by Ren Curylo
Adamen sighed but made no effort to comply.
“Who fathered my grandchild?” Erish said, raising her voice sharply.
Adamen looked up at her mother and opened her mouth to speak but found herself unable to actually impart the information her mother sought.
“Do you want me to go out to the stable and ask? Is that it?”
“No, Mama,” Adamen said.
“Then tell me which drone you coupled with,” she said insistently.
“I didn’t couple with a drone,” Adamen said, finally deciding to come clean and be honest about the whole thing.
Erish looked sharply at her daughter. “What do you mean you didn’t couple with a drone? You are clearly pregnant. While you can have sex with other Fae races, one of them cannot impregnate you. In order for you to have a child in your belly, you had to have sex with a drone.”
Adamen raised her head and looked at her mother with defiant green eyes. “The father of my child is Ársa,” she said with a cool steady tone.
Erish stared at her daughter in dumbfounded surprise for a long moment. “Who?” she asked dully.
“Ársa,” Adamen said. “The Creator, the God of us all.”
“I know who Ársa is,” Erish said impatiently. “What do you mean he’s the father of your child?”
Adamen smiled. “I mean exactly what I said. Ársa is my child’s father.”
“How did that happen?” Erish asked, shock plain on her beautiful face.
Adamen laughed. “How do you think it happened? How does it happen between any other male and female? How does it happen between Lilitu and drone? How did it happen between you and the drone that sired me?”
Erish narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “My palm itches to slap your insolent face, Adamen. Don’t make me lose my temper. You know what I’m asking you. You had better tell me how this came to be. This isn’t possible.”
“It is possible, Mama,” Adamen said. “Ársa is a god, and that alone makes it possible.”
“I had no idea one of us could have a child with one of them. We’re so different.”
“We’re not so different,” Adamen said. “In fact, we’re a lot alike in many ways.”
“How long has Ársa been your lover?” Erish asked. She turned her attention to the teapot on the table in front of her and poured herself and her daughter a cup of tea. She sweetened them with honey as she waited for her daughter’s answer.
“He’s been my lover for nearly two years,” Adamen said.
“How? Where do you meet him?”
“I meet him at night, in the forests and fields and he takes me to his home.”
“His home?”
“Yes, he has a home somewhere on Lerien.”
“Where is it?”
Adamen wondered why her mother was asking. She has a strange gleam in her eye. She watched her mother focusing on her teacup. “I don’t know,” she answered at last.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Erish asked, looking at her daughter suspiciously.
“I have never gone on my own. Ársa Travels me there with him. I have no idea where it is.”
“Have you asked?”
Adamen shrugged. “Only once,” she said. “He told me it was better if I didn’t know. Safer, he said.”
“For you or for him?” Erish asked cattily.
Adamen shrugged again. “Perhaps both of us,” she said.
“So you have a god’s brat in your belly,” Erish said. Her tone was hard and Adamen wondered what her mother was feeling to make it sound that way.
“I suppose that’s a way to look at it. But, yes, I am pregnant with Ársa’s child,” she said.
“You do understand that if this baby is not a girl, it will not be given special consideration. We will evaluate him as all male children are. It will be processed the exact same no matter that its parents are a god and a princess.”
It hadn’t occurred to Adamen that her mother would deal with Ársa’s child exactly as if it were full Lilitu. She felt a pain in her heart at the same moment that she felt the child kick in her womb.
Erish sipped her tea. “You had best pray it’s a girl, my dear, if you want to keep it.”
Adamen said nothing, but her thoughts were churning as the kicking continued inside her.
“Is it a girl?” Erish said, looking at her.
“I don’t know,” Adamen lied.
“Ársa didn’t tell you?”
“No,” Adamen said. “I didn’t ask.”
Erish stared at her daughter for a while before she said, “Well, you’d better ask him what it is.”
“Why?”
“So you can prepare yourself for the inevitable if it’s a boy. No special treatment will be given and you aren’t allowed to keep a boy child. If chosen, it goes to the drone stable, if council rejects it, they will kill it according to our rules. And we’ve never faced the prospect of a halfbreed child, and I doubt we’d embrace it.”
Adamen remained quiet.
“Are you still seeing Ársa?” Erish asked.
Adamen nodded.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but the gossip recently coming through court is that he’s been chasing after some Elfin princess.” Erish watched her daughter’s face for the hint of a reaction. Other than the line of her lips pressed together growing somewhat thinner, there was none. She decided to let that go for now. “Are you meeting him tonight?”
Adamen shrugged. She never knew when Ársa would turn up.
“Find out what gender this child is as soon as possible.”
“All right,” she said.
“I’ll ask you again on the morrow,” Erish said. “I have had enough for one night. Be warned Adamen, this will be the last night you bed down with your lover. You will tell Ársa that you are forbidden to share his bed any longer, by decree of your queen.”
Adamen rose from her seat glaring hotly at her mother for a long moment before walking from the room with her head held high.
Before she made it through the door of the hallway leading to her room, Erish called to her. “By the way Adamen, I would like for you to ask Ársa when he plans to actually fulfill his end of the bargain he made with me before we left the old world.”
