Chapter 144: Aella’s Journey
Aella was never a fan of waking up on the floor, but to break from her possession and find Caleb looking at her like she was some kind of hurt puppy was almost untenable.
“I’m fine,” she grumbled at him. She could hear Nereida telling the new parents how to feed magic to their draconic offspring. Caleb offered his hand to her, and she took it. The blood on his hand was dry, but the man had made no effort to clean it.
“Ner,” Aella called, interrupting her wife’s enthusiastic explanation of the needs of infant dragons, “I’ve got a wicked headache, and could use an escort back to our room. Mind if I steal Caleb away?” Nereida’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. She did not often use the man’s name, but now it was important. She was not even sure why it was important. Dragon’s saggy left ballsack, she wished she actually knew when her intuition was just that, and when it was finger-wiggling nonsense.
The prince looked mighty surprised that she wanted him to accompany her, but he nodded and stepped toward her. There was a moment where Basiano looked livid, but the expression faded as one of the babies made a cooing sound. He knelt on the blanket, placing one of his large hands on the twin that had been a dragon. Aella gave Caleb a look, hoping he’d understand. The man nodded, and offered her his arm in a manner that Nereida had shown her that meant courtesy. She limped along beside him, her weakness real. Her back screamed at her as she moved, as if she had been slammed into the floor. Her clothing was torn at the back, flapping uselessly. The servants were going to hate her. Perhaps she’d just ask Nereida to mend it. Were they allowed to mend during mourning?
They headed down the hall in companionable silence. The prince followed her a pace behind, which seemed odd, but she was not going to call him on it while in the servant tunnels. The walls had ears, after all. Instead they plodded along in the mostly dark corridors, without candle or torch, until they reached her wing. The hearthfire was low, but still warm. Caleb followed her into the sitting area, his expression tight.
“Is there something you wanted, Admiral?” he asked softly, his tone respectful but distant. She scowled at the boy. Scowling, frustration, those were easy feelings, safe feelings.
“I thought, Captain, that you’d want to freshen up here. Wash the blood from your hands to avoid awkwardness with your hubby.”
Caleb stared at her for a long moment, and then he sank to the floor, his body shaking. Aella stayed rooted to the spot, but looked away, giving the man a moment to reclaim his control and his dignity.
“I committed treason today,” he whispered, so quiet that Aella wasn’t entirely sure she heard him.
“You being dramatic or…?” Now the man looked up. He had tears running silently down his cheeks, but he did not try to wipe them away, did not sob. Instead he looked almost angry. An angry Salamander was never a good thing.
“I held her hand.” Aella wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, until she understood who the “her” in question was. He’d held the hand of the traitor! “She was dying, and terrified. I… I was ordered to give her no mercy, to concentrate on the baby’s delivery but not… not help her in any way.”
“You aren’t a midwife,” Aella snarked at him. His anger faded slightly, and he gave a dry chuckle.
“I’m not, but I have helped deliver a child before. My youngest daughter was early and I… I was the one with the birth mother. I held her hand too.” His voice was rough, shaking, as memories were likely plaguing him. “I knew her for nearly twenty five years. She was family once. And after… after I poisoned Nerry… I swore never to follow an order like that again…. It nearly destroyed her… this would have destroyed me.”
He stopped talking, and turned away from her to stare into the fire. It crackled and popped, a reassuring sound.
“Basiano knows. He… If I disappear, Admiral, tell Nerry why.”
“He is a good man, I’m sure he won’t….” But her words felt like ash on her tongue. She stepped forward, and placed her hand on his shoulder. “My offer still stands. A place on the Tooth.” He brought his hand up to touch hers, patting it in silent thanks. And then he left to use their bath, to freshen up. Aella took a moment to find a servant who was up at dawn to fetch him some clothing, so that he did not have to put on anything bloodstained.
Nereida arrived shortly after, looking bemused.
“They named the babies,” she said, a wistful smile on her face. Aella nodded along, her mind elsewhere. She was more concerned about Basiano’s mood than what he called his offspring. “Lucera is the baby girl. She’s smaller than her brother, Licio.” Nereida’s smile was radiant, and Aella could not help but smile back. She had not seen Nereida look so happy in a long time. She did not want to end it, to bring her wife back to the reality that her grieving brother was being cruel. She considered telling her about Caleb’s revelation, but it was not her story to tell.
“How are the new parents holding up?” she asked instead. Nereida’s smile faltered.
“Basi is emotional. He keeps looking at the little girl with this heartbroken expression. Priscilla won’t even hold her, she’s more interested in Licio. Orelia is over the moon. Her youngest, aside from Iria, is five already, and she was told she could not have more, even though she wanted six.”
Aella mimicked retching.
“Six? She wanted to be pregnant six times?” Nereida snickered at her wife’s antics. She reached out, patting her arm sympathetically.
