Sylfic

by Kenna Bardot

  "Hollis Svadeni," she said, and Hollis took position at the front with a graceful step. "Do you think it appropriate for children to be raised in a home where non-traditional relationships are touted as normal?" she asked.

  Hollis swallowed visibly, but steadied himself to answer. "We would never raise our child to believe that he or she has to cave to any standards beyond what he or she will eventually believe in. We acknowledge that it is unorthodox, but it works for us. It makes Mireyah happy to be with all of us." When the Leven pursed her lips and sat down, it felt like a rock settled in my stomach. They didn't approve. I'd known it would likely be true as soon as the question of their relationship had first been asked, but how they'd even gotten that kind of information in the first place seemed beyond me.

  Until I caught the smirking gaze of Ashric, who winked at me like I would appreciate his little message. I was sure he had been involved in sharing information about my guys. But I didn’t know how he had come by it.

  I supposed it didn't matter. Couldn't matter at that point, but hatred pooled in my stomach and surrounded that rock that weighed me down. I vowed that no matter what it took, I would never allow him to be my Sire. I'd willingly throw myself at Lathyn's mercy if it meant Ashric lost, but what would give me more joy than anything was to watch him lose while I went to my men despite his conniving, deceptive efforts.

  The Kald stepped forward once more. "Shephard Tempestas." Shep stepped forward, and there was no mistaking the nerves that rattled his system. He'd seemed nervous when he first entered the room, but in the face of their relationship being outed, those nerves had melted into frustration. "What do you think are the three most significant needs a baby has?"

  "Physical or emotional needs?" he asked for clarification, and I felt pride surge in me he would even know to ask a follow-up question like that. It seemed so simple to a human, but for Gods who spent very little of their childhood with their parents, it might not have been as obvious as I thought.

  "You tell me." She smiled at him patiently, but Shep seemed to flounder under the uncertainty of it before he steadied."Love, food, and shelter," he answered, and the Kald only nodded before taking her seat.

  The Leven stood, and something in her face told me it would be her last question. The last time she interacted with any of the men. It seemed like too brief an interview, too short to decide anything based on the questions they'd asked. "Ryle Karfi," she called.

  Ryle and Shep switched places, the strongest of my men seeming to take an opposite approach to Shep. He exuded confidence so much that it felt fake. I didn't know enough about them, knew nothing about their lives on Demiorgo, but I was certain that Ryle had not spent the past years raising babies and changing diapers. "When would you breed Mireyah?" she asked him.

  The repeated question felt like a throwaway, felt like something that she'd asked because she had no other questions, but I saw the way she studied him intently with her green eyes.

  Ryle straightened his shoulders, giving the answer that would always melt my heart. That I would feel within my soul, even if it wasn't the one that the wives wanted. "When she is ready." His voice rang clear and true, as if defying them to take fault with an answer like that. The Leven's lips parted, and I knew it probably wasn't often that a God gave control over such a decision to his human-born wife.

  He glanced over at me, and I smiled at him. At that moment, I didn't care what the wives said or what Caprice would decide. Giving me control over my body in a way that the others hadn't thought to do, in a way that a few years prior he never would have even considered doing, was everything I could have ever wanted and more.

  It showed me they really had seen me as their equal, as someone they could respect and who could decide for herself.

  The Leven sat down and the Sutre stood one last time. "I would be interested to know how you all think Mireyah will handle the fact that when her child turns seven, she will send him or her to Godsvail. Lathyn?" she asked.

  Lathyn stepped forward with a chuckle. "It depends on when she falls pregnant. If it were to happen quickly, I cannot imagine her cooperating when the day comes. Mireyah fights hard for what she believes in and for those she loves. She wouldn't take well to someone wanting to take her child from her, even if it is the normal procedure for Gods."

  "And how would you handle that situation?" she asked him as a follow up.

  Lathyn considered for a moment, before sighing and turning back to the wives. "As much as I love Mireyah's spunk, she has a tendency to fight expectations for the sake of it. Be contrary because that’s what she decides to be. I think she has a great fire inside her, but she lacks direction.”

  The Goddess nodded as he continued, “I would endeavor to guide her, help her channel that fire to more productive matters and help her see that tradition does not necessarily have to be a bad thing. She needs a strong Sire to take her in hand and show her the way." There was an apology in his eyes as he looked over at me, but I turned my eyes away from his. All the forgiveness he'd earned since I'd seen him again at Sylfeshire fell away in that moment.

  He would control me, tame me.

  I didn't want to be fucking tamed.

  "Ashric?" the Sutre asked. "How would you handle Mireyah's reaction to the reality of her child having to go to Godsvail?"

  "If Mireyah were my wife, she would know her place. She'd do as I expect her to do," he answered, and at the very least he was honest. I'd known what his answer would be, because the bastard had never led me to believe anything different. If he had his way, he would see me beaten down and well-behaved.

  "I'll allow the group of you to answer as a unit, as that is how you would deal with Mireyah. The same question." My men whispered to one another momentarily, and I did my best to hear what they said amongst each other. I prayed that they would find the right answer, that they could take back the points they might have lost from their lack of knowledge about children and the reality of their relationship.

