“I have so many questions! Can’t you just come back here? I guess I could come to Brazil for a short while. Maybe we should meet in Atlantis; it’s practically midway, but honestly, I really shouldn’t leave right now. I’ve made significant progress with the Indians. There’s so much going on—”
Thomas cut her off. “I can’t leave Brazil right now; I’m needed here. But it would be absurd for you to come to me for such a tiny amount of information. I don’t have any definitive answers for you. All I can tell you is that you shouldn’t give up. Don’t give up, Cordy. Do not.”
“Okay, Thomas,” Cordelia said, sounding troubled.
“I have to go.”
“Thomas, thank you for doing this.”
Thomas stumbled over his words. He reflexively wanted to say, “No problem,” but of course, it had been a huge problem. “Love you,” he finally rumbled.
“Love you too,” Cordelia said, and hung up.
Thomas pulled a Coke out of his refrigerator. Something about the caffeine combined with sugar made it more of a stimulant for him than coffee. He hated feeling this way. Feeling like he’d let Cordy down. Let Angus down. Let everyone down again. He hadn’t spoken to Mary almost since Thanksgiving. Perhaps he’d give her a call.
A memory flickered through his head, and he smiled. She had been eight to his six when Dad died. After the funeral, one of the cops was telling him that he was the man of the house now and had to take care of his mother and sisters. Thomas remembered nodding solemnly, scared of the man in the blue uniform, with his gun and dark mustache.
His mother had been standing in the back, away from the crowd, holding Cordelia, while Amy rolled on the ground in front of her, throwing a tantrum as only a three-year-old could. Thomas had been adrift. Then Mary had swooped in, telling the cop that they would take care of each other, thank you very much, and took his hand to lead him back to Mom.
Mary had leaned down, jerking Amy off the floor, and telling her to stop it right this instant. Miraculously, or perhaps because of the novelty of the situation, Amy had stopped. Then the five of them had simply stood there for the rest of the awful thing: Mary holding him and Amy in either hand, with Mom holding Cordy in one arm and hugging Mary with the other.
Mary always made him feel better. But he’d wait to call her. He didn’t deserve to feel better just yet.
It’s unclear why active sirens struggle to conceive. Some speculate that this was a deliberate design decision intended to limit the siren population, but others believe it to be an unfortunate consequence of the siren spell’s complexity. Once pregnant, however, sirens are more likely than other magical beings to carry their babies to term. While other magical constructs (as well as mages) suffer a high rate of miscarriage, Aphrodite’s spell design ensures that the siren mother and her growing fetus are not both magical, thereby limiting the amount of magick confined in one body. For latent sirens, the siren spell is activated at the moment of birth, and an active siren can only conceive latent children.
– Sirens: An Overview for the Newly-Transitioned, 3rd ed. (2015), by Mira Bant de Atlantic, p. 73.
Chapter 16
Cordelia was late for breakfast this morning, and her stomach growled with hunger. She was supposed to have met Shravya a half-hour ago, but overslept. At least Queen Sophia made sure there was plenty of food at the buffet, so even if she did miss the Indian envoy, she could at least look forward to a hearty meal.
While she didn’t much care what she ate (she’d hardly consider herself a gourmand), even Cordelia appreciated the Mediterraneans’ hospitality. The breakfast buffet typically included everything from the fish and rice dishes common at the Pacific court, to the cheese and rolls of the Arctic, to Indian chutneys. Though since her first trimester, she had learned to avoid adventurous eating, and began loading her plate with more conventional fare. As she looked at the steaming stack of naan, wondering if that would be plain enough, she hoped Shravya had waited for her.
Cordelia had started courting Shravya and Rahul because they were Raj Varuna’s envoys, but had been pleasantly surprised to find that she and Shravya had struck up a genuine friendship. At least it was genuine on her end.
