Without warning, she jolted. Arieve grabbed Tash's hand and pressed his fingers to her stomach. A solid thump hit his palm.
Relief washed over Tash, dripping into the crevices worry had carved.
"I've been feeling funny all day, to be honest," Arieve continued. "It got worse after the party, then I ended up here." She frowned at Karane. "There's nothing to worry about, right? I just need better sleep?"
Karane let out a long sigh. "No, and I've seen it enough to be concerned."
Arieve paled and clenched Tash's fingers. "That doesn't sound good…"
"Here's the plan," Karane started, resting her hands on her knees. "For the next week, slow down and be cautious. Have someone with you at all times. If this happens again, you'll need help. If the symptoms continue—and especially if they get worse—you fetch me immediately."
"If they do continue?" Mayr asked, his quiet voice wavering.
"Bed rest, medicine, and constant supervision," Karane answered.
Mayr grunted. "'Don't assign me a guard,' you said. 'I don't need to be followed,' you said." He lifted Arieve's chin. "I'm assigning you guards as of right now, love. No way out of this."
"Fine," Arieve grumbled.
Karane shook her head. "Let me check some other things and we'll get you on your way." She held up one steady finger. "I'll give you some time to enjoy the dinner, but under my supervision and guidelines. Nap first, followed by a thorough examination, then a short stint at dinner. I won't have extra stress doing you in. It'll give me a chance to see how bad things are."
Tash swallowed uneasily, his stomach flipping. Nothing about Karane's counsel sounded reassuring. Her stern expression may as well have been grief for all its warmth. He only hoped it stopped there.
*~*~*
The weeks had not been kind nor were they getting easier. Hopes for Arieve's quick recovery had been abruptly quashed.
With nimble fingers, Tash worked his finest needle through the soft white fabric in his grasp, continuing a line of near-perfect backstitches as he rocked his chair. Piled in his lap, the embroidered material was tinged with purple and blue hues from the stained glass window beside him, the afternoon light as warm as the summer day. Thanks to the time spent sewing his own robes over the years, his skills were sharp and consistent. At the rate he was going, the blanket would be finished within the month, and he could move onto the baby blessing gown.
Providing there's a baby to wear it. Tash stifled a sigh and peered at the bed. Curled up in a thin, cream-coloured sheet, Arieve slept soundly in her daily noontime nap. Once she awoke, he would place the blanket aside and escort her on a walk around the estate before ensuring she ate something. To occupy the rest of their afternoon, he supposed he would either read to her or find something else, though he was running out of new ideas.
He knew how frustrated Arieve was. Being confined and restricted to light movement was far from easy and even less enjoyable. For one week after the gifting party, they had followed Karane's instructions, but Arieve's condition did not improve. Her aches and light-headedness only worsened, prompting Karane to prescribe constant rest balanced by short walks twice a day and a series of stretches.
After two weeks of the regime, Arieve's patience was wearing thin. She wanted to do things, not waste her days. To her annoyance, Tash, Mayr, and Coye reinforced Karane's instructions. They had adapted their routines to her needs. Tash and Mayr stayed with Arieve during the morning and afternoons, alternating days to allow Mayr time with the guards and Tash with Adren, Ress, and the Temple. The nights were overseen by Coye after she returned from felling trees and moving logs. Together with a crew of guards and household staff, they kept Arieve company and fetched whatever she needed.
The changes drew more than one fit from Arieve, resulting in tears and gushes of apology. They were being too thoughtful, too kind, too honourable—too everything, according to her. She wanted them to go on as if nothing had changed.
Except something had changed, and while she argued they did too much, Tash believed they did too little. Not that there was much else to do. He could not carry the child for her or bear her symptoms.
Arieve was not the only one frustrated—she was simply the only one who dared show it. Regardless of how ragged and exhausted they were, Tash, Mayr, and Coye had made a pact to offer Arieve only lightness.
