by Effie Calvin
Certainly she would keep an eye on them, but she could not muster up any suspicion or hatred.
If she’d hated them, she would not have stepped between Svana and Gaelle.
She only hoped that Saski and Dietrich would be able to see it from her point of view.
Why had Talcia given the twins magic? It was something Adale had asked multiple times, and Esofi always retorted that perhaps Adale ought to ask her, which in turn prompted Adale to shout her question up at the ceiling. No response ever came.
Esofi entered Saski and Dietrich’s private rooms about an hour later. Stepping inside, she looked around to realize she was alone—there were no advisors or aides with them today. That could only mean they wanted to speak to her candidly. Esofi was not worried, though—they were always kind and understanding, even when she confused them.
“We’re so glad to have you back,” said Saski, taking Esofi by the hands. “Come, sit. We have questions for you.”
Esofi sat down at the table, where tea had been set for three.
“Adale told me that our courier never reached you?” Queen Saski asked.
“I’m afraid not,” said Esofi.
“I find that extremely odd. Our couriers are never anything but reliable, and it is not a terribly long distance between Birsgen and Fenstell. I wonder if something befell her?”
“I hope not,” said Esofi. “But I know you wish to understand why I have added Brandt and Svana to my retinue?”
“We know you would not do such a thing on a whim,” said Dietrich. “Nevertheless…”
“I promise, it was strictly necessary. When I met with my mother, we had…a bit of a disagreement regarding Carinth. Adale was so offended she made us leave. My mother is not used to being ignored. I believe she intended to challenge me to a duel.” A lie. “Lady Lexandrie stepped between us, and… my mother struck her. Before I could act, Svana stepped in. This offended my mother further, and she demanded Svana duel her. Lady Svana is a very talented mage, especially considering how late her blessing came, but she is nowhere near my mother’s level of skill. I can say with complete certainty that Svana would have been killed if she had accepted the challenge. So I appointed her my waiting lady on the spot and forbade her from accepting any duels.”
Dietrich and Saski both looked at each other. She could not tell what they were thinking.
“I do not mean to keep her in my service permanently,” added Esofi. “But I have found her conduct so far to be exemplary, as well as that of her brother. I believe their assignment in the north may have been good for the development of their characters.”
“Do you believe they may be in danger from your mother?” asked Dietrich pointedly.
“I…” Esofi floundered, knowing they would never understand. Saski’s frown deepened, and Esofi pulled herself together. “She will respect Ieflarian laws while she is here.”
“That is not terribly reassuring,” commented Dietrich.
“Rhodian culture is very different from the culture here,” said Esofi. “We are…not so forgiving, sometimes. And perhaps a little quick to anger.”
“Are you not a Rhodian, then?” asked Saski.
Esofi shrugged helplessly. “Not a very good one, some might say.”
“I disagree with that. We have had your ambassadors here in the past, and none of them ever behaved questionably. And what about your waiting ladies? Mireille is a very sweet girl, and Lisette is so quiet I hardly remember she exists.”
“Well, my mother may be in her own class of women,” Esofi granted. “I do apologize for anything she may have done before leaving for Fenstell.”
“She departed quickly when she learned you were not here,” said Saski. “We were surprised. We thought she might have urgent news for you. Some were even speculating something had gone terribly wrong in Rhodia.”
“No. She was just very eager to see Carinth. My mother is extremely devoted to Talcia, as you may have guessed. I think…she may still be trying to make sense of it.”
“What is there to make sense of?” asked Saski. “You restored her worship, and saved our nation. Why should Talcia not favor you?”
“Well, she is a quiet goddess,” said Esofi. “My mother has never been favored personally. So…”
“You think she is jealous of you?” asked Dietrich pointedly.
It sounded so terrible when he put it that way. Esofi shook her head. “Not jealous, precisely. Just…confused. She is certainly more devout than I and brings more worshippers than I have, and…I don’t think anyone in the world venerates Talcia as much as she does. I am sure she is wondering why I was favored before she was.”
