66. Love

Tintarian falls were as hot as summer during the day, but cooler in the mornings and evenings.

The city of Pikestully was in uproar.

News of Perpatane’s collusion with Eccleston was no longer rumor.

The Council of Ten had signed a decree writing into the city-state’s bylaws that no trade would be done with Tintar ever again.

Perpatane formally declared war on Tintar on behalf of Eccleston as the city only had a capitol guard and not an army.

The king of Perpatane declared his country must defend the city-state as its ally.

The Shark King seemed more amused than angered by this.

Apparently, Hinnom had walked into a war council called by Jeremanthy and Peregrine, rightfully stated that Pikestully was mostly bordered on the inland side by Nyossa and reaching the city via a trade route meant taking public dust roads a long way around it or trudging through the treacherous marshlands of the south.

A full army could not come through the north as navigating the Hintercliff mountains was a near insurmountable task for hundreds of men at a time.

The three heads of the armies all pointed out that somehow, a smaller unit of the Perpatane army had managed to sack Sealmouth at the beginning of spring.

Hinnom agreed to Tintar at least preparing for war and securing its borders while they awaited Perpatane’s next move, as it pumped gold into other countries and cities.

I learned all this at night in bed with my husband, not from Mischa’s scribing for Jeremanthy.

Mischa was preoccupied with driving Perch mad by bedding him one night and not speaking to him for another ten.

She would recount his consternation to us at meals and Helena scolded her, but only mildly, as I believed she was sleepy from spending her evenings with Thatcher.

It was a suspicion she confirmed one night in the baths.

They were full of women taking an evening dip after another sticky fall day, everyone complaining of the endless summer.

“So tired,”

I said, bathing with my right hand working the soap, keeping my still bandaged left held up out of the water.

“You yawn continuously these days.”

She shot me a look and then edged closer in the water.

“I have acted on my consideration.”

“Your consideration of your betrothed’s bed?”

“Sh,”

she said, coming even closer.

The prattling around us covered her words as she continued.

“I have not fully bedded him.

But I have spent the night in his room.”

“And what does spending the night entail?”

Her face went red.

“You’re a grown woman.

Use your imagination.

Mostly kissing.”

“Well, you seem quite satisfied with yourself,” I said.

Mischa drew near, sloshing in the water next to us.

“Has she finally admitted—”

“Yes, I have,”

interrupted Helena.

“Have a care.

My daughter does not need to hear—”

“Maureen does not need to hear about her mother’s being swived?”

Mischa asked.

I flicked water at Mischa.

Helena sighed.

“That is precisely what she does not need to hear.

And I am just spending the night.

Not much else is happening.

Not yet.”

“So, how is it?”

Mischa asked.

“She won’t say,”

I said, bending my knees to let the water rinse off the suds.

Mischa shrugged.

“She was making noises the other night, whatever it is they are doing.”

Helena’s eyes were wide.

“I heard you saying his name when I last left the fish man’s room.

I was in the hallway,”

Mischa explained.

“Through his door.

I thought his name was Thatcher not Caleb.”

“Agnes preserve me,”

Helena prayed.

“Well,”

I said turning to Mischa, “I can hear Perch bellowing ‘oh fuck’ through my wall.”

Mischa winked at Helena.

“See, nothing to be ashamed of.”

In an effort to reduce the attention on her, Helena turned to me.

“And why is it we haven’t heard any noises from you, Edie?”

I looked around.

I would choke on my own words before I admitted this in Vinia’s hearing, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“I cannot tell if he wants me in that way.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Helena said.

“Look at you!”

I shook my head.

“I do not wish to speak of it.

I am sorry I teased either of you.”

They both fell silent and then Mischa said, “Shit, you’re in love.”

“Edie,”

Helena breathed.

“Are you?”

I stared at them a moment and said, “I am to bed.

I will see you here in the morning? I like a bath in the morning even if I have had one the night before.”

I hurtled up the steps, wrapped myself in a linen and dried my skin vigorously.

I pulled my shift and fall dress, a dark teal color, over my head, shoved my feet into my boots and left the baths.

I did not look over my shoulder to see if they watched me.

You’re in love.

“No, no, no,”

I muttered to myself, running to our room.

I had not been careful.

Ever since speaking with Mother Earth, I had let my heart feel whatever it wanted to feel, because that mostly entailed rejoicing at a goddess knowing who I was and speaking to me.

And somewhere in that exultation, I started to love a man, a man of whom I was unsure, a man unreadable, unknowable.

A man who had given his heart away to someone long before he met and wed me.

“You will not cry,”

I said out loud.

“He will return soon and you will not cry.”

I found the jug of whiskey he often kept on the desk and took a swig instead of a sip, almost choking on the burn in my throat.

It was flavored with apples but I still coughed.

There was a knock at the door.

There he was, the man I loved.

I did not reply because I sat there in a stunned silence at my own admission.