Two weeks passed quickly. Neal, and by extension Kel, had settled into their temporary lodgings. The first payment from Roald arrived, along with a letter.

Neal counted out the thirty gold nobles he needed to finish the payment on the house, and officially claimed the property as his own. The rest he handed to the female knight. He was perfectly capable of managing money but knew she would feel less like a burden if she had something to distract her.

Cleaning was a task they shared, minimal though it was. Mise en place, a foreign term from Galla which meant everything had its place, was drilled into them as pages, literally. Wyldon was abnormally fond of surprise kit inspections and strolling down their quarters at hours no man should be awake, calling for the pages to assemble in full gear. The boy, or girl, who donned full armor the fastest and with no mistakes, was rewarded. A rare event, considering the Stump was their judge and he examined every buckle to make sure it was cinched properly. Similarly, the last person standing outside their door was punished in some heinous way.

Merric had been so excited the first time he had been the first one to dash into the hallway, only for Wyldon to loudly berate his mistakes, sending the boy back to shed his armor and do it properly. Needless to say, Merric had been the last to emerge, earning himself a week scrubbing every pages' gear after evening lessons.

Point was, both Kel and Neal were meticulous people, so the only cleaning they needed to do daily was dusting, sweeping, scrubbing dishes, and emptying the chamber pot.

Kel took it upon herself to keep the house dirt free and wash the dishes. She felt it was only fair since she couldn't handle the cooking without her extreme nausea threatening to ruin it. As unpleasant as the task was, the guilt of not pulling her fair share weighed upon her shoulders.

She frequently asked if Neal minded being stuck on latrine duty and was sternly warded off each time with a lecture on how pregnant woman had no business cleaning up feces and urine and for the health of both her and the babe would she maintain a reasonable distance of six feet when he did so.

Cleaning failed to keep Kel busy throughout the day, so Neal thought taking on the money management and shopping needs would help to fill that void.

It worked, sort of.

By nature, Kel was a frugal spender, and she handled grocery shopping like she did every other task, by generating a list, read plan of attack, and following through. So, it was one more activity to keep her occupied, but it did not do so for very long.

Which was how she found herself polishing her collection of Yamani waving cats for the fourth time that day and ignoring the letter Roald's messenger had delivered with the first arranged payment. She smiled fondly, recalling Neal's insistence that she put them out somewhere they could be seen. Her fellow knight was incurably fond of the good luck charms and the story behind them.

Kel felt she could use a little of that luck, which was why she persisted in polishing them numerous times. Next she planned to remake the beds for the sixth time.

Anything to distract her from the letter that sat upon the writing desk.

The Lady Knight knew she ought to just open it up. It was the only way to discover if the contents were what she feared.

Gossip and rumors traveled faster through the castle than the Wild Mage on feathered wings. Her departure had been ill-timed, too hasty. It would appear too close to the accusations that she carried the king's bastard. Whilst entirely true, it was also the exact connection they were trying to avoid people making. Her child had no chance of being the 'legitimate' heir if doubts were cast upon his lineage.

All of these lies, her shame, her sacrifice. It would all be in vain if the babe's true parentage was suspected.

That had been the whole point of sending Kel away, creating distance, both literal and figurative, to quell the uprising of rumors.

Uncharacteristically, Kel dreaded the words in that letter. Her thoughts spiraled, growing increasingly more agitated. She imagined that Roald had written to inform her the ruse had failed. Why else would he have written already?

Kel was well aware that their scheme had all the stability of a precariously stacked house of cards. From its conception, it had been one puff of breath away from catastrophically collapsing, and each passing day added another card to the unstable structure.

Supposedly, she had the easy part, though nothing about her pregnancy thus far could be called such. Excessive nausea and vomiting. Weight loss. Hormones making her cry at the drop of a hat. Neal had pitched a fit over the two insomniac spells. All she had to do was stay out of sight and grow a child, a substantial task before accounting for the added stress of her situation. Roald would have to hid Shinko as well, relatively soon, before servants and nobles alike began questioning why the queen never behaved like a pregnant woman. They would need to rope a healer into the lie so they could claim someone was monitoring the queen's delicate condition. Some of her servants were bound to know as well. As queen, Shinkokami never traveled alone. Guards, ladies-in-waiting, and servants dogged her every step.

Concealing the truth from that many people was impossible.

Kel cursed her soft heart. Agreeing to this artifice had been madness. At least the last time she could blame the Chamber of Ordeal.