“What use would Queen Gaelle have for a dragon egg?” asked Dietrich. “Rhodia is not threatened by their kind. My understanding has been that we intend for Carinth to bridge the gap between our races, to serve as an ambassador. Rhodia has no need for that, do they?”
“Well, no,” said Esofi.
“Carinth is not a symbol of your status with Talcia,” said Saski. “She did not give him to you as a trophy for defeating the Emperor. She gave him to you because we need him. He is your son and my grandson, and someday he will accomplish great things for Ieflaria and the Silver Isles.”
“I don’t disagree,” said Esofi. “But the heart is not always rational. I can see her perspective. But let me tell you of the dragon who came to Fenstell.”
Saski and Dietrich were willing to let her change the subject, and Esofi described her interactions with Ivanedi, including his invitation to the Silver Isles. She did not mention his abrupt departure when he learned about Gaelle’s presence. Esofi had not yet made sense of it, and Saski and Dietrich would only assume the worst.
“I would like to go the Silver Isles,” concluded Esofi. “I think the danger would be minimal, and Carinth would benefit greatly from it.”
“Perhaps in the spring?” suggested Saski. “Our people would be devastated if you were not here at midwinter, and I cannot imagine there are any accommodations for you there that would protect you from the weather.”
“Perhaps.” Esofi had not thought about where she would stay. The Silver Isles was nothing but forests and mountains and caves. There would not even be temporary structures unless she brought along workers to set something up quickly. But what if the dragons found such a thing offensive, or presumptuous? She did not want to cause an incident on her first day there, but she did not want to die of exposure, either.
Still, springtime was quite a long time to wait. Esofi wondered if she could visit the Isles and return safely before winter struck.
The meeting came to an end, and Dietrich had to leave, but Saski did not seem to be in a hurry. Servants brought in more tea, and Esofi thought it would be rude to leave in a hurry. They sat in peaceful silence for a while longer. Then Saski finally spoke.
“There is something I would like to tell you,” she said. “Though if you tell anyone I told you, I will deny it until my dying day.”
Esofi was intrigued. “All right,” she said, a half smile working its way across her face.
“I mean it,” said Saski. “I might even caution you against telling Adale until the time is right. I know she still sometimes struggles with discretion.”
“What is it, then?”
Saski seemed to hesitate a moment longer. Then she said, “What do you know of Irianthe Isinthi?”
Esofi had not been expecting this topic of conversation. “Emperor Ionnes’ mother?” she asked.
“Yes, the dowager empress,” Saski confirmed.
“I’ve never met her,” said Esofi. “But I have heard she is…secretive, or at least a bit shy. She gave her throne to her son the moment he came of age. I might have thought he coerced her into it, but by all accounts, she never cared for her title.”
“You are correct,” said Saski. “If she were any other woman, I might think Ionnes tricked or threatened her to gain the throne. But I knew Irianthe, if only a little. You never saw a woman so u
ncomfortable to be the center of attention. Men have killed and died for that throne, but she would have traded it all in an instant in exchange for a quiet library—and in the end, she did exactly that. I understand that she is much happier now.”
“Well, that is good, I suppose,” said Esofi, wondering what any of this odd story had to do with her.
“And what do you know of Ionnes’ father?”
“His…?” Esofi paused. “Emperor Ionnes has no named father.”
It was a rare thing for a noblewoman, let alone an Empress, to refuse to name a co-parent, but Esofi supposed the former Empress had been in a position to do whatever she wanted. Irianthe had never married, either. If Esofi had to guess, she would assume Ionnes’ father was perhaps a Xytan noble or perhaps a Companion that Irianthe had only used for the sake of having a requisite child. But really, it was none of her concern. Ionnes was Irianthe’s son, and now he was the Emperor.
