Bernadette made contact before she could see who she had hit and let out a stifled cry. She could have injured the person if it were a servant. Fortunately, it was Thius, who took the blow in the shoulder. It was enough to make him fall to his knees as he grunted in pain.
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand before uttering, “I’m so sorry.”
To his credit, Thius dismissed the notion. “You do not need to apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you. I figured you could hear me clunking down the hall.”
“I’m afraid I was deep in thought,” she said, extending a hand to help him up.
“You are visiting your mother?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“May I walk you?”
Bernadette wanted to say no, but etiquette demanded otherwise. She took the arm he offered and together they walked down the hall. His feet did indeed clunk as Thius described. It was a wonder that she didn’t hear him.
“Council matters are frustratingly bureaucratic. I understand how this whole process must feel.”
The hair follicles around the nape of her neck spasmed. How could Thius know how she felt? She would be forced to couple with a man she despised to save her dying race and was the only woman who could. She was facing horrible odds of death and it was only a small factor in her reluctance. If she died, it wasn’t like she could care about any of it anymore. She wanted to be a mother but on her terms. The servants were never forced to have children and they flourished in population. Before she could keep her envy in check, it lashed out at Thius.
“How do I feel, then?”
She wondered if anyone objected to him becoming the high councilor or if he bribed most of them.
“If you need counsel, someone to speak with, I am at your service,” he said smoothly.
“Have you ever birthed a child?”
“No...”
“Have you ever seen one being born?” She struggled to maintain the even tone in her voice, but it was wavering.
“No.”
“You know nothing about what it is to be a woman in childbearing years, and you know nothing about what to do if I’m unable to push the child out. If I want to speak to someone, I’ll speak to the women.”
“I only mean to be a sympathetic ear. There is so much pressure put on you. I dislike the risk you will endure,” he said as he moved a lock of her hair away from her face. Bernadette slapped his hand away and he winced like a fool. She looked over to see a group of their people watching the exchange and wondered if his movements were for their benefit rather than hers.
“I suspect I am in this predicament because of the bureaucracy our people insist upon,” she said. “Perhaps as high councilor you could make meaningful change.”
Thius’s glossy eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“If it were not for the Family Community laws, perhaps there would be more fertility in our race.”
“It does seem that, doesn’t it?” Thius had a firm lock on her arm as he pulled her towards the library. There was a whisper of a threat in his grasp. Make him look a fool, and he would make sure it hurt. “I suspect you gleaned that bit of history from there?”
“We were a thriving community until the council forced their way into people’s bedrooms.”
Thius stopped walking and turned to her, his hand still firmly placed on her arm. “They were mating solely for pleasure. Women had forgotten their duties and opted to spread their legs but were not willing to accept the consequences—"
A crashing noise and two small servant children giggling while being chased by an adult servant interrupted the discussion. Children were a curiosity for Bernadette while the rest of her kind disdained them. Perhaps they were envious of their youth and mobility the way they resented hers.
“We don’t force them to have children,” Bernadette said. “They not only outnumber us, but their offspring prove to be healthier than ever.”
Thius could only scowl at her. Bernadette was beaming on the inside.
“Who do you think made the jungle people?” she asked, not really to him, but to herself more than anything. They were brought back from the jungle as young children at first. In what seemed mere moments, those children grew up and had children of their own. Soon they were hunting the jungles for their own kind to bring them back to the Mármaros. The hunts were a rare occurrence these days, but it was said that there were still some out there, lost and alone in the jungles.
Thius recoiled, his arm released her from his cold grasp. “I couldn’t say. I should go. Your mother awaits.”
She wondered why he reacted so strangely to the question, but she was glad to be rid of him. What more could she want? “Yes, goodbye.”
#
The small room faced eastward, ensuring that she got enough light. The sun had warmed the marble floors and walls to a tolerable level by midmorning. Bernadette’s mother Claire sat at a small square table on the balcony beside a single empty chair, basking in the sun’s rays. Her skin was a glossy black that matched her silk-wrapped locks. Her eyes were a deep jade.
She smiled, and Bernadette forgot all about Thius. “Daughter,” she greeted.
Together they dined on fruits and cheeses with little crackers while she told her mother about what the council decreed.
“They want to mate you with Thius once elder Stevis passes,” her mother stated.
“Yes, that seems to be the situation. Who knows when that will be. I dislike waiting,” Bernadette grumbled.
“You won’t like pregnancy then,” her mother teased. “Nothing but waiting then.”
Bernadette eyed her mother. She was old, as old as the former high councilor Stevis. With each passing day, her mother struggled with movement. Her servants worked against the rigidity with exercise therapy. Each day they moved and flexed her arms and legs, fingers, and toes. They kept her on the outdoor patio in the sun all day to keep warm.
