“When have you ever been too tired to talk?” Veria asked, snorting in amusement as she did—if anyone could talk the entire night, it was him.
“Tonight. Now, please, my lovely little earth bird, Daughter of the Diamond, Commander, all your other names...I must insist we let this subject rest. I must insist you let me rest, as well. I want to see Jeyna when we get back to the castle tomorrow and I'll need plenty of sleep if I want to...perform.” His tone was at least more jovial and witty, but Veria couldn't let it go.
“Was it about me?” she interrogated.
“Oh, Fire, have I created a monster?!” he laughed out loud, rolling over to face her with a bemused smirk. “No, you egomaniac, it doesn't have anything to do with you.”
Veria returned his smirk and rolled to her side, mirroring his position and propping herself up on her elbow.
“So, is it about...your research?” she ventured.
Strelzar shook his head. “I'm not getting pulled into this, sweetie. You won't get it out of me.”
“Well, then I think you should just tell me,” Veria said.
“You will worry,” he murmured.
“I'm already worried!” she retorted, tossing a small rock at his chest.
“You will worry more, then,” he said.
“You are not actually going to keep a secret from me, are you?” Veria scoffed. “We tell each other everything. You're...you're the only person I tell everything to.”
“Oh, guilt now?!” he rolled onto his back and laughed out loud. “Ever my sweet little earth bird. Compelling the people around you to do the right thing instead of bending them to your will. You could have connected to that talisman nine days ago and made me want to tell you. But you don't even think that way. You are a much better person than I, Birdie. I mean, you have made me better, but...”
He sighed as he trailed off, and Veria watched as his back went rigid and he swallowed hard.
“It won't be me,” Strelzar whispered, staring at the night sky above them. “I'm not...the last one.”
“The last one of what?” Veria asked, her stomach turning sour with anxiety when she realized he was about to finally answer.
“The last of the Ageless Council,” he muttered reluctantly.
Veria inhaled sharply against the icy chill that rushed across her whole body.
“There are only three of us now,” he said nonchalantly. “I just always assumed...I mean, look at me!” he joked, but Veria could hear the pain and fear in his voice that he tried to hide behind the humor.
“Strelzar...” Veria murmured, attempting to soothe him.
“Well, it makes sense it's not me, anyway,” he declared with a shrug. “One of them can turn invisible and the other one can see the future. Pretty good defenses against death, if you ask me.”
Veria struggled to swallow through the tightness in her throat.
He rolled on his side again and faced her.
“We don't even know when this will happen,” he said softly. “Don't lose sleep on it, Birdie. It could be another hundred years from now.”
She nodded and didn't speak, not sure of what she would even say to him, not sure if she could speak through the lump that had formed in her throat.
“Get some sleep,” he whispered as he closed his own eyes.
She laid her head down on a rolled up blanket she used for a pillow and closed her eyes, but it was quite sometime before she could relax and fall asleep, with the pain of both her back and the thought of losing her friend nagging her well into the middle of the night.
Strelzar and Veria were summoned to the library as soon as they returned, finding Browan in a similar state to the one they had left him in three weeks prior. His skin was ashen and his hair was mussed and growing shaggy, as if he hadn't taken a comb to it or trimmed it in months, and his brow must have spent most of its time furrowed as the wrinkles on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes had permanently etched themselves into his skin.
Strelzar closed the door once they were both inside the library, which felt odd to Veria as bright afternoon sunlight poured in through the high windows, a stark opposition to their typical midnight meetings.
“Done?” Browan asked curtly, not removing his eyes from stacks of maps on the desk.
“Done,” Veria and Strelzar replied in unison.
“Thank you,” he sighed. “Dismissed.”
“Your Majesty, I actually have a request,” Strelzar ventured in his politest, most charming voice.
“And what is that?” Browan asked, the question and tone short.
“A week of leave for us both,” Strelzar answered. “This was a particularly draining and emotional event, and we would like some time to—”
“Request denied,” Browan interrupted.
“Excuse me?” Strelzar rebuked, crossing his arms sharply in front of his lean chest.
“You heard me,” Browan said. “No. No leave. Pascha is on leave for the next month until she gives birth, and Raken is on partial duty, and we have new recruits coming in this week.”
“Who?” Veria snapped. “Neither of us have signed off on new recruits. And Aslay has been managing the incoming recruits and she hasn't mentioned anything to either of us.”
“They're mine,” Browan stated plainly, meeting her eyes with a stern look in his.
“Do we get to know anything about them?” Strelzar scoffed.
“Sure. Three of them, all Wind, trained with Norzo.”
“Oh, fantastic!” Strelzar uttered sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Who's Norzo?” Veria asked him.
“Ather Norzo, Red-Listed Wind Master who specializes in the skills of invisibility and wind blades,” Strelzar explained, his words dripping with distaste. Veria shuddered at the mention of wind blades, feeling a phantom pain at the location of her scar from the one that hit her when she saved Browan's life from assassins...assassins like the ones he had just recruited.
“Formerly Red-Listed,” Browan corrected.
