He flashed me a lopsided grin as he slid the chunk of widow crab meat I’d rejected earlier between my now much more cooperative lips. About six months or so. Damille will be able to tell more accurately once you reach the mid-way point. She’ll want to see you each week to ensure the baby is developing on schedule.
In six months I’d be back inside the chamber where I’d spent my first week in Teresolee, trying to give birth to my child before griffins swept in to kill us both. I’d never felt such hatred for the creatures as I did now, not even when one of them had bitten off my foot and gutted me with its claws. They were not going to hurt our little girl—she was only seconds old, and I already knew the sex beyond any doubt—but if I hoped to find a way to keep us safe, I first had to understand why giving birth on the surface was even necessary. Why can’t our scientists create an oxygenated room underwater to give birth in? It doesn’t seem like it would be that complicated.
Aristos’s face hardened as he placed a hand protectively over my womb, giving me a glimpse of the lethal warrior he usually kept masked behind his affable demeanor, as if even the thought of something harming our child presented an imminent threat. He knew better than to treat me like some helpless female who wasn’t capable of fighting her own battles—he’d offered to make me a member of the guard before I’d been chosen as queen—but when it came to our little one, my fierce independence meant nothing to me. I’d accept all the protection he could offer. Syreni children are born with tiny sacks on the outside of their chests that serve as temporary lungs. Once their gills finish developing—which typically takes a week—the sacks shrivel up and detach like the umbilical cord on a human.
We’ve tried to bear our young in an oxygen-filled chamber beneath the surface—which, as you suspected, is easy enough for our scientists to create—but their gills never matured. Not even when we added stem cell material. Some of the babies survived as long as a month, but eventually they all suffocated when their air sacks gave out. After conducting every conceivable variation of the experiment with the same horrific result, our scientists and healers finally deferred to our priests, who believe that the birthing ritual is a test of our faith. Females willing to offer up their own lives prove themselves worthy and are granted a viable child. Johnna believes the griffins were created for that very reason.
It wasn’t what I’d hoped to hear, but given what I knew about the nature of the deities we served, the theory seemed more than plausible. If giving birth on the surface was inevitable, I’d have to come up with a radical new approach—some off-the-wall idea an entire race of advanced beings hadn’t thought to try in their centuries-old war—in order to make spending a week in the birthing chamber with my newborn daughter relatively safe. Or at least survivable. I didn’t have the forensic mind of my father, but I’d watched him work enough to know he always started by gathering information and documenting the facts of a case. I want to know everything, Aristos. What factors contributed to the extinction of our fertile women, what tactics the Syreni and griffins have tried over the centuries, which of them worked, how they were countered… everything. I’m more than willing to place my life in the hands of our gods to prove I’m worthy, but we owe it to our daughter to take whatever measures we can to protect her. Maybe together we can think of something that hasn’t been tried yet.
I slapped my hand against my forehead, realizing I’d just spoiled the surprise. I never could keep secrets worth a damn. Aristos’s enrapturing kiss was so intense that I was sure it was going to spawn round three of our marathon lovemaking session. Somehow he found the willpower to pull back. May the gods bless our little princess with your beauty, valor, charisma and determination. We’ll find a way to keep her safe, Cami. I swear it. But we don’t need to solve this alone. I’ll have our generals gather their most knowledgeable healers, scientists and battle tacticians and provide the Throne of Nine with an in-depth report on every birthing strategy their regions have ever tried. We’ll work together to come up with the safest possible approach for you.
I knew beyond any doubt that Aristos would sacrifice his life for me or our daughter without the slightest hesitation. I prayed to all seven of our deities that it didn’t come to that, but it was possible not even his heroic death would be enough. If I was all that was left standing between the griffins and our helpless child, I owed it to both of them to be as skilled of a warrior as I was capable of becoming in such a short time. I know I can never actually serve in the guard with me being queen, but I want to receive the same rigorous training any Syreni warrior would be put through. Drills, sparring with other trainees, boot camp. Whatever. I’m not looking to go off to battle or anything. But you and I both know I’m not leaving the birthing chamber until our child can come with me. I could very well be our last line of defense. Please teach me.
