*SPOILER ALERT! *
Do not read the following chapters if you have yet to read the first five books in the Harrowbethian Saga. These beginning chapters to book VI will spoil the series if you haven't read the start of Eena's adventures.
Continue at your own risk.
Don't say you weren't warned.
Baby Blue
Evening
fell—dark and miserable.
With
the lights off, Eena wrapped herself in a pink bedspread, part of the layout of
pink quarters Derian had once arranged for her as a surprise. The soft covers
offered some degree of comfort, but not enough to ease her sorrows. She had
never thought about losing Ian, not that she had honestly lost him. The
emotions, however, were as grievous to bear as if he were gone. It hurt just as
deeply.
Since
parting ways outside the garden, she had heard no word from him. Her troubled mind
insisted on replaying over and over how cold his touch had felt against her
neck. Not temperature wise but in manner of intent, as though the act of
reclaiming his pendant amounted to a form of death sentence. It felt just as horrid.
Just as final. For some irrational reason, it had never occurred to her that he
might take back the pendant. It was her birthday present after all.
But
of course he had to. It would be awkward and utterly absurd to allow her to keep
it. The very idea was inappropriate.
The pendant wasn’t really hers. It belonged to Angelle.
She never
should have expected to hold onto it any more than she could expect to retain
Ian’s affections. How spoiled a notion to think she could selfishly guard his
affections as if they were something to lock inside a treasure chest and bring
out when needed. And yet it had pacified her subconscious to entertain the idea
of having an arm around Derian and a hand on Ian. She loved both men; there was
no denying the truth. Her love for each had developed in two unique, dissimilar
ways.
Loving
Ian was like being cuddled in a soft, warm blanket. It was comforting and
effortless. Bearing her soul to Ian was as simple as a passing thought. Sharing
her feelings, her wishes, her fears, hopes, and dreams—this was the essence of
their relationship, a love founded on the securest, most trusting friendship
she had ever known. It was precious and perfectly desirable.
Loving
Derian was an entirely different experience than loving Ian. The emotions were
almost contrary in every sense. Not gentle, but intense. Not calm and
comfortable, but passionate and frequently demanding. Not easy, but often
frustratingly complicated.
And
yet Derian’s affections were an addiction, a craving she longed to satisfy, a
hunger demanding to be fed. It was as if traces of liquid metal pumped through
her beating heart and he was her magnet—a powerful pull impossible to resist.
He was not the man to whom she could bear her soul or share every thought and
dream. No. To speak to the captain meant treading lightly where the likelihood
of a potential argument existed. As much as she knew beyond any shadow of a
doubt that he loved her, his passion was as intense in their conflicts as in
their feelings for one another.
The
greatest moving factor—what drew Eena to Derian more than anything—was knowing
how he had loved her from the very beginning. From the day she was born he had
accepted it as his destiny to cherish and care for the girl who responded most
favorably to his delicate strokes against her pale, little cheeks. He had
learned then how to succor her. And even years after enduring a lengthy
separation, his magic fingers retained the same succoring touch.
He had
loved her first. And now she loved him in return.
Knowing
the depth of her feelings for Derian, she could not understand why her heart
ached so miserably for Ian.
Exhausted
by emotion, the young queen closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
The
cornstalks in her dreams had grown to stand taller than her father. Every plant
was deeply green, covered in floppy, sinuous leaves. A long waiting period remained
before the stalks would brown and dry enough for feeder corn. On the horizon, a
sunset bathed the entire stretch of farmland in a pinkish radiance. Even the clouds
reflected hues of rose and burgundy. It was pretty.
Eena
sat alone beneath her favorite weeping willow. The solace was expected and
tolerable. She didn’t lean against the bark of the tree, but hugged both knees
to her chest, tight enough to slouch over them. The wind’s gentle touch warmed
her skin. It smelled of mint. Crickets chirped a symphony of nature’s violins,
supported by a rhythm section made of croaking tree frogs.
Her
hope was to quietly sit out the night and let her mind wander where it pleased,
and for a few hours that hope was realized. The solitude was broken when a
ghostly form materialized within arm’s reach. Eena’s heart skipped a beat, and
she hustled to her feet, gawking at the apparition.
“Derian?