“Empress Irianthe found the thought of giving birth to be repulsive,” said Saski. “So when she announced her pregnancy, it was quite a surprise. She spent the duration of that time in seclusion, though nobody knows precisely where she went. Even her closest confidants were each told the names of different cities. She claims it was because she feared assassins, but I do not believe that was the truth of the matter.”
“You do not believe Ionnes is Irianthe’s son?”
“Oh, there is no question that he is her son. The resemblance between them is unmistakable. But I do not believe she gave birth to him.”
“You think she was Changed?”
“No,” said Saski. “Else there would be no need for secrecy. I believe the Xytan priestesses of Dayluue did something that has never been attempted in Ioshora. I believe they created Ionnes using magic.”
“What?” Esofi had never heard such a thing in her life, and she was not certain if she was more offended by the idea that priestesses would attempt to twist Dayluue’s will in such a way, or the implication that the experiment had been a success. “Why—how—”
“It was not precisely a secret that Irianthe Insinthi felt no attraction to anyone, man or woman or neutroi. I believe that it was not just pregnancy that she found repulsive. But at the same time, she knew that an heir would be the only way she could free herself of her title without leaving Xytae in chaos.”
Esofi shook her head. “I am sorry. I do not mean to be rude, but I cannot believe such a thing. Children cannot be created by magic. It is impossible.”
“Not purely by magic,” agreed Saski. “I believe the priestesses took something from Irianthe, some part of her essence, to create her child. If anyone could attempt such a thing, let alone succeed, it would be the Temple of Dayluue, wouldn’t it? But I am not telling you this story so that we may discuss rituals.”
“Why, then?” asked Esofi.
“I merely want you to know of all the possibilities that exist in this world,” said Saski. “You and Adale are young. You are caring for Carinth. I do not expect grandchildren immediately, especially given how busy you are keeping yourself. But if you ever find that you relate to Empress Irianthe’s circumstances—”
“No!” said Esofi, horrified.
“Then I shall not mention it again,” said Saski. “I only wished for you to know that you are not without options. And even if you do not require it for yourself, perhaps someday you will be able to aid someone else with this knowledge.”
IT WAS QUIET and very warm in Lady Catrin’s room. She was sitting upright in a chair with a very small bundle in her arms and smiling brightly when Adale and Esofi entered.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, clearly very happy despite the exhaustion in her face. “It’s so good to see you. I hope your journey went well?”
“It did,” said Esofi. “I think the dragons are feeling more amicable now than they were when we last saw them.” She leaned in to look down at the baby. It was no different than any other baby Esofi had ever seen. Only a few days old, it was as red and scrunched-up as any newborn, with a slightly asymmetrical head. When it squinted up at them, she saw dark grey eyes.
“We named him Michi,” said Catrin.
A boy, then. Probably. There was no telling what he’d end up as in the end. For now, they could only give their best guess.
Neutroi usually declared themselves in childhood or early adolescence. It was rare for one to be born, though when it did happen, it was considered extremely good luck. Of course, a neutroi baby might very well declare themselves to be male or female later in life. But people never turned down an excuse to celebrate.
“Would you like to hold him?” Catrin asked Esofi.
Esofi did not. She did not want baby spit on her dress. But it would have been rude to refuse, so she awkwardly took the child into her arms. Adale, meanwhile, went to find a place to set down the gift they’d brought, a little package wrapped in simple red fabric. The table was full of similar things.
“Just set it anywhere!” said Catrin. “You can put it on a chair, if there’s no room—oh! Here, you can move that plate…”
Catrin lurched to her feet, despite Adale and Esofi’s protests, and took a dish filled with unusual-looking round pastries from the table. Adale set the gift down in the space it had occupied.
“Now I have a good excuse to finish these,” said Catrin, glancing down at the dish. “Here, try one—they’re from Coplon. I haven’t decided if I like them or not.”
Trying to pick up a pastry while working very, very hard to not drop a newborn baby on the floor was not something Esofi would ever want to try again. Adale immediately realized the problem and came over to aid her. Luckily, this baby was peaceful and did not begin screaming, not even when Esofi adjusted her grip on him a few times before she found a comfortable way to hold him with only one hand.
