Queen of the Earth: Book V in the Elementals Series

by Marisol Logan

  “But?” Veria asked.

  “But...it's extremely painful, Veria,” Pascha warned, her voice soft.

  Veria and Andon looked at each other, and Veria watched as tears escaped the corners of his eyes.

  “We don't have a choice, do we?” Veria asked.

  Pascha sighed and shook her head. “It's the safest option, I just...wanted you to be aware.”

  “Alright, I'm aware,” Veria stated plainly, breathing through pursed lips against another stinging squeeze. Pascha gestured for her to lay flatter on the bed, and Andon helped her scoot down until she was flat on her back.

  “Veria,” Pascha said, placing her hands on either side of Veria's enormous orb of an abdomen, “just to also warn you, there's a good chance this procedure will rupture the waters as soon as I'm finished rotating the baby.”

  “So, a lot of pain, and then a lot of pain after that,” Veria chuckled sarcastically, squeezing Andon's hand in preparation for what was to come. “Got it.”

  Pascha took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her visage one of complete, absolute focus. Within a matter of seconds, Veria felt it—first a subtle nudge and slight stretch, and then what felt like her body was ripping in half. She gasped and threw her head back, her spine contorting instinctively against the pain.

  “Hold her still,” Pascha said calmly without moving a muscle other than her lips to speak.

  Andon moved the pillows and nimbly climbed onto the bed behind Veria, lifted her head into his lap and then grabbed her by the shoulders and held her in place. Veria reached up and clutched at his wrists as sobs broke, wail after wail, from her throat. If her entire pregnancy had been relatively easy, the pain in that moment was completely making up for how easy she'd had it, Veria thought, trying to bite her lip against the howls of agony that wanted out, and eventually failing.

  “Almost done,” Pascha murmured.

  Andon's hands trembled slightly on her shoulders. “Almost done,” he echoed softly, looking down at her, but his face was tight with concern.

  “Alright, we're in position,” Pascha said happily, opening her eyes and looking at them both.

  “My brave patalana,” Andon sighed in relief, pulling her right hand up to his lips and kissing its back.

  “Veria, I'm going to release my hold on the energy in the waters. Are you ready?” Pascha asked.

  Veria nodded and everything happened in an instant—the pain stopped and the waters broke, the familiar rush of warmth accompanying a short respite from the pain, only for the pain to return with a sharp, searing stab to her middle.

  Hands still on Veria's hardened, distorted mound, Pascha concentrated for a few moments before her eyes went wide. “I think you're ready, Veria,” she said with a soft smile. Pascha waited for the current contraction to subside, then added, “Let's get you sitting back up a bit, alright?”

  Pascha and Andon helped hoist and shift her up until her entire upper body was leaning back against Andon's, her head resting next to his on his left shoulder.

  Veria's entire body trembled with nerves and exhaustion. She sighed anxiously, preparing herself for what she knew was to come, and doubting her ability to do it—even though she had done it twice before, this time the pain was worse, the fatigue more profound than she had experienced before.

  “I'm here, vina,” Andon whispered in her ear, his voice calming her slightly. “I won't let anything happen to you. This is almost through. You're almost there.”

  He caressed her swollen abdomen gently for a brief moment, then grabbed both her hands in his and pulled them up toward her shoulders. They all waited, tense silence filling the warm air of the cottage, until the crescendo of constriction started again, and Veria winced and breathed against the accompaniment of pain.

  And just as Pascha had predicted, just as Veria had been preparing for, the crescendo didn't reach the top and then begin its descent and withdrawal—instead, it stayed at its peak, opening up and morphing into a different feeling altogether, an instinctive urge erupting in her core, merging with the pain. She let the instinct, the urge, take control of her body with a low, undulating grunt.

