Nettle & Bone(17)

It would have been an opening to talk to her about the lost pregnancies. It would have been the time. But Marra’s gaze was transfixed on her sister’s wrist, on a line of livid purple marks there.

She held out her hand, trembling a little, and the marks matched. Fingerprints. A man’s hand, larger than hers, but fingerprints nonetheless.

“Kania,” she said hoarsely.

Kania looked down at her arm and pulled the sleeve to hide the marks. “Ah,” she said.

“Were those … how did you…?” Her throat closed up. They could not be what it looked like. It was an accident—surely it was an accident. She fell and he caught her …

“Normally he’s careful not to leave them where they show,” said Kania in a voice so weary that the carvings on the walls should have come to life and wept. “But since I’m pregnant, his ability is limited. And he was very angry that I would keep a vigil alone.”

Marra stared at her. The words fell into her like stones into a well, and she could hear them rattling down into her mind, but they did not seem to make any sense. They could not possibly make sense.

“He…” She had to stop and swallow. Her throat was suddenly dry. “He … he hurts you?”

Kania gave her one of those quick, sharp looks she remembered from childhood, when she had been too slow to realize something. It was the same look that she had worn when Marra had refused to believe Damia was dead. Marra flinched back as if it were a blow.

“Of course he does,” said Kania. “Though he mostly stops when I’m pregnant. He doesn’t want any more miscarriages. He gets them anyway.” She smiled sourly. “Although it’s not much of a respite, because he saves up a great deal of anger in those months. You’d think he’d have whores to take it out on, but the man’s got a horror of bastards and bastardy, so it’s me or nothing.”

“The prince,” said Marra, feeling as if she were still half a step behind the conversation. “The prince is doing this?”

Kania gave her another sharp look. “Of course. Who else?”

“But someone has to stop him,” said Marra. “The king … or…” She trailed off, because who could stop a prince? Did you call the guard on them? You couldn’t do that, could you?

“The king is in his dotage,” said Kania. “You saw. He shows up at ceremonies and mumbles and waves, then goes back to bed. Vorling is the true ruler here. Has been for years.”

“How long has this been going on?” whispered Marra.

“Since the beginning.”

“Oh.” Marra swallowed. No king. No guards. No help. “Come home, then. Leave him and come home where he can’t get to you.”

Kania’s look was almost pitying. “And he will declare war on our country for breach of contract. Do you think I haven’t asked? I haven’t even been allowed home for a visit. I told you he’s terrified of bastards. It goes both ways. If I’m allowed out of his sight for a day, he’s sure that I’ll be pregnant by some other man. He tells me he’ll have no bastards on the throne. It’s the spell, you know. The godmother’s blessing. No enemy shall take the throne—but only as long as the bloodline continues. A bastard on the throne means the Northern Kingdom falls. Or so he believes.”

Each word rang out ugly, like the chop of an axe into heartwood. Marra shook her head slowly. It was baffling. Appalling. It made no sense. “But you wouldn’t do that!”

Kania gave a short, hoarse laugh. “In a heartbeat,” she whispered, dropping her voice. “In an instant. If I thought I could have a child that did not carry that monster’s blood…”

Marra stared at the coffin, because she could not look at her sister’s eyes any longer.

“He was away on a military campaign early on,” said Kania. “It lasted for years. When he came back, he would not touch me for nine months. To be sure, he said. To be absolutely sure.” She gave another hoarse laugh. “Those were the best years of my marriage. Except that I was still young and fool enough to think that he might change.”

Marra took a deep breath. “Then you must kill him,” she said, her own voice barely above a whisper. Could the guards on the door hear her? She dropped it even lower. “Stab him when he’s asleep.”

Kania looked at her with pity and despair. “He does not sleep with me.”

“Then … when he … you know…” Marra felt herself turning bright scarlet.

Kania’s face softened as she looked at her sister. “His guards are with him, even then,” she said very gently. “I think it excites him to know they watch.”

The whole world seemed to slew sideways. Marra had never thought … never even dreamed … “Oh,” she said.

She couldn’t deal with that. There was no place in her head to put that piece of information. She tried to think of something else, something that would fix things. Kania sat in silence, her hands folded, looking at the coffin of the daughter she had not been allowed to love.

“If … if you had an heir,” said Marra, “if you bore him an heir, would he let go? You could go away. Somewhere else. A separate estate, or back home? Something. He wouldn’t need you anymore.”

“He would not need me anymore,” agreed her sister. “And the moment he does not need me, the moment that he has a son that will rule both our kingdom and his, then my life will be worth less than the lowest peasant. I will not die quickly, but I will die.”