by J D Abbas
“What happened?” Celdorn asked.
“I don’t want to tell you,” Elena replied, still staring as her body trembled.
“Tell me anyway,”
She turned her gaze to Celdorn, tears ready to spill. “Forgive me, Ada.” Her voice was filled with grief as she looked from Celdorn to Elbrion and back.
Alarmed by her words, Celdorn knelt and ripped open her shirt. There was a bloody gash above her left breast. “What did you do?”
Elbrion grabbed the cloth by her basin and pressed it against the wound.
“I had my dagger over my heart. I planned to pierce it through and end this misery,” she admitted as tears slid down her cheeks. “But when I tried to shove it into my flesh, I felt a powerful surge of energy, and light burst against the blade, sending the dagger across the room.”
Celdorn gasped and gripped her arm. Elena buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t stand the thought of... of Domar’s seed... this awful thing inside me.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand, to see the depth of her agony. And as much as was possible for a man to understand, he did.
“But...but I know now that the light which pushed against the blade...came from...came from the baby.” The last words were a whisper. Her gaze shifted to her belly as she gently caressed it. “In that moment, I knew this child was filled with light, and she will be a mighty foe of the Zhekhum.”
Elbrion knelt next to Celdorn, again pressing the cloth to her chest, and they each grasped one of her hands.
“She?” Celdorn asked.
“Yes, I know it’s a girl. I can’t tell you how, but I know,”
“A granddaughter...” Celdorn murmured as he laid his hand on her slightly swollen belly. Elbrion placed his alongside, and the words of blessing he uttered lit her flesh.
“She is already a warrior,” Elbrion said with a grin. “She has deflected her first blade.” He cupped Elena’s cheek and stared into her eyes for a time, iridescent tears welling in his. “And I am so grateful she did, Sheya,” he said as color-laden drops slid down his cheeks. “I do not know how I would bear”—his voice broke—“the loss of you.” He leaned his brow into hers, his shoulders shuddering.
“I’m sorry for being so selfish, Ada. I didn’t think how this might hurt you...or the others.” Her gaze drifted to the door to Celdorn’s room.
The three sat quietly for a time. Tears and tender caresses flowed.
Celdorn finally broke the silence. “Elena, you are surrounded by love in this place. We—my men and I—have chosen to be a family to you, and we take that responsibility and commitment seriously and with deep love. The knowledge of this life within you changes nothing of our affection or our intent, only our plans. While no one can carry this child for you nor change her paternal seed, we can come alongside you and support you in whatever ways are necessary.
“We feel it’s best for you, and for her”—he nodded toward her womb—“for us to take you to Queyon, where you’ll be free to move about, unhindered by concern of rumor or reputation. No threat can enter Queyon. You’ll be safe to finish the duration of this pregnancy and to bring her forth in a place more suitable for an infant.”
“I won’t argue with your wisdom again, Ada.” She caressed her belly. “ I’ll do whatever you think best for us.”
“Then I’ll see to it that preparations get underway. We’ll leave tomorrow.”
Chapter 21
The next morning, Elena sat by the hearth in Celdorn’s room while a flurry of activity erupted around her as packs and provisions were readied for their journey. She hugged herself and leaned toward the fire, still finding it difficult to keep warm. Though it was summer outside, the castle walls kept the heat from penetrating the inner rooms and Elena’s wasted frame.
Mikaelin approached tentatively, as if unsure as to her current state of mind and not wishing to rouse her anger. “How are you this morning?”
“Saner than yesterday,” she replied with a weak grin. “How are you?” She turned and studied him. He seemed to be fully recovered from the arrow wounds. “I haven’t had a chance to speak with you since you were near death.” With her heart doing a sudden dance in her chest, her voice came out weak and shaky.
“And I haven’t had opportunity to thank you for healing me. I don’t remember much, but I know I would have died had you not intervened.” He dropped into the chair next to hers.
Elena searched his face, hoping for a sign or acknowledgment of what had passed between them. Nothing. Not a twinge. “Do you remember...what you said to me?”
