Queen of the Unwanted Page 9

  “He took me in a way I did not realize a man could take a woman,” Zulmirna finished miserably.

  Still too prudish to put into words exactly what Lord Deenan had done to her, but then she was painfully young and new to the Abbey. Her inhibitions would lessen over time, and her answer had been candid enough to suggest she might be a useful spy.

  “If there was a way you could spend half as many nights in the pavilion as you do now and still receive the full privileges such duty affords you, would you be interested?” Mairah asked.

  There was no missing the almost desperate flash of hope in the girl’s eyes. “Of course, Mother!”

  Mairah nodded, taking a moment to savor the power she had to influence this young woman’s life, to revel in the certain knowledge that Zulmirna would do practically anything she was asked to escape her duties for a few nights a week.

  “What would I have to do?” the girl asked.

  “Pay close attention to each of your customers. Men have a way of revealing their true natures—and of speaking imprudently—when they are in the throes of passion. You will report to me any quirk or perversion or any hint of impropriety they admit to during their time with you.”

  Zulmirna’s eyes widened with alarm. “That sounds…dangerous.”

  Mairah shrugged. “Dangerous to me, perhaps, if I ever try to use the information you feed me. But no one need know how I learned it.”

  Zulmirna looked unconvinced. She might be new to the Abbey, but it didn’t take long for the Abbey to strip away a woman’s innocence and trust.

  “If you’re not interested, then we’ll say no more,” Mairah said with another shrug. “You will continue your duties as usual, and we will pretend this conversation never happened.”

  “I’ll do it,” Zulmirna said hastily. As Mairah had known she would.

  Mairah smiled, delighted to know she would have a steady flow of information to feed Jalzarnin. The lord high priest might not be able to confirm her to her position as abbess, but he was by far her strongest advocate, and it behooved her to keep him very happy.

  “One more thing,” Mairah said just before dismissing the girl. “I would advise you against befriending or in any way confiding in Sister Norah and her circle of friends. If I ever hear tell that you are fraternizing with them, our arrangement will be null and void.”

  Zulmirna revealed not a hint of surprise. “I understand, Mother Mairahsol.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The business and governance of Women’s Well could easily take up Alys’s every waking moment, and often it did. Being constantly busy was a much-needed salve for the grief that hovered always on the edge of her consciousness, and free time—time to think—was her most hated enemy. Whenever her duties threatened to leave her idle for an hour or two, she fled to the Women’s Well Academy, delving into the fascinating secrets of magic that had been forbidden to her—to all women, except those imprisoned in abbeys—for most of her life. Alys could not escape the grief that assailed her every night when she was forced to lie down and attempt the daunting challenge that was falling asleep, but she would shield herself from it with work or study the rest of the time.

  At first, she’d had every intention of using her time at the Academy to work on crafting the killer Kai spell she’d imagined sending to Delnamal. But though her rage continued unabated, she’d allowed herself—most reluctantly—to be talked out of it. Delnamal was far from the most intelligent person she had ever met, but he was not so stupid as to not know she wanted him dead. She’d already tried to send the Kai spell known as Vengeance at him once—a spell that had regrettably been foiled. He would from now on wear an active Kai shield spell all the time, as if he were a warrior going into battle.

  Even if there hadn’t been that very practical objection—and even if Delnamal’s mysterious death would not endanger the relationship between Women’s Well and the rest of Seven Wells, for no sovereign was eager to deal with someone who assassinated their rivals—there was a part of her that was just as happy to wait. A long-distance Kai spell might end Delnamal’s life sooner, but Alys wanted to be there when he died, wanted to see him terrified and suffering and helpless as she ordered his execution. Just as her daughter had been when Delnamal had heartlessly killed her in an act of pure spite.

  There was always at least a modicum of guilt when Alys first crossed the threshold into the Academy, for she couldn’t shake the feeling that her insistence on remaining in Women’s Well to pursue her magical studies had left her children vulnerable and led to—or at least contributed to—Jinnell’s death. But once she opened her Mindseye and began working with the copious elements the Women’s Well produced, the guilt would fade into the distance, ever-present, but at least tolerable.

  The women of the Academy—the former abigails of Aaltah—had been working on an ambitious project over the last several weeks, one that Alys could hardly believe had never before been attempted: creating a compendium of women’s magic. Alys had been shocked to hear that no such documents existed within any of the abbeys, that the abigails’ knowledge of magic was passed down either orally or on bits and scraps of paper that were only haphazardly stored. Who knew how many spells had been lost over the course of history!

  In the past, women’s magic was considered too minor and unimportant to be worth documenting, while there were whole libraries full of spell compendiums for men’s magic, documenting even the most obscure spells of questionable use. Alys was sure there was enough women’s magic in the world—even before her mother’s spell had unleashed a slew of new feminine elements that had opened up whole realms of possibilities—to one day have a library of their own. But to start with, they would have a single, incomplete tome.