Cordelia pondered the novelty of that. Thinking about all her relationships since she moved to Atlantis when she was twelve, it occurred to her that she wouldn’t call any of the people she knew friends. She had her family, of course, but her last real friend had been Jennifer Crawley in the fifth grade. She supposed her lack of friendships wasn’t too surprising. There were few sirens who were the same age, and while a twenty- or even hundred-year age difference doesn’t make that much of a difference when you’re forty, it’s a huge divide when you’re seventeen. And when she reached her majority, she’d immediately joined the High Court, so she hadn’t had much of an opportunity to get to know people before politics interfered. But she’d always had her family, and until now, hadn’t really thought she was missing anything.
Cordelia finished loading her plate and walked into the dining room to look for Shravya. “Mother!” she exclaimed, genuinely shocked to see Mira sitting next to Shravya near the head of the large dining table.
At Cordelia’s entrance, Mira stood and walked over to her. Her mother was wearing the guise of another busty blond with carved cheekbones. A common look, but one that probably let her blend in better in Boston than the more dramatic raven-hair and ebony-skin she had worn at their last meeting.
“You always recognize me,” Mira said joyfully, before pulling Cordelia into a hug. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” Mira whispered in Cordelia’s ear, before squeezing her tightly, then releasing her.
Cordelia was almost full-term now, and her obvious pregnancy had drawn envious stares from many of the sirens at Queen Sophia’s court. “Who told you?” Cordelia asked.
“The question isn’t who told me, but why you didn’t tell me.” Mira shook her head. “But we’ll talk about that later.” Mira drew Cordelia to the empty seat at the head of the table, next to where she was sitting with the Indian envoy. “Shravya has been filling me in on all the adventures you’ve been having.”
“Oh yes,” Shravya replied. “We’ve become quite close these past months. Cordelia, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that Mira Bant de Atlantic was your mother! I mean, I suppose I should have realized, but I didn’t make the connection. I wouldn’t be here except for her.”
Cordelia struggled to get her balance back. Why was her mother here? Was it possible that Atlantea had sent her to Kasos to check up on her?
Mira smiled. “You aren’t the youngest siren at the Mediterranean Court, Cordelia. I think Shravya here is a decade younger, at least.”
“And I’m not the youngest one here, for that matter. It’s amazing, Cordelia, that this is your first visit,” Shravya exclaimed.
“It seems like Kasos attracts a lot of the younger sirens. What did you think of the Arctic twins?” Cordelia was proud that her light tone betrayed none of her inner turmoil.
Shravya laughed. “The twins are too wild even for me! Did you hear about what they got up to with the girls from the Pacific? I hear that the Pacifics are headed home after that debacle.”
“Queen Sophia herself doesn’t seem to engage in much of this partying, though,” Mira observed.
“True. But she invites me for coffee at least one afternoon a week, so I feel that I’ve gotten to know her a little bit.” The gold beads at the ends of Shravya’s braids clinked together as she tossed her hair back.
“Cordelia told me that Raj Varuna is your progenitor,” Mira said. While their conversations had been brief since Cordelia arrived in Kasos, Cordy had mentioned her new friend more than once, and Mira was curious.
“That’s right. But it was my grandfather, Luciano, who found and claimed me. He had read your book, you see, and knew the signs. He came right away and took us to Agalega.”
“Both your parents also?” Cordelia asked.
“Yes, but my mother we
nt back, and I never met her. My grandfather actually raised me, but I still see my father from time-to-time. He was the one who persuaded the Raj to send me here as his envoy.”
“It seems to be a common tactic across the Oceans to send young sirens as envoys to Queen Sophia’s court,” Cordelia remarked in a wry tone. Her early rise as a courtier had prevented such a sojourn.
“It’s been quite interesting,” Shravya said, turning back to Mira. “And I’ll have to tell Luciano that I met you! He’ll be most impressed.”
“You make me feel like a celebrity,” Mira laughed. “You said you were planning to be here through the end of summer. Are you headed anywhere else afterwards?”
