“Must be hungry,” she thought, though she still felt empty from the last feeding. She scooped him up, settled into her rocking chair, and pressed him to her breast. Like her finger, he refused it, wriggling and howling until he was beet-red in the face.

“What do you want?” she said, raising her voice more than she would’ve liked. Familiar tears stung and blurred her tired eyes. Where was the strength she’d been taught? She couldn’t even comfort her own baby. She couldn’t even do this one simple thing. And where was Kernan? Why had he left her with Ludo when she’d expressly instructed him to handle the twins so she could get some shuteye? Why did the gods give her two sons when she would’ve been perfectly content with one? Everyone she knew had called it a blessing, but now she was certain they were wrong. It was a curse, and an evil one at that. The gods made a mistake, they must’ve. This squalling infant in her arms was never supposed to be. How could he be, considering the way her sons had come into this world, against all odds?

In that moment, it was the only thing that made a lick of sense to her sleep-deprived brain.

And she knew just what she had to do.

She gathered him up, ignoring his howls, strode to the door and exited into the sunlight. Outside, the streets were bustling as they were for most of the day, until the sun went down and the workers went home, a brief respite before survival would force them to do it all over again. Someone said her name, but they might’ve been shouting through a pillow, and she turned away without responding.

She hurried on, through mucky streets that clung to her dressing gown, framing it with mud. My dressing gown, she thought with a silent laugh. I’m walking about in my dressing gown like a common whore. She didn’t notice that one of her breasts had slipped out, nor did she make any attempt to restore her modesty. Stares and murmurs and pointing fingers followed her, but they might’ve been in another kingdom entirely as far as Lana’s awareness of them went.

She left town, crossing a narrow bridge that forded a stream. The stream would eventually make its way to the ocean, but she wasn’t heading that way. Instead, she turned upstream, following its winding course to a small, freshwater pond where she’d occasionally hunted for crayfish to add to her stew. Now, the banks were empty, the weather too hot and dry for anyone in their right mind to be basking under the sun’s fiery glare.

“Almost there,” she murmured, not noticing that at some point during the brief journey Ludo had fallen asleep, perhaps lulled by the gentle rocking of her strides. “I will make this right. No more screaming. No more anger. I won’t leave you. I won’t ever leave you.”