He returned her gaze. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. What did I say?”
Elena looked down as the heat rose in her cheeks.
Mikaelin leaned forward. “Did I say something offensive?”
“No ... no, not at all. Quite the contrary ...” She stopped.
He lifted her chin. “Elena, what did I say? Please tell me.”
“I-I didn’t understand your meaning until yesterday. Now, I’m terribly confused.” She paused again. Mikaelin waited, his expression open. “You ...you said that you loved me and—” He released her face and stared at the ground. “And that if you were a ... a whole man, you would have been the one to ask for my hand. I assume you were referring to Silvandir’s intentions, which you knew about long before I did.” She searched his face. “Did you mean what you said? Would you have asked me?”
He squirmed and glanced over his shoulder. “I-I can’t believe I said that.”
“It’s not true then?” Tears immediately stung her eyes, but she willed them back.
Mikaelin wouldn’t look at her. “Elena, I do ...care for you. You know that. But ... but I must have spoken from the delirium. Silvandir’s the one in love with you. He has been for some time. He’s the best man I can think of for you. He’s able to give you everything you need.”
Elena gripped her hands together until her fingers turned white. After she got control of herself, she lifted her head and stuck out her chin, waiting for him to meet her gaze. When he did, she looked at him squarely. “I’ll tell you what I told you that day—and I was not speaking from delirium. I love you as you are, Mikaelin, and I wouldn’t want you to be otherwise.” She was frustrated with herself when her chin began to quiver. “You have been a gift to my life. You are a great man.”
Mikaelin looked away, his voice almost lost in the bustle of the room. “He’s the better man.”
“I don’t agree,” she whispered. “You don’t see what I see.”
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “I will always be your friend, Elena, but ... but I don’t love you ... like that. I’m not capable of that kind of love. You, of all people, should know that.”
“You’re lying to me,” she sobbed. “I can feel it. This is the first time you’ve ever deceived me. I don’t understand.”
Mikaelin’s body tensed. “It grieves me to hurt you, but it’s the truth. I don’t love you in that way. I love you as a friend ... and sister”—he reached out and touched her cheek with a tenderness that belied his words—“not as a lover ought.”
She shoved his hand away, fighting the urge to strike him, then turned and fled to her room. Once again, she wished Sasha were at her heels.
~
Mikaelin despised himself. He eased out of the chair and struggled to find his balance as Elena’s emotions bombarded him, along with his own, a whirlwind mix he couldn’t separate or define. Fighting tears that longed to fall, he stumbled onto the balcony to regain control over the emotional cacophony that threatened to tear him in two.
Someone followed him onto the terrace. When Mikaelin heard the door, he moved closer to the railing in hopes he could hide his face.
“Mikaelin, we need to talk,” Celdorn said as he approached.
He didn’t turn. “About what?”
“Elena.”
Mikaelin’s hands curled into fists; he couldn’t breathe.
>
“I heard the words you spoke when you were near death. Is that what Elena was discussing with you?”
“Yes ...” He swallowed and forced the words out. “I-I don’t remember saying them.”
“But you did, and they were truth.”
“I was delirious, Celdorn. I didn’t know what I was saying. I would never have spoken those things in my right mind.”
“It’s my experience that men’s truest feelings come forth in those moments when they’re facing imminent death. Can you look me in the eye and deny what was said?” Celdorn leaned on the balustrade so he could see Mikaelin’s face.
Mikaelin fixed his eyes on the garden below. After several shaky attempts at breathing, he finally rasped, “Silvandir is in love with her”—he couldn’t even bring himself to say her name aloud—“and ... and has asked for her hand.” He finally turned and looked at Celdorn, doing his best to hold his chin steady. “That’s all the truth we need to discuss.”
“But it seems her heart is bent toward you.”
