“You know what I meant. Don’t be sensitive,” Emily grumbled as she moved back to join Marrow on the edge of the bed. “She does kind of look a bit crazy. I think it’s the curls poking straight out in the back of that knot thing,” Emily whispered.
“I am not the village nutter,” Jala snapped turning to glare at Marrow. “Bloody have to fix my bloody hair just to sit in my damned room,” Jala grumbled as she pulled the knot free and rose from her chair once more. Pacing to the nightstand beside the bed she snatched up a brush and cast another glare at the Bendazzi.
“Incredibly fast mood swings, droopy sad to snapping mad,” Emily said quietly and Marrow nodded, his gold eyes locked on Jala as she glared at them.
With angry strokes Jala began brushing her hair and paced back away from them. The curls had become hopelessly tangled and each stroke of the brush sent lances of pain through her skull. She moved back to the mirror and stared at her reflection as she slowly worked the worst of the tangles out.
Jala’s hand slowed as she stared at herself and her eyes began to grow glassy. This was not how it was supposed to be. She wasn’t even eighteen yet and already widowed and expecting a child. She knew nothing about tending children. Outside her window was a nation that supposedly depended on her and just to the north was a country that would likely attack in the spring. She knew even less about war than she did about children. For the love of the Aspects, she hadn’t even finished a full year of school and now this was expected of her. Her arm dropped limply to her side and the brush fell from her fingers to clatter on the floor. Ever so slowly, her knees gave as well and she dropped heavily down to land in the pile of discarded clothing. Tears coursed down her face as she lowered her head to her hands her shoulders shaking with the sobs.
“What just happened?” Emily asked softly sounding baffled.
“I just realized I must be the village nutter to actually think I could accomplish everything that is expected of me,” Jala answered in a choked voice. “I don’t want this,” she gasped.
“You don’t want what Jala?” Emily asked still sounding puzzled. The Blight’s voice was closer now as if she crouched beside her.
“Any of this. I don’t want to be anyone. I want to just…” Her voice trailed off as Jala realized she wasn’t sure exactly what it was she did want. Everything that mattered seemed unattainable. She wanted Finn and he was dead. She wanted her old home back and it was ashes. It was all out of reach.
“Emily, Marrow may I speak with Lady Merrodin for a time?” Jala looked up sharply at the sound of Valor’s voice. She hadn’t even heard the door open and yet there he stood quietly watching her.
“How long have you been there?” Jala asked softly her voice still choked with unshed tears.
“Long enough,” Valor replied quietly, his blue eyes flicking to Marrow.
“It’s not as if we don’t already know all of her problems, but fine. We will be just outside the door,” Emily snapped.
Valor watched silently as Marrow dropped heavily down from the bed and paced out into the hall. Turning, he closed the door behind them and walked over to stand above her. With a frown he looked briefly around the room and then dropped to sit beside her on the floor, his gaze roving over the pile of clothing and then moving back to study her midsection. “Used a bit of life magic eh,” he observed quietly.
“I have no idea why you sent them away. They have watched over me for the past three days. There isn’t much worse that I can show them,” Jala sighed.
Valor nodded slightly and pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned back against the wall beside the mirror. Still silent he brushed a bit of dust from the black linen of his trousers and rubbed at a scuff on his polished boots.
Jala watched him, her sniffles slowly receding and waited for him to begin speaking. With painstaking care he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and then brushed a bit at one of the silver cufflinks still utterly silent. “I thought you wanted to speak with me,” Jala grumbled after a lengthy silence.