  The noise was like a starting bell for Pascha, who jumped a bit before grabbing Veria's knees and positioning them to either side of her mountainous body. She let loose a string of encouraging words, as did Andon in her ear, but Veria could hardly focus on the next round of unbearable pressure that consumed her entire body and all of its energy only half a minute after the first one had ended, let alone on what the two were saying to her. Their voices went muffled, her vision went blurry, and after a few deep breaths, her body clamped down around the bulge again, and she moaned and howled through the twisting, squeezing attempts to wring the little life from inside her, like water from a cloth.

  Somehow, she continued, but she wasn't sure how, as the fatigue was so heavy on her that her entire body had started to shake violently with her exertion, and she didn't even have the energy to cry out when the familiar ring of fire signaled her progress to the final stage. Pascha and Andon excitedly coached her through the last efforts, but she could barely hear them now, and she didn't need them to tell her she had to get this child out of her before she had no strength left. Clenching Andon's hands in hers and groaning through the piercing, splitting pain, she gave everything her body had left to what she hoped was the last effort—and was flooded with relief and release when she realized through a dizzy haze that it was.

  Andon murmured and cried in her ear, stroking her hair from her face, and Pascha held the baby in her arms. Veria held on until she heard her child's choking, coughing wail, then she let the dark, heavy exhaustion take her into the blackness.

  With blurred vision and a heavy ache across her whole body, Veria awoke to the immediate recognition of where she was. The smell of drying herbs and pungent tinctures caused a surge of terror inside her—the infirmary—and her brain filled with a flurry of questions: Was the baby alright? Why was she here? How long had it been?

  Before she had much chance to succumb to the impending hysterics, Andon's warm voice sounded at her side and his hands clutched around hers.

  “You're awake,” he murmured happily.

  “What's going on?” Veria rasped, trying to sit up and look around, but the pain was too much and Andon gently held her in place before she exerted herself too much on the effort. “Why are we here—where's the baby?!” she demanded, her voice becoming more agitated with every question.

  “She's fine,” Andon said with a bright smile and the sheen of tears and exhaustion in his eyes. “She's better than fine, vina, she's perfect. Claryain is giving her a bath.”

  “A girl?” Veria asked, her lip trembling with emotion.

  “Yes,” Andon replied. “The most beautiful baby girl I've ever seen—looks just like her mother.”

  “I want to see her,” Veria said, sitting up abruptly in the cot in spite of the gripping pain that accompanied every movement she made.

  Andon quickly stood and stopped her from trying to get out of the cot with his hands on her shoulders, and eased her back down. “We will bring her to you, very soon,” he said softly. “She may be healthy, but you are not.”

  “Why—what happened?” Veria interrogated, less concerned about her own health than with her daughter's.

  “You lost a lot of blood,” Andon answered, kneeling back down next to her, his face contorting into grave, solemn lines. “We—I...we rushed here as quickly as possible after.” His voice broke with sorrow. “Pascha had to turn your blood cold so you would stop bleeding. I...”

  He trailed off, then buried his head next to her side and clutched her hands in his again.

  “You can't do that to me ever again, Veria,” he sobbed into her infirmary gown. “I thought I had lost you. If Pasha hadn't been there...I'm trying not to think about it.”

  “I wish I could promise you that, but I didn't have much say in it this time, Andon,” Veria muttered.

  “Just don't do a
nything rash, please,” Andon said. “Let yourself heal. Please, Veria, I beg you, just get healthy again—whatever it takes—please, for me,” he begged, his voice now climbing into hysterics as hers had done moments before.

  “Yes, of course, Andon,” she answered, grabbing his face in her hands and stroking his hair with affection and reassurance. “Of course I will. I promise.”

  He gently wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her forehead several times in succession.

  “What are we going to do about Browan?” Veria grumbled.

  Andon sighed and sat down next to her on the cot. He shook his head. “I don't know. Pascha and I have talked about it, but...the options are limited, if not impossible. She can't lie—Strelzar tried to merge with her several times over the last few months and teach her but, Water and Fire won't blend, unfortunately.”

  “He has no reason to perform a fatherhood examen, though,” Veria said.