Derian, you’re back!”
The
late captain’s translucent features appeared remarkably flawless, more handsome
than he had been in life. Eena yearned to hug the man, but she understood he
was an apparition possessing no physical form to embrace. Swallowing back the
urge to reach for his hand, she teared up and smiled.
“Oh,
Eena.” The captain seemed happy to see her too, yet his face bore signs of
strain and weariness. “How long has it been?” His brow communicated concern with
the amount of time that had passed since his last appearance.
“Not
long,” she assured him. “Only three days.”
Derian’s
features showed a hint of relief but then immediately tightened up again. “I
don’t know how I’m going to escape this place. It takes every ounce of energy I
possess just to show myself to you. This is more exhausting then you can
imagine.”
“Don’t
worry, Derian, I’ll get you out of there. And Angelle too.”
The
captain’s eyes grew wide with shock. “You know about Angelle?”
“Yes.
Pallador told me. Ian knows too.”
A
frown formed on ghostly lips. “I didn’t mention her before because I feared it
would further upset you…and Ian.” Derian seemed to consider something as his
eyes flickered to the young queen’s neck and then back to her hazel gaze. “Is
that why you no longer wear his pendant?”
For
the first time, Eena found herself glad that Ian had reclaimed his “promise”
token. She nodded in answer to the question. It bothered her when the captain
deepened his frown. Anticipating the reason for his disappointment, she delved
into an explanation.
“The
only reason I took his pendant was because I thought you were dead. Your body
was lifeless. I couldn’t heal you.” Her expression revealed the pain of those
memories. “There was a black, wretched funeral…”
Derian
cut in, fear quivering his voice. “My body. Is it…?”
“It’s
fine. Don’t worry, Derian, your body is perfectly fine. I restored it to good
health, along with Angelle’s. Jinatta is watching over the both of you. All I
need to do now is free your spirits and reunite the two.”
She
was smiling reassuringly until the captain’s brow furrowed, creating a disgruntled
look that was all too often a precursor to disagreements.
“No,
Eena, you will not come after us. I forbid it.” The imposing authority in his voice
had not changed. “I’ve been listening to Anesidora and Ishtura scheming up more
wicked plans. I know that Pallador possesses the gem now. It doesn’t exist in
Harrowbeth anymore.”
“Yes,
I’m aware of that, Derian.”
“Then
you know it’s impossible for you to reach me.”
She
denied his assumption, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s not impossible…”
“It
is,” he insisted, “because your place is on Moccobatra. No government on the
planet would agree to let you leave home a second time. Not after what happened
to our world the last time.”
“Then
how do you think you’re going to…”
“No,
Eena, that’s final!”
Her
jaw tightened, and she mirrored the stubborn resolve in his face. Ian was
right. The man was
irritating.
“And
what do you think you can do to stop me?” She taunted him with a touch of
insolence in a perked eyebrow.
“Don’t
you dare defy me on this, Eena.” His finger wagged at her as he growled his
words. “Your life is of far greater value than mine. You will not risk it coming after
me. Our world and every living creature living on it needs you.”
“I
need you!” she declared. “I can’t just sit around and hope that someone else
will feel enough compassion to do something!”
Her
captain stepped closer, reaching for a moment, forgetting his hand had lost the
ability to touch. He let his arm drop. “You’ve spoken to Pallador, so he’s
aware of the situation. Let him handle it.”
She
couldn’t hide her discouragement—an automatic reaction to Derian’s words.
The
captain’s face wilted as he read her expression. “Pallador’s not going to do
anything.”
“He
will,” Eena insisted, forcing a show of optimism. “I’ll convince him to.”
“No.
You must stay home.”
“It’s
too late for that anyway; I’ve already left.”
The
ghostly form flickered out of focus as though it would vanish completely. Eena
panicked and reached out, wanting to grab ahold. When Derian refocused, his
features were angrier than before. Eena took a wary step backwards.
“How?
Who the criminy would be foolish enough to allow you to leave?” The gears in
his mind were spinning, racing for an answer. “Not Edgar,” the captain growled.
Eena
made a sour face at the suggestion.
