by Ryan Wieser
Jessop looked to Trax, knowing he had likely not seen his father in a very long time. Trips back beyond the Grey to deal with raiders and illicit activities did not ensure a meeting with his tribal leaders. Dezane was equally occupied, often travelling to meet with tribesmen, attend gatherings, and provide dispute resolution. Trax’s jaw was tensed but his lips moved in time with the heavy breaths of his Kuroi brethren, and his eyes stayed on his father. Soon, she and Falco would go down to meet Dezane and welcome him into the Blade while his warriors were escorted to their tower to be fed and tended to. Trax would watch Jeco while they brought his father up. As he neared Jessop, she handed her son to him carefully, all three of them keeping their eyes on the approaching Kuroi.
Trax leaned closer to her, keeping his voice quiet. “Who walks with my father?”
Jessop narrowed her eyes on Dezane and those who walked in line with him. At his side, marching in tow with the warriors, was a woman. Jessop cocked her head. The Kuroi were liberal in many things, but she did not recall hearing of any female warrior. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, wondering how she had not come to hear of such a woman, given her own unique station.
The Kuroi woman was a great beauty, with long braids that reached her hips, full lips, painted dark skin, and glowing yellow eyes. She carried a short sword on her hip and a spear on her back, clearly a warrior.
Jessop was about to tell Trax that she had no idea who walked with his father, when suddenly the yellow eyes of the woman, from so far away, locked on Jessop. She knew in an instant who had arrived in the Red City. Stunned, Jessop managed to nod slowly to the woman, who stared up at her with an unblinking concentration. Jessop couldn’t believe it.
“That, Trax, is Mar’e Makenen.”
CHAPTER 8
Aranthol
Two years ago
For the third night in a row, Jessop couldn’t sleep. She rolled over in the large bed she shared with Falco. It had been several weeks since their fourth wedding anniversary, a time of year they usually reserved for one another, but they had both seemed busier than ever before. They had worked on her Sentio daily. Falco would sift through memories, pushing thoughts at her, trying to enter her mind without her knowledge. Fending him off had been exhausting in the beginning, but she had been capable of it. After years of practice, she could close her mind to him whenever it pleased her. He said it was a rare skill she possessed, but that did not impress her or fill her with a sense of pride. She and Falco were known rarities.
When they weren’t working on Sentio, they were in the Pit, and if they weren’t in the Pit they were convening with Corin or welcoming newcomers to Aranthol, all the while enhancing their security checks. They knew that protecting their home would never be more important than in the coming months. They performed random searches in the streets, home checks in the boroughs, and they implemented more thorough customs processes. They had spent night and day preparing for her impending departure, and the time had finally come. She was truly exhausted—and yet, she did not sleep.
She had stressed daily over the passing time—when they had first formulated their plan, she had thought it would be executed in weeks. Years had passed, and each day had brought more intense training. Each day she learned that she had not been capable of the plan the day before. Each day she learned that by the following, she would be more prepared. In the recent weeks, they had both known that the time had come. Her mind was a fortress, her sword hand unparalleled. Though she knew Falco worried still, often thinking of Hydo and the man’s renowned skill, she did not feel fear—she felt ready and trapped. She did not want to voice what she already felt so certain of in her heart. Her body was changing, and she was the only one to have noticed.
Falco rolled over, his hand finding hers in half-sleep. She squeezed his fingers tightly. The plan was brilliant. She was supposed to infiltrate the Blade and win over the trust of the Hunters, the only woman to ever attempt such a feat—the only woman likely capable—and when the moment came, she would grant Falco access to the Hunters’ home. Then, together, they would take the Blade. It would be a violent affair, but his brothers would come to see reason. He was the true Protector—he was their destined leader.
She looked past Falco, to where his Hunter’s blade rested beside their bed. She knew that she was supposed to take the weapon as her own and start the process that would change their lives forever. She knew that everything they had worked so hard for had been within their grasp. She lowered her free hand to her stomach. She felt anger, and something perhaps resembling fear. She knew the plan would have to be postponed again, if not entirely abandoned…She felt the tears streaking her cheeks, pooling between her skin and the cushions. She had put off speaking to him for as long as possible. She squeezed his hand tightly.
“Falco,” she whispered. With ease he woke, never a deep sleeper.
“What is it?”
Her thumb brushed over her navel, her fingers grazing against the smooth skin of her stomach. She thought of the Blade. She thought of vengeance. She thought of the reaction Falco would have when he knew—
“You’re pregnant,” he whispered to her.
* * * *
He was laughing at her. Falco, who nearly never cracked a smile, was openly chuckling. She slowly looked over her shoulder to see him. His wide smile pinched his face as he tried to suppress his amusement.
“What is so funny?” she growled.
He stood and came around the side of the bed, standing before her. “Just let me help you up.”