“Of course you would take him off,” Strelzar rolled his eyes as he spat the words. “I'm guessing you revoked his exile, too?”
“Not yet,” Browan said.
“So all of them are assassins,” Veria groaned.
“You both sound a little high and mighty considering why you're in my presence at this very moment,” Browan said, a hint of a smirk pulling at his full lips.
“I didn't train specifically to become an assassin,” Veria argued.
“Didn't you?” Browan cocked his head at her.
The three stood in silence for several moments, Veria feeling the distinct urge to slap Browan in the face to remove the haughty grin that covered it at the moment, but she suppressed it. Strelzar was bristled and tense at her side, and she figured he was having similar urges.
Finally, Strelzar broke the silence. “Just her then. I'll stay and deal with these fine upstanding recruits you've taken it upon yourself to provide us with.”
“Why is it so important?” Browan asked. “Commander Laurelgate is tough. She will be fine, I'm sure.”
Strelzar looked over at her and she locked eyes with him.
“Is there something that I should be aware of?” Browan asked, sounding slightly irked.
“She misses her child,” Strelzar said, turning back to the King.
“I am sure she does,” Browan said coolly, “but that's a not a valid reason for leave at this time. If I could give her leave I would, I promise. But things are too hectic right now.”
Veria took a deep breath and sighed her exhale. There was no way around it. She had to tell him before he found out on his own or he would be suspicious.
“Strelzar, I'd like a moment alone with Browan, please,” she said softly.
Strelzar gave her short, subtle look of apology before leaving the library in silence.
“Veria...” Browan said slowly, his face filling with concern, “what's going on? Is everything okay?”
“It's fine, Browan,” Veria said.
“I'm sorry for being short, I just...I am under a lot of pressure lately, but you know you can tell me anything,” he rounded the desk and grabbed her hands, squeezing them comfortingly.
“I...” she started and the words wouldn't come out. This was it—the moment everything would change. He would assume the child was his, with no reason to believe otherwise, and she would no longer be Commander Laurelgate, no longer a Twin Dragon, no longer the most powerful Mager in the world, no longer the Lady of the Longberme Estate...to him she would be the carrier of his child, and nothing more. But she was four and half months along, and there was no way to hide it from him much longer...a week at most. The alterations Jeyna had made three weeks prior were already feeling sung again.
She was out of time, and even if Andon had come home and she had told him first, it would be likely that they both would have faced retribution from Browan. This was not the only choice, but it was the best one, and she had always known it...though she hated to admit it.
“I...I'm with child, Browan,” Veria finally said, and watched with the sour sting of defeat in her stomach as his eyes lit up with pure joy.
He was speechless, and his only attempts at words were truncated and choppy utterances.
“Veria—I...Oh! Oh my—”
He pulled her into his arms and she could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he affectionately stroked her hair. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and placed his hands on either side of her soft abdomen.
“How...how far...” he started, still struggling with words, but Veria knew what he was asking.
“Four months, according to Turqa,” she said.
“Oh, Veria...why didn't you say anything?” he sighed, tenderly running his hands along the small bump.
“I don't know...I—you've been so busy and things have been hectic like you said—”
He shot back up to standing, leaving his hands on the subtle swell. “Surely you had to know that I would drop everything for my child, and for you,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “I know things ended...abruptly, and awkwardly for us but...I care about you, Veria. I would give anything for the last several months to have gone differently.”
He left one hand caressing the bump protectively, but shifted the other hand up to her face, cupping her cheek as he lowered his head toward hers.
“How have you been feeling?” he whispered.
“Fine,” Veria answered softly. “I mean, some unsettled stomach early on, and aching back, but nothing terrible.”
“You will sleep in my bed,” Browan demanded.
“Browan,” Veria scoffed, “that's completely unnecessary.”
“You carry my heir,” he argued with a smile. “Our child...nothing is unnecessary. I will go to every length necessary to make you comfortable and healthy and safe, for the rest of your life.”
His lips lowered to hers and pecked them softly, then he let them linger, resting gently against hers as his breath caught in his throat. When he finally pulled away, she saw the shining tears that rimmed his eyes and his hands quaked and trembled against her.
“I should have been...better to you, more attentive, these last few months,” he murmured, running his hands through her hair. “For that I apologize, and I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I don't blame you for not telling me. I have been distant, and quite the brute. I am thoroughly embarrassed.”
“Please, Browan, don't be hard on yourself,” Veria said. “We were both fulfilling our duties to Londess.”
“So forgiving, and so wise,” Browan purred.
Veria's chest filled with the hot coals of rage at the mention of 'forgiving', something that she was never sure she could completely give Browan after he had her kill Cadit Ohren, the key to her investigation of her father's death, without her knowledge.
“You deserve the world, Veria Laurelgate,” Browan whispered, his lips on her neck and the hand at her abdomen gently clutching the soft, round swell possessively, “and I am going to give it to you. And to our child.”
-V-
The next two weeks mirrored the ones following her injury. Browan doted on her day and night, insisting she spend as much time in bed as possible and bringing her meals to her, pulling the Tactics table up to the bed occasionally when she complained of boredom, and taking her on walks around the castle and grounds during which he insisted that she hold his arm so she would not fall.
