Free Risen by Sharon Cramer

lifted her gaze to Moulin and said with finality, “If I do
not name the child by tonight, I should wish that you would do so
for the sake of the people of this domain.”
    “My Lady…” Moulin was stunned by
the offer. To ask such a personal thing of him—could it mean? Did
she have feelings enough for him that she would want such a
privilege to be his alone, that he should name the sole heir to the
Ravan dynasty? He was moved beyond words and swallowed the
thickness that threatened to leap from the back of his throat.
Hoarsely, he continued, “I would be honored, my Lady. A fine name I
would choose if you so wish it of me.”
    He did not want to appear weak in
front of her, although he was hugely intimidated by such a task as
this. It occurred to him that he’d never even held this child.
Perhaps she meant that her son should have a father of sorts.
Perhaps…
    She studied him, her dark eyes
fathomless to him. He invariably struggled as he tried to read her,
failed, and was embarrassed without knowing why. As always, he
looked away first.
    As though she either did not notice
or wasn’t concerned, she focused again on the child. It seemed she
was just about to say something more when there was a commotion
coming from outside, from through the gatehouse and into the main
courtyard below. Her fourth story balcony doors were closed, but
they could hear the clambering excitement from beyond as the wind
carried the noise up to them. Nicolette walked urgently to the
doors to see what the disturbance was about. Moulin could see her
eyes fly wide as though she’d seen something
astonishing.
    “My Lady! No, you mustn’t!” he
reached for her arm. “It could put you in harm’s way!”
    But it was too late. She’d already
flung the doors open and was out on the balcony, hands clutching
the railing as she stared at the scene unfolding in the
yard.
    This was the last futile attempt by
Moulin to capture the love of the strange beauty, for there in the
courtyard below was the dark mercenary, risen from death’s
grasp.
    “No!” Moulin hissed to himself as
he looked over her shoulder, spied the true father of the unnamed,
bastard child. Nicolette appeared not to have heard him at all.
Instead she was intently absorbed with what she saw.
    On a horse sat a mercenary with a
young woman seated behind. The steed was nervous, spun in circles,
surrounded by guards who kept the unexpected visitors at bay,
spears pointed. Ravan was arguing, had pulled his sword, and a
guard seemed prepared to strike at him when their Lady called for
them to immediately halt. Her voice rang clearly across the cool
evening air. All were silenced as they gazed up at Nicolette, at
their fair leader far above them on the castle balcony.
    Next, the only sound was the deep
voice of a man come home. It carried up on the chill breeze as
Ravan’s eyes found those of his lover. “Nicolette!”
    She whirled in an instant and flew
from the balcony. Then, Nicolette was gone from her chambers before
she even had the chance to hear Moulin’s heart crash to the
floor.
     
    Later…
     
    Ravan approached the edge of the
cradle almost cautiously. She’d surprised him thoroughly, told him
she had a gift for him. Now, here was a child. Glancing over his
shoulder, he allowed his eyes to take in all of Nicolette, all of
the beauty that stood placidly behind him, allowing him the privacy
of his first moments with his newborn son.
    It scarcely surprised Ravan that
Nicolette had dethroned the wicked Adorno. She did not go into any
great detail of the event, had shrugged it off as though it were
nothing, saying simply, “He is gone, never to return. We need speak
of him no more.” But the mercenary knew in his heart that she must
have done it superbly. Admittedly, he imagined the torturous fate
the little man had likely suffered, and it gave him some
gratification.
    But this…a child. He was visibly
overcome. First, to once again have Nicolette—the woman he