Derian
squinted, and his tight eyes turned as black as tar. “Shanks!” He spit out the
name like vinegar. “That son of a…”
“No,
Derian!” Eena cut in, flashing a reprimanding frown. “Shanks happens to be accompanying
me,” she admitted, “but he isn’t the only person determined to come to your
rescue. There are a lot of people who care a great deal about you.”
As
her captain’s eyes sparked with understanding, Eena tried to excuse the
unanimous decision of his crew.
“If
the tide were reversed for any one of us, Derian, you would do exactly the same
thing. You wouldn’t hesitate to come after us.”
“I
would never risk
the life of our Sha! Not after finally securing your safety on Moccobatran soil
for the first time in ages! Who is piloting the ship? Shanks? Jerin? Marguay?
Don’t tell me it’s Rhoen turned traitor again!”
“Stop
it!” she gasped. “Rhoen is as loyal to you as Jerin, Marguay, and all your men.”
“Then
what the hell are they doing? I didn’t spend my entire life protecting you,
sacrificing to bring you home, so that my asinine men could turn around and throw
away everything I worked for on some impossible rescue mission!”
“You’re
their captain, Derian! They want to repay you for the countless times you saved
their lives.”
“If
I’m still their captain, then you pass along this order—” He shook his finger
at her, and she glared at it. “You tell them to turn that clunky Viidun ship
around right now and take you home!” A new thought seemed to hit him like a
thump on the head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, please tell me you’re on the Triac.”
Eena
tried to hold a blank face, but failed.
“For
crying out loud, Eena! Tell me you didn’t heist the Kemeniroc! Tell me you
didn’t steal my ship! Was this another one of your impetuous ideas?”
Her
mouth dropped open, hurt and offended.
“Go
home!” the captain growled. “Go home now! Take everyone with you and apologize to the
council for your momentary lapse of sanity!”
Eena
narrowed her eyes, not only due to the mounting anger but to ward off a rise of
tears. “The only lapse of sanity I ever had was thinking that you and I
actually belong together!”
“Don’t.”
Derian’s voice suddenly subdued. “Don’t say that. You know we do.”
In
strained silence they stared at one another until his ghostly image flickered
out of focus again.
“No,
wait! Don’t go!” Eena reached out, hesitant to step forward. “I’m sorry, I’m
sorry for what I said.”
His
eyes turned towards the sky with a look of agitation that Eena recognized as
conclusive to an apparition’s visit.
“No,
not yet!” she cried.
When
he vanished, the words that lingered behind were disturbing.
“Go
back, Eena. Take my ship home!”
It
was only a moment that she stood alone and cried into her hands. As if on cue,
two inviting arms turned her around and wrapped her up like the comforting pink
covers she slept beneath. Her best friend was there for her, exactly as he had said
he would be. He didn’t breathe a word, even though a good, gloating “I told you
so” was more than warranted.
The
room was dark when morning came. In truth, it was impossible to tell if it was
morning or evening or somewhere in between the two. No sunrise or sunset existed
to color the windows out in space, just anomalies passing by at outrages speeds
in an endless pit of blackness. Whatever the time of day, Eena was awake.
(It’s
afternoon in Harrowbeth, if that helps.) Ian’s voice sounded loud and clear in
her head. Not the slightest tinge of melancholy or bitterness affected it.
(Does
that mean it’s afternoon on the ship too?) she asked.
(Yes,
Queenie, it does.)
She
sat up in bed, realizing she had fallen asleep in her Mishmorat clothing. She
wondered if there was a fresh change available for her.
(Check
the closet,) Ian suggested.
After
hopping out of bed, Eena slapped her palm against a light switch. The resulting
brightness made her eyes scrunch. Behind a narrow closet door, the young queen
found a minimal selection of colorful gowns hanging side by side. The sight
made her groan. For some reason she had dared to hope the fashion on their cruise
would consist of casual attire. What was so improper about a nice pair of
pants?
Ian’s
chuckle tickled the back of her mind, sounding markedly pleasant. It was good
to hear.
(You
hungry?)
(Yes,
I suppose,) she answered, debating whether to change her clothes. She probably
didn’t smell bad after only one day in Niki’s borrowed jeans.
(Then
come have breakfast with me,) Ian invited.
(Where
are you?)
(In
your front room.)