“Then it must be unbent.” Mikaelin turned back to the mountains as he suppressed the sob that rose in his chest. “He’s the better man. He can give her what she needs. You know as well as I do, I’m far too broken. I’m mutilated and disfigured on the outside and angry, bitter, and cynical within. I appear a man but don’t know if I can even function as one. It’s difficult for me to endure the simplest touch. My heart has been frozen so long it doesn’t know how to allow another in. You understand”—he eyed Celdorn sideways—“your heart is the same, which is why we remain alone.” Blinking furiously, Mikaelin’s gaze fixed on the peaks above. “She deserves better, and as her father you have chosen appropriately.”
“But she has penetrated your heart and you hers. I didn’t know that at the time. I want only Elena’s happiness.”
“Then you must encourage her to love Silvandir.”
Celdorn sighed and stared off at Mount Iliand. “You have to know that even if I urge her toward Silvandir, I can’t control her affections. I don’t know how she feels about him, but I do know she declared some love for you. She was desperate not to lose you.”
Mikaelin recalled the hurt in Elena’s eyes. She’d taken such a risk to ask him about his feelings toward her, and he’d crushed her. How would he live with himself? “She’s upset ... confused. What she feels for me isn’t love, not romantic love. I-I absorbed her wounds and memories. She knows we share common ground. It’s safety, a familiar place—not love.” Is that what he felt for her as well?
Celdorn frowned. “Only Elena can say if that’s true or not.”
“I also know she loves Silvandir, in some way. You must have noticed their interactions. Circumstances have thrust them together time and again. There’s genuine affection between them; I can feel it”—Mikaelin tapped his chest—“as I’m sure you can.” He didn’t know if it was Celdorn or himself he was trying to convince.
Celdorn scrubbed at his beard. “Either way, the choice is ultimately hers.”
“There is no choice, Celdorn. I’m not an option.” Mikaelin grasped the rail with both hands and squeezed till it hurt. “I love Silvandir. He’s my dearest friend. I would not ... I could not hurt him like that. His heart is completely and utterly given to her.” Another sob rose, and he swallowed it down. This was the only decision he could live with. Even if it killed him. “Please, don’t press me on this.”
Celdorn finally gave a slow nod. “You are a great man. Elena was right.” He put his hand on Mikaelin’s shoulder. “I will honor your wishes and speak of this no more.”
Unable to hold back his tears any longer, Mikaelin leaned into Celdorn’s chest and wept as his arms tightened around him. “I’m so proud of you, and so honored to know you.”
At Celdorn’s words, Mikaelin’s tears increased, certain his heart was shattering, never to be whole again. Celdorn’s chest gave an empathetic shudder, and he leaned his cheek against Mikaelin’s head.
When Mikaelin finally grew quiet, Celdorn patted him on the back and, with a heavy sigh, left him to his solitude.
Chapter 22
Celdorn called Dalgo to his chambers a short time later. When the healer arrived, he summoned Elena. She emerged from her room with red-rimmed eyes.
Celdorn laid his hand on her head. “Little one, I would like Dalgo to check your stitches before we depart, and I want him to examine your womb and make sure you are fit to travel.” When Elena stared at him with horror, he added, “Dalgo has monitored numerous women with child and has brought forth a great many healthy children into this world. I trust his judgment.”
Elena’s body sagged and she nodded, as if she had no energy left to argue. Her sadness flooded Celdorn’s body. In that moment, he felt his lack as a father. He knew she was heartbroken over Mikaelin, but there was nothing he could do to mend that. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into an awkward sideways hug, chafing her arm.
Celdorn told Dalgo they could use his bed while he sent the others into Elbrion’s room to work on the final preparations for the trip.
“Stay with me, Ada,” Elena said as Celdorn turned to leave. “Please.”
Elena looked so young and frightened as she reached toward him. He helped her onto the bed, pulled a chair next to it, and gripped her hand.
The healer approached. “Elena, I am so sorry for the shock we gave you. I should have realized sooner that you were with child. The ongoing nausea you’ve been experiencing and your lack of menses should have alerted me. Unfortunately, I attributed those things to the trauma you’d undergone. Forgive me for being so negligent in my duties.” Dalgo hung his head.