“Some people actually like being pregnant.” Aella blinked at Nereida in utter disbelief. She considered answering that, but let it drop as Caleb entered the room. He was dressed in a simple grey robe, his belt a simple piece of rope. He held his healed arm, and was looking at the stump where his hand used to be with disdain. Aella saw why only when he came right up to them to hug Nereida tightly. He still had blood beneath his fingernails, and without another hand he could not clean himself as thoroughly. He turned toward Aella, his face puckered like he had eaten a lemon.
“Thank you, ma’am, for letting me get cleaned up.” He gave her a little half-bow. She bowed her head to him, careful not to incline her back at all. She did not want him thinking he out-ranked her. Even though he did. He might not be the traitor she thought he was, but she was not quite sure she could trust him either.
“I’ll see you later, Nerry,” the man added, straightening up. He looked exhausted, bone-weary and emotionally spent. She felt an uncomfortable flutter of pity in her heart. Aella stepped aside so he could leave; she’d not make him feel he had to stay.
Once he was gone, Aella collapsed on their couch. It still had the blanket they had been reading under, but someone had picked up the book they’d dropped to the floor, placed a bookmark in it, and set it on one of the side tables. She wrinkled her nose. How often were the servants in their quarters? Nereida dropped onto the couch without any grace at all, leaning into her as if she were a pillow.
“We should sleep in bed,” Nereida said, snuggling in deeper as if she had no such intention. Aella smiled softly, brushing a wild bit of blue hair off her wife’s cheek. Her skin was so soft. She kissed Nereida’s head.
“Wisdom,” she agreed sagely. “That we will both likely ignore.” Nereida giggled softly, burying her face in Aella’s lap. It was a perfect moment, sitting by the warm fire, the world calm and quiet. She let herself believe for a moment that perhaps Basiano was on track to healing. That Nereida’s family might feel less like their mast was burning down and their helm was drunk. She gently stroked Nereida’s soft hair, feeling the way it tried to curl around her ears but nowhere else, watching as her wife’s breaths became more even. Nereida’s face relaxed as she drifted into sleep, her worry-lines near her eyes disappeared and she wore a faint smile. Aella stared down at her until sleep started trying to sneak aboard. She gently woke her wife, herding her to their bedroom. She did not bother changing into sleep clothing, just tucked in her wife, and then climbed into the bed herself, placing her ear on her wife’s breast, listening to her gentle heartbeat until sleep finally stole over them both.
Morning arrived grey. The sylph were no longer being paid by Aella to keep the skies clear, and the clouds were returning with snow. Aella could feel the dampness in her bones. Her fingers protested moving, and she went to find gloves to wear until the fires were built up. She was unaccustomed to such cold, snowy winters. She had imagined that the people who could bring fire into existence from nothing would have lived in a climate even warmer than her own. Instead, their winter had snow, and icy rain and cold winds that blew down from the mountains and made everything feel worse.
The boys, at least, were taken with snow. They built snowmen in their little courtyard, had snowball fights and even brought some clean snow in for Damara to play with indoors. The little baby was not at all interested, but the boys did manage to get her to knock over a miniature snowman they built. The puddle had been a terrible mess, but the servants who had arrived to clean it had indulgent smiles on their faces, and one of them praised the boys for thinking of their sister in their play. Alejo preened at that, strutting about because he had been called a good brother.
Nereida was gone to tea with her mother, the boys were in lessons with their private tutors. Basiano insisted that they get a strong education while they remained, and Aella had agreed with him. It was rare enough that they were on the same side, and Nereida let them attend the formal lessons despite how much complaining both boys did. Aella was reading the book of fables to Damara, who seemed to be paying attention as much as any infant could. She hit the page excitedly when she saw one of the strange animals drawn inside. The knock at the door surprised her enough that Aella dropped the book. She lifted Damara up and went to answer it. Only family came by, so there was no danger.
Caleb entered, his face drawn and pale. It looked as if he had been crying, with how red his eyes were. His face went carefully blank when he saw it was her, a politician’s face when the news was dire. She’d been with Nereida long enough to see through such things. His eyes were full of pain.
“May I come in, Admiral?” his tone was formal, but his voice was soft. She nodded, and stepped back, letting him in. She made the right noises about him being a guest, called for servants to bring tea and biscuits, and waited until the food and drink were both delivered, a floral, relaxing scent lifting from the tea. It wasn’t lavender, the scent was a bit too sharp for that, but it was lovely none the less.
“What happened?” she asked softly. She gave Damara a biscuit, which the mostly-toothless child mouthed and broke into tiny, messy wet crumbs that fell on the carpet.
“Basi told Leevan what I did.” His voice was flat. He looked into his tea as if he could find a way to navigate himself back to safe waters. “He kicked me out.”