At least she's here at the estate. We're never far from everything she needs. Tash tugged on the needle and tightened the white thread, then wedged the needle through thicker stitches and laid the blanket down. He stopped rocking to flex his fingers and stretch his shoulders, stiff as they protested being in the same position for too long.
Cracking his neck, he gazed over the large bedroom. The walls were of the same grey stone and red wood panels as his and Mayr's room, with the same red ceiling and a hearth in the wall behind him.
The similarities ended there. From the colours of the window and layers of emerald green curtains to the black cushions and trinkets on the mantel above the hearth, everything was different. The room and its smaller adjoining room had once been Aeley's bedroom and her childhood playroom. Up until her wedding day, Aeley had kept the rooms rather than take over her father's. Once she married Lira, however, Aeley assumed her father's abandoned suite and completely accepted her position as head of the Dahe family.
Both rooms belonged to Arieve and Coye now. They had moved in two weeks after Mayr's request, and Tash appreciated his wisdom: as Arieve's pregnancy progressed, there had not been enough space in Mayr and Tash's bed for the three of them to sleep comfortably. Arieve had also wanted Coye to remain close.
To Tash's relief, Aeley not only supported their decision as a family, she shared her home. Even more, she surprised them all, offering rooms with personal meaning instead of one of the smaller rooms reserved for guests. According to Aeley, she had intended to give Mayr her old suite once he settled down. Things had come to pass more or less as anticipated.
The rooms granted Arieve and Coye plenty of space. A set of red doors in the wall behind the bed offered access to the smaller room, a nursery decorated with pale colours. Located across the hall and in between the Head of the Guard's room and the suite meant for the head of the Dahe family, the chambers were often occupied by the most vulnerable family members. More often than not, the rooms were passed down to children. The conjoined room had served multiple purposes in the past, from nursery and playroom to sitting room, study, store room, and collections display.
The suite was not the only thing passed down, Tash recalled, glancing at the thick, wooden bed frame. The rooms were furnished with matching pieces that had been polished and re-stained. Crafted from hard, deep red wood with a black tinge, each piece of furniture boasted elegant carvings of wolves, bearcats, and hawks among ferns and flowers. The high bed frame had smooth, gold-plated corners, similar to the gold rings around the legs and arched backs of the round table and six chairs behind him. Four armoires stood along one wall across from the dresser covered with jewel cases and boxes of ribbons, beads, and other baubles. Close to the bed sat two bedside tables occupied by candles, books, and dishes of candied vegetables and fruits Arieve craved. Across the room, by the hearth, were three high-backed chairs, each covered with black cushions and emerald green blankets, their vivid tone the same as the curtains chosen by Arieve. Black cushioned footstools accompanied each of the chairs.
To balance the dark tones, Arieve had chosen cream-coloured linens and decorated the corners with draped gossamer, the long lengths of pale blue brightened by a shimmer of bright blue. One of the white cradles stood between Arieve's side of the bed and the outer wall, away from the doors and window.
The rocking chair in which Tash sat matched the cradle. The chair was a gift from Mayr's family, all of it cut, carved, and polished by Loftin and Teneth. They had chiseled cubs and pups down the back with fine artistry, along with narrow leaves and small buds. Padded with white cushions sewn and stuffed by Estara and Orlee, the ch
air was more comfortable than Tash could have guessed. It also had a twin, kept in Mayr and Tash's room.
Gathering his focus, Tash withdrew the needle from its resting place. As he tugged the fabric taut inside the embroidery hoop, small stitches stretched over the faint lines drawn in pale yellow ink. He was halfway through embroidering the top layer of the blanket, the shapes of flowers and feathers sweeping around the long, graceful lines and curls of a vine. When the embellishment was complete, he would add a thick middle layer and thin bottom, all quilted together by a simple pattern of petals. The blessing gown would match the blanket, layers of white fabric with hints of silver thread to make it glimmer.
If only he could have an easier time of making it. His calloused fingers ached. The thimbles on his middle finger and thumb slipped at the worst times. The thread would not cooperate: he continued to struggle with almost-knots and fussed with the spool. He had better luck making clothes for himself.
