Page 50 of His King Enslaved

“A damned good one, or I wouldn’t have assigned her to Ardor.” Patel sat in the low chair. “She saved your mother’s life and lost an eye doing it. If it weren’t for her, you boys wouldn’t be here.”

Sindar processed the implications of this. He was glad the man most like a father to him had witnessed his birth. He almost asked where the old king had been, but did it matter? As far as he was concerned, the king was simply an intimidating stranger who never liked him or expected him to amount to anything. “Ardor’s not… a man like me. I love him so much. It feels wrong to call him human, but equally wrong not to. What I saw… Flowers can’t be of this world.”

“That’s why we call them divine, isn’t it? Makes it easier to process. Some of the ancient religions—which you would know something about if you’d actually paid attention to your lessons—described their angels as terrifying, impossible to understand. They said the sight and sound of them would drive men mad, because they were beyond human comprehension. The Flowers are like that, in a sense. If the extent of their differences were known, they’d be in danger. So they cloak themselves in religion and mystery, and only reveal themselves to the ones who depend on them for survival.”

The only thing more disquieting than seeing Ardor’s flower in labor was seeing the baby that came out of it. His child’s emergence was alien and strange, but his heart ached for her. He loved her already. “I understand why they don’t want us there. Seeing my daughter come out like that… it’s not something a man can unsee. But it doesn’t change how I feel. I love her. I want to see her.” Sindar abruptly looked up. “I should go see her right now.”

“You should not,” Patel said sharply. “You think you’re the only one? I want to see my—we all want to see our new princess, but Ardor must bond with the baby, and they both need a lot of rest. You’ll keep your butt in that chair if you know what’s good for you.”

Sindar crossed his arms. “I want to see my baby,” he said mulishly.

“Hush,” Patel said, waving the bottle at him. “See this bottle instead. You’ve earned it.”

“Is that your big plan, Patty? You’re going to get me drunk so I can’t run off to see my beloved?”

“Absolutely. By my calculations, once we finish this, you’ll be out for a day. His Eminence will enjoy some much-needed rest without you bombarding him with passionate overtures.”

A melancholy passed over Sindar as he accepted the bottle. He likely wouldn’t see Ardor until it was time to resume the ceremonies. What he’d seen in the maternity ward would be his last glimpse of his consort for a very long time.

Sindar couldn’t unsee his Beloved’s body. He would never forget the eeriness of those petals seizing his finger and drawing his hand into the depths within. Nor would he forget the keen sense that Ardor’s body was not entirely his own, that an alien being and a man cohabited one vessel. But that body, however alien to his human eye, made their baby possible.

“Tell me again, Patty. What was she like?”

Patel smiled as he settled back. This was among his favorite subjects. His adoration for Eminence Heavenly never seemed to wane. “The smartest woman in the world, surely. She and I exchanged letters for months before the wedding. It started out as a formality, but by the time she arrived, I felt I’d known her for ages. We immediately connected. I never told you this, but apparently back in Amar they called her the Second Ruth. You might think it was blasphemy if you didn’t know her. She was that damned smart. She taught me many things. Vasav—” He immediately paused at the utterance of the king’s name. “Hmm,” he said, eying his glass. “This stuff is stronger than I thought. His Majesty would have done well to take her advice, but of course he didn’t. He always dismissed her out of hand. He demanded she give him a son who was exactly like him in every respect, including all the things he didn’t realize were personal flaws. He acted as if she were a machine designed to create a copy of him, with no regard for her own fine qualities. And she had so many! Intelligence, kindness, beauty, grace, and a truly wicked sense of humor… she had it all. To be so arrogant as to deny your children any likeness of their mother, when their mother is divine, a descendant of a goddess! It’s a mindset that dooms a nation, Sindar. That line of thinking smothers progress, and Kysan was already behind in so many respects. I knew we couldn’t go on like that. We needed change, however risky change might be.” Patel paused again, clearing his throat. “Anyway, your mother was brilliant. You could get lost talking to her for hours. Sometimes we stayed up so late talking that I barely slept a wink. She knew so many things, but she never made you feel you knew less. Heavenly brought you along, so to speak. She was a fine diplomat in her own right. And beautiful! Goddess. I’ve courted some beauties, and that’s no boast, but…” Patel studied his glass again. “Damn, this stuff is powerful. I heard it strengthens with age, but I underestimated how much…”