“I wonder if he will have a blessing,” Catrin mused. “I know it’s far too early to tell, but I can’t help but be curious.”
“He seems so fragile,” Esofi observed. “I hardly trust myself with him. It’s strange. At three days old, Carinth was already climbing my skirt.”
Catrin laughed. “I do not know if I am envious of you or not. Perhaps after a week of screaming, I will be. But I am sure you will have a child of your own soon enough. A little prince, maybe?”
“Perhaps,” said Esofi.
“Is that why your mother has come?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. She only wished to see Carinth.”
“Oh, of course. Still, if you did, it would be nice to have her with you. It can be frightening, the first time.”
“My mother does not care much for babies, I’m afraid,” said Esofi. “I expect I’d find her about as useful as a priestess of Reygmadra. But never mind. I’m far too busy to think about such things now. Perhaps next year, or the year after.”
“Don’t wait too long, or people will worry.”
But they already were worrying.
Esofi looked down at the baby again. He was about as handsome as a lump of firewood. She felt nothing for him, no stirring of maternal love. But then, perhaps that was to be expected? He was not hers, after all. Still, she knew some people adored babies, no matter who the parents were.
She could only hope that when it came time to have her own, she would feel differently.
More visitors came in, and Adale and Esofi took advantage of the opportunity to excuse themselves. Esofi did not realize that she’d fallen into a pensive silence until Adale slipped her hand into Esofi’s and whispered, “Are you all right?”
Esofi did not reply, wordlessly signaling that she didn’t want to discuss what was on her mind until they were safely alone. When they arrived back at their rooms, Mireille was playing with Carinth, as usual. Brandt and Svana were both gone, and Esofi hoped they had the sense to stay away from Gaelle. There was still no sign of Lisette.
Mireille called a cheerful greeting without getting up off the carpet, and Esofi realized that this was because Cream was sitting in her l
ap, rendering her trapped. Esofi managed to keep a neutral smile on her face until she and Adale were safely alone in their own bedroom.
“What’s the matter?” asked Adale, once the door clicked shut behind them. But Esofi struggled to find the words to explain.
“Was it Catrin’s baby?” asked Adale. “I’ve already forgotten his name.”
Esofi nodded.
“We have time,” Adale assured her. “I know women who have children when they are past thirty, and the priestesses say most women are safe until thirty-five, and some even later than that!”
“It’s not that,” said Esofi.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“What if I don’t like it?” she whispered. “What if I hate it?”
“Why would you?”
“I don’t know. Why do any mothers hate their children?”
“Well…” Adale struggled, “I think…that’s rare.”
“But it does happen. What if I hate it so much that I kill it?”
“What!” Now Adale was alarmed. “You’d never do something like that!”
“You don’t know that. None of us can know that. It might happen.”
“You love Carinth. You’d never harm him.”
“Carinth is different! Babies are different from dragons! We both know that!”
For hatchlings did not scream at all hours of the day and night. They did not require the constant care newborn babies did. They seemed to be cleaner, and more self-sufficient as well. Having Carinth was more like adopting a child that was already out of infancy.
Their rank meant that Esofi could probably get away with letting nursemaids and priestesses raise their child, but she did not want that. Children knew when their parents did not love them.
“I don’t think you’d hate a baby,” said Adale very slowly. “Let alone hate it enough to kill it.”
What kind of people killed their own children? The stereotype for that sort of behavior was uneducated chaos cultists out in remote areas who did unspeakable things in the name of evil gods. But Esofi had spent enough time studying the law to know this was not always the case. Most murderers did not spend their days wearing hooded capes indoors and rubbing their hands together gleefully like characters in a stage-play. Most of them lived ordinary lives until they were caught. To think of them only as monsters nobody sensible would ever trust was tempting, but it was not true to reality.