“All right, Mother,” Adamen said. She walked to her room feeling confused about the conversation with her mother. What bargain did she make with Ársa way back in the olden times?
Adamen flew through the night, much as she had every other night since coming to Lerien. Except that night, she wasn’t crying and cursing her mother. Why does she have to be such a bitch? Adamen let the rage and frustration fill her being. It rolled around inside her like an ocean tide, until it threatened to swallow her whole.
She flew aimlessly, dodging trees and lightning bugs. She had passed her twenty-fourth lightning bug before she stopped to look around her and wonder where she was. It was winter at their colony. Lightning bugs didn’t tend to come out in winter. Where in Ifreann am I?
As she turned around, hoping to get her bearings, she saw him standing beneath the canopy of a large tree. She smelled the sea and felt the warm breeze. “Ársa,” she said, staring at him in disbelief.
He opened his arms welcomingly and she flew to him. “I brought you here, Adamen,” he said as he pressed his lips to her head and kissed her through her waves of red hair. “I thought you needed me.”
“Oh, I do,” she sobbed against his chest. “Can you take me to your home?”
He didn’t reply, but he instantly Traveled her to his home and sat with her in his lap on his big comfortable sofa. He listened to her pour her heart out about her mother for the better part of an hour without speaking.
“Is that true?” she said, at last, sitting up to look him in the face as she finished relating what her mother had said about the Elf woman.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s true.” He couldn’t explain Chéile to anyone, not even Adamen, and certainly not to Moriko. How could he explain
something he didn’t understand himself? He had never in his life acted like that over a woman before. He felt as if he was under some kind of spell.
Adamen sighed forlornly and dramatically rolled her eyes. “I think my mother wants to take the baby away. When he’s born, she will if she can get her hands on him.”
“Adamen, you can stay here until you deliver. No one will find you here. And I think you should give some serious thoughts about finding someone else to raise this child.”
“I think I’ll name him Girin, Ársa, if that’s all right with you.”
“That’s fine.” Ársa couldn’t give voice to the fact that he didn’t care. He had no real interest in this child. He cared for Adamen, but he was only fulfilling a promise made to his mother, his sister, and the future. This fetus didn’t exist because it was his idea or something he wanted.
“I’ll stay here until the baby comes, but I need to see my mother one more time before it’s time to have him.”
“Why do you want to see her? Don’t give her the chance to hurt you, Adamen.”
“I won’t. She asked me to pass a message on to you and I said I would. She wants an answer as soon as possible.”
“A message for me?” he asked, clearly puzzled.
“Yes, she said she wants to know when you plan to fulfill the bargain you made with her back on the old world.”
Ársa looked surprised. “I had forgotten all about that. She’s certainly been a patient woman. Why didn’t she ask me about it before now?”
“Have you seen her?”
“No, but she could have sought me out.”
Adamen laughed. “You don’t know my mother,” she said.
“I suppose not. Well, tell her that I send my humblest apologies. I will get on that right away and take care of it.”
“All right,” Adamen said, taking her turn to look puzzled. “What’s this about?”
“You weren’t on the original list to come here, you know,” he said gently.
Adamen nodded. “She wanted me to go with another group.”
“I insisted that you come here and be part of our group.”
“You did? So that’s why she changed her mind about me accompanying her group.”
“It is. In exchange for getting to bring you along, I promised her I would assign a guardian to watch over the Fae.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t ask for one specifically for the Lilitu.”
He shook his head. “She asked for one for the Fae. I forgot, but I have someone in mind. She does something else, too, but I’m sure she can handle adding the Fae to her duties.”
“Moriko?” Adamen asked.
“Yes,” Ársa said.
“She’s an excellent choice. She’s in the forest so much anyway, and most of us Fae live in one forest or another. I think all the Fae will trust her more than any other.”
“That’s my thoughts. I’ll meet with your mother soon, please tell her that for me.”
“I will. I’ll go see her tomorrow. But for now, can we go to bed? I’m tired and my stomach hurts and I’ve had enough for one day.”
Ársa picked her up and gently carried her to his bed. He lay beside her and held her quietly until she slept.
1 day later Albus 6, 761
Lasahala Run, Silverwilde Cardosa, Lerien
Chéile “Chéile, we’re going down to the market, darling,” her mother called through the thick oaken portal that sealed her bedroom.
“All right, Mama,” Chéile said. This was the moment she had been waiting what seemed an eternity for.
“Do you want to come with us?”
“No, thank you,” Chéile answered politely.
“It’s a beautiful day.”
“I’m fine, Mama. I’ll see you and Papa when you return.” Chéile was growing irritated with her mother. Enough already, it’s not as if I’ll be alone. There’s a houseful of servants.
“Very well, we’ll see you in a few hours.”
“All right, Mama.” Chéile pressed her pointed ear against the door and listened to her mother’s retreating footsteps until she was certain the woman wasn’t coming back. Sometimes her mother returned to her door four times before she actually went away.
