Chapter 73

"This is Cheapside."

Selene announced the name of our destination with a wry smile, but she needn't have bothered. Just as Stormare had rougher areas around the docks and on the outskirts of the city, so did Khean. It was considerably smellier though. I fished out a handkerchief, pressing it to my nose, but the faint scent of lilacs was barely perceptible. Open sewers, mud and horse dung littered the road, smearing everywhere as carriages and carts rolled through it. I looked out at the grime, dirt and mud and had to steel myself for what was to come.

"The first time our founder had a vision of the goddess," Selene explained, "was at the water pump, so that's where we will go." She nodded to the postulants seated around us in an open cart that had bench seats set along the width of the tray. "In her steps, we walk."

"In her steps, we walk," the other women repeated back dutifully.

Baskets of provisions gathered from the more well-heeled members of the congregation were hoisted up and I grabbed my own, Selene making clear that I would be participating in this ritual.

"We will make contact with some of the women who work in the castle," she'd told me in my room before we left. "Make sure to wear something you don't mind getting dirty."

That was immediately apparent when the driver appeared by the side of the cart, flipping down a set of wooden stairs so we might alight. I saw the pools of disgustingly mysterious brown liquid pocking the road below and paused to do something that would've had my mother expiring on the spot. I hiked my skirts up and tucked them into my underwear so the hem was raised enough not to trail through the muck.

"Feeling brave today, Princess?" Selene asked, taking my hand as I climbed down the steps.

"I'm fairly sure no one here gives a damn about my finely turned ankle," I replied. "But I draw the line at wearing a gown covered in horse shit."

Men stopped what they were doing to wave and call out to us and initially I feared this was to suggest something lewd, but it became clear at least a few of the postulants were well known to the locals. Greetings were shared as were little snippets about family or friends, but it was when we reached the water pump that our true audience was found. Women were clustered around with great jugs or buckets to fill with water, many chatting away or hoisting babies higher up on their hips as they waited their turn. When we arrived, all conversations ceased as they turned to focus on us.

"Oh bless you, Sister," an older woman said, bent over double and forced to use a cane to walk.

"And to you, sister," Selene said, handing the woman a cotton wrapped bundle of food.

"What do you have today, Selene?" a young woman with rosy red cheeks said, peering at the baskets. "Any of that fine bread you brought the other day with the sugary stuff on it?"

"That was nice," said another.

I stopped still as the women swarmed forward, even the one who had been working the pump. They rushed towards us in a great mass, right as a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Alright, alright, we all know how this goes, so let's line up nice and orderly like, rather than rushing the sisters!"

A woman with fiery red hair and eyes twice as bright surveyed the crowd, completely confident that everyone here would listen.

"You're not the boss here, Desiree," another woman shot back.

"No, but I know it makes it easier for the sisters to give out their parcels quicker and then we can get back to the bloody business of pumping water for our families," Desiree replied.

Apparently they all agreed because the women moved, if somewhat grudgingly, into a single line. I let out a long sigh, not realising how much tension had built in my muscles.

Worrying about a bunch of poor women clamouring for food? That seemed ridiculous now that we were moving down the line, handing out parcels. I was facing death or worse within the palace, but as was becoming clear, the human mind could only deal with the threat right in front of it and once that was resolved I achieved a small moment of peace.

"Thank you, ma'am," one woman said, clasping the bundle I handed over, then nodding and walking away from the line.

"You don't look like the sisters," another woman said with an open smile. "Your dress is far nicer."

"You one of them fine ladies who comes down here to do good works sometimes?" another asked, looking me up and down. "Though maybe not, flashing your ankles like that."

"As if we don't all hike up our skirts to stop from dragging them in horseshit," Desiree said, joining us. "Nice to see a lady being practical about the matter for once rather than fainting and flapping her fan about."

"As if that'd get rid of the stench down here," another woman said with a chuckle that had the others laughing.

"Did you get caught by your husband rolling in the hay with the groom?" one of them asked me with a sly wink. "One lady was forced to come down here every day for a month when she got caught at that."

"Or that poor lass who produced only daughters." This woman shook her head sharply. "As if that was her fault."

"Ah, no…" I cleared my throat and straightened up. "I'm Jessalyn." When I offered them my hand, the women just stared. "Princess Jessalyn. I was sent here by my father to marry your king."

"Oh, lass…"

There was something familiar in Desiree's voice. Perhaps it was because someone else with flaming red hair had said the same to me before, though that voice was decidedly more masculine.

"Perhaps you should be keeping one of these parcels for yourself." The woman I had just handed one too went to press it back into my hand. "That bastard up there in the palace… You know, don't you, Desiree?"

The red-haired woman looked a little uncomfortable but quickly straightened and met my eyes.

"I work in the kitchens up at the castle," she said. "So I hear a thing or two. Did your…?" She swallowed and then forced herself to go on. "Did your father tell you what the king does to his wives?"

"Every princess on the continent knows about the King of Khean," I replied and somehow this felt good to admit. The stink, the smoky haze around the square seemed to dissipate. "We know our fate when we are sent here."