Valor looked up and raised a silver eyebrow. “Ahh. I thought from the way you looked when I entered the room that you needed to speak with me,” he corrected and smiled at her faintly. “Emily and Marrow would both happily abandon all of this and steal you away to live in the wild. None of this truly makes sense to them. They are too primal. They see you suffering and they don’t understand why you don’t simply walk away from it if it makes you miserable. It is possible that Marrow understands better but no doubt his opinion of the matter is the same.” Valor paused and sighed, his gaze flicking toward the door. “Neph would growl a lot should you try to speak with him, and Jail would lock it away in your mind so you didn’t dwell on your losses. Sovann would listen but with his appearance so similar to Finn I imagine his presence is like a knife in a fresh wound. That leaves me and Wisp, and I can fetch Wisp if you prefer to speak with her.” He paused again and rubbed his jaw, his gaze wandering toward the window. “If it helps any, I don’t want this either. I’d love to just disappear right now. I thought when Lord Elijah granted me the commission to lead that I could redeem myself, but when faced with it and those who know my sins; I find I’d rather just sit in the dark and drink. I have lived in Finn’s shadow for so long that I find it rather uncomfortable when the light shines directly on me now. Rather strange, really. I used to adore direct attention.”
“This is too much for me, Valor. All of this is. I don’t know how to do any of it,” Jala admitted weakly.
“Which part? Being a mother or being a High Lady?” Valor asked. There was no sign of judgment on his face and if he had lost any respect for her there was no sign of it.
“Can the answer be both?” Jala asked miserably. Reaching over she grabbed a random dress from the pile and wiped her face. Letting out a ragged breath she looked back up to Valor knowing she must look a sight. As usual he was immaculate in appearance, his hair perfectly pulled back and his clothes of the finest quality and clean.
“It can be,” Valor agreed with a nod and shrugged. “There really isn’t much you can do about either, though, Jala. You are quite pregnant and unless you give the child away, that makes you a mother. Do you have any intent on offering the child to another?”
“No,” Jala snapped, her voice frantic. The simple thought of giving her child to another brought an instant wave of panic to her.
Valor smiled and nodded. “Protective. That is the first sign of a good mother. You are nervous. That is normal. Chastity was, too. My Mother’s advice to her was simple so I’ll pass it on to you and see if it helps any. Love them, protect them, and teach them. That is all there is to being a mother. Each of those three things is equally important. Never forget one of them, and never place the importance of one above the other two.”
“As much as I still have to learn, I think I’ll have to let the teaching part fall on Sovann’s shoulders,” Jala sighed.
Valor frowned at her and shook his head. “The most important lessons in life come from our mothers, Jala, not from lesson books. Our mothers teach us right from wrong, they teach us to be compassionate, and they teach us respect. My father taught me how to fight, but my mother taught me what to fight for.”
“Is your advice about being a High Lady this sage?” Jala asked as she leaned back in her pile of clothes and watched him. Her son shifted inside her and she felt a moment’s discomfort as he pushed hard against her stomach. She shifted her position again trying to find one more comfortable.
Valor shrugged. “That was mostly words from my mother. The only advice I have on being a High Lady comes from my great grandmother’s journals and I’m not sure if you want to follow in her footsteps or not. Her path did not have a pleasant ending.”
“High Lady Veyetta,” Jala surmised, her interest peaked. The city War had shown her was a beautiful sight and the statue of Lady Veyetta had been modeled after a woman that was poised and confident. Somehow, she doubted High Lady Veyetta had ever crumpled to tears like an infant int
o a pile of discarded clothing. Her son shifted again and pain lanced through her body. Holding her breath for a second Jala slowly released it until the discomfort passed and waited for Valor to continue.
“Are you OK?” Valor asked, his blue eyes fixed on hers.
Jala bit her lower lip and smiled bitterly. “Do I look OK to you, Valor?” she asked sarcastically.
“No, I mean health wise, Jala. You looked upset when I entered but now you look pale and I swear that was pain I saw flicker on your face. Are you all right, physically?” Valor pressed as he stretched his legs out and leaned closer to her.
“My son is active. It’s nothing. He kicked a bit roughly,” Jala explained as another pain tore through her and she felt the clothes go damp beneath her.
“Bloody Aspects your water broke. I’ll get a healer,” Valor said quickly as he scrambled to his feet his eyes wide. Moving quickly he crossed the room and threw the door open. “Emily get in here and help her to bed,” he bellowed as he headed out into the hallway.
Jala watched the open door swinging on its hinges in shock and listened to the clattering of his boots as he rushed down the stairs. His words slowly gained meaning in her mind and she looked down at her lap in dawning fear. “Oh dear gods no,” she gasped, her mind irrationally searching for some form of magic that would stop this from happening. She wasn’t ready yet. A few more days. That would be enough. “No, no no!” she mumbled as another contraction rose.