Realizing that the mood of our conversation had shifted away from romance to far more serious topics, Aristos set the tray of food on the floor and propped us both up into more of a sitting position, settling me back to rest against his chest. I agree you should be trained. I’ll have Commander Taleoek assess your abilities and work with you in private until he feels you’re ready to join his class. I know you’re no stranger to combat training given the sparring you used to do with Austin, but this is brutal, Cami. Even with the safety measures we take serious injuries are common. Only about a third of the class will even graduate. Odds are they’ll break your nose more than once, you’ll have almost constant black eyes and split lips, you’ll receive hundreds of stitches from superficial but still painful cuts, and your hands will become nearly as calloused as my own. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand to see you hurt. It’s probably best not to tell me who you spar with in case I decide they went too far. I don’t think Taleoek would appreciate me killing off his students.
I couldn’t help letting out a short chirp of laughter. I had a feeling the other students would be plenty scared to lay a hand on me without his threats. Don’t you dare, mister. I won’t learn anything if they’re afraid to get within ten feet of me. We need to make it clear my abdomen is off limits—for obvious reasons—but other than that I’m fair game. But further talk of my training can wait. If we’re going to get hitched tonight, I need to get cleaned up and try on my armor. Naome and Serienne will need to get ready, too. I’d seen through my goddess sight that they’d been released from the infirmary, although they were still on the equivalent of bed rest. There was no way I was going through my bonding ceremony without having them there, even if they had to be carried into the High Court building.
Fair enough. Aristos made me eat three more tiger fish rolls, four widow crab legs and several of the deliciously sweet honeytails before he was satisfied I’d consumed enough calories for our growing child. I was so full it hurt to breathe. If this kept up I’d need to train for hours each day just to keep from being transformed into a whale. We exchanged several soft, intimate kisses before he allowed Armiele to enter, promising that he’d ready my armor while she bathed me.
It felt so good to see my beloved handmaiden again that I pulled her into a tight hug the moment she swam through the doorway. She had her pumpkin-orange hair pulled up in a severe bun today with only two thin braids hanging down in front of her ears, making her look like a mermaid librarian. Her beaming smile accentuated the laugh lines around her mouth, and made it obvious she’d been listening in to at least part of our conversation. Congratulations, my beautiful young queen. I couldn’t help but overhear you are carrying our next princess inside your womb. What a joyous day for us all. You are going to make a wonderful mother.
Thank you, Armiele. I have so much to learn. Can you believe I’ve never even changed a diaper or prepared a bottle? I’ll need you to teach me… well, pretty much everything. I had no idea if Syreni had the equivalent of God-parents or not, but I wanted her to feel like more than a caregiver to my child. At some point I’d come to think of her as more of my grandma than my handmaiden. She was family to me.
Based on the series of rapid-fire kisses I received and her bone crunching hug, I’d inadvertently projected my thoughts again. When she finally pulled back she placed her hands on my cheeks and kissed me again in the tight-lipped way all grandmothers mastered. I’d be overjoyed if you were to call me Avia, the Latin equivalent of grandmother we’ve adopted. I’ve thought of you as my neptem—my granddaughter—for some time now. I swear by the gods I will love your children as if they were my own. Now let’s get you ready for your bonding ceremony. I’ve never dressed a female in armor for a formal ceremony before. This should be interesting.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The ties that bind
* * *
You look fierce and exquisite, my queen, Armiele commented, her adept fingers tightening the last of the leather straps securing the burgundy-colored steel forearm guard to my right arm.
As with the rest of the interlocking pieces of armor she’d dressed me in, it attached to the jointed metal piece covering my elbow without leaving even the tiniest of gaps to exploit. My beautifully etched golden breastplate bore a lifelike image of Neptune and Poseidon, charging forward with their weapons raised as if they were personally leading me into battle. Burgundy-colored chain mail emerged from beneath my golden plate-armor skirt to stretch all the way down to my flukes, hugging every curve of my tail like a second skin. I’d never seen a Syreni warrior wear armor to protect their tail before. The chain mail sheath was no doubt the result of a special request from my soon-to-be compar. Given his willingness to have me trained, I wasn’t about to complain. It actually looked pretty badass, and had a section above my abdomen that could be opened up to allow me to give birth while wearing it.