  “He still might, Veria,” Andon groaned. “He's paranoid. And if we can't get our stories straight about the birth, then he definitely will.”

  “He can't know that I was at the quarry seeing you,” Veria sighed. “I mean, I can lie—I have been lying in front of the verifiers for months now.”

  “I can, too,” Andon said, “if it comes to that, which I hope it doesn't. If he brings me up or questions me at all, it means he's already suspicious.”

  “When did you learn that?” Veria asked.

  “Just after you did, and it took me a lot longer,” he chuckled. “I visited Tarddiad about every two weeks these past months. I...I had to keep busy, keep working and training, keep my mind on something other than how much I missed you and wanted to be with you for everything.”

  “You were with me for the important part,” Veria whispered, stroking his face. “The part we will remember. And you're with me now.”

  “I can't stay long,” he shook his head in despair. “I have already erased the memories of the guards that have seen me, and can do a few more, but we can't risk anyone from the Elemental Guard seeing me, and if I miss anyone...it's just too risky to stay here too long.”

  “Well, if Pascha and Claryain are the ones who can't lie, why don't you just erase their memories?” Veria asked.

  “Veria, don't you think it would be even more suspicious if neither of the women who have taken care of you through your pregnancy remembered anything about your labor and delivery?” Andon asked, tilting his head at her.

  “You're right,” Veria sighed. “So, what do we do?”

  “The best we could come up with is that Claryain will have to believe that she delivered the baby here, and that she's not my child,” he answered, his face tight with worry.

  “That...I haven't ever tried to place a deception, ever,” Veria replied, “let alone one that complex.”

  “Well, nether have I, but it's the only thing we can do,” Andon said. “And, it might be impossible. You have barely any energy—I can't say I have much either, after last night. But, the good news is, we have time. Or, you do anyway.”

  “Browan doesn't return for a month and a half,” Veria murmured with a slight grin.

  “And you will be doing nothing but recovering in this infirmary the entire time,” he said, returning her grin.

  “The entire time?” she echoed in exaggerated disgust.

  “You promised,” Andon smirked and tapped her nose affectionately.

  Veria released a facetious sigh. “Fine.”

  “Plus, it's the perfect excuse for you to be around her everyday,” he added. “If I know you, and how adept you are, by the time Browan gets back, that deception will rival one placed by the best Fire Magers in the world.” Andon winked at her. Then, he sighed wistfully. “I'm quite jealous of you.”

  “Why is that?” Veria asked.

  “Well, you get to spend all day every day with our daughter,” he said, his voice strained by emotion.

  “Oh, Andon, I didn't even think—I feel so inconsiderate—” Veria stammered, her heart aching for him.

  “No, no, no, darling,” he cut her off and grabbed her hands in his. “I understand you wouldn't think of that. All I can think of are those months we spent after Aleon's birth, never leaving each other's sides, taking care of him together. And it feels like we should be doing that again...I have to remind myself we won't. I have to remind myself I have to leave, otherwise I'm sure I would just stay and forget everything else going on in the world.”

  Without a chance to try and stop it, Veria suddenly began to sob, each shake that accompanied her cries causing the deep ache in her body to turn to a sharp, stinging pain. Andon held her to his chest and tried to quiet and comfort her. “Stay strong, my love,” he murmured into her hair as he kissed the top of her head. “We will get through this—all of this.”

  -XVI-

  The weeks passed, and everyday Veria placed more and more energy and detail into her deception on Claryain. She felt stronger with every passing day, and Claryain had been giving her elixirs to help her regain blood volume faster. And the baby slept in her arms for almost the entire day, unless Veria was eating, which Claryain made her do about six times a day, then she went to Claryain or into her bassinet.

