this day for a visit hoping to take advantage of Her Majesty’s grief and turn it to your own advantage.”
Montevo was past purple and into the ultraviolet regions. He spluttered indignantly. “I will not tolerate such insults! You overstep your bounds, sir!”
“I’ll take that under advisement. Now, then. Do you have business to discuss with me, or shall I have you escorted out?”
“That little Otherworlder waif is trying to give me the slip!” Montevo cried. “She’s afraid to face me so she hides behind her mother’s illness!”
Ambrose cringed. Oh, man. Them was fightin’ words, as DG might say. Cain’s face had gone deadly expressionless. He took a step forward. “You forget your place, Ambassador. You will speak of Her Majesty with respect or I will personally throw you out of this palace, is that understood?” He took yet another step forward. They were almost nose to nose now, Cain lowering his voice to a very intentional growl. “I would further remind you that’s my wife you’re talking about, and you will keep a civil tongue in your head when you do or you’ll be helped along your way courtesy of my boot on your ass, got it?”
Incredibly, Montevo, who had always been impervious to threats or intimidation, seemed cowed by this. Then again, no one did “intimidating” quite like Wyatt Cain, and nothing brought it out in him faster than someone stepping out of line where the Queen was concerned. “I…apologize,” Montevo said. Ambrose’s jaw dropped open.
Cain nodded. “Very well. Now. For the last time, state your business.”
“His Excellency the Prime Minister of Flornistan wishes me to convey his displeasure at the buildup of troops and increased activity of scout patrols along the Flornish border.”
Cain considered this. “All right, his displeasure has been conveyed. Anything else?”
Montevo spluttered some more. “Do you not have any response to this, Your Highness?”
“I dislike that title. General Cain will do. And no, I don’t have a response. Our activities along your borders are perfectly legal and don’t violate our treaty. We’re within our rights to maintain a military presence in our own damn kingdom where the possibility of a threat exists.”
“Possibility of a threat? What threat do we Flornish pose to the mighty O.Z.?”
“Ambassador, you can pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about but I’m tired and I have lost my ability to bullshit. Your Prime Minister’s government is giving refuge to fugitive Longcoats who are wanted for war crimes here and refuses to extradite them, instead choosing to protest its ignorance of their existence when we have incontrovertible proof that they are gathering in large numbers in your country and are being supplied with aid, weapons and strategic support by the Flornish army. Her Majesty can only assume that such deception, and such support given to her enemies, represents a threat to the O.Z. And there you have it.”
The Ambassador had now gone pale and appeared to be speechless, a condition Ambrose had never observed in him.
Cain had taken his seat behind his desk again. “So if there’s nothing else, Ambassador, I am extremely busy.”
“N…nothing, Your Hi…uh, General. Nothing else.”
“Then good day. Ambrose, will you…”
Ambrose was already moving to escort the Ambassador out.
Cain finished his paperwork as quickly as he could and headed back to the Queen Mother’s chamber. Ahamo, Azkadellia and DG were spending almost all their time there these past few days, as the doctors said she was likely to go at any time. The sad-faced valet let him into the dim chamber, the scent of flowers, illness and burning sage almost overpowering.
DG, sitting on a cushion at her mother’s bedside, looked up as he entered and smiled wearily. Cain went to his usual spot on a couch near the windows, present but not close at hand as the rest of the family was. The Queen Mother appeared to be asleep, but he could hear her labored breathing from where he sat.
After a few moments, DG quietly rose to her feet and joined him on the couch. “You look tired,” he whispered, reaching out to rub her shoulder.
“I’m fine.”
“You should eat something. Take a nap.”
“I said I’m fine.” Her eyes stayed on her mother’s still form. “Did you talk to the Ambassador?”
“Yes. It was as we thought. The Prime Minister is in a snit over the buildup on the border. I told that arrogant bastard that as long as his country harbored and aided wanted fugitives who planned to invade us, we’d damn well maintain our military presence on the border.”
At that, DG turned to look at him. “Came right out with it, huh?”
“I’m sick of playing wink-wink with those people. What do you want to do?”
She thought for a moment. “Let them sweat it for awhile, wondering what we’ll do now that we know about it. As long as they don’t know about Jeb’s men inside the refugee Longcoat camps.”
He shook his head, lips pressed tight together, one hand still rubbing her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to think about all this now,” he said, half under his breath.
“Well, I wish I could just snap my fingers and make the world stop while my mother is sick, but I can’t,” she said, her voice sharp. Cain said nothing. DG sagged, putting two fingers to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“That’s my job.”
“What, to put up with my crap?” DG said, a small smile creeping onto her face.
“Someone’s got to do it,” Cain said, smiling back.
The Queen Mother was stirring. “Azkadellia,” she breathed. DG got up and returned to her mother’s bedside. Ahamo sat near the head of the bed, leaning over his wife, and Az sat near her mother’s feet.
“I’m here, Mother,” Az said, leaning forward and taking her mother’s hand.
The Queen Mother opened her eyes and looked at her elder daughter. “You must…forgive yourself,” she whispered. “For me, please.”
Tears dripped from Az’s eyes. “I’ll try, Mother.”
“DG…”
“Yes, Mother?”
“You will be great,” her mother rasped, each word an effort, putting special emphasis on the word “great.” “Don’t be scared.”
DG nodded. “I’ll try,” she choked. Her mother beckoned her closer, and DG leaned in. The Queen Mother said something, very quietly; Cain couldn’t make out the words. DG didn’t seem to respond, she just drew back again, hanging onto her mother’s hand.