The gold-trimmed, burgundy metal gauntlets Armiele slid onto my hands fit just as perfectly as everything else General Quinn had forged for me, allowing my fingers to maintain a full range of movement. Strips of golden metal extended down from my burgundy helmet to cover my nose and jaw-line, continuing the two-tone motif of my armor. Diamonds and rubies were imbedded into the section of the helmet covering my forehead, allowing it to also serve as my crown. I now had an impressive arsenal of weapons as well. A double-edged golden broadsword with a burgundy handle and a hand-guard shaped like two Syreni tails curving outward was sheathed at my waist, along with a heavily jeweled and much shorter dagger. I’d been given a long bow and a metal-tipped spear to train with as well. I could hardly wait for my first lesson with Commander Taleoek.
To preserve the surprise for the council members and regional delegates who’d be attending our bonding ceremony, I’d swam to the High Court building dressed in the queen’s jewels rather than my armor. Getting dressed in the infirmary also allowed me observe the human tradition of not having the groom see the bride in her dress—or in my case, battle armor—before the wedding, and let me share the experience with my still recovering but no longer bedridden bridesmaids.
If you’re going to puke, at least let us clear out first, Naome teased, her playful dig accompanied by her usual sharp-eyed smirk. I mean, I know it’s kind of your pre-game routine and all. My queen.
I rolled my eyes at her last ditch attempt to add a degree of formality to her snide comment. Damn Aristos for stuffing me chuck full of fish like a Christmas turkey. Between the all-you-can-eat buffet, my nerves and the lengthy swim, I was feeling more than a bit queasy now that she mentioned it. I’ll do my best, fishgirl.
Throwing the derogatory nickname she’d coined for Aristos back at her now that she had a beautiful tail of her own had the impact I was hoping for, making both her and Serienne let out chirps of laughter. Their flukes were fully grown in now, leaving their reshaped bodies looking almost passable as Syreni females. Only the long rows of stitches from the multitude of surgeries they’d undergone and the lack of soulcras gave them away.
Touché. She gave herself a long, self-assessing look, taking in her sky blue tail and purple flukes—which tied in perfectly with her ombre-colored lips—as if she was seeing them for the first time. I guess I’ll need some new material. General tight-ass has a nice ring to it.
She’s kidding! Serienne frantically assured Armiele when my handmaiden’s jaw fell open, aghast at the insult to our crowned prince and future king. She didn’t relax until I nodded, confirming that it was all in good fun. Given her ultra-formal upbringing, it’d take time for Armiele to get used to being around my always irreverent best friend. I could only hope Naome didn’t say anything too scathing in mixed company before everyone got to know her better and developed an appreciation for her twisted sense of humor.
With her florescent chartreuse coloring and bleached platinum hair, Serienne was almost blinding to look at. They’d given her dark coal flukes, but that did little to provide much needed contrast to balance out her features. Shaving her head for her purification ceremony would help, as it would allow her natural dirty blonde roots to grow in and get rid of the three-inch-wide skunk streak she was currently sporting. Even so, I’d have to get Armiele to darken her eyes and maybe add some black accent tattoos on her cheeks and forehead. Come to think of it, Naome would benefit from my handmaiden services, too. I could already picture her eyes shaded dark navy with big flowery blooms decorating her cheeks.
I let out a joyous chirp as I realized I’d just come up with the perfect gift for my sisters. All of Teresolee would know how special they were to me. As a bridesmaid gift to you both, I’d like to have Armiele decorate your faces with the identical flower pattern as my own, only in your unique accent colors. Everyone will know you share the markings of the Syreni queen, and that you hold a special place in my heart. If you’re willing, that is. The last time I was in here, you were both a little shocked by my divine makeover. I’m not going to force you to get facial tattoos you don’t want. Even if it is a super cool idea.
