The Still by David Feintuch Read Free Book Online

“I’m sorry.” Awkwardly, unused to giving kindness, I patted his head. “Cry, Elryc. As much as you have need.”
    I thought he would never stop. Even when his breath slowed, his head remained buried on my breast, as if joined to my flesh in one of those occasional caprices of nature.
    I made my way to the bed.
    They had done washing the corpse, and had Mother laid out in white. Her form was wasted, but seemed more at peace than ere I’d known. She was one with Lord of Nature, and the peace was fitting.
    “Let go, Elryc.” I tried unsuccessfully to lower myself on the edge of the bed. I worked to loosen his grip, knowing it was unfitting to fling him to the floor, as I would on another day. “Sit on that footstool. I won’t leave you. Here, take my hand.” I looked to Nurse Hester. “When did she die, and how?”
    “My lady slept the night and did not wake. I thought to bring her the sweet Francan cheese that she so liked. So I left her a few moments. When I’d returned, she’d slid into the deep sleep from which few return, while her foolish ladies babbled among themselves. It was then we called you.”
    I looked at the Queen’s still form, and swallowed. “Leave us, Hester. I would be alone with my mother.”
    The old woman fixed me with a disapproving eye. “What concerns have you with my lady’s remains, eh? It isn’t fitting—”
    I jumped to my feet, almost knocking Elryc from his perch. My authority wavered; it was barely six months since Hester herself had hauled me by an ear to the door and expelled me from Mother’s chambers, fuming at some impudence in my tone.
    “I must be alone. Can’t you understand?” No answer. I hissed, “Get out, else I’ll fling you from the window!”
    Her eyes widened; she studied my face. Then, with a look of contempt, she made as if to spit on the floor, went instead to Mother, kissed her softly on the brow. With dignity she hobbled to the door.
    “You too, Rust. Wait outside.” I snapped my fingers. “Go, Elryc.”
    “No.” My brother folded his arms. “I stay.” He caught at a sob. “She was my mother too!” A determined look settled on his features.
    “Very well.” I closed my eyes, my melancholy broken only by Elryc’s sniffles. “Shut up, brother, or I’ll—I’ll warm your rump!”
    “You haven’t the right.”
    “We’re orphans. Someone has to look after you. If not me, then who? Uncle Mar?”
    “At least he doesn’t throw stones at me.” Elryc’s sulky expression wavered as I crossed back to the bed. “Why’d you chase them away?”
    “I don’t know. So I could get to know her.” It made no sense, even to me. I knelt, took Mother’s hand. To my shock, it was cold. “Madam, I’m—” My voice seized; I could but kneel, stroke the lifeless fingers, knead the rings that once I’d kissed. I stifled a sound.
    A small palm, on my shoulder; from it, a gentle squeeze. A sniffle. Then, to my infinite astonishment, a shy kiss, on the top of my head. Unable to speak, I buried my face in the bedclothes, cuddling the cold hand that responded not.
    In the mournful distance, Elryc wept.
    When I felt able, I got to my feet, gave Elryc a gruff embrace, pushed him away. “We’re in for it.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “I’m not crowned, and the best we can hope for is a regency.”
    “The best?”
    “Others covet the throne. Perhaps even you.” I threw him a crooked smile.
    “Yes, me.” He sniffled, took a deep breath. “I’ve thought of it, Roddy. I’d make a good king. I’d set aside all the boring ceremonies and rituals, and spend our gold where it would serve better.” He rested his head on my arm. “But not by killing you. I don’t want a crown that badly.”
    I shook him off. “Hold your tongue, simpleton. Never let it be known what you want. What if someone hears, and puts me aside, because you’re younger and more tractable?”
    As was his habit, Elryc looked wise beyond his years. “More likely they’ll kill