by M.C. O'Neill
***
The Xochian was rushed through by a phalanx of court wardens and Quay’liss Dalian. Unlike most of the shelters designed for the public, the Circle of Law had its own raid bunker and the setup was exclusive. Only the best for the best of the best was privy to these halls of security. Senators, Prime Wardens, High-grade politicians and hotshot prosecutors all had the luxury of a rather spacious and well-designed layout at their disposal. Venn’lith was grateful that she was in the right place at the right time, but her father’s underground sanctum would have provided quite ample protection had she been at home when this crisis unfolded.
Cadreth said his piece to the world and made the best of it. It was but five minutes after the broadcast when he had said his goodbyes to her. Venn’lith only trusted the very fewest of souls, but there was a deep sincerity to their parting. He had to go into exile and he promised her that he would remain on Earth. She knew in her heart that she would see him again.
Although the world was all but ending above their heads, she could not tear her thoughts away from that lad. Whenever she knew that any of her associates at school fawned over a male, she would become so annoyed with them, as it was such a mystery as to why such lads were of any importance. Most, well, every one of those elven males was disposable at best, but with Cadreth, she had at last given in to her classmates’ typical feelings regarding the opposite gender.
After a good ten minutes from being separated, the maiden realized that it was the first time since she had met him that he wasn’t within earshot of her. She felt sick again and she wasn’t sure if it was from her worries over the lad or their little baby in her belly.
“Oh, I think I need new feet, Quay’lith,” the maiden lisped as she fell back on a plush sofa in the executive bunker. “I juth want to thleep for a week!”
The reporter laughed at that. She marveled at the teen’s change in attitude ever since Quen’die had beaten her to a pulp. So much more agreeable, she was. “Just close your eyes and rest. We’re safe down here. This is one of the most secured shelters in the whole kingdom.”
“Yeth, I know. Iths not juth that, though,” Dalian could hear the sun elf suck back a sniff.
“Let me guess…”
“Ith Cadreth!” Venn’lith shot back up. Tears were leaking from the edges of her sunglasses. “What if he geths hurt? Or even killed? My little baby will not have hith Papi!”
“You already know it’s male?” the reporter asked a bit shocked. She made a point to scribble that tidbit for later in her tablet. It may make for some good late-breaking gossip, she supposed.
“Yeth, Cadreth thayth he knowths theth kindths of thingths.” She tipped down her shades to reveal her cat’s glow as if that statement were a matter of national importance. From far up above, the muffled shriek of a rampaging behemoth signaled the real national emergency.
“Eh, okay,” Quay’liss paused. “So, do you have any idea what his name will be?”
“Ketzel. Yeth, ith definitely Ketzel,” she patted her soon-to-be plump stomach.
With a slow, furtive move, the newsie pulled her tablet out of her bag to upload the scoop of the celebrity maiden’s news to the media. What could it hurt, Dalian figured? Through all the pain and suffering on the streets, perhaps a bit of levity could boost morale.
Venn’lith plopped back on the sofa and whined. His absence was already killing her and she felt strung out like a lotus juice junkie with nary a drop. “Quay’lith! I can’t take it anymore! I need him here now!”
Dalian’s eyes popped wide with her cries. What a kook. That Cadreth must have been something else, she supposed. Just as an aside, the reporter tapped in her tablet Venn’lith’s addictive feelings toward the lad. It may help the general public want to not roast him alive if everything settled down since he was a demon from hell, after all.
“Djaenn! I need tangerine mocha! Now! Pleathe!”
Nearby, a prime legal warden lolling on another grand sofa rolled his eyes. He checked the pockets of his tunic for earplugs and was disheartened to not find any. Perhaps, he wondered, if being devoured by a beast from the Nine was preferable to being stuck down in that bunker with the moans of the lovesick teen tyrant.
