Eleanor stood outside of the bedroom of a distraught mother as she vented her frustration in the middle of the night. She wasn’t dressed for the occasion in a silky nightgown. She would feel much better if she had her armor and weapon but she didn’t normally sleep with them. That’s how the poor woman from the Waning Stars had found her; sound asleep and irritated from being disturbed.

Eleanor couldn’t fault her. While she had expected the barbarian to throw a fit, she hadn’t expected it to still be going hours into the night with no sign of winding down. At the rate the woman was carrying on, it wouldn’t be long until Kalise broke down her door and continued her rampage through the rest of the house.

Her escort winced at the sound of something hitting the wall with force. Eleanor looked at her with some disdain, noticing her young face. She despised the new generation of knights. The influx of outsiders and the rise of the jokes calling themselves knight orders outside the watchful eyes of the Moons had deteriorated the traditions of the fort. Oh, the youth still believed in the war. They still believed in the James. Unfortunately, they lacked spine.

Originally, when the walls of the fort were first raised and the armies of the north were a ragtag group of soldiers from ruined countries looking for a new home, the fort was called Winterwall. A name given to them by the fledgling First King, as he expected them to be the wall that protected Harvest from the threats of the north.

When the first James took command of the north and was granted governing power over the land, he renamed it Fort Victory. The disjointed army became a united people with a culture fueled by an insatiable desire for martial supremacy. The first generation didn’t just believe in the war. They lived and died for it.

When the rest of Harvest shunned their extremism, they shunned the rest of the kingdom in turn. Back then, there were no other orders besides the Moons and no one tried to convince the younger generations to see the rest of the kingdom. Outsiders were turned away at the gates. Men and women died fighting the northern hordes and were not only proud to do so, but happy. There could be no greater pleasure.

That conviction had waned throughout the years. Not just in the knights but in the James family. Eleanor had worked hard during her time in the Stars, eager to live up to the expectations of her father, an accomplished field commander for the Moons. Being chosen as Erenhart’s first wife, the duke’s confirmed heir at the time, was the culmination of all her efforts. It was supposed to be a great honor.

She would help guide the next phase of the war. Perhaps finally make headway where generations before had failed. And if she didn’t, then her child would be the next to take the reins. If they failed, her grandchild could succeed them. Then her great-grandchild.

The reality was not quite what she envisioned. She and Erenhart’s relationship had never been…loving. When he was younger, the current duke had been much less stoic and a lot more hot-tempered. He didn’t react well to his father choosing his first bride, especially when he had been just as resistant to marriage as her own son, wholly focused on proving himself in the campaigns.

Once he was confirmed as his father’s heir, the choice was taken away from him, something he always resented. It didn’t help that Eleanor was not the type of woman he preferred. His tastes were no secret, a James’ actions under constant scrutiny. She made efforts at first. Tried to be less…cold. More…docile. There was a time she thought their relationship was rather good.

That faded when she became pregnant with their first son. Erenhart didn’t waste any time rejoining the campaigns, against the wishes of his father. Tradition no longer chaining him, he actively defied the previous duke wherever he could.

A lot of things had resulted from that rebellion, in Eleanor’s eyes. The other orders growing more impudent as her husband allowed them too much freedom outside of Victory’s walls. The river of outsiders that flowed through the north every winter, putting ideas in the heads of the younger generation and attempting to pilfer as many resources as they could. Even her fellow wives.

Ariza was not so bad. She didn’t linger long enough or have enough personality to be a true annoyance. Kalise was another creature. The strange barbarian that had ventured from her tribe of hunters following rumors of an impossible war. No last name. No history, or at least none that she had ever cared to share beyond drunken stories and strange sayings.

She had gotten into a fight within thirty minutes of being allowed inside the walls. After a week, Erenhart sought her out to talk some sense into the powerful stranger, unwilling to let rampant aggression ruin a perfectly good ally. After another week, she had joined his personal army.

Eleanor hadn’t thought much of it when they left on a campaign. The strange woman wasn’t important once she stopped causing trouble. She became a lot more important when her husband returned from the campaign and announced his intention to marry her.

