Leda

Chapter Twelve: Magic

Meracad closed her eyes, rain already soaking her hair and dress. Behind her, the carriage door slammed shut and wheels rumbled into motion, crunching over the cobbles of Colvé. Her throat tightened: tears pressed at her eyes but she refused to let them fall. After twenty mad, love-filled years ˗ after everything they had survived together ˗ the siege and Nérac's death, rebuilding Hannac, raising Leda, weathering out the freezing winters and the long, baking summers, this was how it all ended? With an insult and a slap? In the rain on a dirty street, back where it had all begun?

Magda was already a faint shadow in the darkness, hobbling along the narrow alley winding below the palace walls. Against the steady thrum of rain, she caught the stamp of feet. A horse snorted, hooves pawed the ground and she recalled the night patrol which had passed Marc's house and his talk of curfews. Even if she were to swallow her pride and run back after Hal now, it would be too late.

"Magda," she whispered into the night air. "Magda!" But Magda had disappeared.

Hitching up the hem of her gown, Meracad ran awkwardly on shoes designed for dancing, not for the unforgiving wet stones of a city street. She glimpsed Magda's tall figure as she turned a corner, loping through the haze and smoke.

"Magda!"

Magda turned at last, her eyes burning and bitter, her lips pinched. "Leave me alone!"

"Magda, please! Wait!" Breathless, Meracad stumbled forwards until they were both facing each other.

Magda's fierce stare softened. She put a hand to Meracad's shoulder. "You're freezing! Go back, Meracad. Now, before it's too late!"

"No. I can't. She left."

"What?"

"Hal ˗ she said something, and I...I slapped her."

For a moment, Magda stared at her, incredulous. And then her face creased with laughter and she carried on down the street.

"Hey!" Meracad watched her go, stunned and angry. "Hey! Don't laugh! Didn't you hear what I said? She left me, Magda. She just drove off with Marc in the carriage, and..."

"Oh, Meracad, she'll be back." Magda turned around and raised a hand to caress Meracad's face. "How could she not?"

Meracad's head swam. The evening had unravelled like a nightmare. Leda running, the duel, her fight with Hal and now this ˗ abandonment. She allowed some of Magda's warmth to seep into her skin before stepping back.

"Magda, I don't know what to do." That was pathetic. Why didn't she know what to do? Hal always did. Why shouldn't she do something mad, take a risk, let her life hang in the balance for the sake of her own pride ˗ as Hal would have done?

Magda pulled her close and slipped her arms around Meracad's shoulders, resting a cheek against her wet hair. "Then come with me, Meracad."

"Where?" she asked, now close to tears again, that hot tightness gripping her throat. "You can't return to the palace. Leda's on her own, Hal's banished, it's all such a mess."

"Come with me," Magda repeated. Loosening her embrace, she offered Meracad a hand. "I still have lodgings in the city ˗ somewhere to escape to when Evelia doesn't need me." Her face clouded. "Didn't need me."

There was no choice. Wander the streets alone, praying that a night patrol didn't find her before she made it back to Marc's? Rent a carriage in the vain hope of catching Leda up on the north road? Return to Hal and endure days of sullen silence and bitter words? At least, she thought, to travel North with a friend at her side, to reach Dal Reniac and spend some time with her daughter until Hal came to her senses ˗ it was by far her best chance. She took Magda's hand, and together they moved on.