“I should have brought my needlepoint,” Leesha said.

“I have a great number of unfinished hoops, dear,” a voice behind her said. “I’ve always been good at starting patterns, but somehow I never get to the end.” Leesha turned to find Minister Janson standing in the doorway, holding the arm of a venerable woman who looked to be in her late seventies.

Rojer gave a start, and Leesha winced as one of the cups he was juggling hit the floor. Thankfully, it bounced on the thick carpet and did not break.

The woman fixed Rojer with a look that would have done Elona proud. “Arrick never got around to teaching you manners, I take it.” Rojer’s face turned redder than his hair.

The woman was small, even for an Angierian, barely five feet tall from the white Krasian lace at the hem of her wide, green velvet gown to the top of the lacquered wooden circlet resting upon the severely pinned gray hair atop her head. The circlet’s points were banded in gold and set with precious stones. She was thin like a reed, and stooped slightly, leaning on the first minister’s arm. The hands that clutched him were covered in wrinkled, translucent skin. A velvet choker around her neck was set with an emerald the size of a baby’s fist.

“Please allow me to present Her Grace the Lady Araine, Duchess Mum, mother to His Grace, Duke Rhinebeck the Third, Guardian of the Forest Fortress—”

“Yes, yes,” Araine cut him off. “Everyone in the world knows my son’s titles, and I’m not getting younger as you recite them for the thousandth time this week, Janson.”

“Apologies, my lady,” Janson said, bowing slightly.

Leesha dipped into a curtsy at the introduction, and the men bowed. In her men’s breeches, Wonda had no skirts to spread, and assumed an awkward posture that was neither.

“If you’re going to dress like a man, girl, then bow like one,” Araine said, looking down her nose. Wonda blushed and bowed deeply.

The duchess mum grunted in satisfaction and turned to Leesha. “I’ve come to rescue you from all this tiresome men’s business, dear.” She glanced at Wonda. “The young lady, as well.”

“Apologies, Your Grace,” Leesha said, curtsying again, “but I am serving as Speaker for Deliverer’s Hollow, and must remain for the audience.”

“Nonsense,” Araine tsked. “A woman Speaker? They may practice such frivolity in Miln, but Angiers has the right of things. Women were not meant to handle affairs of state.” The duchess mum let go Janson’s arm and latched on to Leesha’s, pulling her toward the door even as she pretended to lean on it for support.

“Leave the men to their ledgers and proclamations,” Araine said. “We will speak of more feminine matters.”

Leesha was mildly surprised at the woman’s strength. She wasn’t quite as frail as she appeared. Still, the idea of sitting around with a bunch of pampered women vapidly discussing weather and fashion while the men charted the course of Deliverer’s Hollow was unacceptable.

Janson leaned in to Leesha as she resisted the old woman’s pull. “It isn’t wise to upset the duchess mum,” he whispered. “Best humor her for now. The duke will not receive the others for quite some time, and I will come for you before you’re needed.”

Leesha looked at him, his face unreadable, and frowned. Not wanting to antagonize the royal family, she reluctantly allowed herself to be led away.

“The women’s wing is this way, dear,” Araine said, leading Leesha down a long, richly appointed hall. Outside of the Painted Man’s treasure room, Leesha had never seen such largesse as in the duke’s palace. Her father had been the richest man in Cutter’s Hollow while she was growing up, but the duke made Erny’s wealth seem like the scraps that one might throw to a dog after a great feast. Lush carpets caressed and cushioned her every step, woven with vibrant patterns, and tapestries and statues on marble pedestals lined the walls. The ceiling was painted gold, and glittered in the light of the chandeliers.

Throughout the duchy Rizonan refugees were starving, but could the royal family ever truly understand what that meant, surrounded by such opulence? It reminded Leesha of her mother, always seeing to her own comfort first and others’ only when someone was watching.

Araine’s shuffling steps became firmer as they went, the frail-looking old woman guiding Leesha through the vast palace as a man might lead a woman through a dance. Wonda trailed along silently behind until they passed through a final door and Araine looked back at her.

“Be a dear and close the door, there’s a good child,” she said. Wonda complied, pulling the sturdy oak portal shut with a click.

“All right then, let’s have a look at you,” Araine said, releasing Leesha’s arm with a push that sent her into a spin for the duchess mum’s inspection.

Araine looked her up and down, her lip curling slightly. “So you’re the young prodigy Bruna was so proud of.” She sounded less than impressed. “How many summers have you seen, girl? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-eight,” Leesha said.

Araine snorted. “Bruna used to say a Gatherer wasn’t worth two klats before fifty.”

“You knew Mistress Bruna, Your Grace?” Leesha asked, surprised.

Araine cackled. “Knew her? The old witch pulled two princes from between my legs, so yes, I’d say I knew her. Pether was nigh fifty years ago, and Bruna was almost as old then as I am now. Thamos was a decade later, a giant babe like his brothers, but I wasn’t as young then as I was for the others, and needed more than some glorified midwife. Bruna was in her eighties by then, and reluctant to leave the Hollow even when I sent my herald to get on his knees and beg. She grumbled the whole time, but came just the same, and stayed in the palace for months. She even took on a pair of apprentices, Jizell and Jessa, while she was here.”

“Jessa?” Leesha asked. “Bruna never mentioned a Jessa.”

“Hah!” Araine barked. “That’s no surprise.” Leesha waited for the woman to elucidate further, but she did not.

“I’d have made Bruna Royal Gatherer if she’d wanted it,” Araine went on, “but the wretched old woman turned and headed back to the Hollow the moment Thamos’ cord was cut. Said titles meant nothing to her. All that mattered were her children in the Hollow.”

The duchess mum looked at Leesha. “That how you feel as well, girl? Putting the Hollow above all, even your duty to the ivy throne?”

Leesha met her eyes and nodded. “It is.”

Araine locked stares with her for a moment, as if daring Leesha to blink, but she finally grunted in satisfaction. “I wouldn’t have trusted another word from you if you’d said otherwise. Now, Janson tells me you claim some of Bruna’s skill with fertility.”

Leesha nodded again. “Bruna gave intensive lessons on the topic, and I have years of practical experience.”

Araine looked down her nose at Leesha again. “Not too many years, I expect, but we’ll forgive you that for now. Can’t hurt, you checking her. Everyone else has.”

“Her?” Leesha asked.

“The duchess,” Araine said. “My latest daughter-in-law. I want to know if the girl is barren, or if it’s my son that’s seedless.”

“I won’t be able to determine the latter by examining the duchess,” Leesha said.

Araine snorted. “You’d be out on your pert bottom if you claimed you could. But first things first. Have a look at the girl.”

“Of course,” Leesha said. “Is there anything you can tell me about Her Highness, before I examine her?”

“She’s fit as a courser, with a sturdy frame and wide breeder’s hips,” Araine said. “Not the sharpest spear on the rack, but that’s how an Angierian lady of quality is expected to be. Her brothers are canny enough, so we’ll call it nurture and not nature. After Rhinebeck’s last divorce, I picked her out of all the well-bred young hopefuls myself, with an eye on the nursery. Lady Melny was the youngest of twelve children, two-thirds of them male. She has three sisters, and all have children of their own; two boys for every girl. If anyone should be able to give the ivy throne an heir, it’s her. Of course, all my son cared about was the size of her paps, but Melny has meat enough there to suckle even a big baby like Rhiney.”