I nodded, not wishing to dwell here any longer, for it was my past, and it was painful. I stuffed a bag full of clothing and a few pictures, and then I left my gilded apartment behind forever with my mother still rattling around like a ghost.
I’d been calling Hiero every morning to check in and say hello, but I’d still not told him of my true reason for the visit. He was a bright spot in my long days of idleness and worry, and I missed him more each day. In my free time, I helped out Monica in her tattoo studio, which was situated below her apartment, sorting through her clutter and tidying up theplace. And I offered up my own skin as a living advertisement for her talents.
“You’re starting a trend,” she said after her third client had gone with the glow-in-the-dark ink. “You know you could stay here and learn the trade, become my apprentice. It isn’t hard to do hearts and stars and rainbows. That’s the majority of what people want. I could teach you the business side of things as well.”
“Thanks, Mon. I may take you up on it, if things don’t work out with Hiero.”
“Ah, but I think that they will, Skybear, and when they do, you’d better not try to keep Tiny Toes from Auntie Mon.”
I shook my head at her silly nickname and sipped my effervescent water, hoping it might settle my stomach. I missed Hiero’s creative fruit spritzers, a different one every night for he was always trying to surprise and delight me.
“Did the sorcerer say anything about your implant?” Monica asked. I’d had the paternity spell cast a few days prior and was now awaiting the results.
“Only that it was no longer there. It must have come loose during sex.”
She smiled wickedly. “Sounds like the sex with your minotaur was inspired.”
“Best I’ve ever had,” I said ruefully.
“Then really, Skylar, what’s there to worry about?”
So many things. Would Hiero still want me if he wasn’t the child’s sire? Or even if he was? And if he didn’t, how wouldI support the both of us? Was I dooming my child to a life such as mine, guildless and cast off by society? That didn’t even begin to cover my fears about the queen’s wrath.
“My biggest fear is that the child will belong to Cedrych, in which case, I might lose both Hiero and the child completely.”
“Cedrych might not want to claim it,” she said. “He said himself that he’ll be traveling to elvish territories with his betrothed soon enough.”
“But the queen will know.” I tried to think as a strategist such as herself might. “The Guild records all fae births, and the queen would see the danger of a bastard child, a potential threat to her chosen heir. She may come after the child with malice in her heart or insist they be raised at the palace under her direction.”
“You are thinking too far ahead, Skylar, as usual. Let’s play this game one move at a time, shall we?”
“But by then I’ve already lost,” I told her, for the queen was always three moves ahead.
“Come here,” she said and drew me into her arms. I rested my head against her shoulder, and tried to soak up her comfort, but it was all I could think about, how to protect my unborn child from the queen’s machinations. Even knowing her resources were limitless, she could not give them love–I truly did not believe she was capable–and that was something I would give freely.
There was a knock on the tattoo parlor door, unusual since most clients just walked right in. When I went to answer it, acourier asked for my name, then handed me a letter sealed with the sorcerer’s wax emblem. I thanked them for the delivery and carried it back inside as if it were a hornets’ nest about to burst wide open.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Monica asked.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to know. The child didn’t belong to Cedrych or the queen as far as I was concerned. It belonged to me, and possibly Hiero if that’s what he wanted.
“I’ll open it with Hiero when I tell him,” I said to Monica, now resolved.
“How can you stand the suspense?”
“He told me before that I wasn’t alone anymore, and the decision of whether to raise it together is one that I’d like to make with him. Whether he wants it or not, the child is mine.”
“You’re going to keep it then?” she asked.
“I am,” I said, nervous and nauseous and not from the pregnancy this time.
“And if he doesn’t want it?”
“Then I’ll find a way.” As my mother said, we Larkspurs were resourceful. Even if I was a guildless, unremarkable bit of fae trash, I still had a lot of love to give. “I’ll be heading back tomorrow,” I told her.
“Everything will be fine, Skybear,” she assured me with a gentle squeeze.
Everythingwouldbe fine. And if not, I would simply pick up the pieces of my broken heart and carry on.