“Here we go, nice and gently,” Emily said in a hushed voice and Jala felt herself being lifted from the sodden clothes. “You will be fine. Valor has gone for Wesley,” Emily assured her.
“Wesley?” Jala gasped as Emily lowered her to the bed gently. “Who in the bloody hell is Wesley?” Her voice rose as she spoke as the irrational fear grew.
“Wesley the healer you hired in Sanctuary, remember? He is the one that healed you after the Darklands,” Emily said her voice soothing.
“Is she truly having the child now?” Wisp’s voice came from the door sounding frantic. Moving as quickly as a hummingbird, the Fae crossed the room and looked down at Jala with wide bright green eyes. “Valor says you are in labor,” she said quickly, her hand moving to brush stray curls from Jala’s face.
Another contraction surged through Jala and the words she had been about to speak came out in a strangled scream. Grasping Wisp tightly by the arm, she pulled her closer. “Not Wesley. Get Kendry,” she gasped. If Wesley had been the one to heal her mangled hand she didn’t want him anywhere near her newborn son.
Wisp nodded quickly and rose from the bed once more. “Kendry then,” Wisp agreed quickly and left the room in a rush.
“Emily,” Jala gasped, her eyes searching the room wildly. “Emily, if I’m not coherent when he is born, tell them his name for me. He is Finn’s only child and he will live on in memory.” Her words failed her as the next contraction hit. They seemed to be coming much closer together than they should be. The priests in Bliss had described birth as a lengthy ordeal that often took hours to happen. This seemed to be moving far too quickly. The pain passed and she unknotted her hand from the blankets and let out a harsh sob. “Tell them his name for me,” she repeated raggedly. “He is to be called Legacy Sovaesh Merrodin,” she finished, her voice nearly a whisper.
“It’s far too soon for this,” a woman’s voice echoed from the stairs.
“Then you better be a damned good healer. Your life depends on it,” Valor stormed behind her.
“Valor, go back downstairs. You are not in the right frame of mind to be near her right now. She is terrified,” Wisp snapped as she pushed the door open for the tall dark skinned woman Jala barely knew. Other than their first meeting in Rose’s clinic, she and Kendry had barely spoken to one another. Yet she was trusting her life and her son’s life to the woman.
“Rushing such things with magic is unwise,” Kendry said sternly as she studied Jala’s form on the bed. “If you lose your child you will have only your impatience to blame for it Lady Merrodin. I will do what I can to save you both, though,” she added in softer tones as she approached the bed.
“Little toes and a little nose,” Wisp’s voice was a hushed whisper beside her and it took Jala’s mind several long moments to sort out the nonsense words. “Look at you, so precious,” the Fae whispered again.
A soft murmur that was not Wisp’s voice brought Jala’s eyes fully open. She blinked several times in the shadowed light of the room and then slowly focused on the Fae seated beside her on the bed. Wisp was leaning back against the headboard holding a carefully wrapped bundle balanced against her knees. One slender hand cradled the baby along his side holding him steady while the other tickled playfully at his chest.
“Mommy is awake now,” Wisp crooned, as she turned to look at Jala with a warm smile on her face. Her dark hair had been pulled carefully back and not even a single stray lock brushed across her pale face. “Your son is adorable, Jala, and so sweet and quiet. He does like hair though so let’s pull yours back before you take him. Usually they are much older before they start grabbing for hair and such, but young Legacy here is an early bloomer,” Wisp informed her in a quiet voice.
Jala nodded and slowly pushed herself up on her elbows. She had expected her body to be sore, but there was no sign of pain when she moved.
“Kendry healed you completely. You don’t remember much, though, do you? It was difficult and you were in terrible pain,” Wisp said softly. Carefully, the Fae laid the baby down between them on the bed and leaned over to pull Jala’s hair back from her face. With a quick twist she tied it in place with a scrap of leather from her wrist and then leaned back with a smile. “There now, you are safe from the little fingers. Now admire your son.” Wisp carefully picked the baby up once more and handed him gently over to her. “Look at his skin, so pale and perfect. Most babies are red and wrinkly and not so cute at first. Look at yours, though, Jala. He is perfect.”