  Chanlix Rai-Chanwynne, who had once been the Abbess of Aaltah but was now Alys’s grand magus, was certain other abbeys would have their own unique spells that were unfamiliar to her and to the women of her Academy, but for now, they would fill the compendium with every spell the women of Aaltah knew, and with every spell that was developed within the Women’s Well Academy.

  Alys was unable to escape her duties until well after the Academy had shut down for the night, but she was not entirely disappointed to find the building dark and deserted. There was something almost soothing to the silence as she lit a few luminants and picked up one of the leather-bound copies of the compendium-in-progress.

  There was a desk in the corner that was reserved specifically for her use—although she had repeatedly told Chanlix she need not reserve anything—and Alys laid the compendium on that desk and settled in to see what had been added since last she’d paid a visit.

  Many of the spells listed were of little or no interest to Alys—traditional women’s magic that might have sold well in the Women’s Market but was of limited practical use. Things like aphrodisiacs and vanity potions had their place, and Alys hesitated to call them worthless—for that was the very kind of dismissive attitude men had always taken toward women’s magic—but she didn’t see any innovative new ways they could be used to further the security of her principality, which was her stated purpose for the hours spent with her Mindseye open and her worldly vision dimmed.

  The latest spells added to the compendium were focused on fertility and childbirth, and though they were unquestionably useful spells, they did not spark any particular hunger for knowledge in Alys’s breast. With a disappointed sigh, she gently closed the book and pushed back her chair.

  Then she remembered her unkind words to her brother, her unintentional taunt about his childless state. And she thought again about the handful of fertility potions that were documented in the compendium.

  There was a general acknowledgment—at least within the abbeys, if not in the larger world—that if a couple was unable to produce children, there was a roughly equal chance of the deficiency existing within the man or the woman. However—and Alys double-check
ed the listings, just to make sure—every fertility potion available was meant to be taken by women. Alys wondered if that was because society preferred to lay all the responsibility for childbearing on women, or whether there had been concerted efforts to restore male fertility and they had failed.

  There was no way of knowing if someone ever had researched the making of a male fertility potion. And it was always possible that some of the previously unknown elements that were now available thanks to the Women’s Well would make possible what had once been unachievable. Or that breaking with tradition and combining masculine and feminine elements in the same spell would do what women’s magic alone could not. Alys could think of no better way to apologize for her cruel words than to present Tynthanal with a potion that would allow him to become a father.

  Opening the book once more, Alys flipped to the section on fertility potions to gain a better understanding of how they worked. She had learned a couple of them when she had first begun her magical studies, using the impossible book of magic her mother had left her—which she had subsequently destroyed when she realized her mother had foreseen that her actions would lead to Jinnell’s death. The compendium showed that there were many more variations than she had expected.

  All the spells contained a trio of key ingredients: Rai, which was the element most strongly associated with fertility; Sur, which made the effects of the potion permanent; and Shel, which was usually associated with spells for stamina and energy but which—for no reason anyone had yet been able to identify—was required to make the potion work.

  The spells varied the number of motes of each element used—with only anecdotal evidence of which formula was most effective—and some included additional ingredients of perhaps questionable value. It was unclear from the abigails’ notes whether there had ever been any systematic testing of these potions, and Alys wondered whether some of them were made with unnecessary elements simply to make them sound more complicated—and therefore, more powerful and expensive.

  Alys decided to concentrate her own efforts on potions containing only the three basic ingredients of Rai, Shel, and Sur. Rai seemed like the most obvious and most vital, as it was specifically associated with fertility, but it was also the element most associated with women. In fact, it was so closely associated with the female that it was used in names to denote a child born out of wedlock—a child “belonging” to its mother rather than its father. A quick skim through the rest of the compendium revealed no spells intended for male use that contained Rai.

  The door creaked open behind her, and Alys looked over her shoulder to see Chanlix peeking into the room.

  “I saw the light,” Chanlix explained as she entered and closed the door behind her, “and knew it could only be you.”

  Alys smiled at the woman who had—somewhat to her surprise—become both a friend and a mentor to her. They had very little in common, Chanlix having spent her entire adult life behind the walls of the Abbey, but they had steadily been learning the magic of Women’s Well together, and an undeniable bond had built between them.

  “But you decided to check inside just in case I was some marauding thief bent on mischief?” Alys teased.

  “I decided to check inside because I saw no sign of an honor guard keeping watch. You are well past the days when you could wander our streets alone in safety.”

  Alys waved off the concern. “I live two doors down. I was hardly wandering the streets alone.” She had been the sovereign princess for nearly half a year yet Alys still lived in a relatively small and comfortable house, although a more palatial residence was under construction. Personally, she would have preferred to remain in her house for the rest of her days, but living in simple comfort was not the best way to convince the rest of the world of the legitimacy of her rule.

  “And if I knew the light and lack of guards meant you were in here alone,” Chanlix persisted, “then so would anyone else who happened by. Surely you don’t think Delnamal would scruple to send assassins after you!”