  Finally Char stepped forward, answering for the group, "It's impossible to answer accurately, because Lathyn is wrong about Mireyah. We know her better than anyone in this room. She doesn't fight tradition for the sake of it, she fights tradition when they trample all over equality for her loved ones. The expectation that our child would go to Godsvail wouldn't bother her, because she would know that it is necessary that they go in order for them to prove themselves and take their place here with us in the future."

  I nodded, knowing the words felt true. It would kill me to say goodbye to my child and only be able to visit once a year until his eighteenth year, but I would always do what was best for my child, and with the circumstances the way they were, Godsvail was the answer to that.

  "That is the last of our questions," the Springen murmured, and Caprice and Colm stood from their seats to meet them at the edge of the room. I watched them whisper, wanting to go to my men in the center of the room and hug them. I wanted to thank them and wanted to celebrate the fact that even if they hadn't given the right answers for the wives, they'd given the right answers for me.

  “And are you happy at the answers you’ve heard today, Mireyah?” The question came from Zeevar, who was seated behind me. It was the first time I’d heard him speak in my Sire Trial.

  “They’ve opened my eyes,” I answered truthfully. And it had. I knew now how Lathyn thought. How his age and experience made him think he was better than me.

  My men had respected my wishes, and above all else that felt like the most important thing in that moment. Caprice nodded to them, thanking the wives for their time as they walked out of the room. She stood at the front and looked to me briefly before turning her attention to the males. "The wives and I are in agreement. Ashric you were too severe, too harsh. Your wife is not someone you should endeavor to control so thoroughly."

  I heaved a sigh of relief as Ashric's jaw clenched, fury morphing his face. "Our group of five," she paused. "Your words were pretty, but you went to the other side of
the extreme. You gave Mireyah too much freedom when she, as a human-born Sylfe, would be unaccustomed to the ways of Demiorgo."

  My breath stuttered in my lungs, dreading the words I knew would follow. "Lathyn, you provided a happy medium. Guiding her, not controlling her, but also not allowing her to run wild and do as she pleased. We believe that with your centuries of experience, you would be appropriately armed with the information you need to help her through the journey of motherhood. The wives and I agree that you were the victor of this Trial." Caprice said, and Colm took my hand to help me stand from my chair. I felt numb. Like the sadness encroaching at the edges of my consciousness would be so encompassing, so traumatic that I wouldn't be able to function.

  "Come, Mireyah. There's still one more chance," he whispered the words. The reality of him reassuring me when we both knew that he viewed Lathyn as the proper choice for me hit me like a box of rocks and I physically flinched. I couldn't even look at them as we walked past to leave the room, couldn't meet their gaze, but I felt the tear slide down my cheek as we went. I heard Tate's sharp inhale, and I knew he felt the sharp pain that pulsed through as though it were his own.

  "I'll see you soon, Mireyah. We'll talk about it," Lathyn murmured as we reached the door. His voice was gentle, no hint of the betrayal I'd felt he served me in front of the wives in his voice. Like he truly believed I needed someone to take me in hand.

  Like I wasn't good enough without his guidance.

  Even being pissed off couldn't quell the depression rising within me.

  With only one Trial left and each of them with one victory under their belt, any of them could be my Sire.

  Chapter 27

  Mireyah

  I allowed my anger and resentment to build while I waited for my first time alone with Lathyn since before the First Trial. By the time he arrived for his victory visit with me, I'd nearly rebuilt the walls around my heart. Nearly felt whole enough to face him, when I wanted to scream and rage at him for what felt like a betrayal.

  He’d always spoken of my fire, had claimed he wanted something different and saw that in me several times since we'd met. But his words made it seem like he only wanted me to remain different until he'd won me. Until it was time to settle down into the life he chose for me. Not only that, but he'd taken the victory from the men I wanted.

  He disrespected my wishes, because any man who cared what I wanted for myself could see that it was my five men. He just proved that he didn't truly care every time he put himself in the path to interfering with my goals for my future.

  I was nothing but a trophy to him.

  So it pleased me greatly that he didn't plaster a fake smile on his face when he walked into Sylfeshire and found me waiting in one of the interior alcoves. I held a book in my hand, not reading the words but staring at the page, regardless. Until the murmurs of congratulations reached my ears and drew my attention to where Lathyn fielded pats on the back from other Gods and Goddesses. I tried to tune out the way they told him they'd never doubted his ability to be victorious in his pursuit of me, like my opinion on the matter was irrelevant.

  And it was for all intents and purposes.

  The Gods would decide who Sired me, would take all choice out of my hands yet again. They had ripped me from my home, torn me from my family and thrown me into servitude where I had suffered abuse. I'd been nominated to die in the Challenges and had somehow survived against the odds, only to be taken from what I knew once again and have my body taken from me. My very identity, my memories, my humanity stripped away in blinding pain.