Still, it helped carry the weight on his mind. The stitches made him feel productive while he mulled over his trepidations. Beneath his forced composure he worried about everything. Not only was Arieve's health at risk, the baby's was as well. One or both could die.
I shouldn't even be here, not after what I did to Ines, refusing her needs because I was too caught up in the Shar. Now Arieve's getting the raw end of the deal while I get what I want. Again. I always want what I shouldn't have.
With stark clarity, he remembered the rejection in Inesta's teary eyes when he had denied her a child. She had come to him with sweet honesty and asked if he loved her enough to start a family. He had held her and admitted he loved her more than life itself, but a family was out of the question. It was a messy headache he could never afford. The Shar-denn was rubbish enough; a child would have only made their lives a disaster.
Now… now I can't wait. The thought of Mayr holding our child in his arms, seeing Arieve be the mother she wants to be… It feels right, but I'm horrible for what I put Ines through, all that hurt. I stole her life. Tash frowned and rocked the chair harder. It's just as well. A child would've tied her down worse than she was. I still might have run away, leaving her to fend for them, and Ress would've had to take them both in. Even if I'd stayed, I'd be dead or so unfeeling we'd have separated anyway. Saying no was the best choice. My leaving saved us all.
Leaving was the last thing he wanted in the present. Tired and fearful as he was, he intended to fulfill his promises to those who relied on him. Their needs pulled him in every direction, stretching his focus and straining his calm. Somewhere among the chaos he was still himself, his identity woven through the pieces. Whatever complaints he had he kept secret, aware of the weight on Mayr and Coye's shoulders. Mayr's control of the household guard required time, and his work with Aeley and Lira took effort, particularly when they traveled to High Council Hall for meetings. On the days Mayr sat with Arieve, stacks of reports and schedules accompanied him.
Coye was under another sort of stress. Work required her to be away from the estate every day, distanced from Arieve for six days of their eight-day week. While Tash and Mayr stayed close to the estate, Coye's location could change on a daily basis. Usually she was in any one of the forests in Gailarin, though there were days when she was in one of the nearest lumberyards, replenishing their stock. Other times, she traveled for most of the day, transporting logs to woodcutters, millers, and anyone who needed them. By the time she returned home each evening, she was fatigued and often sore.
Hope, that's what I need to focus on. Tash retrieved a pair of scissors from the sewing basket beside the chair and snipped the thread from the needle. As he rethreaded the needle, he commanded himself to think solely about Arieve and the baby. Not only did he need to grasp hope, he needed to channel it into beauty. It was not enough to cleanse and bless the blanket once it was finished; he had to infuse positive thoughts into every stitch rather than darkness.
There were things he wanted to do with their child, a thousand things he wanted to share. Like how the Four truly are. The fact that statues and tapestries and paintings won't ever get it perfect, not when the skin of the Goddesses changes in the blink of an eye, hues layered on hues that run so deep it's like staring into an abyss. Not when their eyes slide from white to black in a breath, hitting every colour in between. Not when their clothes and armour are made from everything that makes the world and holds it together.
A memory slaughtered his concentration. He knew what it was to be on the divide between life and death, where the world seemed to begin and end at the exact same moment, spinning yet standing still.
More than that, there's what I saw during my Uldana Trials. How wondrous it was to pass over the precipice between life and death and wake to love at my fingertips. It gave me clarity like never before. That's what I want to give our child: the chance to see the world for themselves and let them know there's always more. To make sure they can reach to become more.
He wanted to share everything he knew. Without a doubt, he wanted make another journey to the Shatterlands and show Mayr, Arieve, Coye, and their child the stupendous, terrifying beauty. They could travel to the sandy red shores of the shimmering blue-green sea and wade in its salty warmth under a sky filled with playful flocks of golden birds. He could show them how to slide over the glassy black and amber terrain without falling. They could explore the winding puzzle of amber glass caverns and meet their inhabitants: tiny, silver-scaled creatures the size of a wildemouse with silver-green wings and bright orange tongues that flicked and curled and latched onto things with all the softness of silk rope.