It was only a matter of time until her mother requested to go to the catacombs. Bernadette knew that she was waiting until after the whole birthing ordeal. She wanted to see her only child safe before she went down those stairs to that cold maze of marble beds, some with her people on them. Other beds were empty and awaiting the rest of them. Bernadette feared her mother’s passing but wished she would not delay. It was painful to watch her struggle.
She stood and watched the ocean rush against the cliff face below. At one point, the Mármaros was said to be positioned in the center of the rock. The ocean’s constant beating against the continent had worn the cliff down over the centuries. The salty air became more and more predominant. It was only a matter of time until the east tower would wash away. The tide worked against the cliff much like time worked against her mother.
“Birthing sounds like nasty business,” her mother said as she watched the coast.
Bernadette turned to eye her mother. What a peculiar thing to say. “Surely you remember...”
Her mother’s jade eyes went wide as if she remembered something. “Yes,” she said, laughing. “It seems like another lifetime ago. You’ll have to excuse me, child.”
Even if her mother had forgotten, Bernadette would always remember the slabs of separated skin of her mother’s stomach from where they had cut her out. She didn’t want to suffer the same fate. Not with someone like Thius.
What sort of life would her baby have in this place? What if she could only have one and it was a boy? She decided that if she did this thing, she would like to have a boy. Having a girl only increased her anxieties of the future and prolonged the inevitable for her people.
“I should like to join the others for chess,” her mother announced.
The last thing Bernadette wanted was to be around the others, but she couldn’t say no to her mother. “All right, but just for a game or two,” she said. “I want to study in the library.”
“Have you ever read the story about the man on the moon?” Her mother asked. “I think it’s in the library.”
It s
ounded familiar. “I can’t quite remember.”
“The man on the moon sometimes comes down to our world to seduce young women. He’s said to be a trickster and can enter your dreams!” her mother said.
Bernadette giggled. She always preferred science and history to fables, but they were a sort of history, she supposed. Claire’s mind often wandered but she seemed distracted to Bernadette. More than usual anyway.
A skybridge joined two halves of the Mármaros. The library, game room, and other rooms once filled with her people were now inhabited with servants and their young. The railing of the bridge was carved from marble, as were the pillars that held the linen canopies to block out the looming sun, but the walkway itself was a pale, evenly shaped limestone bricks. Oftentimes, Bernadette would find herself standing on the bridge overlooking the ocean as the sun set and the two moons ascended the night sky.
As they stepped onto the bridge, her mother’s drifting gaze caught sight of the runes carved along the doorway of every entrance and the stairway to her tower. “Those keep you safe, you know.”
“From what?” Bernadette asked indulgently.
“From dreams.”
#
With the help of several servants, her mother made it into her wheelchair and the game room. Unlike the rest of the Mármaros, the game room was black and white marble. It had tables and chairs everywhere, but most of the people gathered near the expansive fireplace to absorb the heat. The fire was fed day and night to combat the chill that would slow them further.
Her mother found another woman sitting alone. She was draped in blankets despite being next to the fireplace. Her hair was packed into a high, formal style. Her grey hair matched her slate skin. Claire bowed her head and the woman returned the formal bow.
Bernadette sat in the vacant chair and watched the two set up their pieces and begin the game. Her mother’s pieces were white while the other woman used black. They took turns, moving their pawns and rooks. The knights emerged and both women tensed, neither wanting to lose. They frowned and glared at one another.
It appeared the game became personal, but Bernadette couldn’t understand why. The older woman bit her lip as if she were holding back something rude to say. Her mother was smiling in a way that only unnerved the woman even more. Their chess pieces slammed on the board, and Bernadette cringed at the awkward attention the game was receiving.
“Quite a riveting game,” Bernadette said, hoping to ease the tension.
The woman glowered at her, and Bernadette wondered if she had done something wrong. She leaned into her chair with her hands on her lap, sorry that she had said anything.
The woman moved her queen and took one of her mother’s rooks. “Why did you bring her, Claire?”
Bernadette’s mind reeled at the question. Her face went hot with embarrassment. Why did the woman have such open animosity toward her? Bernadette was in shock and noticed that the others around them had stopped playing and were also staring. Her mother didn’t seem the least bit phased. Instead, she took the woman’s bishop.
“You should have more respect,” her mother said.
The woman looked around, embarrassed by the attention. “I apologize if I came off rude. I just never see you here.”
Bernadette didn’t know what to make of the situation, but she wanted very much for it to be over. “It’s all right.”
The woman resumed the game but faltered in her strategy. She was distracted and Bernadette’s mother was picking off all the pieces one by one. She noted that while her mother could have won many times, she chose not to, and instead opted to destroy her opponent in a slow, methodical manner. Claire grasped the knight and toyed with the token for a moment as if she remembered something.
“Horses are majestic creatures. It’s unfortunate when mares mate with lesser creatures instead of their stallions. If only they stayed with their kind. Perhaps there wouldn’t be so many mules,” the woman said.
