Arc 9-10
“Ow.”
“It wouldn’t get in your eye if you sat still,” I chide as I work the soap through Alana’s hair. She huffs, but doesn’t argue, leaning back against my legs. My eyes flick over her, mapping the faint outline of bruises across her lightly tanned skin. Stubborn. After three bouts, she insisted on fighting me alone. Then Kierra. She was getting ready to challenge Bell again when I put an end to her martial madness; the poor woman practically collapsed on the spot. I know she has something to prove and a vague goal of surpassing me, but she doesn’t need to hurt herself. We have all the time in the world.
On the other hand, it’s good seeing her so passionate about something. I was worried for her; all her life, Alana has been chasing after the family that wouldn’t acknowledge her, willing to die for her father’s acknowledgment. She thought it would be the undertaking of a lifetime. We accomplished it in a single season; shedding blood is an extremely efficient way of getting things done in the north. Compounding that, Alana’s determination was shaken. I can’t deny being thrilled that she offered to abandon the north for me, but it left her…adrift, I suppose. Her training is all she has, which I guess is why she overdoes it sometimes.
“It worked,” she remarks with a trace of smugness.
Saints, if it wasn’t so cute, I’d smack the back of her head. “Yes, sweetie. Having my nose ground into the dirt wrestling an insane elf took my mind off work for a few minutes.” Not the distraction I would have asked for but perhaps the one I needed. The tedium made me forget that this body of mind can’t get worn down so easily. Really exerting its power felt good, like being on the back of a steed running at its fastest gallop, but more…visceral. “And what about your work?”
“I wouldn’t call that work. I just offered to lead the guards through a few basic exercises.” Otherwise, my peacekeepers would be walking around subduing criminals with their bare hands. As much faith as I have in them, and I’m sure they’ll revert to claws when things get dicey, keeping them out of knifing range seems smart. We also recovered enough weapons for a small army in the ruins of the city and needed something to do with them.
“Good, I suppose. They don’t have a style, but they’re all accustomed to fighting. They’re ridiculously good at reading their opponents. Combined that with ‘stick ‘em with the pointy end’ and they’re already enough to handle a common criminal…I think.”
“You thin?”
She shrugs. “Victory doesn’t have criminals.”
“No one is born with bad intentions?”
“Sure they are. They just leave. Much safer and easier to trick southerners.”
True. If I were a criminal and had to pick a place to ply my trade, a fort filled with suicidal warmongers would be at the bottom of the list. “So, you don’t have any criminals to base your words on. What are you imagining they are?”
“An average person. Like William or the brothers.”
Those are some names I haven’t heard in a while. I wonder how our old friends are doing? “That doesn’t mean much in the city of adventure.”
“They’re a lot better without weapons.”
“Not against magic they aren’t.”
She cranes her head, just to show me her frown as her eyes remain closed. “You didn’t hire royal knights, Lou.”
“I know. I guess I’m worried for them.”
She scoffs. “Don’t. They know what they’re getting into and they can handle it. The little they can’t handle, they’ve got more than enough money to throw at it.”
I was a little concerned that the Hall wouldn’t want to cooperate with me, or any organization working for me, but the worry was unfounded. It seems there will always be an acolyte in need of crowns. Or a researcher in need of funds.
I force her head forward and dump a bucket of water on her, snickering as she sputters. Before she can recover enough to get angry, I scoop her up and drop her in the bath.
Once I was sure that I’d be keeping the estate, the servants started putting the clan’s personal touches on it. An indispensable part of that is the large bath. Sadly, the building isn’t strong enough to build it on the second floor next to the bedroom, but a flight of stairs isn’t a high cost for the ability to soak together.
Kierra and the succubi are already in the water. Head resting on the edge of the sunken tub, my eyes move to my wife’s flat stomach.
“You are staring,” the elf calls, her eyes closed in comfort.
“I can’t help it.”
“I had a question about that,” Alana says to the room, swimming toward Kierra. The elf opens her arms, pulling the knight close, a sight that warms my heart. “What are they going to call me?”
“Huh?” I ask dumbly from the other side of the bath.
She flushes prettily. “In the James family, some generations of the duke’s wives are more cooperative than others. That is, the children sometimes have multiple mothers. I was wondering—”
She yelps as Kierra pinches her, or at least I assume she does from that particular wiggle.
“Silly star,” the elf purrs. “You plan to care for our child, yes?”
“Of course!”
“Then you can have her call you whatever you want. The title matters little.”
Alana scratches her neck, smile sheepish. “Alright.” Her eyes turn to me. “So, you just going to make something up?”
“Er, what do you mean?”
“I mean, technically, you’re the father, right? Is that what you want to be called?”
My lips immediately twist with distaste. Saints, that would be so weird. “No, but do we need to be figuring it out now? We’ve got years to figure that out. Saints, more than that. Kids don’t talk right away.”
“You sure yours won’t? Wouldn’t be surprised if they come out walking, given the mothers.”
“That’s not…” I turn to Geneva. “That’s not possible, right?”
The disguised thrall shifts, laying her head on Big Bell’s shoulder. “The creatures used to make up your form are all rather extraordinary with different maturation cycles. I know at least one is born as an adolescent. That’s not considering if or how your nature may affect things. What if, somehow, your nature allows for all the different creatures you’ve eaten to be present in your seed?”
“That’s impossible!”
She shrugs. Shrugs. “Yes, physically, but there is much about you we don’t understand. The point, my summoner, is that I can offer no reassurances. Master could be carrying a simple elf. She could be carrying a not-so-simple elf with a few strange mutations. Or she could be carrying a godling. Who knows?”
This isn’t a topic she should be so flippant about!
“What’s Talia then?” Alana asks, throwing a verbal rock through the tense air I’m probably imagining. “As a flower?”
“Traditionally, she is not expected to parent,” Kierra continues, playing with Alana’s hair. “The flower cares for the parents who care for the child. Once the child ages, the flower serves as their teacher. There is a title for such, but I’ll allow her to choose what she prefers.”
“Huh. And the throne? Of Violet Dusk? Your child could inherit, right?”
Blessed saints, make it stop. A familiar dread I haven’t felt in a while tightens my guts. Ah, my old fear of royalty. Does it count if they’re technically family? My irrational emotions say it does.
“Succession is a matter of choice. Being of royal blood means that others will look to her and be willing to support her, but it will always be her choice whether to rule.”
“You keep saying her.”
“It is a child between two women.”
“Lou’s not exactly…I mean, what if the child is like her but without the womanly bits? Or what if they have both but feel more like a man?”
Kierra gives her a consideringly look. “You have been thinking about this a lot?”
“I guess. It’s a big deal. Your, I mean, our kid…” She gets the strangest cross between a smile and a frown, her lips turning up while her brows furrow. “I want us to do it right.” The frown gains sway as Kierra laughs. “You don’t think we can?”
“Right is not so hard. Give them love. Give them knives. Teach them both. Children are not so fragile.”
I’m worried.
“It’ll be fine,” I reassure anyway. “Between the three of us, we’ll figure it out. We all have enough experience with what not to do, figuring out what to do should be simple.”