As his mentor spoke, pieces fitted together in Sindar’s intoxicated brain. And amidst the picture steadily being built, he seized on the most important part: Patel deeply and profoundly loved his mother. Patel had been there in the birthing chamber. And Patel uniquely understood what he was going through in a way no other man could. There was reassurance in that, and at last, a true calm descended over him.

Sindar enjoyed another hour of his mentor’s reminiscence, finding that many of the qualities Patel venerated in Eminence Heavenly, he himself venerated in Ardor. Their love was not so different. It felt right to share such a thing.

Eventually, Patel said, “Well. I think we’ve both had enough. That ought to keep you out of his hair for a day or so.” He climbed off the low seat and said, “Get some rest, Your Majesty. You’ve done well. I’ve never been more proud.”

Sleep was wise, but the moment Sindar was alone with his thoughts again, they crept back to Ardor, and what he’d seen, and where they’d go from here. For the first time, Sindar truly understood what it meant to love a Flower. Ardor was a divine being, different from human men, and he loved him no less for it. Goddess, he loved that man so much he thought he’d burst.

Was that enough? Should he plead his case? Reaffirm his love? Ask to see the baby as soon as possible? After many false starts, which created a mound of crumpled paper beside his desk, he finally settled on a single sentence in Pavarian:

May I write to you?

As soon as the messenger was gone, Sindar washed and dressed, and contemplated how he might evade overzealous doctors and conspire to hold his beautiful new baby as soon as possible. When the messenger returned, his heart clenched even more painfully than when a Wraith was at his back. But when he opened the folded square of paper, his stress melted away in an instant.

Ardor’s letter contained three Kysanian words, and they were the sweetest words Sindar had ever seen.

I’d like that.

FATHERHOOD

ARDOR HAD GROWN quite adept at balancing a book in one hand and a curious, hungry infant in the other. The children of Flowers did not nurse long. Soon, Mindeh would eat soft foods and mashed fruit, and Ardor’s breasts would subside. His chest would flatten, and he would no longer be swollen with milk.

Leya called it a magic trick. He supposed it was. The human body could not recall breast tissue as his did. At most, he might have stretch marks, like his father. Ruth, ever the pragmatist, considered non-maternal breast tissue largely unnecessary. Flowers only developed full breasts when hungry babies needed to be fed.

Mindeh finished suckling and was now content to play with her father’s long hair. Ardor gently wiped her lower lip and tucked himself away. She was a comfortable weight in the crook of his arm, so he kept her there, snuggled against his side as he read.

Eminence Heavenly’s plan was in motion now. Ardor did not fully understand it, lacking the information sealed away in the Holy Libraries in Amar, but he knew this much: the Kysanian royal line had ended. Mindeh was royal by consensus, but not by blood. Xandar was officially the last royal, assuming he was still alive.

Eminence Heavenly had successfully forced the royal mutation into a recessive state, but she’d sacrificed decades of her life to do so. She likely wasn’t the first Flower to conduct such experiments. Unfortunately, the ancient zeal for eugenics refused to be thwarted, and Xandar was rendered functionally impotent.

Had Eminence Heavenly known that would happen? Was that why she’d had the foresight to make sure a second child, a common child, would give the appearance of continuity to maintain political stability? He had so many questions. Not for the first time, he wished he could speak to her.

She wasn’t the only one he wanted to speak to. Ardor longed to tell his consort the truth. Sindar of Kysan wasn’t a royal, and his sperm wasn’t inherently dangerous. What they shared in the breeding bed caused no harm. But it was a deadly secret, one that could destabilize a nation and lead to the destruction of his family. Ardor struggled to determine when the time would be right, or if it would ever be right.