She ran her hands over her swollen abdomen. “I don’t need help.” She chewed her lip, knowing that was possibly the first time she had ever lied to Falco. She was three full moons away from birthing and she had never been larger in her life. Her stomach protruded so far out that her breasts rested freely upon it. The scar of where her belly cord had once been had grown outward. Her legs were certainly fuller, though she had much muscle to rely on to carry her newfound weight.
Her back ached with an unceasing pain. If she attempted to rest in any position other than her left side, surrounded by soft cushions, she felt ill, as though all her organs were misplaced. Her hair, however much shinier, needed to be constantly pulled atop her head for she couldn’t stand the heat it brought on her neck. Her skin was as dry as that of a foreigner in the desert lands. She hadn’t slept since she first fell ill with pregnancy nausea. She woke abruptly in the night, for no reason it seemed, just to think about the life that grew inside her.
She longed for their child to be born for many selfish reasons. She wanted to reclaim her body—to eat and drink and train as she had done every day for years. She wanted to see the child, to actually lay eyes upon the baby and know it was safe and well. She lived in constant fear that something she was doing was harming the baby. She had grown neurotic about the foods presented to her. Falco had even employed a taste tester, to check each meal prepared for poison.
Most selfish of all though was Jessop’s concern for her marriage. While the child was everything that was good to them, and they had never been more excited for a new future together, she knew how her body had changed. Falco and she had possessed a fiercely physical relationship—whether they were sparring or falling into bed together, they clung to one another’s forms. They each relied on their own physical power to fight, and to love. They would rely on it to keep their child safe, though they both knew a child born of them would possess unparalleled abilities.
Falco had insisted he loved her fuller form, though he touched her with caution. He knew her breasts were tender, her back sore, her body tired from sleeplessness and the dedicated growth of their young one. Jessop knew the toll taken on her form was well worth it. She had never imagined loving anyone more than she loved Falco, or even in the same measure, and yet, as soon as she had felt her infant kick firmly inside her, she had felt just that. She had known instantly that the baby would be
what stopped her and Falco from leading completely selfish lives. Everything that they had once planned for themselves, they had since modified for their child. Their future was designed around ensuring the baby would have every opportunity, every privilege and security. Still, in a small and seemingly trivial way, she worried about her large frame and newfound fragility.
She looked up into Falco’s eyes and reluctantly raised her hands to him. He grabbed onto her gently and pulled her off the bed. She rested against him, safe in his strong arms. “I need to bathe,” she explained.
He kissed her forehead. “Let me help you then.”
She held his gaze for the longest of moments, wondering if her pride was worth the risk of him actually acquiescing to her claims and not helping. She knew she was wrong.
He smiled softly. “I insist.”
She nodded, walking with him to the bathing chamber.
She pulled at the strings of her tunic. She had needed an entirely new wardrobe. Nothing of her former collection could contain her new form. Falco had commissioned the designs, ensuring she wore the finest his money and power could purchase. She thought it was a waste of coin to invest in such finery—she wouldn’t need these clothes again. She tried removing her clothes discreetly, without any slow seduction. She felt swollen and unappealing.
He stood behind her and closed his hands around hers. “Jessop, I wish to lay eyes on my wife.” His voice was deep, serious but soft. She knew that while he still longed for her, it was she who struggled.
He ran his hands over her shoulders, gently around the sides of her breasts, and rested them on her bump. “You are perfect,” he whispered against her neck.
She looked down, keeping her eyes on his hands as they traveled over her swollen stomach. “It is hard for me…for you to see me this way.”
“What way? You have grown to carry the child we made together. Your body has moved bone and muscle and organ to accommodate our baby. I had never thought it possible to love you, or want you, more than I did before…and yet, here we are.”
She turned in his arms, resting her head against his chest. “I love you, Falco.”
“And I you, Jessop.”
* * * *
Jessop squatted low, pushing her back against the foot of their bed, exhaling heavily. The early hours of labor had arrived and she spent them with Korend’a. The child hadn’t been due for another ten days at least. Falco had needed to see to an illegal shipment stopped at customs. A brawl had broken out and several citizens had been killed. He had been gone for hours, and though Korend’a had sent word for him, they had heard nothing in return.
“Horen’da hei?” She demanded, reaching for Korend’a’s hand. He helped her back to an upright position and she kept her firm grip on him.
“I don’t know where he is, Oray-Ha, but I imagine he will return soon. Corin knows you have entered labor; guards have been dispatched for him. He will be here.”
She studied his soft eyes. If she had to be with anyone other than Falco, she was glad it was Korend’a. She had spent many months with plagued sleep. She would have nightmares of delivering their child without Falco present. He had insisted she was wrong, that he would be by her side for the entirety of the ordeal. Neither of them could have known, when he was called away in the middle of the night, that she would be delivering early. However unintentional, she felt angered still.
She had been angry with him for his absence and also with Hydo, more during her pregnancy than ever before. He had robbed her of the people who should most be at her side during such times. He had robbed them of seeing her grow into a woman capable of giving them a grandchild. He had set her and Falco’s lives onto the course they had traveled, and in that way, Jessop found it possible to blame him directly for Falco being summoned to his customs dock in the middle of the night.