Just as much, he wanted to share the view into the grandest of the Shatterland's canyons and its echoing depths. Around the canyons, massive walls of crumbling black stone rose from where the earth had burst apart centuries earlier. Split into three, the destroyed earth had spilled its insides across the landscape, the deluge of amber blood devouring everything in its path. Where there once had been expansive woods and thriving villages, there was only weathered stone and slippery glass, the twisted forms of ancient beasts, people, and trees entombed beneath. Horrifying as it was, the Shatterlands preserved the past and offered the present a new perspective on the future. Perhaps that was its true beauty; the real lesson meant to be learned during the first Uldana trial.
That same trial had also brought him pain. Viciously mobbed and pummeled after his visit to the Shatterlands, Tash had tried to fight off the men who attacked him on his return to the temple. His escape had been a precarious mix of luck and skill, resulting in brutal injuries. Recovery had been difficult, soured by flashes of violent memories he was unable to stop or ignore.
During those days, the brightest light in the darkness had been Mayr. In his selflessness, he had come to Tash's aid and waited by his side while he slept. It was then that Tash's love for Mayr had burned with a vengeance, desperate to hold onto the care and security Mayr offered. No one protected him the way Mayr wanted to. No one had ever tried.
Two years later, the fear and agony from the Trials still haunted him, no less hurtful than the Shar-denn. There were lessons to be learned from both. He would never be proud of his past, but he would not dismiss it. Perhaps when their child was old enough to fully understand right from wrong, he would share the experiences that had burned their morals into his life. He would teach their child to not only help others, but to protect themselves without taking advantage of anyone. Greed, malice, and the bloody quest for power were not worth the pain inflicted. You take the weight with you. There's no easy way to shake them once they poison your blood. This is what I'll pass along. This is my legacy.
Although he should probably tell Arieve of his past before he mentioned it to any child.
The needle pricked his uncovered forefinger on his left hand, a sharp stab worth the curse he flung at it, scolding himself in the process. He was scared to tell Arieve everything about him. Mayr had taken the truth better than Tash anticipated, but that meant nothing when it came
to anyone else. On the day they received the bracelets from Emeraliss, he had told Mayr what happened at the Sanctum, including the revelation about the Shar-denn's origins. Given their discussion then and an even longer conversation since the wedding, they had agreed not to tell Arieve of Tash's past while she was pregnant, and certainly not during bed rest. They would save the disapproval and anger for later, once they all could think clearly.
Sighing, Tash rubbed his eyes and glanced out the window, glimpsing the buildings of the village in the distance and their various coloured roofs. On the other side of the great expanse of village was the temple, though he could not see it from where he sat. The temple was a fair distance from the estate, but he appreciated it all the same. Often he walked between them to clear his mind. At the moment, he sorely needed one of those walks.
Three soft knocks on the door to the hallway jarred his attention. Arieve stirred, moaning as she turned over.
Before more knocks woke her completely, Tash left the blanket in the chair with his thimbles and hurried across the room. He opened the door and leaned against the doorframe, surprised to find Lira and Adren. Their escorts, Ralaern and Surie, waited on the other side of the corridor with their arms folded.
"Fancy meeting you here," Lira greeted, sweeping back the loose curls of her dark hair. Her pale pink gown was a dainty sight of tiered cuffs and bright pink sash compared to the white dress Adren wore beneath a loosely slung black belt, thigh-length black leather vest, and bronze chains draped from cir hip to back. "We're off to get a light snack and thought you might like to join us. Call it a well-earned break from our meeting while Aeley has a private conversation with Mayr, Pellon, and Ress."
Adren snorted. "Try not-so-private argument. My money's on Aeley. The boys don't have a chance."
Lira beamed. "I always bet on Aeley. The men tend to cave. Right, Tash?" She tilted her head, the corners of her grey eyes strained. "Especially when they know what's good for them."
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