Outsiders were just starting to be seen as something more than problems but to marry one still beggared belief. The previous duke almost fainted from anger when he learned of his heir’s intentions. But, by then, he was too weak to do anything about it, grown old and feeble, at least by Victory’s standards.

The first time Eleanor talked to Kalise was after that announcement. The barbarian had slouched in her chair while the two James men talked tersely to one another, neither one inclined to yelling. She had looked up and met Eleanor’s intense stare with a cocky grin. That’s when Eleanor knew she was going to hate her.

She was right. Kalise was thoroughly infuriating. The woman didn’t care about Victory and their mission. To her, the northerners were simply another strange clan with crazy hunting rituals. When Eleanor questioned her about her motives, she openly admitted that she was marrying Erenhart for his resources and his war. All she needed was a good bed, a good lay, and a good fight. Her husband was a convenient source for all three so she accepted his proposal the morning after one of their romps.

She had laughed about it, treating it as a joke. Hadn’t understood why Eleanor who had worked for her entire life and deeply cared about Victory’s future would hate having to share her position with a warmonger who had married the most powerful man in the north as a joke. Why she would want to kill her when she thought of a future where one of the woman’s children usurped Victory from her little boy.

Time had done its work. Their relationship improved to that of cordial strangers, able to share shallow but pleasant words. Considering it had taken two decades, nothing impressive. They had accepted they would never be like the harems in fictional stories where the wives all managed to get along despite sharing a single man and house. That allowed them to grow comfortable with what they could be. Eleanor may not have liked the other woman but she had accepted her role in her life.

They’d grown comfortable enough that she felt genuine distress at the vocal and violent grief pouring from the bedroom. Despite what some believed, Eleanor was not carved from ice. Khan wasn’t her son but she had watched him grow up from a distance. Of course she would be moved knowing that the boy faced death, if not worse.

There was nothing to be done about it. His mind was compromised. Even if her husband ignored generations of tradition, the best Khan could hope for was exile. Not to the south, where he could potentially be a threat to the kingdom, but to the north, forced to fight for his forgiveness until reunited with the ancestors.

She may not show overt affection to her children but if her last son faced death, torture, or worse, she might break up a room as well. For once, she wasn’t annoyed by the woman who’d been something of a hated rival for many years. And she wanted to help.

“Stay here,” she told the lady knight that had run to fetch her. “Make sure no one comes in. And don’t come in yourself. No matter what you hear.”

“Understood.”

Eleanor straightened her shoulders as she stepped into Kalise’s room, shutting the door firmly behind her. The mess matched the ruckus she’d heard outside, the only furniture intact being the bed. The woman who stood in the middle of the room looked just as disheveled. Her clothes said she’d just wrestled a horde of snowcats and in her hands, she tightly held one of the short, wide blades she favored.

Kalise looked over her shoulder. “You…” The barbarian’s voice was hoarse. “What do you want?”

“Your noise is keeping the house up.” Eleanor deftly stepped across the messy floor, heading for the bed. Dark eyes watched her progress as she took a seat on one of the corners. The tension was so thick, Eleanor imagined she could cut through if she had her spear. Instead, she was unarmed and in striking range of a very agitated woman.

It took more than that to fluster her. Her blue eyes were calm as two blocks of ice as she turned them on Kalise. “I hope you don’t think all of this will be replaced in the morning. Wood is scarce. Really, you choose tonight to rampage rather than drink?”

“Blame that green one. Everything here tastes like garbage and they aren’t sharing anymore. Maybe I should rob them.”

“Would you like to fight that monster? Either of them?” Eleanor had witnessed the March. She was under no illusion about the strength of Alana’s new friends.

“The way I’m feeling, it sounds like a fecking grand idea.”

“Then let me be your voice of reason. You’ll die. Pointlessly. And then no one will be there to help your son.”

“No one can help Khan,” Kalise growled. She twirled the blade in her hand, the thin beams of moonlight that managed to slip through the shutters of her window glinting off the metal. “You’re always yowling to me about your precious traditions. You know better than anyone he can’t be saved.”

“To think I would hear you speak about our traditions with anything other than disdain.” Eleanor huffed. “Traditions have been broken before. Your presence proves that.”