The pain came in a wave. It tore through her entire body, rippling through her muscles, gravity forcing the child into its descent. Her knees buckled as she grit her teeth. Korend’a held her steady.
“Breathe through the pain, Oray-Ha,” he advised, holding her upright.
She rested her forehead against his chest. “Where is that blasted medic?”
“Here!”
The elderly man with a beard to rival Corin’s appeared. He was blind in one eye and had a scar across his old face, but despite age or injury, he was touted as being the best. Falco had asked if she would prefer he find a female medic, willing to search outside of Aranthol for one, but she had declined. She had been raised as a sole woman amongst men in the Shadow City. She didn’t need a female friend, a female guard, a female servant, or a female medic. She had lived as one of the men for many years; she hadn’t anticipated childbirth changing that feeling of belonging so greatly. Yet, as she clung to Korend’a, she did find herself longing to be in the company of a mother—any woman who had undergone such torment. A man couldn’t truly know if everything were going according to plan, could he? He couldn’t see her pain and ever claim to have experienced the same.
She dragged Korend’a into a squatting position, keeping her arms on his shoulders for balance. The medic made his way over to them, carrying a large satchel. He placed the bag on the bed and began ordering instructions to the guard in the doorway. He needed to sterilize his instruments and requested hot water be brought to them.
Jessop eyed the old man from her crouched-down position. “Tell me, physician, how many children have you helped bring into the world?”
He seemed to be doing a mental calculation. “Perhaps close to several hundred now, my Lady, but none so important as the child of the Banes.”
Jessop dug her fingers into Korend’a, knowing another wave was approaching. “I need a medic, sir, not a sycophant.”
The old man nodded sharply. “Of course, my Lady. I only meant the child of the Arantholi Lord will be great indeed.”
“I know what y—arghh!”
“Breathe, Oray-Ha!”
* * * *
He was perfect. He had pale gray eyes, circled in dark lashes, and he took to her breast without hassle. Falco rested beside her, staring down at his son with unblinking intensity. “I told you I wouldn’t miss it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You came running through the door at the exact moment.”
Falco kissed her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
She ran a finger softly over the baby’s cheek. “You saw him breathe his first. That is all that matters.”
He reached over and touched the boy’s small face. “And I will love him long after I breathe my last. As I do his mother.”
Jessop smiled but she did not take her eyes off of her son. The agony of bringing him into the world paled in comparison to seeing the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She knew that the love she felt for him as he grew inside her these many months had only multiplied with his arrival. She thought no longer of the toll he had taken on her body. Instead, she saw only his perfect skin, his father’s eyes, the curve of his lip, and knew all she had done she had done to fashion his form.
She knew in an instant that she would have done it all over again. They had never discussed a family. Orphaned at such young ages, they were the only family one another knew, the only family they needed. Yet their son was the greatest joy either had ever known. “Jeco Bane,” she whispered, holding him closer to her beating heart. They had decided the name together—a combination of their own forenames.
“Jeco Jero Bane,” Falco corrected.
She turned to him. “You honor my parents.”
He smiled at her softly. “Our son does.”
* * * *
For months after Jeco’s birth, neither Falco nor Jessop slept. Whether their son slept or woke, cried or rested, they were watching over him. During the days, Korend’a would be at their side, tending to the child as though he too were the boy’s parent. Falco had incre
ased the guards so that wherever the boy went, in the arms of Jessop or Falco, he was accompanied by four additional Kuroi guardsmen. Korend’a had helped in choosing those for the assignment, insisting he vet all the options.
Jessop had known as soon as they found out about the pregnancy that their plans had been indefinitely delayed, and as she held her son in her arms, she could not imagine ever leaving his side. Yet, they could sense his power already. He was a child who rarely cried, he had a calming effect on all who neared him, and he was pensive, even in such infancy. “He deserves all of Daharia,” Falco had said.
He was right. Their son would be the leader of their galaxy. He had great power and deserved a position from which to rule, and it was up to her and Falco to carve that position out for him. He was the son of the true Protector of the Blade of Light—they knew his destiny. “And all of Daharia he will have,” she agreed.
CHAPTER 9
Aranthol
Eight months ago
“He’s sanctimonious…Even as a boy he walked around with this holier-than-thou attitude. So bloody moral all the time,” Falco sneered, rolling onto his back and lifting Jeco up above him.
“Yes, he’s self-righteous, isn’t he, little man?” he continued, his voice mimicking that of a child as he stirred laughter from his young son.
Jessop stared at Falco. He had told her everything there was to know about Hydo Jesuin, the murderer of her parents and Falco’s former mentor. She knew that Hydo had a liking for green eyed-women and the drink, but that he saved his deviousness for regions beyond Azgul. He kept up appearances always, he made rational decisions when sober, and he was a master with a blade. Falco had no issue disparaging the man, but he made a point of telling Jessop that the Hunter Lord had won his mantle fair and square—his abilities were not trivial.