Her
face lit up with a big smile. (Be right there.) Turning away from the gowns, she
decided to wear the same comfortable outfit for one more day.
Eena
found her best friend seated at a small square dining table, sporting the wily grin
she loved so much. On the tabletop was a big, fancy bowl filled with a variety
of fruits. Ian held a half-eaten ongrea in one hand, the pit showing where he
had bitten into the flesh. His crooked smile rounded one cheek as he held up
the peachy produce.
“Still
my favorite,” he announced aloud.
Eena
was happy to hear it, on many levels. She took a seat across from him after he
kicked out the chair with the toe of his shoe. He was still grinning.
“You’re
beyond chivalrous,” she teased, her words dripping with sarcasm.
“It’s
my nature,” he winked.
His
cheerful mood, though comforting, struck her as a little odd. It was almost too
cheerful for the stressful night they had shared. She caught Ian biting his lip
for a split-second, his eyes glancing downward. His gaze quickly flickered up
again, and the wily grin returned to its proper place.
“Okay,
I give up. What’s got you so perky?”
Ian
shrugged and took another bite of ongrea.
“Come
on, talk to me,” she implored.
He
wiped away a trail of juice that was dribbling down his chin before he offered
an enticing lead. (I know something you don’t know. Something you would really really love to know.)
(Really?)
(Really.)
She
stared at him for the longest moment, half expecting him to give up the secret.
(Okay,)
she finally sighed, (are you planning to make me guess?)
(Sounds
like a good game to me,) he impishly agreed.
(Sounds
like a headache to me,) she retorted. Eena reached into the bowl on the table
and dug for a round, purplish pahna. (It’s not fair that I can never read what’s
on your mind, but you always know what’s on mine.)
Again,
he shrugged and took a bite of ripe, juicy ongrea flesh.
(Okay,
fine,) she gave in, blowing the bangs off her forehead. The action made it
obvious that her hair was ratted. She used her fingers to try and comb it out.
(You
look like hell, you know.) Ian grinned wide with the insult. (What did you do,
lose a wrestling match with your pillow last night?)
(No,
thank you very much,) she grumbled. Her hands ran flat over her long hair,
trying to smooth it down. (I was wrestling with my covers. It was a rough night,
if you must know.)
Ian’s
next words came out with a completely different timbre: sympathetic and
sincere. (I know, Eena. I was there.)
(Thanks
for that by the way,) she uttered. She really meant it. They shared a silent moment
of mutual understanding before Ian cut in with another wisecrack.
(That
reminds me. About Derian—I told you so.) Ian laughed at the killer glare he
received and then ducked the pahna Eena wasted on a shot at his head. Of course,
he would have seen that coming.
(You
could have caught it,) she griped.
(If
I liked pahna fruit, I might have,) he replied, still chuckling.
She
rose from the table and headed away from her tormentor.
(Where
are you going, Queenie?)
(You
tell me, mind reader.) She couldn’t help but smirk when a groan of disgust sounded
at her back.
(Do
you have to picture it?) he complained.
(Hey,
nature calls,) she chirped. (Stay out of my head if you don’t like it.)
(It’s
kind of difficult when that’s the only way you ever talk to me anymore.)
She
disappeared behind the bedroom door and reappeared twenty minutes later dressed
in the same comfortable attire but looking well-groomed and smelling fresh as a
flower. Ian complimented her when he twisted his head to look. He had moved to
the couch.
“Nice.”
“Thank
you.” After rounding the couch, the young queen sat her hip on the cushy arm.
Her thoughts went back to the impromptu party in the commissary the night
before. “I assume no Mishmorats or Viiduns are missing. Do you know if any
mischief took place last night after we left?”
“None
you need to worry about,” Ian told her. She could see he was hiding something by
the twinkle in his eye.
“What
happened?” she asked, certain he had a story to tell.
“Let’s
just say there may be an influx of soldiers visiting your garden.”
Her
eyes scrunched, unable to guess what he was talking about. “Okay, and why?”
Ian’s
shoulders jostled with a snicker. “Efren showed off your garden to Kira last
night. She discovered the warm pond. You know how your sisters have a fondness
for swimming in their underclothes.”
“Oh
great,” Eena groaned.