“…what do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. As long as Khan is alive, something can be done. He needs someone to fight for him and no one will fight for him like you. Instead of wasting your time breaking perfectly good furniture, you should be making plans.”

“Plans. Your daughter is just like you. Asking me about my plans. There is no plan. My son is gone and no plan is going to save him.” She lowered her head. “…if I was any good at planning, I wouldn’t be here.”

A topic Eleanor had pondered for a long time. Kalise was an exceptional fighter and caster. She clearly came from a people who valued strength. So, why had she appeared in the north?

There were plenty of other places she could go for a good fight, especially since she didn’t mind fighting men as well as monsters. She could have gotten on a ship and seen the world. Yet, she went to the north. The land of outcasts and madmen to most of the kingdom. It was well known they accepted anyone who was willing to fight without asking uncomfortable questions.

It was the one thing Eleanor was curious about in regard to the barbarian but she held her tongue. It felt…wrong to probe her for an answer she’d protected for so long when she was vulnerable. “You could ask for help.”

“Help?” Kalise raised her head. “From you? You want to help me?”

The heavy confusion and disbelief were not unwarranted. Didn’t make it less annoying. “I do, but if you find the idea disagreeable, I won’t force the issue.” She made to rise but Kalise moved faster, keeping her on the bed with a hand on her shoulder.

“Now, hold on. I didn’t say I don’t want your help. I was just shocked. I thought, no. I know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I hate what you represent. And even if I did hate you, I don’t hate Khan…though he really is too much of a coward.”

The mother of the coward groaned. “I don’t know where he gets it from.”

“And if we are going to talk, you will put that blade down.”

Kalise blinked, raising the sword as if she’d forgotten about it. A forced smile curled her lips. “What’s the matter? Making you nervous?”

Blue eyes narrowed with distaste. “I do not get nervous. I do get annoyed.”

“Heh. Alright.” The sword clattered across the floor as its owner tossed it away carelessly before taking a seat on the bed. Eleanor frowned as their shoulders touched but ignored the contact, allowing it in face of the circumstances.

“Why were you even holding a weapon in your bedroom?”

“I was thinking about breaking Khan out and finding him help.”

“That would be…” Eleanor searched for the proper words to communicate how horrible of an idea it was.

“You don’t have to tell me. Even if I somehow get through you, our loving husband, the girl on my door, that old dog Bulliard, and everyone else in the north, I don’t have a fecking clue on how to save his mind. And I can’t get drunk enough to do it anyway, so, that plan is a dead horse. Told you I’m shit at this.”

“You are.” It was one of the traits Eleanor liked most in the woman. It meant that no matter her bluster, she never saw the second wife as a threat. “So, we are going to think about it, together.”

“It won’t help.”

“Breaking the house doesn’t help. At least this way, you’re not destroying things or getting yourself killed. Don’t be so quick to give in. Victory doesn’t submit.”

“No, you insane people don’t. Suppose I should thank you.” There was a pause. Then a hand slowly crept onto Eleanor’s thigh. “Thanks, princess.”

“I am not a princess, I hate that name, and do you never get tired of this game?” Eleanor removed the hand and created some distance between them.

“I’ll get you one of these days.”

“I’m surprised you’re still trying to carry on affairs like a young woman. How many more years need to pass before you grow out of this phase?”

Kalise snorted out a laugh. “Lust isn’t a phase, princess. As long as you’re such a delicious catch, I’m going to chase you and that isn’t going to change anytime soon.”

Eleanor huffed. “There are plenty of catches who would be happy to entertain you.” She was always surprised the other woman never made advances on the women that guarded her room. It wasn’t for lack of trying on the part of the lady knights who spent the night a few strides from a large bed and a desirable partner, no matter Eleanor couldn’t fathom what they saw in the woman.

“Yeah, but I want you.”

“One more time and I leave.”

“We’re about the same age. I won’t believe you if you say you don’t get—hey, hey, alright!” Kalise caught Eleanor’s arm as she tried to stand, quickly releasing her as blue eyes narrowed in a harsh glare. “I’m leaving it alone. Let’s talk about how we’re going to get my son out of this mess.”