After she was certain no one was skulking about in the hallway, Chéile slid the bolt on her door, locking herself inside. She turned and ran to her bed and dropped to her knees. She reached under the massive piece of furniture as far as she could and pulled out a wooden box. It was large, ornate, and heavy. Her royal headpiece for the wedding had arrived in the box. She had quickly transferred all of her special belongings into it and had hidden it under her bed. The headpiece was on her dressing table for all to see. The things in the box held more importance to her than any crown or jewels. These items were her secret independence, her secret power.
She opened the box and stared, smiling, at its contents. A profusion of little figures lay within, as well as a small bowl, and bottles of various colored liquids. There was a tiny box of long, sharp pins. The figures were actually small dolls, each crafted with meticulous stitching.
She picked up one of the dolls. She had skillfully sewn each of them from a variety of finely woven fabrics. Chéile had created them herself. She was one of the finest tailors in their village, for her mother had made certain she could sew as well as any professional. These little figures were the only things she had sewn since coming to Lerien. She picked up one of them and looked at it. She stroked its long blonde hair made of fine silk yarn. She smiled at it. “My Prince,” she cooed as she looked longingly at it. “There’s no need to do anything with you anymore, you’re mine. Our wedding will happen soon enough.” She placed the figure gently in the box and pulled out another one.
This one had a shock of thick, black hair. It was far wider and bulkier than the other figures in her box. She pulled the figure to her and rubbed it on her breasts. She stuck it in her cleavage headfirst and tickled it with her finger. “Ársa,” she said, “you respond so perfectly. What girl wouldn’t want The Creator at her disposal? Even if you are quite the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen. You look exactly like a nasty human.” She stroked the doll between its legs. “As long as I need you, you must be near. As long as I want you, you must be here. I hold your heart tighter when you see my face. You will give to me everything when I drop my lace.” She gave the doll another caress with her finger before she put it back in the box.
She pulled out her little dish and one of the ornate bottles. She set the bowl on the nightstand and poured a little of the liquid in it. “I wish I had more,” she muttered. “I haven’t had the privacy to make a new batch, so this pitiful amount will have to do.” She waved her hand over the dish and smoke rose from the surface. Ripples danced upon the water, starting in the center of the small bowl and growing outward until they died at the sides. Chéile passed her hand over the surface again, and the ripples slowed, barely moving. As they cleared this time, she saw a wavering image of Ársa, walking down a dim hallway.
He was dressed in his uniform, as he always was, formfitting in various shades of grey. She noted the deep purple stripe that ran down his sleeve, from shoulder to cuff and the matching one on the outside of his pant legs, where a seam would be. The color pleased her because she knew that deep aubergine marked him as a leader.
She turned her attention to his surroundings, fascinated by his location. The hallway around him was silvery-grey as well and had a sterile look about it. She watched him walk down the hallway, and stop. He pressed a button on the wall and a door slid open. He entered, closing the door behind him. The moment the door closed, her vision returned to the now empty hallway. She could never see beyond that doorway. It was as if something blocked her.
“Damn it,” she muttered. She waved her hand over the bowl and the water inside cleared. “I can never see him when he enters that room.” She knew he was thinking of her, he always was after she fondled the doll she had crafted to look like him. She poured the liquid
back into the glass bottle it had come from, being careful not to spill it.
She sat down on the bed with a flounce, bouncing a couple of times. I need a way to bolster my magic, make it better. I have gone as far as I can with Rootwork magic on my own. I’m quite good at scrying, curses, and incantations, but I need a boost. I wish Mama wasn’t so hidebound about it. There are elders in the colony who could teach me, but Mama said it wasn’t seemly for a princess, especially one who would be queen, to learn such things. Now, if I were a goddess, there would be no limit to what I could do. The idea of becoming a goddess titillated her but she gave it up when she considered that the only path to becoming a goddess involved a real relationship with Ársa and that thought made her shudder. She felt a little bit nauseated by it, too. He’s just so…ugly…and so…human. The cost is too dear, even for the magic I want so much.
Chéile decided that even if she didn’t want him, it was in her best interest to keep him dangling until she was safely married and crowned queen. She placed everything back into her box, packing it all carefully inside so nothing would spill or break. She arranged all the little dolls into sitting or lying positions. The doll she had fashioned to be the old king, she laid flat and placed a rock on its chest. She pushed the dolls of her parents into a corner together. Prince Caolán was placed in the center, higher than the others, as if he already sat on a throne. Her lips curled into a smile that never lit her pale eyes as she picked up the little doll that looked like Ársa. That one, she kissed, hugged. Then, she ran her tongue between its little cloth legs. She stared at it for a moment, thinking what else she could do. She had no real experience with men. She didn’t even like any of them. She didn’t care for Prince Caolán any more than any other man, but he was going to be king and that made him considerably more attractive.
She thought about what the other young girls talked about in their morning walks. Chéile dismissed it as idle chatter and nonsense. What was it they had said? It always seemed to be about boys wanting to get under a girl’s skirts. Well, if that’s what he wants, I don’t see why not. She lifted her skirt and parted her undergarments to rub the doll against herself. To her surprise, it felt sort of good. She rubbed the doll against herself again. She briefly considering inserting it inside her but the idea made her giggle with embarrassment.