“But
don’t worry too much about it, Queenie, there is a deterrent.” Ian let go a
laugh he couldn’t quite stifle.
“What
deterrent?” she asked, grinning at his apparent amusement.
“Shanks
likes to swim too.”
“Oh?”
“Actually,
he prefers skinny dipping.”
“Ew!
Ew, Ian, like I need that image in my head!”
(Now
you know how I feel on a regular basis,) he said, cracking up.
After
a moment of grossing out, Eena all but begged Ian, “Please, can we change the
subject.”
“Sure.
What do you want to talk about?”
She
remembered what he mentioned earlier at the table. “Are you ready to fill me in
on the secret of yours?”
Her
curiosity merely earned her another wily grin. “Nah, you’ll find out soon
enough. I’ll give you a hint, though: you might want to get a birthday gift
soon. Something in blue might be nice. Maybe azure blue or royal blue or
perhaps…baby blue.”
“A
birthday gift? In blue?” She gasped, suddenly worried. “Oh no, is it your
birthday? Did I miss your birthday?” Genuinely upset, she realized she had no
real clue when his birthday was.
“No,
not mine. You’ve got a couple months yet.”
Making
a mental note, Eena guessed again. “Is it Jerin’s birthday?” If the crew was
planning a party, she would need to be prepared.
“No,
and that’s the last question I’m answering about the matter. You’ll have to
figure this one out for yourself.”
Eena
considered the many possibilities, assuming she could safely narrow it down to
the people on the ship whom she knew well.
(That’s
not necessarily the case,) Ian warned her. His eyebrow shot high and then relaxed.
Another
thought crossed her mind. She didn’t say anything; it wasn’t necessary.
(No,
it’s not Derian’s birthday either. His is after mine.)
That
was good. She would hate for the captain to miss his own birthday party.
“Anyway,”
Ian sighed, shoving himself up from the sofa, “I’ve got things to do.”
“You
do?” Eena rose to her feet, her face a picture of genuine surprise. She had
assumed he meant to spend the day with her. “But…but who’s going to act as my
protector?”
Ian
turned on his way out, long enough to comment. “Good question. Technically,
that is Father’s job now. Jorban publicly declared him your official protector,
so legally I’m off the hook.” Ian shrugged his shoulders and turned up his palms
in a helpless manner.
“But
Unan’s not here to watch over me,” she reminded him.
That
didn’t stop the young man from walking out. “I suppose I’ll have to call Father
on that the next time I see him.”
Eena
watched the door close as she stood in the middle of the floor, shocked to be left
completely alone. It was something that seldom happened. She wondered if her
best friend had realized he was less ready to spend time with her than he had thought.
He had been doing so well, though, acting like his old, goofy self. Maybe they
were both crazy to think their relationship could slip back to “just friends”
overnight. Maybe time apart was more vital than either wanted to admit.
Uncertain
what to do, Eena turned around slowly in a full circle, noticing how her
quarters looked exactly as they had on her journey to Moccobatra. The walls
were adorned with the same moving pictures—a crioness soaring above leafy
begonsta branches, fireworks lighting a Disneyland castle, and a blooming image
of Harrowbeth’s grand tree in the city square. The same olive chairs and gold
sofa sat clustered on one side of the room while a lightwood dining table was
pushed up against the wall on the other end. Derian had arranged it all for
her, a kindhearted gesture after she had lost a wager with him on a mallawum game.
Her spirit wilted when she thought of his recent contrary behavior.
Sighing
loud and long, she decided against spending the day in her quarters. There were
plenty of other places to go. Productive things to do. That’s when she
remembered one of those things—paying Jinatta, the ship’s doctor, a proper
“welcome back” visit.
With
renewed optimism, she set out for the medical bay.
The corridor
was empty when Eena stepped off the elevator. She followed a red, linear border
down a white hallway, walking only a few feet to where doors to the medical bay
were located. A small box on the outside wall required a scan of her palm
before she was allowed access to enter. Eena loved how the security system
worked on the ship, recognizing each person’s unique handprints. She especially
loved having authorization to roam about. That hadn’t always been the case.
