Chapter Twenty-Four

Tanitha glared at the waters of the lake. Unfortunately, the force of her stare did not seem to make the gently lapping waves any more malleable to her will. With a huff of annoyance, she stood. She swayed slightly as she rose but quickly steadied herself, frowning. The temperature inside the estate's protective enchantments was warm, but not unusually so, and so she wasn't certain why that had been happening lately. She turned away from the lake, heading toward the central area of the garden, the area that represented the mortal plane. It had been over five weeks since that fateful night with her host, and though her other skills had grown rapidly, she hadn't managed to cause a single ripple to appear in that time.

Five weeks... the thought was a strange one. It felt as if it had been both far longer than that, each day filled with her efforts to improve her abilities, and yet far shorter when she looked back on it, a whir of events and emotions that ran higher every time her host came to her. She'd been with him every night since, reveling in every moment she spent with him, drinking in the sensations of every touch, every caress. The only thing that marred the nights was that he never remained with her for the whole of them. His explanation about demons sometimes changing form in their sleep had initially disturbed her, causing words with the weight of prophecy to ring once more in her mind. Over time, though, even that had faded.

Still walking, Tanitha wrapped her right hand around her opposite arm, holding herself close. She still couldn't quite believe that she had let herself fall for him, despite the number of times she'd taken him to her bed. She couldn't seem to resist him, couldn't seem to stop herself from growing closer, from letting her heart grow closer to him. There had been a brief time where she'd thought perhaps the physicality would allow for a release, but it had done precisely the opposite.

The stones of the path were warm beneath her feet despite the swirling snow above, and a sigh escaped her; it seemed an uncomfortably close analogy to the thoughts she'd been wrangling through the day, to the reason that she felt so driven to improve her elemental abilities even though the plan to send her to the academy on the island city of Sarthen had been abandoned. Yes, she was safe and protected here. But the outside world was still there, only held at bay like the snowstorm outside the barrier.

Held at bay, but not gone. No matter how long she was here, she couldn't dismiss the fact that someone out there had wanted her blood spilled strongly enough to order a demon to do it. And more important even than that was the fact that her lover was lying every time he professed ignorance on the identity of who had given that order.

She hadn't pressed on the matter except to ask occasionally if he'd made any progress in discovering what the threat to her was. Each time, he simply stated that he was looking into it, with a gentle reminder that she was safe here. But she hadn't forgotten the one time he'd slipped. It had been weeks previous, yes, but she remembered his words distinctly. The day she'd confronted him about whether or not she'd been in danger the night she'd been taken to the necropolis, he'd admitted that she had been, if only because of the level of influence held by the person who'd given the order. And it simply wasn't possible that if he knew that, he didn't know their identity.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought, but it had been growing louder with each passing day, nagging at her. She wished she could just demand an answer, but she was hugely reluctant to do anything that might shatter the rare peace she'd attained here. There had never been a time in her life when someone had stood between her and the world, willing to protect her from it. It had always been her, doing everything she could to keep herself and Lithra safe. And despite her frustration at his silence, she did believe he had a reason for it. Demanding an answer— assuming he gave one— might force events to move forward, and she didn't want this time to end just yet. There was something immensely comforting about simply allowing herself to be for a time, insulated from the cares of the world outside.

Sometimes she wondered if she was being foolish, telling herself that he must have a reason. Perhaps she only wanted to believe that because the alternative was that he was somehow toying with her, and that was something she couldn't countenance with how hard she had fallen for him. She still didn't even know his face or his name, after all. But at least on that matter, there was an end in sight.

"The day of the Awakening," he'd said one night. They'd just spent hours in the throes of passion, and he'd seemed even more reluctant to leave her side than usual, so their bodies had remained pressed together in the darkness, his strong, muscular form curled protectively around her. His hand had trailed appreciatively along the length of her body. "I will tell you who I am on that day, if not earlier. I'll have some idea of what paths we might take then."

That day was fast approaching; she'd been tracking the days fastidiously since arriving here. And so she told herself that, with a deadline in sight, she could safely wait.