  She knew Browan would want to name the child when he returned. He had been informed by Wind message of the baby's arrival, and had decided to cut his stay at the Council a week short, which still left Veria five weeks. But, Veria had taken to calling her Ava, like the avadiso flowers from Esperan that she hoped someday the little girl would see. In just the weeks since her birth, Ava's little eyes had already turned a stunning spring green, like the long stems, and her thin hair was a rich amber gold, like the bird-like blooms that crowned them.

  When Browan finally returned, Claryain rattled off a convincing account—convincing because she herself believed it, too—of Veria's labor and delivery right there in the castle in the middle of the night. She recounted to him with enthusiasm and dramatic expressions on her round face how Pascha had brought Veria, clutching her belly and howling in pain, waddling into the infirmary, and how she had labored for hours and hours, until finally Claryain decided to break her waters and from there, the process went extremely quickly.

  With ice in her veins, Veria handed Ava over to Browan, who beamed at the child he believed to be his, then at Veria, then back the baby.

  “I wish I had been here,” he murmured. “Thank you, Veria—this...she is incredible,” he added in a whisper.

  Veria couldn't bring herself to say anything to him. Her arms ached to have Ava back in their safe warmth.

  “She will be named after my grandmother,” he declared. “Breyda.”

  Veria suppressed a cringe at hearing the name. Her name was Ava in Veria's mind, and there wasn't any way she'd be able to change it now. Browan could call her whatever he wanted for now...someday Ava would learn to walk and run and cartwheel in the fields of the flowers she was named after, Veria thought, trying not to fume with anger as she thought it.

  At Browan's insistence, a Grand Ball was thrown in Breyda's honor, which Veria only attended for a total of fifteen minutes to show the baby off to the members of the Regalship, including Lord Rames and his newly expecting bride, Lady Emmandia.

  Pascha, stationed on guard for the ball, gushed over the baby before Veria left to go back to her room and feed her, and hopefully get a few solid hours of sleep before the next feeding. After Ava was sufficiently full, she passed out with a sheen of dribbled milk on her chubby cheeks, and Veria moved her to the bassinet next to her bed. Just as she closed her eyes, she heard Virro's voice in her head:

  'One month.'

  Veria swallowed hard and her heart pounded. One month until what? she wondered, but she felt like she knew the answer. One month until they made their move. Which meant one month until Browan gathered his troops...which meant one month until the Separatist Army arrived at the castle.

  She closed her eyes again, but sleep eluded her as her mind fixated on all of
the things that could go wrong, and tried to come to terms with the fact that the war was finally on their doorstep. The only way she could relax enough to finally doze off was to hold Ava in her arms, snuggled against her chest, safe from the coming danger...

  Two weeks passed, and each day without contact with the rest of her family and friends, knowing that the war inched closer every day, made Veria more and more anxious and on edge. She rarely left her room, holding Ava in her arms at almost all times, except for when Browan would come by and insist on taking her for a walk around the castle. Veria was ready to act—ready to run or fight, with her baby in her arms—at a moment's notice. She knew when the time was right, someone would be there to get her and Ava out of the castle and away from Browan.

  Or, at least, she hoped that was the case...

  After a dinner alone in her room, picking at a tray of food with Ava cradled snugly in one arm, Veria jumped when a knock sounded at the door at nightfall. Visitors after dark were rare, especially since the birth of the baby—most everyone tried not to disturb her at night so both she and the baby could sleep as much as possible.

  With Ava still tucked against her chest, asleep in her arm, Veria answered the door. Her stomach immediately dropped, and her veins turned to ice. Something was definitely wrong—terribly wrong—and she knew it instantly, for the person who stood in front of her was never the bearer of good tidings.

  “Come with me, Your Highness,” Raken sneered with a smug grin on his thin lips.

  “May I inquire what sort of business I am needed for at this hour, Commander?” Veria ventured as calmly and politely as possible. She tried not to look as nervous as she felt, lest that add to whatever suspicion might have already come up. “I have just gotten the baby to sleep and was about to lie down myself.”

  “I think you know exactly what this is about, Veria,” Raken spat. “Drop the act and come with me now.”