Chapter 114: Aella’s Cage
Aella stood at the edge of the room, watching her wife grieve with her family. The clothing she wore felt so wrong. It wasn’t that it was a dress, she had worn those before, but it was loose, almost like bed clothing. Her hair was down, and even though she had covered it with a bonnet and a long shawl, she felt vulnerable and exposed. How was she going to cope with this for fourteen days? Her wife, too, looked vulnerable and small next to her three brothers. Basiano was the largest, but her other two brothers were also large men, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested. All of them had bright red hair. She had only seen them all together once, the first state dinner she had attended. But now they all looked pale and exhausted. They moved around each other and Nereida awkwardly, no one knowing what to do or say.
The Queen was in her chair, staring at her husband’s body, trembling. She had not cried, just stared ahead, numb. Her grey hair was mostly contained under a bonnet.
“How could this have happened?” Leevan asked the room, staring at his father. The surgeon had hidden the damage to the dead king’s chest. “They were loyal. His personally chosen guards!”
“I have launched an investigation,” Basiano lied. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Something drove them to madness. I suspect a poison, I just do not know how.” Nereida closed her eyes and began to quietly weep. She stepped away, closer to Aella, but not touching. Aella longed to hold her wife, to sooth her, but she felt the judgemental eyes of the other spouses, and knew it would other her wife if she did. The spouses did not consider them married, not if the King denied it.
“It’s my fault,” Nereida muttered, staring at her father with a broken expression on her face. “I should never have come home.”
“Don’t you say that,” the Queen said, the first words she had spoken since arrival. “He was glad you were home.” Aella only just managed to contain her snort of disbelief at that. “And I am too. More than you can know, little gift.”
Each family member was expected to say something kind about the king, a way of supporting the Queen, more ritualized grieving. It was odd to Aella, but she supposed it was no stranger than the rites she performed for her lost crew.
“First the Queen will speak,” a helpful servant whispered to her. “Then the King’s children, then their spouses.” The servant offered her a drink of wine. She took it gratefully as the servant moved to each of the spouses and the gathered royalty. There was a toast, led by the queen, and they all drank. Aella went through the motions, trying to not stand out.
Basiano and his three wives gathered together. It was odd seeing him around so many women, and he took time to quietly speak to all of them. They comforted him and each other. Basiano even shed tears as he talked about a childhood memory of playing with his father. It was clearly Basiano at the helm, and Aella was glad enough for that, even though she desperately wanted to flee this room. All the other spouses were physically allowed to comfort each other, but she and Nereida remained apart, and it felt as if they were in different worlds.
One by one, the brothers spoke, and then it was Nereida’s turn. She stood beside her mother, shaking and crying.
“I loved father,” she said, her voice breaking. “Even though we didn’t always agree. I came back to spend time with him and mom and I didn’t think it would be this short.” She launched into a tale about him always reading to her at night, before bed, and how she told stories to her children each night to honour him. Tears started to pour down her face. Aella wanted so, so badly to take her in her arms, but when she shifted, Caleb met her eyes and shook his head. It was not permitted because they were unwed in the eyes of this kingdom. She wanted to scream.
Instead, Aella stepped back, watching Nereida be comforted by Basiano.
“Go to your wife,” Basiano said, loudly. Nereida looked up at him in shock. Basiano smiled at her sadly. “Life is too precious, Nerry.” He looked at his gathered siblings. “Aella is Nereida’s wife. I know father told you otherwise, but I saw them get married in a religious ceremony, done by the people of Nereida’s birth. They have been married for months. And I will not see either of them suffer when they don’t have to.” Nereida ran to Aella, burying her face in the Admiral’s shoulder. “We will still have their state wedding,” Basiano continued. “I do not expect the nobles at large to understand the strange situation. But I DO expect you to.” He glanced at his brothers, who nodded, then at the various spouses gathered about. Aella tightened her arms around Nereida.