“Well, it depends, I guess, on whether I get pregnant, too,” Shravya gestured at Cordelia. “If I do, I’ll probably go back to Agalega. If not, I’m not sure where the Raj will send me.”
“Are you excited? Do you have parents picked out?” Mira asked.
“Mom, I don’t think Shravya wants to talk about all of that.”
“How about you? Will you place this baby with a family here, or back in the States?” Mira’s voice was relatively even, but Cordelia felt accused nevertheless.
“I have it all worked out,” Cordelia said tightly.
As if sensing the tension, Shravya rose. “So, we will have dinner tomorrow, right?” Shravya asked, and Mira nodded. “Cordelia, why don’t you come too? I told your mother about Peskesi.”
“I don’t remember that restaurant being here the last time I was on Kasos,” Mira said.
“It’s very good,” Cordelia agreed. They firmed up plans to meet the next day at eight for dinner, and Shravya left, waving to the other sirens who had entered the dining room.
“Mom, you’ve been in the Atlantic Suite here, right?”
“Yes, many times. It’s enormous. Do you like it?”
“Let’s go there. I need to eat, and it’s too crowded to talk.” While it was generally deemed poor manners for the guests to take food to their rooms, the other sirens simply smiled at Cordelia as she walked out with her full plate — one of the few benefits of being so obviously pregnant.
“Queen Sophia redecorated,” her mother remarked when they walked in. “I don’t remember this much gilding before.”
Cordelia glanced around. “It does have the look of Marisol’s house to it. Perhaps she advised on the change in décor.” While Marisol’s house was over-the-top, Cordelia thought this room was more tastefully done, even if was too ornate for her mother’s taste. The gold leaf inlay on the coffered ceiling was particularly nice, in her opinion. The furniture floated in the oversized parlor, almost too small for the scale of the room. While Cordelia sat on the dull yellow velvet couch, her mother glanced around the room.
Cordelia struggled for a moment to reach her plate on the glass coffee table, which was too low and far from the couch. Instead of moving, she picked her plate back up to balance it atop her ball of a belly, then cut into the thick croque madame sandwich with a gusto. Mira stared at Cordelia for a moment, then smiled and shook her head at how adroitly Cordelia managed to use her body as a table. She walked around the room as her daughter finished her meal. “When are you due?” Mira asked.
“The midwife thinks the end of July.”
“That’s only a month away. I’ll have to go back to Boston for a week or so, but I can be back by then.”
“Really, you don’t have to, Mom. I can handle this.”
Mira sighed. “Cordelia, I know you can handle this. But perhaps you should consider my ability to handle it. I don’t know what impression I must have given you that you decided to keep your pregnancy from me. No matter what opinion I might have about this siren custom, you have to know I’ll always support you, right?”
“I know that, but I didn’t want to distract you.” Cordelia’s excuse sounded thin, even to her.
“How do you think I’d feel if I’d have left you to this all by yourself? If I’d only found out about it next year? Seriously, Cordelia. Have some sense. You could have simply told me. I can balance my priorities just as well as you can.”
“Don’t start in,” Cordelia warned, putting her plate back on the table and refilling her glass with water from the carafe.
Mira returned to pacing around the room. The heavy drapes were still drawn, so she couldn’t see the ocean, and the upholstered walls blocked the sound of the waves. The lack of her connection to the sea made her feel even less balanced.
“I was back in Atlantis last week to update Atlantea on Amy’s research. You also forgot to tell me about that, by the way. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, she hasn’t made much headway. They’ve hit a plateau, so to speak. But while I was waiting in Atlantis House, several people approached me with their congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that everyone thinks your resignation from Court was the wisest decision you’ve made to date. Your cachet has grown enormously among the old guard, and several took the time to write to you. I have a stack of letters for you, full of their good wishes, believe it or not. From what I can tell — and take it with a grain of salt, because I doubt anyone who really thought badly of you would tell me about it — but it seems that your Reconcilers are still behind you as well.”