Bernadette had no idea what the woman was talking about, but she got the feeling that whatever the woman said was awful and somehow aimed at her mother.
Her mother set down the knight and used the queen to checkmate the woman. “Queens cannot be treated as broodmares. Come, Bernadette.”
The servants took the handles of the wheelchair, and their group left the woman by the fireplace and returned to her mother’s room.
“What happened back there?” Bernadette asked.
“Oh, just two old crones squabbling about the past,” her mother said, waving it off. “Don’t you worry, dear. Gina is a bitch.”
“Mother!” Bernadette was shocked by the language.
“And not a smart one. I love to beat her in chess.”
Despite herself, Bernadette grinned at her mother’s foul language. By the afternoon, the sun was high, and Claire was settled back in the chair on her balcony. Bernadette left her mother to her servants and went to her other sanctuary, the library.
The library room was smaller than most of the public areas, approximately the size of the council room. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with tomes and there were four small tables with chairs in the middle. There was another room up a few steps and off to the side. She had no way of knowing how many books it had since she wasn’t allowed in the restricted area. The game room was more valued among Bernadette’s people than the library and was nearly three times the size. They often put history and the sciences aside, unless they stood to gain from using it the way Thius used knowledge to further his ambitions. The thought of Thius and his wandering eyes made her cringe.
Bernadette was left alone in the library, save the few servants and the slate-white man that guarded the forbidden library. On most days, she would only have a passing curiosity for it, but Thius spoke of it in the council meeting, and now it was a nagging interest.
Thius had attempted to impress her with his knowledge, but it only sparked her curiosity. If what he said was true, they kept birth records in there. She wanted to see what was in there, but how without alerting all the servants? Despite this, Bernadette approached the guard of the forbidden part of the library.
“Yes, Bernadette?” His voice was old and dry.
“I wish to enter.”
The two servants who were cataloging books watched passively. She would need to tread carefully. There were more people here than she realized.
“No one is allowed aside from the council. You know that.” The guard was not cross; he seemed pleased by Bernadette’s enthusiasm.
Bernadette felt like a child not permitted in the kitchens. “I am to become a mother soon. I wish to know what I’m up against.”
“That is something you will not find in any book, forbidden or not, I’m afraid.”
“How do I learn, then?”
Heavy eyelids drooped over his glossy eyes as he spoke. “You must learn from experience, the way all mothers do.”
“But there are birth records in there,” she argued. “If I could just see the rates of successful births, maybe I could see my odds—”
“To what end?” he asked. “You’ll frighten yourself and try to fight the council’s will. Our people once considered a child created from force to be a crime, but they now deem it justifiable.”
She understood what he was getting at. If she backed out, they would hold her against her will. She would be raped until impregnated, and the rape may never cease after that. Thius wanted to control her the way he managed the council. He needed to tote her conception and child as proof that his leadership was a success. It didn’t matter what she wanted.
The statistics she wanted to find in the forbidden library would not help her. Instead of returning to her book, Bernadette fled. Her eyes were wet, and her diaphragm rebelled against her ribcage. She couldn’t run. Even if she took off her shoes, there was nowhere to run. She could hide, but it would only be a matter of time before she was found.
Bernadette gasped for the air as she opened the arched door of her room. There were no
doors on her windows or balcony, only cut-outs in the marble in the shape of arches. Winter seldom came to their lands and if it did, servants would hang up thick woolen blankets to stem the cold. Her room was too high for the cool breeze from the ocean to reach her, so there were no such protections as doors in the east tower.
She leaned against her doorway, kicked off her beastly shoes, and flexed her feet. If forced into one position for so long, they became rigid. Her gown was too long without the height of the boots. She had to pick up the front and ignore the train behind her as she ran to her balcony to breathe in the salty air.
Chapter Three
After a while, she once again grew calm. At least, that was what she told herself.
A female servant with dark hair, olive-toned skin, and a long, pale dress of fuchsia and indigo, corded around her shoulders with a heavy hemp braid, came in with a wooden tray of salad and roasted meat. The servant set it on the marble-topped table and waited beside it.
“You may go.”
The servant remained where she was, wringing her hands as her eyes darted between Bernadette and the door.
“I told you to go!”
The maid flinched but remained. Bernadette wanted to slap her, but to do so could kill the woman. The servant shook with fear and it occurred to Bernadette that this had nothing to do with willfulness like her morning servant. For a servant to refuse orders in such a way could only mean one thing: someone of higher ranking ordered otherwise.
Bernadette walked toward the servant and stared her down. She knew the servant wasn’t to blame for the disobedience, but she was angry, and it felt good to take it out on someone, even if that person was helpless.
“Did Thius order you to stay and keep an eye on me?”
Daughter of the Mármaros Page 2