Each of Basiano’s wives spoke next, each talking about how kind the man had been on their wedding day, or at the birth of their child. Masilee, the eldest of the wives, had the most to say. She stood, rubbing her belly, and promised to name the child after the dead king if he was a boy. Aella tried not to grimace at that. It was tacky to name a child after the newly dead. Such names should sleep for at least a generation! But she said nothing, and tried to focus on Nereida instead of the others. Masilee stepped back, not into Basiano’s arms, but into the arms of one of the wives, and together they cried.
Next was Anjo’s spouse Elam. They spoke of their wedding, of childhood silliness. Elam was tearful, and they ran their hand through their very short, very curly red hair as they spoke of being accepted by the king. Leevan spoke of a time when his father had gone riding with him to the sacred mountain. Basiano shifted at the words, and Aella felt the burning sensation that heralded the dragon’s arrival. But he said nothing, just watched as Caleb told the story of saving the king’s life alongside Nereida, of feeling valued and seen. He looked up at Nereida as he spoke, and the siren’s eyes filled with tears. Aella swallowed her pride, knowing the stupid Dragon of Stars was watching them.
“It’s alright,” she whispered to the siren. She looked across the room at the traitor, her blood boiling, but she drowned her anger, and kissed Nereida’s head. “No more hatred, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she sniffled. She stood, and made her way across the room to Caleb. She whispered words of forgiveness, of understanding, and then hugged the man who had been her friend. Aella swallowed her rage, her anger and her shame. She did not look at the Great Dragon, but she could feel his smug smile.
“Your turn,” he practically purred. “Youngest child’s spouse is last.”
She did look up at him then, and she forgot how to breathe. How was she supposed to say something kind about the man who she had killed? Aella stepped forward, feeling her throat close in fear. She coughed to dislodge her anxiety as best she could. Yellow eyes stared at her from Basiano’s face, and she wondered how no one saw.
“I… I did not know him,” she began, her voice shaking a little. Perhaps they’d think it was from grief and not fear. “But… I see love here. Love in his children’s eyes, his wife’s eyes. I hear tales of a man who inspired love, loyalty and the best in those who came after him. I wish I had more time with such a man.” She stepped back, pleased that she had managed to say something but also nothing that was incriminating. She did wish she had known the King they spoke of. He seemed a mythical creature compared to the man she had met.
They adjourned for tea and a light dinner. Servants brought the children to see their grieving grandmother. It was overwhelmingly loud. The eldest, Basiano’s daughter Camina, was eighteen, while the youngest were Damara and Iria, who cried until they were placed in their parent’s arms. Basiano held Iria, but passed her to Marsilee. The older woman took her, cooed to her. Told her she’d have a baby sibling before long. Aella felt a rush of worry that the little siren would be forgotten once Marsilee bore her child. All told, there were a dozen small children around, each clamouring for attention from the Queen, except for Alejo and Egaz, who stood apart, shy. They scuffled their feet, tugged at the unfamiliar clothing, and clung to each other. The Queen tried to talk to all of them, offer them her love, but there were so many, and the frail old woman was overcome with grief and exhaustion.
Aella offered her condolences to the others, and then left with Damara, who fussed again, wet and hungry.
“I’ll see to the baby,” she said to Nereida. “Do you need me to take the other two as well?”
“No, I have them. Thank you, love.” Nereida kissed her cheek. Aella smiled at her, her heart breaking for her wife again, as she hurried outside.
She took Damara to their wing. There were no servants about now, save the nursemaid who she could hear slumbering in the room she was given off the nursery. Aella took her daughter to the main bedroom, and placed the little girl on the bed. She then threw open the windows, to let the moonlight fall on the infant’s skin. It was a waning crescent, and tomorrow there’d be no moon at all. Madness and grief came easily now. For her and for the moon.
Aella sat in a patch of moonlight on the floor as Damara cooed. The infant was content, waving her arms about while her wide eyes looked around. They were still rather unfocused, and Aella wondered what her daughter could see.
“I didn’t tell Ner,” she told the moon, looking up at the sky as she spoke. “She doesn’t know about this. Please don’t hang on too long.” And she opened up her heart, and allowed the Moon Dragon to take her form, so that she, too, could hold her daughter. It was as easy as falling asleep.
She just hoped Nereida would forgive her. One day.