“Perhaps Atlantea was right,” Cordelia admitted quietly. She’d had some time to think about this, even before her mother’s surprise visit.
“Perhaps. But regardless of everyone else’s opinions, I hope you know that I will always support you.”
“Mom, I know I could have called—”
“The point is, Cordelia, you did call. We’ve spoken several times since you arrived in Kasos. This was just something you chose not to mention. Did you think I couldn’t handle the information? That I would do something rash, like abandoning my post? Or did you think I’d yell at you? Sometimes, Cordelia, you can really be quite cruel.”
When Cordelia had seen her mother that morning, she had felt like a teenager caught breaking curfew. What had started out as simple avoidance of an unpleasant discussion had turned into an almost deliberate snub. Her mother’s quiet disappointment was worse than if she had yelled at her, and Cordelia cringed inwardly at the truth of her mother’s quiet condemnation. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Mira kept pacing. Finally, she drew open the curtains, and the room was flooded with sunlight. The yellows and golds of the satin upholstery warmed in the brilliant light, which seemed too strong for mid-morning. The room immediately felt less oppressive, and Mira stood for a moment, looking at the variegated blue color of the Mediterranean.
But it wasn’t her ocean, and she didn’t feel embraced by it. As disconcerting as it was to stare at water that didn’t cherish her, how much harder must it be for Cordelia, who was even more used to feeling the ocean’s constant appreciation? That she was in this strange place, about to give birth next to an ocean that didn’t treasure her as its beloved, horrified Mira. Perhaps she and Thomas could persuade Cordelia to return to Ocracoke, at least for her final month.
“Where’s Thomas?” she asked.
“I sent him back to Brazil,” Cordelia replied, knowing that her mom would be furious if she knew that Thomas had just up and left. And really, she had sent him away — to England — so it wasn’t that much of a stretch.
“Brazil? He left you here alone? Did he know you were pregnant?”
“Yeah, Mom. But honestly, being in Kasos wasn’t good for him. I could tell he wasn’t happy here — it was like before when he was at Jarl Georg’s court. He needed to get out. And it isn’t like Thomas is going to be in the delivery room with me or anything.”
“Why not? Who were you planning to have support you?”
“There’s Laila, the midwife,” Cordelia responded, but knew that sounded inadequate. Still, she had done this before. She would be fine.
“Cordelia, you should be surrounded by family right now; this is absurd. I was told that Zale is the father?” Mira glanced at Cordelia
for confirmation. Cordelia nodded. “Then why would you want to stay here for the birth? Wouldn’t it be better to return to the Atlantic?”
“Maybe,” Cordelia temporized. She didn’t want to leave now that she had finally built up a real rapport with the Indians.
“Where are the parents you’ve selected?”
“They’re in Florida. Similar kind of family as the others,” Cordelia responded.
Mira left the window to pace back around the room in a slow circuit. Cordelia watched her, wondering if her explanations would be enough. Her mother’s face showed signs of strain, and she was rubbing her chin the way she did when she was thinking hard. Cordelia actually felt relieved that they were finally having this discussion. At some point over the past few months, she realized that she ought to have said something. But each time, she had chickened out; and then it felt like it was too late. With her mother so busy, it had been too easy to keep making excuses. She really hadn’t thought things through.
“Cordy, next time something this momentous happens to you, would you please tell me yourself? I had to learn about your incredibly good fortune from Daan, of all people. I detest him under the best of circumstances, and hearing that you were blessed with another pregnancy from that stuck-up weasel was gratuitously unpleasant.”
Cordelia had to try to keep the amusement from her face; her mother really was an excellent judge of character.
“And I can’t believe Thomas actually let you send him back to Brazil,” Mira continued.
“Marisol is here—” Cordelia began, but stopped speaking as Mira threw up her hands in exasperation.
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