Page 6 of Dark Destiny: The Turning Of The Loom

"Idon't like eggs." Tomek regarded his plate with disgust. "I want pancakes."

"You liked eggs yesterday," Sullha said. "You even smacked your lips."

"Yesterday they were nice and round, with the yellow in the middle and the white around it. These ones are slimy and mushy." He shoved the scrambled eggs to the edge of his plate. "I want pancakes."

"Tomorrow, I'll make them the way you like them."

He grimaced. "I don't want eggs at all. I want pancakes."

Leehy laughed, and it wasn't the first time, but Sullha hadn't gotten used to hearing it yet. "The boy knows what he wants," her mother said. "And it's not eggs."

"If you think it's funny, then you make pancakes for him."

Sullha shoved a large helping into her mouth and pressed a hand over the left side of her belly, where it hurt.

It was a dull ache, always in the same spot on the left, and a trip to the bathroom usually relieved it, but it was coming back more often now, and she was spending much too long on the toilet. No one had mentioned anything like this as something to be expected.

She told herself that it was probably nothing. Stress, most likely.

But it had been two weeks. It should have happened already.

Every night for the past fourteen days she had gotten the venom bite, and every morning she had woken up hoping for a fever, which was supposed to be the first sign of transition.

What if it wasn't going to happen for her?

Margaret had said that it should start within two weeks, but she'd also said that there were exceptions. So not all hope was lost yet.

Two bites, perhaps three, should have been enough, though. Especially when all things seemed favorable. And why were they not?

She was young and healthy, and she should have transitioned without issue. That was what Margaret had said.

But Margaret didn't know everything.

What if the women in the enclosure were not the same as those in the village? What if they were indeed inferior stock, incapable of becoming immortal?

They had been told that the godly spark in them was only enough to produce sons who could be turned immortal and daughters who also had the spark and could produce the next generation.

They had been told that was all they were good for.

Sullha had been so quick to believe Margaret and Bowen because what they had told her made her feel like more, not less, and she had embraced it because she wanted to believe it.

Now she was starting to doubt.

Yaaf would be so disappointed.

All that talk about her sharing his life forever was for nothing. She would age and wilt like her mother had, and at some point, he would realize that loving her was too painful and choose one of the immortal females who could give him eternal love.

It would break her.

She loved him even more now than she had two weeks ago, and she would be lying if she claimed that the incredible pleasure he'd been giving her had nothing to do with that. He was so thoughtful, so attuned to her responses, expressing his love for her with every touch and every kiss. And when he bit her, she soared so high that sometimes she had a hard time finding her way back down. But Yaaf was her beacon, and all she had to do to find her way home was follow the tether that connected their souls.

Tomek finished his toast and pushed his plate away without touching any of the scrambled eggs.

"Can I go watch my show now?" he asked.

It was Sunday, and she allowed him to watch more on the weekends.

"Yes, you can. One hour, and then we go to the playground."