Elena surprised Celdorn when she gave a bitter laugh. “If anyone should have noticed the changes, it should have been me, Dalgo. But, like you, I just assumed my body was recovering. Is it really possible that the baby could be safe or healthy after all that has happened.”
Dalgo smiled. “Babies are resilient creatures, and mothers’ wombs are adaptive and protective. Once I examine you, I’ll have a better idea.”
Elena stiffened at his words.
“I think we’ll start with the arrow wounds.” Dalgo squeezed her foot and gave her a reassuring smile. The injury sites were still blackened and slow in their healing but none of them festered or bled, which Dalgo said was a good sign.
“Elena, I’m going to check your womb now. Try to breathe and relax as best you can.”
As soon as Dalgo touched her, Elena didn’t move. Celdorn encouraged her to breathe as he stroked her hair. He even inhaled for her, but she lay motionless, her face frozen with terror.
“All seems well with the baby,” Dalgo said, though his brow wrinkled with puzzlement. “I would say you are four to five months along. You should be fine to travel for now.” He pulled his hand away and patted her knee with the other.
When he stepped to the side to wash his hands, Dalgo nodded to Celdorn to move with him, leaving Elena to dress.
Noting his expression, Celdorn asked, “What is it?”
“I can’t believe what I found,” Dalgo whispered. “Although she’s definitely with child, she otherwise appears... her body is like that of a... of a maiden, as if no man had ever touched her. Her innocence has been completely restored.” T
Celdorn stared at Dalgo in disbelief. Although he did not fully understand the mechanics of the female body, he realized the implications of this for Elena’s future—and the way she viewed herself.
A soft cry came from the bed, and they turned to see Elena, curled in a fetal position and growing smaller. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Celdorn cried as he ran to her and clasped her hand—which continued to shrink in his grip. “Dalgo, get Elbrion. Hurry!”
By the time Elbrion arrived, Elena was the size of a newborn. She lay there naked and so vulnerable and lost on the huge bed. Celdorn stood by helplessly, not knowing what to do and afraid to touch the tiny creature.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Elbrion
climbed onto the bed and lay beside the infant, curling his body around her tiny form. He pulled a blanket over the top of her so that she was completely covered. Celdorn collapsed into a chair next to the bed and watched, his heart pounding.
Elbrion spoke to the infant in Elnar, then he changed to Borok. In both, he spoke directly to Elena. “You are greatly loved and wanted here, Sheya. Your life is precious. I see you in your tiny form, and I think what a miracle you are—what a gift to us.”
Elbrion nodded toward Celdorn, and he joined in. He told Elena what her life meant to him and what joy it brought him to be her father. “We’ll protect you, little one. We’ll cherish and honor your life, helping you to become all that you’re destined to be.”
The other men filtered into the room, curious about what was happening. They couldn’t see Elena beneath the blanket, but it was obvious how small she’d become.
The infant began to wiggle and contort. She would breathe, then stop for a time, arms and legs flailing against the light cover, then breathe again. Celdorn sensed her deep distress.
“Do not be afraid, Sheya. You are strong. You will be all right,” Elbrion assured her. “You may choose life. It is safe this time.”
Celdorn listened with astonishment.
“Hold out your hands by the edge of the bed,” Elbrion told him.
Then, the baby’s head pushed out from under the blanket next to his hands, much as he imagined it would be for a child to break forth from its mother’s body.
The infant squirmed toward him until she was free of the blanket and fell into his hands, completing her “birth.” He instinctively cradled the baby in his arms and pulled his shirt around her to keep her warm against his chest. She was so tiny that he could hold her in the palm of one hand. He stood up and moved to a chair in front of the fire, rocking gently back and forth. Amazed by her petite features, he played with her fingers and her toes, in awe of the perfection of each one. Elbrion knelt beside them, kissing her head tenderly and caressing her soft skin.