Inside
the medical bay, a row of beds lined both sides of the room, each one covered
with a clean, white sheet tucked tight at the corners. No monitors were running,
and not one piece of medical equipment was sitting out. A person might have
presumed the bay was unoccupied except for the sound of muted voices carrying
from behind a dividing wall at the far back. Eena headed down the central aisle
towards a rear office, the place where she had first encountered the Kemeniroc’s talented doctor. Neither
had been keen on the other right off; however, time had managed to transform their
relationship. But not before the two had butted heads over more than one
misunderstanding.
The conversation
taking place in the back became more coherent as Eena drew near. Naturally, she
listened in, interpreting it as typical patient-doctor dialogue.
“I
feel good most of the time, other than a little nausea and tiredness.”
“Nausea
is to be expected. Are you getting enough sleep?”
Eena
recognized the doctor’s conscientious questioning. It was Jinatta.
“Oh
yes. Except for the evening before last when we pulled an all-nighter to prep
the ship. I’ll admit I found it more difficult than usual. I fell asleep at my
console a couple of times. Marguay had to wake me.”
The
patient’s softer tone Eena knew well. It belonged to Leisha. Apparently, the
poor woman had come down sick. Crud. Eena blamed herself for pushing everyone
to leave Harrowbeth so quickly.
Jinatta
spoke again, offering medical advice. “Find time to rest. You need to take care
of yourself, hun. Don’t do as much as you normally would. Make allowances for
your condition, regardless of whether Marguay likes it or not.”
Condition?
How serious was Leisha’s illness?
There
was a light chuckle before the patient admitted, “It’s not Marguay who pushes
me. I do that to myself.”
“Not
anymore,” the doctor scolded. “You’ve got to think of your health now.”
Eena
was growing more concerned with each comment. If Leisha was sick and Jinatta
couldn’t cure her condition, why had they not called on their Sha for help?
Eena
rapped her knuckles on the edge of the wall to make her presence known.
“Hello?
Is it okay for me to come back there?”
She
heard her name gasped with surprise. “Uh…yes, yes, come on back.”
As
soon as she rounded the corner, her eyes locked onto a dark-haired, tomboyish
woman who flashed a white, friendly smile. She was seated on one of two flat
beds, clad in a silky examining gown. Eena noted Leisha’s warm coloring and
glowing features—certainly, signs of good health.
Jinatta
also offered a pleasant smile, her blonde curls pulled back in a ponytail.
Before
anyone could say a word, Eena questioned the patient. “Are you okay? Are you
sick? How bad is it?” Concern took her right to Leisha’s bedside.
“I’m
fine, Sha Eena.” A hand wave gestured there was nothing to worry about, but
Eena determined to check for herself. When the dragon’s soul shimmered softly, Jinatta
jumped in, voicing a strong objection.
“No,
stop!” She moved in front of her patient, deterring any physical contact.
Eena
couldn’t understand the doctor’s odd behavior. Why prevent a simple healing
touch if their friend was ill? She stepped sideward and attempted to reach out,
but the patient too seemed determined to avoid her.
“Sha
Eena, I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”
Determined
to discover for herself what they were hiding, Eena managed to maneuver close
enough to snatch Leisha’s wrist. It required only a touch. Her mind traveled
through every bodily system in a matter of seconds, searching for
abnormalities, infections, irregularities, foreign objects…
Her
eyes grew wide with wonder as she focused on the medical analysis. It was a
foreign object. A curious one.
Leisha
sighed resignedly and allowed the young healer to keep hold of her wrist. Wanting
a closer look, Eena concentrated; she had never come across anything as
intriguing before. Her fascination changed by degrees, transitioning from initial
curiosity to amazement to delight. She was sensing the presence of a developing
lifeform.
“You’re
pregnant,” Eena breathed. “Oh my gosh.”
That’s
when Leisha ripped her wrist free, acting peeved. “Yes, I am pregnant, and I
would appreciate it if you would keep this personal news a secret.”
Both
doctor and patient were wearing identical frowns. Jinatta folded her arms
across her chest, her posture conveying disappointment.
“Why
a secret?” Eena asked, confused by their conduct. “Doesn’t Marguay know?”
“No!”
the two blurted out.
Eena
stepped back, more confused.
“Look,”
Leisha started, exhaling her frustration, “I don’t want him to know until we’re
done with the mission. Otherwise, he’ll be too concerned about my ‘condition’
to be of any worth to Jerin and the crew.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,
seriously!”