"Do you have brothers that can stand up for you?" someone asked. "That's what mine did when my ex-husband started beating me. Forced him clear out of the city, they did."

I snorted before shooting them an apologetic look.

"Unfortunately, that's not what happens when a princess marries a king," I explained. "A prince of another country coming to court to beat a king would be a declaration of war."

"Ach, you wouldn't want your fellas trying to take our beast men on," an older woman with a far broader accent said with a shake of her head. "It wouldn't end well for you."

"Look, this is some of that chocolate cake we had last time." A heavily pregnant woman pulled free a muffin and pressed it into my hand. "Take a bite of that. Pure heaven, I say. It makes me forget about my children whining, my husband complaining and the fact that my feet are swelling up to twice the size of my head." She shot me a pensive look. "Maybe it'll help you… get through your situation."

"Taking chocolate from pregnant women?" I smiled as I handed it back. "In my country that's something that would have the lady in question ready to fight you to the death. I've seen it myself in my father's court. Keep it for your unborn child."

"The bastard that's kicking me in the ribs at every turn?" she said, setting her basket down and then leaning back to try and ease the burden on her back. "Not sure he deserves it."

"The midwife says you're having a son, Georgie?" another woman asked.

"Have to be a boy," Georgie groaned. "Ain't no one else that would make their mother's life this miserable."

As if on cue, I heard the sharp garbled cries of children as a flock of them came streaming into the square.

"Mumma!" a beautiful dark-haired little girl said, running over to Georgie and I blinked as the woman scooped the child up, resting the child on her hip, despite her obvious pain seconds before. "Did the sisters bring us treats?"

"They did, indeed." As Georgie handed over the muffin, the little girl's whole face lit up. "Now, share this with your brothers."

The woman had made clear just how much she loved the muffin last time she ate it, but she'd been willing to hand it to me, then to her children to share without a moment's thought and I wondered if any of the ladies at my father's court would be so generous. In the ways proscribed by court protocol? Always. We were nothing if not proper in our dealings with other ladies, but this… Georgie watched her daughter squirm free then run off to find her siblings with a gentle smile.

"Seems like you need to find a way to slip some rat poison into that king's stew," one of the women told Desiree. "That got rid of that bastard, Frank, when he was touching his kids."

"As if people haven't tried that. Saw a young lad get hung, drawn and quartered for taking the coin of a disgruntled lord." Desiree's hand went to her breast as she went terribly pale, every freckle standing out plain on her skin. "The cook got sick and nearly died when tasting it and the interrogation that followed…" She shook her head sharply. "I wouldn't keep working in the kitchens if we didn't need the coin it brings."

"We all have our burdens to bear," Selene said in a calm voice. "Now, Desiree, if I could have a quick word? The temple is thinking of putting on a banquet for the less fortunate and I'd like your input on the menu."

The red haired woman flushed then, looking awfully pleased and the postulants took our burdens, finishing off handing out the parcels as we drew Desiree off to one side.

"I'm thinking this has nothing to do with a banquet," she said, muttering under her breath as she looked us over. "I told that story of the kitchen lad as a reminder of what happened last time."

Selene was the ‘disgruntled lord? The woman gave nothing away as she gazed back at the square as if we were discussing the weather or something.

"Last time was a mistake," Selene admitted.

"Don't I know it." Desiree's brows drew down. "We had young Roderick's mother wailing at the kitchen door for days after what was done to her son. I won't be party to any more attempts on the king's life, Selene Corvus, no matter what you have to say about the matter."

"The last attempt on the king's life was a feint by my father," Selene replied in a low voice. "‘Young Roderick' was hocked up to the eyeballs when my father let him keep running up gambling debts in one of his halls. He knew he was going to die, one way or the other, and figured striking back at a despotic king might make him a martyr rather than a murder victim. His mother knew this and decided to direct her ire at the castle, fearing to point the finger at the true originator of the threat."

"So what does the Raven want now?" Desiree's hands went to her hips. "I don't step foot in any of the Guild-owned places, won't even allow my Bill to drink at the local ale house. He has to ride three blocks over to that backyard still the Harrisons run."

"Which my father has a controlling interest in as well." Selene shot her a long look. "The Raven is everywhere."

"So he can do his own dirty work then."

I stared at Desiree, took in her stance and her determined expression and wondered where the hell Selene was going with this.

"That's not how my father works and you know it." Selene's tone was always mild, barely rising to the level just beyond a murmur. Her green eyes remained fixed on the crowd, scanning, scanning, but not really seeing until she glanced at Desiree. One perfectly formed eyebrow rose. "He got you the job in the kitchens."

"One I didn't ask for," Desiree snapped. "That was Roan, all Roan."

"Roan?" I took in the red hair anew. It wasn't a common hair colouring, but it was also not especially rare. "You know Roan?"

"You know Roan?" Desiree repeated back, though the emphasis was completely different. "Oh goddess…" All the tension bled from her body as she turned to face the two of us head on. "What the hell has my brother got me into now?"