What she couldn't wait on, however, was strengthening herself. The thought sent a stirring of discomfort through her despite her best efforts. She'd only rarely been able to make herself ask what his plans for the future— for their future— might be since then. Perhaps she was just afraid that he wouldn't be able to answer, that he might have to tell her that his plan, whatever it was, couldn't come to fruition. He'd seemed hesitant to fully answer her questions when she asked about what the future might hold, yes, but he'd spoken often of the other demon-ruled cities, of how after he'd attended to some things, he believed they could go to one of them and begin to build a life together.

And much as she didn't want to believe that her faith in him might be in vain, there was a deep part of her that was unwilling to surrender her need to ensure that she could look after herself if something went wrong. If, somehow, he couldn't continue to protect her. And so she'd been practicing with grim determination, creating exercises and challenges for her growing elemental abilities, stretching herself further each day.

As she mentally reviewed some of the exercises she'd designed for herself, she reached the central section of the garden, the grasses cool and damp beneath her bare feet. She headed for one of the uncarved slabs of basalt, then climbed atop it and sat down. Its dark surface was warm from the sunlight even through the fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes, reaching for power through the Rifts.

Working elemental magic was different than soul-speaking; in some ways, it felt like doing the process in reverse. When she was soul-speaking, she was casting her influence outward. With elemental magic, however, it was more like she was pulling the power of the Rifts toward herself. Doing so had become easy, almost second nature, so she'd taken to practicing while atop the basalt, which dampened her sense of her own elemental abilities.

It took her several seconds to push through the natural resistance that radiated out from the stone, and her sense of the Rifts felt oddly slippery, but nonetheless, she was able to seize hold and draw some strength from them. She raised one hand directly in front of her, palm upward. A few seconds later, tiny sparks appeared, quickly coalescing into a swirling whirl of flame. It danced and grew as she fed more power into it, fighting through her dampened access to its source. For a time, she just concentrated on maintaining it, letting it shape itself as it would. Then, abruptly, she pushed as much power as she could into it. The whirl of flame suddenly shot upward in a thin column the width of her hand but several times her own height. With a quick motion, she pulled her hand away and choked off the flow of power. The flames and sparks vanished, the slight remaining warmth on the air the only sign they had ever existed.

She nodded to herself. Soul-speaking was still certainly her greatest strength, but she was progressing well with light, fire, and air, gaining better control all the while. The growth of her own abilities was a comfort to her, soothing much of the anxiety she felt about the uncertainties of her future.

Feeling the first stirrings of hunger, Tanitha glanced at the sun. To her surprise, it looked to be approaching noon already, so she slid from the basalt slab to her feet.

She climbed the stairs to the house's terrace where she lingered for a moment, reluctant to leave the sunshine, then finally entered the dining hall. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the softer golden light of the house's interior. Food was already laid out on the long table, and Tanitha approached. It was a simple meal, just fruit and cheese and a single baked fish with a light sprinkle of seasoning on top. She sat down, but at that moment, the scent of the meal reached her, sending a wave of nausea over her.

Her stomach clenched, and she pushed the plate away from herself, indescribably repulsed by the smell of the fish. She shoved herself away from the table and stood, walking away with her hand pressed to her mouth. She forced herself to take steady breaths until the nausea finally receded, then glanced back at the table, perplexed. First the strange lethargy over the past few days, and now this? Was she ill? She couldn't imagine how she possibly could be; there weren't any other people here to allow a contagion to spread to her, with the exception of her host, and though they'd obviously been in close enough proximity, she didn't think that—

Her thoughts shuddered to an abrupt halt as a possibility occurred to her. When, exactly, was the last time her monthly courses had arrived?

Despite how her heartbeat was suddenly accelerating, Tanitha forced herself to think backward in an orderly fashion. She'd been tracking the days since she came here, and though she knew that she'd been less fastidious about that of late than she'd been in the beginning, she still had a good idea of the passage of time. So unless she was badly miscalculating something, she was over a week late.