“Okay,
okay, I won’t tell.” Eena couldn’t help but be intrigued by the tiny lifeform
growing inside her friend. It was a miraculous thing. “Would you mind if I feel
him again? Please?”
“Him?” Leisha voiced the word with
surprise.
“Uh…well,
uh…” Eena faltered, fearing she had divulged too much information.
“It’s
okay, you can tell me,” Leisha said. “I want to know.”
The
young queen grinned wide and nodded excitedly. “Yes, it’s a boy. You’re going
to have a son.”
Pressing
a palm against the new mother’s tummy, Eena closed her eyes and let the dragon’s
soul kindle. Her mind sensed the fetus, picturing his disproportionately large
head and little appendages still developing. She identified a rapid heartbeat
pumping vital blood and nutrients throughout his body. She felt the
breathing-like movements and uncontrolled twitches that Leisha couldn’t
possibly perceive yet. She was aware of the massive reproduction of cells taking
place, still forming every portion of his intricate, detailed anatomy. Here was
a lifeform. A young boy. He was healthy. So was his mother. It was remarkable.
Eena
opened her eyes. “Congratulations,” she breathed. “I’m so happy for you.
There’s actually a living baby in there!”
Leisha
chuckled, blushing as if she would burst with pride. “Thanks,” she managed to
say. “It is pretty incredible.”
“Why
is it impossible for you to keep your meddlesome hands off my patients?”
Jinatta feigned annoyance, shaking her head disapprovingly while smiling at the
same time. Then her arms opened wide with hug expectations. Eena thought the
woman looked like an approaching Viidun, but on a much smaller scale. The two
embraced and shared a tight, friendly squeeze.
“Welcome
home, Jinatta. I missed you.”
“Thank
you. It’s good to be back.”
“How
are things?” Eena asked. “Any big news?”
Jinatta
tilted her head. Her ponytail swayed to one side. “You mean bigger than the
fact that our captain has returned from the dead? No, I don’t think I can top
that.”
Eena
corrected the doctor. “Derian hasn’t actually returned yet, but he will, and so
will Angelle.”
“The
fact that those two are alive at all is a miracle. I swear, that man cheats
death on every battlefront!”
“He’s
got Viidun luck, I guess.”
Jinatta
chuckled at the truth. “I agree with your assessment.”
“So…”
Eena steered the subject back to what she was wondering about. “How are you and
Agus? Are you still enamored with the beast?”
Jinatta
clasped her hands beneath her chin and fluttered her lashes like a schoolgirl
high on her first crush. “I’ve got a fatal case of lovesickness, Eena, and I
don’t care to be healed.”
“You
look as hopeless as Kira.”
“Oh,
I am,” Jinatta sighed dreamily.
Careful
with how she posed her next question, Eena eluded to it rather than asking
directly. “When you were on Rapador, did you learn anything about their culture
and customs?”
“Oh,
plenty!” Jinatta nodded.
Leisha,
who was still seated on the exam table, interjected with what she had already
been told. “Those Viiduns have rough traditions. Death challenges. Fierce rites
of passage. A serious intolerance for failure. And some stringent matrimony
customs.”
“Matrimony
customs?” Eena was concerned with one in particular.
Jinatta
interjected before her friend could get carried away. “It’s not that bad if you
look at their culture from a warrior’s perspective. They’re tough people. They
don’t view pain and hardship the same way we do.”
“Doesn’t
that concern you?” Eena asked.
Jinatta
smiled with her answer. “Agus understands that I’m not as strong or forceful as
he is. He makes allowances for me, and he tells me over and over that he’s
entirely willing to compromise when it comes to our cultural differences.”
“That’s
good to hear,” Eena sighed a sound of relief. “I was worried he might try to
brand you or something, like Efren did to Kira.”
“Huhhh,”
Jinatta hummed. Both doctor and patient bit down on their lower lips. The lack
of any stunned reaction—the way they cast furtive glances at one another—added
up to one obvious conclusion.
“You
didn’t,” Eena gasped. She stared wide-eyed at the doctor, hoping her assumption
was wrong.
Jinatta’s
shoulder inched up guiltily as she admitted, “Well, actually…I might have.”