  They wouldn't take me from the men I loved on top of all that. They wouldn't give me to someone I didn't want, because I would make their lives a living hell if they tried. I was done with letting others determine my future and dictate my destiny.

  "Mireyah," he whispered, holding out a hand for me as I glared up at him. The whispers through the room halted, changing in tone at the outright hatred that I felt blazing in my eyes. "I realize you must be angry with me, but I'd like to discuss it with you. Explain why I gave the answers I did."

  I ignored his hand, standing on my own and saying fuck to the traditions of Sylfeshire. "Explain away then." I nodded and smoothed the fabric down over my hips, hating the way the electric blue of it contrasted so well with my fair skin and pink hair. I wanted to hate everything to do with the man who sought to take everything I wanted away from me again.

  "Come with me," he sighed, stepping down the long cobbled path to go to the pool area. Given that the others spent their allotted time with me during the day, it seemed strange that he would come so late, but when we stepped into the back area of Sylfeshire, my eyes caught on the setting that only he could have been responsible for.

  The pools were somehow frozen solid despite the balmy air and showed no signs of melting, even though I saw no sign of a Kald nearby. On top of the natural-looking pool sat a table, with fresh fruits and meats and cheese laid out on top of it. He stepped up to the pool, holding out a hand for me again. "I wouldn't want you to fall."

  "I’m a Northerner, I might as well have been born on the ice, Majele. I'll be just fine on my own." I ignored him, strutting across the ice like it wasn't slippery in the least. No matter that it had been years since I'd felt the slip of my feet against it, the familiar sensation was like a moment of home. Even if just for a moment.

  He took his seat with a small smile. "I know what I said must have sounded wrong to you-"

  "It was wrong," I spat. "You want to control me, just like Ashric."

  "No!" he hissed, the protest feeling genuine as I took my seat across from him finally. "I don't want to control you. I want to help focus you."

  "Focus me?" I picked up one of the fruits on the table, a rare iceberry that tasted of honey and lavender. Popping it into my mouth, I let the sugary floral flavor explode over my tongue as I pretended to be disinterested in whatever he might have to say.

  "You are passionate, Mireyah. No one can argue with that, but you're so, so very young. What you have in passion, you lack in finesse. I have the experience to offer you an opportunity to learn the kinds of things that come with age. The ability to prioritize and decide based on logic, rather than letting your passion override all common sense. Your tendency to just say what you think without filter and to charge into situations without thinking through your options will get you into trouble, eventually. It's a miracle you have persevered through all the danger it has put you in thus far." Part of me softened, knowing the words he spoke were true. How many times had I cursed myself when I spoke first and then thought about the consequences only when the damage was done?

  My pride was my greatest downfall. It was what had put me in this situation in the first place. "I don't want someone to treat me like a child. I don't want a husband who will act like he has to teach me everything, like I'm clueless."

  "I don't want a child for a wife and being young doesn’t mean that you’re a child, Mireyah, and I did not mean to make it sound like you were.” He paused, sighing as he thought over his next words. "I only mean that you are passionate about several things. You are only one person, and you'll have to make a choice about which of those is the most important to you. If you choose to further the rights of humanity, then you will have to accept your position as a God to do so. You'll have to understand that the way to incite change isn't to piss off everyone who could help you, but to befriend them and make alliances. I can help you with that, and I think you know that I am in fact the best person to help you with that."

  I swallowed, because I knew, just from the way the Core Gods and the wives had interacted with my five Gods, that they didn't have anywhere near Lathyn's kind of clout. I suspected few did, but new Gods had next to nothing. They wouldn't be much better off than me, and it would take years before I could find a platform to help humans. To help my family. "I know that," I agreed begrudgingly.

  "You may find that when your mind isn't clouded with them and the fantasy of your nebu
lous future together, that love can grow between us. At the very least, we already have a deep respect for one another. I may be able to give you that love you're seeking in them, but they'll never be able to offer you what I can." He reached out his hand, clasping mine tightly. "Just don't write me off. I don't mean to degrade you or make you think I feel anything less than respect for who you are. I truly want the best for you, and a relationship with five bisexual Gods will put you at a disadvantage from the start. Just consider it."

  "I'll think about it," I returned, feeling some of his tension melt away. I believed his words, believed that he hadn't meant to offend me with his answer. The questions from the wives hadn't left him with the ability to truly explain to me, as I'd been meant to be nothing more than an observer. His face morphed into a smile, and his hand unclenched from around mine in favor of trailing his fingers over the back of my hand and up my forearm.

  I knew he meant it to be flirtatious, and in any scenario where I wasn't already in love, I may have fallen for it. But I tolerated the touch for what it was, as respectful as Gods got when they courted someone beneath them.

  Part of me, perhaps the darkest part, craved what Lathyn offered. An easy relationship that would propel my standing in the politics of Demiorgo farther than I could ever dream. I might be capable of great things with him by my side, may find myself able to rock Demiorgo on its axis and change the life Varo had ahead of him.

  But it reminded me of the Mireyah hat Caprice had shown me and I knew it was a future that I did not want. A future I would rather have.