I don’t like him, but, for better or worse, we are in this together.
I roll my eyes and ignore him as I head to the plush seat covered with patterns of leafy vines in a deep violet cut into a thick velvet fabric and sit down. Kicking off my shoes, and not caring where they land, I let my feet nestle into the plush carpet.Dioses mios, it feels good.
Luckily, the chair is already angled away from where he standsand toward the gardens, now illuminated by the twilight. The small, one-person table slides easily over my lap, and I pour myself a cup of tea while I begin cutting and rationing the bits of food.
My stomach growls, and still there is silence between us. I don’t care. Let him wait. I have no more questions, no more thoughts. I feel as though my inner life force has been pulled out by excessive hair-combing and skin-scrubbing.
Just as I am about to bring the first small, measured bite to my lips, I feel Thorne at my back. He reaches over my shoulder and places a carved box next to my plate. I set down the fork, despite my hunger, and pick up the object.
“What’s this? Another curse?” I ask, still not looking at him. It might be childish, but I don’t have it in me to play diplomat right now.
“Herbs for your womb,” he says simply. “I am not about to let your little secret ruin either of our plans.”
Relief runs through me. He’s kept his word.
That makes me look at him. “And how were you able to get this without anyone in the elven court knowing? This place is like a spider’s nest, full of gossips constantly sharing and trading information.” To be honest, I’m almost impressed with how quickly word gets around between these people.
Thorne studies me for a long moment. “My official title here is the King’s Royal Warden of the Consort. The king holds me in regard because I handle your expenses, personnel, and scheduling. Politically, I have no say. People only speak to me now because of my connection to you, and the access that might grant them to the king.”
I want to interject that he had no sway over my decisions, but that simply isn’t true. My petulance only increases because I am tired—I know that. While I cannot trust him, Thorne is not totally against me.
“There are a few neutral contacts I have from my time working with Mrath, and I am able to trade in favors and future promises. Of course, your name is never used. I think most of the physicians and herbalists who gather these ingredients don’t even know who they are for, and if they do, they think it is merely to enhance the compatibilitybetween our species. Fear not, I’m also very talented at issuing threats.”
I finally turn to look up at him. Inspect him.
“Is my room really such a safe place to confess things like this?” I ask.
To me, it seems as though there are ears everywhere.
Agreed, Cursed One murmurs after hours of silence.
“I am very good at glamour. I can smell lies, remember? It is only safe to confess such things when I am present, my dear,” he answers, utterly serious.
I turn my attention back to the box, pulling open the clasp. A strong medicinal smell hits me flat on. It stings the back of my nose and throat and I cough, nearly dropping the herbs.
“Careful,” Thorne chides, wrapping his fingers around mine and steadying my hand. When he notices how cold my flesh is, he purses his lips. I wonder if he sees the paleness that does not recede.
If he notices my stomach growl a second time, he doesn’t say anything.
“You will need to take a dosage of this every evening. Starting tomorrow, they will begin checking your health with the royal physician. They want to make sure you are well for your wedding night. If possible, they will try to move your quickening so that it falls as close to your wedding night as possible. It would be in everyone’s best interests if you were pregnant within the month.”
I stare at the herbs. In the breeding pens, there was a tea they used to give women that would supposedly help ripen a woman’s womb and prepare it to receive seed, but it did not work for me. It looked, and smelled, like weed-water.
This is something fancy and unknown from the elves. Maybe…
I bite my lip. If Estela were here, she might recognize the herbs. She’d worked with the healers before becoming queen.
My mind floods with information—with questions. Something strange churns in my gut as I look at the dried flowers and leaves. Could it have always been as simple as this? A little medicine?
Back in Enduvida, Ulla had told me that my first loss had left me badly scarred. Even months with my Fuegorra hadn’tfixed that.
But maybe…things were different now?
Like a small spark catching flame in the middle of a frozen, wintry forest, hope reveals itself. It’s a feeling that’s been foreign to me regarding children. It is one thing to seek out a solution like matehood, something grand yetdistant, compared to holding something in your hand that could actively change your situation.
I’d never tried atreatment. The emotion hits me in the throat, sending me images of holding a small child in my arms and giving of myself to feed them. I imagine being pregnant again, taking a second I haven’t taken in a long time to consider what it would feel like to hold all the fear of loss against the undeniable hope of life.
Motherhood wakes up a deep, ancestral part of the brain that suddenly thinks in generations, not years. There is a part of me that is realizes I won’t be here forever and another part of me that questions, “Will something of me continue?”