“Jinatta!
How could you? You let Agus sear your flesh with a permanent brand? What in the
world were you thinking?”
“That
I love him and want to be with him for the rest of my life?”
Eena’s
voice rose an octave. “Are you crazy?”
Jinatta
and Leisha exchanged uncertain glances before they both patted at the air attempting
to calm the young Sha.
“Don’t
you think you’re overreacting a little bit?”
“No!”
Eena shrieked.
Jinatta
spoke softly to alleviate the tension. “Hey, hey, it’s not as bad as you’re
making it out to be. Besides, I sort of cheated anyway.”
“You…cheated?”
The troubled queen waited for an explanation.
“Yes,”
Jinatta admitted. “I used a local anesthetic to numb my shoulder before the
ritual. I didn’t feel a thing.”
“Oh.”
A smart idea. One a doctor would think of.
Leisha
added what Jinatta had told her before. “The whole point was to let Agus know
how devoted she is to him. This ritual is a big deal on their world. It
translates into complete and utter commitment to each other.”
“Complete
commitment?” Eena repeated. “And what if that moment of euphoria passes and you
decide that you don’t want to marry a Viidun after all? Then what?”
“That’s
not going to happen,” Jinatta assured her.
“But
what if it does? What if something occurs that neither of you anticipated and
the result is you can’t marry him like you wanted to? What then?”
No
one voiced an immediate answer. Jinatta shared another curious look with Leisha
before confronting the young queen with her own question.
“Is
this about your concern for me or concern for yourself?”
“What
are you talking about?” Eena wrapped her arms around her stomach. Jinatta noted
the defensive body language.
“I could
be wrong, but I don’t think it’s the Viidun branding ritual that has you upset.
I know for a fact you’ve personally been through worse. And I doubt my commitment
to Agus is really bothering you since you’re the one who encouraged our
relationship in the first place.”
“I
didn’t know he planned to scar you irreversibly for life,” Eena griped
bitingly.
Jinatta
raised a discerning finger. “That’s what it is, right there. The idea that this
Viidun form of a promise is irreversible.
It’s not like a pendant you can remove and give back. And that terrifies you.”
“Terrifies
me,” Eena scoffed. “Why would it?”
“Because
you’re not certain you could do the same. And I don’t mean endure the pain of
seared skin, I mean commit whole-heartedly without any reservation to one man.”
“I
can so,” Eena snapped. Her arms squeezed tighter around her torso.
Jinatta
shook her head, slow and sympathetic. “No, you can’t, because you’re in love
with two men. And unfortunately, your heart is unwilling to give up either
one.”
Her
nose burned before she felt the sting in her eyes. Tears were fast to form and
spill. Eena couldn’t argue against the truth.
Leisha
and Jinatta came to her aide, pulling her into the back office where all three sat
and discussed the troubles a pained heart ached to share. For the longest time
only one voice could be heard, desperate to tell the story of how a young woman
had come to love two incredible but very different men. Her friends listened,
never letting their attention waver from what was important. Eena cried over
sensitive emotions: guilt, sorrow, regret, and most of all the unpredictability
of love. It felt good to get it out, to have female friends to cast a portion
of her burdens upon. When the tears dried up for the most part, Leisha and
Jinatta offered kind words of advice, never acting judgmental.
Jinatta
made it clear that first and foremost she and Leisha cared deeply for their queen
and considered her a close friend. Leisha gave constant reassurances that they
understood what she was going through. Both vowed their support, offering a
listening ear and a caring shoulder to cry on at any time.
Eena
ended out spending the remainder of the day with her newest confidants,
eventually transitioning from emotionally intense issues to lighter topics of
conversation. They found stories to laugh about, memories to sigh over, and a
few bits of gossip that made them gasp. The subject of babies became a considerable
time-consumer, and the three dissected boys’ names for a long while, eventually
agreeing on five favorites: Ayden, Gilead, Kinnian, Jairmee, and Eena’s
personal preference, Jarone.
By
the time she left the medical bay for her own quarters, the young queen was
smiling over the tremendous relief of a lightened emotional load. She was also
certain she had figured out Ian’s “baby blue” secret.
Copyright 2018 Richelle E. Goodrich
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