Kel summoned the scraps of her famed courage. It was pointless to delay the inevitable. With trembling fingers, she took the parchment in hand, sliding one finger under the edge where it folded over, effortlessly breaking the king's royal seal.

It took her a moment to decipher the letters contents, seeing as it was written in cursive.

The female knight hadn't known what cursive was before she trained for her shield. Mindelan was a very young noble house, and growing up in the Yamani Islands with their language, her parents had seen no need to teach her a second way to write Tortallan letters.

Common was typically written in print by those that needed it. The working class didn't know what cursive was and had no need to.

Instead of creating a complex code or cipher, a spymaster had chosen to change the shapes of all the letters and wrote them so that all the letters that composed a word were strung together, connected from the first to the last.

Any potentially classified information was to be written in cursive, because it was harder to foreign spies to read. Sir Myles explained it was a form of psychological warfare against their enemies. If information was important enough to be hidden in code, code breakers expected a complex system designed to keep that knowledge secret.

Basically, they were tricking anyone who read it into thinking it was more complex than it really was to read.

As part of her knighthood training, Kel had learned to both read and write in the strange squiggly font, though doing so often gave her a headache, and the contents of the letter only added to it, until she could feel it pulsing just beneath her skull.

My Lady Knight,

I pray this letter finds you in better health than when you left my side. Blue Harbor's sea breeze was both bracing and reinvigorating, last I visited. A breath of fresh air, so to speak, which you dearly needed. I imagine you're happier, at least.

Remember to relax, as well. I know how you get when you feel you are not doing your duty but taking care of yourself is equally paramount. Do not stress, overly.

Please understand why I chose you to parley with the Merfolk colony. You've had quite a way with other Immortals in the past, a feat which I hope lends you credence with this assignment. This is an important task for the kingdom, and I wish I could stand by your side. I know you are capable, Kel, but I dislike assigning you alone.

Given the importance of this venture, I request you write often of your progress. I wish to return to the good relations we shared with the Merfolk.

Do what you must to ensure a fruitful alliance. I trust your choice in these matters and will support what you decide.

I don't expect you'll finish negotiations before Midwinter, but I hope that you'll return to the palace before summer is upon us. There are several promising pages this year, and you have yet to take on a squire. The classroom may not have suited you, but you would be a wonderful Knight Master.

Do you remember Fianola? You met her while on the Grand Progress. She's slated to become a squire soon, and I can think of no better mentor than the woman that inspired her.

Best Regards

P.S. Duke Baird implores you pass a message along to his hotheaded son. He wishes to be kept apprised of your condition.

Tears of anger welled, and for once, Kel didn't attempt to stop them. There was no one around to see her disgrace, and crying was the only way she could vent, since her usual coping mechanisms were barred.

How dare he write her in concern when this situation was his fault? He trusts her choices? He'll support her decisions? That would mean letting Kel make any. Aside from agreeing to this scheme, everything about her pregnancy had been decided for her.

Both Duke Baird and Neal were vocal about the measures the female knight needed to adhere to now that she was with child. Kel understood, despite her not agreeing, and acquiesced paring down her fitness routine to the bare minimum and stopping completely by the second trimester. Neither man had been particularly impressed by her knowledge of how Yamani woman trained while pregnant, and thought it better that she not take any unnecessary risks, considering how stressful her pregnancy had been thus far.

Roald, however, had created the cover story to keep her in the palace, where she had access to one of Tortall's best healers. And when it instantly came under fire, he had rushed to send her packing. Out of sight, out of mind. He sent her to Blue Harbor. If Kel had been able to choose her destination, she would have selected one of the Bazhir tribes. It would have been immensely easier to fade into the background in one of the wandering tribes that demanded women cover their faces with veils constantly.

He had requested twice, twice, in his correspondence that Kel continued to keep him informed of the babe's health.

Kel wasn't stupid. Now that she was out of the palace, and thus Duke Baird's care, his only source of information was from Kel herself. She knew, after Neal admitted to threatening him, that the king wouldn't trust their mutual friend keep him in the loop.

He could phrase it as politely as he wanted, Roald was still the king she was oathsworn to. He commanded, and as long as it didn't go against her sense of justice, Kel obeyed. She didn't need the subtle nor blatant instructions.

Regardless of the mess of feelings, secrets, and lies, he was also the father. She carried the kingdom's heir. She would never be irresponsible enough to not take care of herself or to not write him when something happened.

And at the end he all but commanded she take on a squire after the babe was born.

If Roald truly wanted her by his side, why did he keep sending her away?