“You’ve probably heard, they’re planning a tribunal unless I step down as paladin voluntarily.” Lila’s voice was empty and despairing. “I used to tell myself it would all pay off in the end, but the war just kept going. I didn’t ever—I mean, a few times he tried—but I told him off every time.” Lila shook her head. “Doesn’t matter, though, seems everyone thinks we’ve been fucking each other at the front lines. Doesn’t mean anything that we didn’t.” She looked down. “When he came back from taking that district—I know it wasn’t about me, but I felt so ruined. Being left behind and knowing I always will be now. He came and found me after and told me that he’d been thinking about me the whole time, and—” She shrugged. “Everyone thinks we are anyway, so—”
Helena rested a tentative hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. I can take care of it. If it’s early I can get ingredients or just use vivimancy, whatever you’d prefer. No one will know.”
“No.”
Helena stared at Lila, certain she’d misheard.
Lila drew a deep breath, avoiding her eyes. “I mean, that’s why I came. I knew you could do it, but—while I was waiting, I couldn’t stop thinking, what are the odds?” She shook her head. “I can’t remember the last time I had a cycle. It’s been years. I didn’t think I could. I always thought Soren would be the one who’d marry and have the next generation of Bayards, but now I’m all that’s left.”
Helena had no words.
Lila looked down, curling smaller, as if she could feel Helena’s judgement. “It probably won’t stick. So maybe I could just wait, and—have this for a little while.”
“And if it does—stick?” Helena asked.
Lila didn’t answer.
Helena’s chest grew tight. She wanted to say Lila was being stupid. A baby, during the war. Lila wouldn’t be the first, but still, those girls were different. Lila was an alchemist. A warrior. Neither of those things paired with motherhood. The rules were strict.
“It won’t stick,” Lila said.
“That’s not an answer,” Helena said sharply. “What if it does? You are going to have a baby during a war when you’re already facing a tribunal. You won’t be a paladin after that. They won’t ever let you fight again.”
Lila was picking at her nails, her cuticles bleeding. “Luc’s going to leave combat to take over leadership now. Ilva’s too old to continue as steward, and there’s no one he trusts to replace her. They say that if I step down as paladin primary, they won’t call a tribunal, Sebastian will replace me, and I’ll be cleared for combat again.” Lila drew a deep breath. “I’ll be in command of my own unit. First woman.”
Lila’s voice showed no pride or excitement for what would be a historic accomplishment, because there was no chance that she could reenter combat, stripped of her former rank, without the scandal following her. Her reputation and legacy were irrevocably stained.
“If you said I was sick with something, no one would know I’m pregnant—and if it doesn’t take, I’ll go back into service like it never happened.”
“Or you could retire from active combat and train recruits who could use someone with your experience,” Helena said. “Those aren’t your only two options.”
“I’m not going to retire. That’s not how it works for us Bayards,” Lila said, her blue eyes snapping. She winced. “Sorry. People keep telling me that it’s not all over, but—” She scoffed. “—I know how it works. What will be remembered. It won’t be anything I ever did in combat.”
Now Helena understood. A pregnancy altered the narrative. It didn’t erase the scandal, but it did reframe it; instead of a violation of vows that nearly led to calamity, it became a love story.
The Principate had already been in desperate need of an heir, but it was hard to make it a stated priority when Luc’s life was supposed to be shielded with divinity, and Luc had, for obvious reasons, always been resistant to the idea of a political marriage, which was what the Council wanted.
A Holdfast heir could reinvigorate the Resistance. How could it be a doomed war when there was such a tangible symbol of the future?
Of course Lila would prefer that version of her story, rather than the alternatives she was faced with.
Lila had always seemed unstoppable, but now Helena could see all the cracks she’d hidden. The desires she’d never let herself have.
Helena knew something about that.
“Will Luc know?”
Lila drew a breath, shaking her head. “No. I think it would distract him. He’s under so much pressure, and the transition will be a lot. If he knew and then it came to nothing—it would crush him, to have hoped.”
“Does Luc—want children?” Helena asked hesitantly. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Luc speak of children. His hopes for the future were of the war being over, of travelling. Then again, the matter of Lila had always been carefully unspoken. Helena had known, but he’d never admitted it outright, not even to her.
Lila nodded. “He talked about them that night. How he’s not like his father, he doesn’t want to just do his duty. That he wants to have a family for himself, not because of the Principate, or because he needs an heir, but just because he loves someone so much that he makes one. That’s what this would be.”
Helena swallowed hard. She still hated this, but she couldn’t refuse Lila. “I’ll need to talk to Crowther and see what the options are.”
Lila’s face screwed up. “Why would you go to him? He’s awful. Luc can’t stand him.”
Helena looked away. “He’s the most pragmatic choice. I don’t have the seniority to quarantine someone. I don’t think you want Elain or Matias involved. The choices are Crowther or Ilva, and Ilva hasn’t been very reliable lately.”
“Fine,” Lila sighed, wincing. “Crowther, then.”
CHAPTER 57
Maius 1787
ACCORDING TO RECORDS, LILA BAYARD CONTRACTED A bad case of bog cough after helping deliver supplies to the water slums at the south end of the island.
Bog cough tended to crop up every year in the early summer after the floods, as the air grew warm and damp, and the dark, recessed levels of the city, far from sunlight, found their interiors blackened with mould.
The symptoms were a deep cough coming from low in the lungs, and an occasional rash. While mostly dangerous to children and the elderly, sometimes it would linger and transform into a virulent sickness that could sweep through the city like a plague. That was the ostensible reason why the upper levels of the city preferred to be restrictive with the lower sectors of the population.
Helena was familiar with the symptoms because her father used to treat it every summer. Most of the people who caught it couldn’t afford to travel up-city to a licensed apothecary. Helena could replicate the symptoms almost perfectly using vivimancy, creating purplish rashes on Lila’s inner wrists and the sides of her neck, and agitating her lungs enough to make her cough violently while Pace examined her and gave the diagnosis.
With so many people in tight quarters, plague was a constant fear.
Lila was promptly placed in isolation in the Alchemy Tower, and everyone else involved in the supply delivery was quarantined for three days until they were declared symptom-free.
Such a common sickness did not dampen morale, particularly since it was considered primarily an affliction of the poor and unsanitary. That Lila had caught it was taken as a sign that she was still too weak from her injuries. High in the sun-soaked rooms of the Alchemy Tower, she would recover.