The Queen Mother looked up at her husband and lifted one shaking hand to touch his face. “I’m not afraid,” she breathed. “But I will miss you.”
Ahamo hung onto her hand but couldn’t speak. Cain felt like he was intruding on a very private family moment, even if DG insisted that he was part of the family too, he didn’t feel it was his place to be here and wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t wanted to support DG. The family was like a tableau, sitting around their dying matriarch, each of them touching her, watching each breath, waiting for the next one…until there wasn’t a next one.
She died quietly, simply ceasing to draw breath. She was still, so still.
Cain watched Ahamo’s face crumple, his tears wetting his wife’s skin, and wondered if that would be him someday, watching DG die.
Don’t think about it. You’ll probably go first, anyway.
Azkadellia collapsed in sobs onto the bed, her hands on her mother’s leg. DG was very quiet, unmoving as a statue. Slowly, so slowly, she rose to her feet and leaned over to kiss her mother’s forehead, then straightened up and released her hand. She turned around and took a few wobbly steps toward him, but Cain was already there. He caught her up just as she collapsed into his arms and held her as she released her grief, her tears wetting his shirt.
DG sat in her window seat looking out at the spires of the city all around, lit by brilliant moonlight. The Central City of the O.Z. My kingdom. Still sounds so weird. And it’s really mine now, with Mother gone… But she had to shut that down, fast. It was still too new, too fresh to dwell on.
A week now since the long funeral cortege had wound its way through the city, grieving people lining the streets, throwing flowers, holding up signs. Her own carriage had followed directly behind the open hearse, her mother’s body laid out on a bed of silk and surrounded by flowers so that all could get one last glimpse at the former Queen. She’d heard her people shouting to her, and normally she would have looked at them, waved to them, but not that day. That day she had stared straight ahead, clutching Cain’s hand so tightly it had to have hurt, although he’d never complained.
That was the first day she’d begun to really see the wisdom of her decision to marry, and been glad for it, as much as she’d done it against her inclination. With her mother gone, and her father increasingly distracted and unhelpful, DG didn’t know what she would have done without Cain. Azkadellia was good company, and a companion in her magical studies, but she didn’t like to involve herself in affairs of state, and she was often fatigued. It was Cain who she talked to about running the country, him she sent to represent her when she wasn’t available, him she vented to when she was frustrated and felt inadequate, and he was the only one who could really calm her down when she’d worked herself up into a lather. Cain would have been her friend no matter what, but he wouldn’t have been able to serve the role he was currently serving if he hadn’t been her Consort.
There was a quiet knock at her bedroom door, then the knob turned and the door opened a little. “DG?”
“Come in.”
Cain shut the door behind him and crossed the room to sit beside her on the window seat. “You all right?”
She nodded. “I’m getting by.”
“You were awful quiet today.” He shook his head a little, staring at his hands. “I wish I could just…fix this for you.”
“It’s sweet that you want to.” She met his eyes. “Will you…” She trailed off, feeling embarrassed at what she’d been about to ask.
He frowned. “Will I what? Come on.”
Oh, hell. If you can’t let your own husband see when you’re feeling vulnerable, you’re in trouble. “Will you just…hold me awhile?”
His face softened slightly. “Sure. C’mere.” He reached out and drew her close. DG swung her legs over his lap and relaxed into his arms, his chest solid and warm under her cheek. She sighed and let herself go limp, because this was her safe place.
“I miss her,” she whispered.
“I know,” he murmured. He was rubbing her back, his cheek resting against her hair.
“I feel like I’m supposed to be this strong Queen, standing on my own, not needing anyone’s help…but sometimes I’m just so lost, and she always knew what to say, and what to do.”
“You can’t be strong all the time,” Cain said. “No one can. That’s why you have your father, and Azkadellia, and Ambrose and Raw.” He hesitated. “That’s why you have me, DG.”
She was quiet for a time, lulled by the steady bellows-draw of his chest as he breathed. “I heard someone say one time that you’re never really a grownup until your parents die.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, his hand making slow strokes up and down her back. “My parents died when I was twenty,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” He so rarely talked about his family, apart from Jeb. DG wanted to encourage him.
“We’d just had Jeb, and they were so excited to be grandparents. They only got to enjoy it for a year.”
“What happened?”
He hesitated, but went on. “Three men broke into their house, looking for money and things they could sell. My father stupidly tried to stop them. The thieves killed them both.”
DG lifted her head and looked into his eyes, seeing there a very old sadness. “Oh, Cain. That’s awful.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“That’s why you became a Tin Man, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “That’s why.”
She reached up and touched his face; he looked at her with a questioning expression. “You’ve had way too much tragedy in your life.”
“You have, too.” He shook his head. “Listen to me. I’m supposed to be comforting you, here. This isn’t about my ancient history.”
“I want to know about your history. You never talk about your past.”
“It’s hard to see it. It’s like…” He stared off into space, thinking. “It’s like it all happened to someone else.”
“Sometimes my life back in Kansas doesn’t seem real, either.”
“I was in a tin suit, you were in another world.”
She smiled. “Yeah, we’re quite the pair.” DG drew back a little, disengaging from his embrace. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
DG sat at his side and took his hand, looking past his shoulder and out the window. Was this the right time? Was she even sure it was what she wanted?
Yes, she was sure. She’d been sure for awhile, she’d just been waiting for the right time to bring it up.
“Wyatt?”
“Hmm?”
“There is something else you can do for me,” she said, keeping her tone even.
“What’s that?”
DG met his eyes. “Get me pregnant.”