When they both stared blankly at me for several seconds I almost lost my nerve and told them to forget I’d ever mentioned it. Until I noticed the faint trembling of Serienne’s lips, and the look of absolute devotion in both their eyes. Whether they were in favor of the tattoos or not, they clearly grasped the significance of the gesture. They sandwiched me in an awkward hug, pressing their still healing bodies tight against my armor without any regard for their own wellbeing. Thankfully Aristos had removed my chastity belt after we’d entered the High Court building so I could don my armor. Only Naome—as a healer-apprentice—was exempt from the rule prohibiting anyone other than Aristos, my servants and our healers from touching me while I was wearing it. The impromptu hug made it clear I’d have to take on Serienne as a servant of some sort so she had the same kind of freedom. Physical contact with my sisters was inevitable.
Careful, ladies! Armiele cautioned, forcing them to ease back from me with a gentle press of her hand against their shoulders. I promised our master healer you wouldn’t exert yourselves if she allowed you to participate in the ceremony. Please don’t make a liar out of me.
After apologizing to my handmaiden they peppered her with questions, trying to pin her down on when she could do their tattoos, what colors she had in mind, and sharing some of their own ideas for their eyes. I couldn’t wait to see the result of Armiele’s handiwork, but we’d have to, as Naome and Serienne would have to be fully healed before undergoing the unnecessary cosmetic procedure.
Our glam session was broken up by Commander Sennika, who entered the infirmary after giving us a polite knock on the partially opened wooden door. A somewhat wolfish, wide grin spread across his boyish-looking face when he took in the sight of me in my battle armor. He dropped into a formal bow before me. A more beautiful warrior, I have never seen, my queen.
Since I’m likely the only female you’ve seen in armor, your compliment rings shallow, commander, I teased. I could interpret your words to mean I’d only be considered pretty if I was surrounded by burly males with unkempt beards.
I suppose you could, he agreed, his smile only growing wider. He seemed thrilled to be charged with prot
ecting someone who wasn’t a silver spoon aristocrat with a stick up their ass. I dare say you could hold your own even among those of us who are cleanly shaven.
That earned a laugh out of all of us. You flatter me, Commander. Are they ready for us?
He nodded, opening the door wider to allow us to pass. Kilas, Vanimure and Fryliwan are waiting in the hall to lead you in. I’ll bring up the rear.
Armiele took my gauntlet-covered hands in hers, her seasoned orange eyes bearing the look of a coach preparing to instill some last minute wisdom before sending their players onto the field. Wait for Chancellor Venerack to announce you before you enter. And remember to remove your helmet and bow to our king when you reach the dais, placing your sword on the marble before him. Do you recall what to say?
I nodded, having rehearsed the lines with her during the entire swim from our house to the High Court building. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Avia. I love you.
Hearing me call her Grandma for the first time earned me a kiss. I love you too, sweet child. As does Aristos. I never thought I would see that poor boy happy again. He is head over heels in love with you.
Feeling my cheeks flush, I thought about pointing out that we didn’t have heels, per se, but I didn’t want to ruin the sweet moment with a snarky joke. Instead I decided to share a heartfelt confession of my own. When you told me I’d be grateful you kept me from killing myself someday I thought you were crazy. But here I am. About to be bonded to a man that I love and pregnant with a daughter I can’t wait to meet. Our little Vanessa couldn’t have a better god-mother.
Naome and Serienne turned toward me, their mouths agape at the news that my first child would be named after the mutual friend we’d lost coming here. Not that she’d been the only casualty. I’d already decided that if I lived long enough to have two more daughters, they’d be named Lissy and Nicole. Honoring their memory by letting them have a life of sorts in Teresolee was the least I could do. Maybe the gods would even allow their reincarnated souls to inhabit them. My sisters couldn’t resist embracing me in their arms again, even though it brought Armiele’s ire down upon them.
Kerrigan's Race (The Syreni Book 1) Page 19