  Alys grimaced, for of course Chanlix was right. Assassinating foreign sovereigns might be frowned upon, but as far as much of Seven Wells was concerned, Women’s Well was a rebel encampment rather than a legitimate principality. Queen Ellinsoltah might take offense if Alys were struck down, but she would likely be the only one. And Delnamal would jump at any chance to see Alys dead. He would never forgive either her or Tynthanal for receiving what he saw as more than their fair share of their father’s love, and the shame he felt at having been forced to withdraw his army from their borders had elevated his hatred to new levels.

  “I know,” she acknowledged. “I just…” She let her voice trail off and shook her head.

  Chanlix grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over to Alys’s desk. “May I?”

  “You don’t have to ask when we’re in private,” she said, but was not surprised by the other woman’s disapproving frown.

  “Would you have sat without permission in your father’s presence, even if you were in private?”

  Alys let out a resigned sigh. “Please do sit down, Mother Chanlix.”

  Chanlix’s frown turned to an almost-convincing glare, though she wasn’t able to conceal fully the hint of amusement in her eyes. “If you were anyone else, I would take that as an insult.”

  Chanlix had never been comfortable with the title when she was the Abbess of Aaltah, and of course it was a highly inappropriate address for the Grand Magus of Women’s Well—though there were few outside their principality who would consider a woman to be a legitimate grand magus.

  “Good thing I’m not anyone else, then, isn’t it?” Alys quipped.

  “Yes. Now, what are you up to all by yourself at the Academy when respectable townsfolk are tucked away in their homes for the night?” Chanlix reached for the spell compendium, pulling it toward herself and arching her brows when she glanced at the pages. “Fertility spells?”

  Alys couldn’t decide if it was good fortune or bad that Chanlix had walked in when she was researching this particular topic. Alys fidgeted and searched for a distraction, feeling as if she was treading on uncomfortably intimate territory. But Chanlix was nothing if not astute, and she would likely guess Alys’s purpose whether she put it into words or not.

  “I was wondering if anyone had ever tried to produce a spell to reverse male infertility,” she said, watching her friend’s face carefully for any sign of distress. She and Tynthanal had been all but living together these past months, their relationship growing ever stronger as time passed. Alys would not be surprised if sometime in the relatively near future, the two might ask her permission to marry. It would be seen as a scandalous marriage by many outside of Women’s Well—a king’s son marrying a woman who had once been forced into whoredom for crimes committed by her mother—but Alys had no objection to the match, at least not in theory. As brother to the sovereign, Tynthanal’s marriage had the potential to be politically useful—if he were capable of fathering children. His deficiency was not public knowledge at the moment, but anyone who seriously considered marrying their daughter to him would expect a bloodline test to be conducted, and that would show the marriage to be fruitless.

  Chanlix nodded thoughtfully. “I was taught that it was not possible,” she said, “and that implies that it has been tried. However, because it is common practice to consider the woman to be responsible when a union does not produce children, it’s hard to know just how much effort was put into any research that might have occurred. I suspect it is a rare man who is willing to take the blame and drink a fertility potion.”

  “That’s what I figured,” Alys said with a wry smile. It was hard to comprehend how men could at once be eager consumers of women’s magic and yet hold it in such contempt. Almost all men partook of some form of women’s magic—if only by drinking a sleeping potion—and yet they invariably treated it as some sort of shameful secret.

&n
bsp; “The only thing I’m sure does not work is for a man to drink any of those fertility potions,” Chanlix continued with a jerk of her chin toward the compendium.

  “You’re sure because…?”

  Chanlix met her eyes, showing no sign of discomfort or embarrassment. “Because we tried them, just in case.”

  Alys did not consider herself a prude, and yet she couldn’t help blushing. The less she knew about her brother’s sex life, the happier she would be.

  Chanlix laughed, reading her discomfort easily. “You do know your brother and I are sleeping together, don’t you?”

  “I like to at least pretend that your relationship is entirely innocent and platonic. It’s just…easier that way.”

  Chanlix laughed again. “My apologies for making your life more difficult. But as you know, I am nearing the end of my childbearing years, and it seemed like a topic of some interest both to Tynthanal and myself. We had both resigned ourselves to a childless life, but he is not the sort of man who is too proud to explore the possibilities. I made several of the most common potions for him, but they have not had the desired effect.”

  “Perhaps there simply hasn’t been enough time?” Alys suggested, but Chanlix shook her head.

  “I performed the bloodline test on Tynthanal and myself before trying any potions, just to confirm we received the same results your mother reported.” When Alys and Tynthanal’s mother had been the Abbess of Aaltah, she’d tested Tynthanal’s blood and discovered that he was unable to sire children. “Then I performed the test again after he’d taken a few doses of each potion, but there was no change.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alys said, though she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have one’s first child at the age of forty-four. Perhaps Chanlix was not entirely unhappy that she needn’t take contraceptive potions when she lay with Tynthanal.

  Chanlix smiled sadly. “I am, too.” She reached out and ran her fingers over the neatly printed page of potions. “I had considered the possibility of doing some further research, maybe trying some different formulas, but it seemed…selfish. Few men would be willing to take a fertility potion, and we need the resources of the Academy focused on spells that will be more profitable for our principality.”