She was officially on leave from the Elemental Guard, though she figured that Browan would never let her go back to her post or her duties even after the baby was born. Strelzar was acting as Commander, which Veria could tell displeased Browan, who often mentioned that it was temporary until a formal selection process could be carried out whenever Strelzar was in ear shot.
Though he had made hints at romance, and planted more than few kisses on her lips and forehead and her ever-growing stomach, Browan had not attempted anything beyond that, she assumed out of fear for the child.
His child.
He said the words so many times a day, Veria had almost forgotten that “his child” might not be his. “His child” could come out with tight, black curls like Irea, or olive skin—features that would point quite clearly to the child not being of Browan's blood. And every time that thought occurred to her, she panicked for two distinct reasons. First, she had no idea what would happen if the baby did obviously belong to Andon, and secondly, where was Andon?
He should have been back a month ago, she thought, and she had inquired with a few people about his whereabouts and no one had mentioned him sending word that he had chosen to stay longer. She couldn't shake the sinking feeling that he had decided to retreat entirely from his life in Londess, because of her rejection and their complicated history.
It was a gray, rain-drenched day that for some reason reminded her of their first night together, when she had come into the kitchen soaked to the bone. Sitting alone in the King's chamber, amongst his plush red velvet blankets and silk pillows, the guilt and worry and overwhelming desire to see him consumed her until she had practically made herself sick and lost her appetite.
Browan knocked and entered just as the sky turned from dreary gray to sooty black, and without turning to look at him, she knew he had brought dinner—the slightly sweet, delectably rich smell of his cook's famous cream sauce and roasted vegetables, and the aroma of fresh-baked bread, filled her nose before he had even made it all the way through the door.
“Good evening, my dear.” With a smile, he propped the tray over her lap and she stared at it unenthusiastically with tired eyes. “What's wrong? You usually devour anything in the cream sauce!”
“I'm not hungry, I suppose,” Veria sighed.
“You have to eat something, Veria,” Browan declared. “You are growing a child.”
“I am entirely aware of that, Browan,” Veria groaned.
“Yes,” he chuckled softly, “I am sure you are. Of course. Is there something I can do to help?”
Veria took a deep breath before responding. Maybe there was...
“I'm just...worried,” she answered.
“Worried about what, my dear?” Browan asked, sitting next to her and grabbing her hand. “You have already done this once, and you know I will be here for everything. Every step of the way.”
“No, not about...not about that,” Veria said, shaking her head. “About a friend.”
“Oh?” Browan asked, cocking his head. “And which friend with that be? I thought your only friend was that ancient braggart, and I know for a fact he's not in any trouble. I just saw him happily moving a brand new, rather expensive looking desk into the Commander's Suite.”
“Strelzar can take care of himself,” Veria said, though her heart pained and skipped a beat as she was made to remember Ellory's ominous last words to him. “It's Willis,” Veria sighed.
“Willis? Villicrey?” Browan asked, his eyes going wide, almost angry. “Look, if he asked you to spea
k to me on the matter than—”
“Browan, wait,” Veria interrupted. “What are you talking about?”
“I told him yesterday there was nothing we could do, and now apparently he is going around to his more powerful friends and drumming up sympathy,” Browan dropped her hand and stood from the bed, striding toward the window and staring out into the cloudy night in dejection.
“Browan, he didn't say anything to me,” Veria pressed. “I was just worried that his son hadn't returned home yet. I know he can't take care of Guyler Estate on his own,” she added, fabricating her reason to not raise any suspicions about her and Andon.
“He's going to have to get used to it, or give up the title, for I fear, as I told him yesterday, his son will not be returning,” Browan explained looking back at her. “Barring some extremely fortuitous circumstances, I'm afraid.”
Veria's stomach plummeted and lurched, and she tried to hide the panic that crept up her spine from showing on her face.
“What happened?” she asked, unable to lend much volume to the words as her throat had clenched so tightly it was all but closed off.
“He was kidnapped,” Browan said matter-of-factly, with relatively no sympathy in his tone. “Right off the boat home.”
Ice filled every corner of Veria's body and it took every bit of energy she could muster not to scream and cry like she wanted to.
“Separatists, a new camp in Southern Esperan that has been causing a lot of trouble the past few months. They are attempting to leverage his return for a ransom,” Browan explained with distaste.
“Are you going to pay it?” Veria managed, though her throat was as solid as stone.
“Of course not, Veria,” Browan scoffed. “Don't be silly. There's no negotiating with the enemy. Every other kingdom will see it as weakness, and in these tense times, that is not something that Londess can afford. Nor can we send a rescue into a foreign kingdom. I mean, perhaps I could have sent the Twin Dragons, but that's obviously not an option now, and I doubt it would have been worth the effort for one Ambassador.”
Veria's heart raced at a rate that made her vision blurry and her head turn hot. She had to think fast, she thought. She could rescue him...but she had to get away from the castle, and Browan couldn't know that was on her mind in the slightest.
Daughter of the Diamond: Book IV of the Elementals Series Page 4