“He is so small,” Jala whispered in a hoarse voice. The child felt so fragile in her hands that she was almost afraid to move. Carefully, she pushed the edge of the wrappings back from his face and stared down at two little violet eyes that were a perfect match of her own. He squirmed in her hands and she felt a moment’s panic in her chest at the thought of dropping him or squeezing him too tightly.
“Relax, Jala. It’s OK. He isn’t so fragile that you can’t simply hold him. It will be OK, just relax,” Wisp assured her.
Jala forced herself to relax and brushed a finger through his thick red hair. “He looks so much like me,” she whispered, her finger pausing at a streak of white along his temple. “What happened?” she asked her panic rising again.
“Calm down,” Wisp pressed and shook her head at Jala. “He is fine. He was born that way, I promise you. I was here the moment he drew his first breath. Kendry checked it and believes it was a side effect from the magic Death placed on you, but there is no harm to the child. Look at him; he is healthy and whole.”
Jala relaxed once more and smiled down at the child. “He is perfect,” she agreed in a soft voice, her hand moving from the streak of white hair to the tiny hand that was grasping at the side of his wrappings. “So tiny and so perfect,” she breathed as she felt the knots in her chest slowly loosening. Everything in the world beyond was a bloody mess right now and life was complicated beyond words, but finally she had a reason to face the mess and sort through the complications. So tiny, and yet the answer to her every problem. For her son, she could put aside the pain. For her son, she could face the responsibilities ahead of her. Looking up, she turned to look at Wisp and smiled faintly. “I know I have been useless to all of you since the battle in Sanctuary. That will change, Wisp, I promise. It still hurts so much, but I believe I can face it now.”
“You were grieving, Jala, not useless, and we all understood. Well, except for Neph, but, then, he is an insensitive prick. He didn’t even show pain when we received word that his father was dead. The Delvay are as cold as
their mountains. You take as long as you like, Jala, and we will keep it going until you are ready to take over,” Wisp assured her with a smile. Leaning over she brushed a hand across Legacy’s cheek and smiled up at Jala. “Give him at least a few days of your undivided attention,” she urged with a growing smile.
“He will have as much of that as I can possibly give him for his entire life,” Jala promised as she gazed back down at her son. The small hand had moved from tugging on the wrappings to brushing at her hand and she felt a smile growing on her own face. “Everything I need,” she whispered to him.
And you have your balance back. Marrow’s voice came softly as the Bendazzi jumped lightly onto the foot of the bed. You had me worried for a bit. I thought you truly had gone mad.
I think I did go mad for a bit there, Jala admitted to Marrow through their mental link. She didn’t think Wisp needed that particular confession. They likely already had enough doubts about her resolve without raising concerns on her sanity. The baby squirmed in her hands again and murmured softly.
“He is likely hungry, Jala. It’s been several hours since he was fed. I’ll leave you to tend him and let the others know you are awake and coherent now. Everyone was worried,” Wisp said as she stood slowly. Pausing she scratched Marrow behind the ears and then headed for the door quietly.
“Thank you, Wisp. Thank the others for me too, please, and let them know that I am much better now,” Jala called after her.
Chapter 16
Merro
“Poised and dignified,” Jala reminded herself in a whisper. She stood in front of the mirror and studied herself. The last time she had even attempted to look at herself she had been ragged and worn to the breaking point, but then that had been before Legacy’s birth. She inhaled deeply and practiced a serene expression in the mirror. The statue of Lady Veyetta had mastered the expression much better she decided with a slight frown. Carefully she tucked a stray wine colored curl back behind her ear and checked her hair once more in the mirror. Every lock seemed to be in place. Smoothing her dress for the last time she turned back to Marrow. “Do I look poised and dignified?” she asked quietly. The dress she wore was so dark purple it was almost black and the style was much more subdued that the Firym clothing Finn had preferred. It seemed appropriate to her, however. It matched her mood. She had no desire at all to be brightly clad and even her jewelry was dark toned.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes Page 25