The realization shocked her so badly that she leaned against the wall to steady herself. A full week? How could she just now be realizing this? Was she… was she carrying a child?

Her knees suddenly didn't seem able to support her, and she slid down to the ground, wrangling a confusing mess of emotions. Her whole life, she'd avoided anything resembling romantic attachment, so she hadn't ever given the matter of children any real consideration. She'd carefully timed previous liaisons to avoid precisely this. But here, with him, she'd barely given the possibility any thought beyond taking tea brewed with silphium blooms. She'd never heard of a human woman conceiving a child with one of the city's overlords. Was it even possible?

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. Of course it was possible. The founder of the current dynasty had been a demon woman who'd taken a human male as her consort. Demons might avoid mixing bloodlines now , but that didn't mean it couldn't happen.

She rested one hand against her abdomen. Much to her own surprise, once she was past the initial shock, a peculiarly peaceful sense of awe washed over her. Her host, her lover, her friend… she wanted to be with him, to have a life with him, and she knew he wanted the same. Although this was sudden, and not a possibility that she'd truly entertained, there was a rightness to this, to the two of them creating a child together.

Would he feel the same, though? They'd certainly never discussed this. She bit her lip. Lithra often complained about the carelessness of men, of how they never seemed to consider how their pleasure could impact a woman's life. She'd come home from her midwifery duties frustrated and angry at the pain that lack of care had caused many times. But… he wasn't like that, was he? He'd been nothing but considerate of her well-being since she came here.

Another thought occurred, one that made her go suddenly still with the chill that washed over her. The coupling that had founded the current dynasty had been the inverse of her relationship, a human male and a demon female. There wasn't any reason to suppose that a demon woman couldn't easily bear such a child. But what about the reverse? Could a human woman safely bear the child of one of his kind?

Her heart was beating loudly in her ears, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She had absolutely no idea on that point, and that lack of knowledge made the chill of dread settle deep into her bones. There were any number of stories about the horrors that could happen to women who shared a bed with the creatures of the Abyss, though she had no idea if they were true or not; Karazhen's policies on this matter were focused on the safe recovery of the resultant children, so the mothers' fate was largely irrelevant. Obviously those women were able to bring the children to term, but… did they usually survive the process?

She pulled her knees to her chest. She didn't know. She didn't know any of the answers she needed right now. But surely, surely he would have said something, insisted on additional precautions, if this was dangerous to her?

She gave one sharp shake of the head, trying to rein in the rapid rise of fear in her breast. There was a simple solution to this, an obvious course of action to take before she let herself slide into anxieties that could easily be completely baseless. She just had to calmly tell him that she thought she might be with child, then ask him if it was safe.

Would he answer honestly, though?

The thought sent another wash of cold over her. She tried to tell herself that she was being absurd; of course he would answer honestly. She wasn't going to allow herself to believe for one moment that he cared so little for her that he'd lie to her about this.

And yet… it wouldn't be the first time, would it? She swallowed. Although she'd mostly dismissed her own discomfort on the matter, it was still the case that she didn't believe that he didn't know the truth about why her death had been ordered in the first place. He'd preserved her life, and she had let that be enough. But it was still true that he hadn't been honest about the nature of something that threatened her once before.

She gripped the fabric of the dress near her calves, trying to ground herself. She didn't have a choice, though. She didn't have another option besides asking him if she was safe and trusting in his answer.

Unless… Realization suddenly struck. She did know one other person that might be able to answer her questions. Lithra had never spoken of a case like this, but Tanitha was willing to bet she'd at least heard of one. If conceptions like this could occur, it struck Tanitha as deeply unlikely that she was the first.

Yes, Lithra would know, and she'd answer honestly. But how could Tanitha possibly speak with her? So far, she hadn't even been able to persuade him to carry a letter to Lithra. Tanitha held herself closer. Somehow, she had to convince him, and she didn't know how.

She took a calming breath. In the beginning, he'd been very emphatic on the point that she wasn't a prisoner. She could leverage that, if it came to it. She didn't believe he'd prevent her from seeing Lithra if he saw how desperately important it was to her.