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“The girls got a little boisterous, father,” Arelia said. “There’s been a little jockeying for position.”
“Has there indeed?” Lian scanned the lot of them, as if looking for subtle signs of the truth of the matter. “Well, scuffles will happen at this time of the year. Now, Hyran, the census.”
He waved over the Volken with the clipboard, and the man strode forward, then stopped just behind his master.
“The last count had your daughters at twelve, with eight children, m’lord,” Hyran said.
“Let’s update that, then, shall we? There are thirteen of you at childbearing age, Arelia?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Jeananne and Lyrica’s sons were sent to the barracks?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, we have…” I watched the men with Lian move around the suite, identifying each child. “Ten children. All girls?”
“Sia’s baby is a boy,” Arelia said, which provoked a quick hiss from the woman in question. Her face fell as soon as she realised what she’d done, but Lian jus
t surveyed the lot of them with an imperious eyebrow, then forged on.
“And Angelica’s?”
The woman in question stepped forward, hugging her baby to her chest.
“A girl, m’lord.”
“Check it,” Lian said, waving a man forward.
Angelica stiffened as the Volken came closer, her arms tightening around the child, but when he held his hands out, she placed the baby into them. He unswaddled the child with little care, something that had the mother shifting uncomfortably as her hands lifted, then were forced back. The Volken nodded to Lian, and the man beside him with the clipboard noted this down. Angelica grabbed the baby back as soon as she was allowed, cooing soothing sounds as her tiny limbs began to flail, and then set her on a nearby couch and wrapped her back up tight in her blanket.
“Well, well, twelve daughters and ten granddaughters. The Great Wolf has indeed blessed me. But you must be hungry. The little ones certainly look so.” Lian was going for affable, but the women neither smiled nor relaxed. “Let's sit down, have a meal as a family.” He turned to us and said, “You may serve now.”
We worked quickly to replace the plates that had been swept off by Kerin. When we’d finished, I saw the women had brought more chairs in from other rooms for the men to sit on. I grabbed extra dishes, assuming they would want to eat as well.
“For me?” Lian said as I went to hand him a plate. “No, no, the breakfast you served me has me quite full.” His eyes ran over me as I froze, arm still outstretched. “Anything for the rest of you?” he asked over his shoulder to the men clustered there. They all refused politely as they took seats on nearby couches, as if not wanting to insert themselves into the family tableau.
Such as it was. I hadn’t seen such a stiffly polite gathering since Mum and Dad tried to have both the Donovan’s and the Bronson’s over for a combined Christmas celebration.
“Will there be anything else, my ladies?” I said, bobbing a curtsey. I wasn’t sure what proper protocol was down here, but figured obsequious was a good default setting.
“My ladies?” Lian guffawed, and his men joined in belatedly. “Well, my loves? Anything else that tickles your fancy?”
The women all turned to regard us, even the young girls.
Keep your fucking mouth shut, I screamed inside my head, over and over.
“No, father,” Arelia said politely. “I believe we have all that we need.”
We bowed to the table before walking out, wheeling the other carts to the next room, and the next. By the time we returned to Arelia’s room to collect the crockery, Lian had gone. We sat down at their dining table, the women doing the same with the extra chairs, and Aaron said, “Tell us about what happens to the women during the Great Rite.”
30
The morning of the Great Rite was a curiously quiet one. When we stepped outside of Tsarra’s house, all you could hear was the sound of the breeze and the occasional bird call. The place was like a ghost town.
Because it kinda was. We’d gotten the word around, going from house to house once night fell. Sometimes the Volken had people patrolling the ramparts of the wall around Leifgart, but this time, there were none. When the gates closed, it was as if every single one of them drew back tightly behind the walls. We’d told everyone what was happening, that they needed to make a run for it if they wanted the chance to survive, that now was their best opportunity to leave, because the intended slaughter would make it difficult to ascertain who had escaped and who hadn’t. Some listened, some didn’t. Aaron had been concerned about them reporting on us, but with the main gate firmly shut, how would they get access to the Volken?
Which left us with a problem—how did we get in to get our people out?
