by Travis Bughi
Emily looked at Adelpha again.
“What were you thinking, huh?” Emily said. “You said it yourself that you’re going back to Themiscyra, so why would you toy with my brother like this? You were just going to leave him heartbroken and distraught in this desolate place, wondering what might have been. He doesn’t need that Adelpha, he needs—”
“It wasn’t me,” Adelpha interrupted.
Emily stopped as her friend spoke, or rather mumbled, for the first time since the kiss.
“What?” she asked.
“It wasn’t me,” Adelpha said clearly this time. “I mean, I didn’t start it. He approached me first, Emily, in the tavern. I was just planning on having a drink alone, and he came out to talk with me. So, we did, and time swept by. I didn’t even refill my mug, but by the time Gavin arrived, Abe was sitting right next to me.”
“Don’t call him that,” Emily said. “Only Nicholas and I call him Abe.”
“He told me to call him that,” Adelpha bit back. “He’s quite the charmer, actually. He’s kind, and honest. He’s different than most men.”
“You don’t think I know that? He’s my brother!”
“I know you know that, which is why I don’t understand why you’re so angry at me! I expected this from your mother, but I thought maybe you, my friend, would understand.”
“He’s my brother, Adelpha,” Emily stressed, sighing heavily, “and I know you.”
Emily heard Adelpha stop dead in her tracks, and her tongue caught in her throat. Emily stopped a few paces past Adelpha, but resisted the urge turn to face her, even as she felt her mouth go dry.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Adelpha asked, and the grass crunched underfoot as she took a step. “You don’t think I’m good enough for him?”
Damn it, Emily thought. She hadn’t meant to say that, not out loud at least. It was true though. Emily didn’t think Adelpha was good enough for Abe—not for her older brother, not for one of the only two friends she’d had growing up. She had nothing personal against Adelpha; it was just that no one was good enough.
But she couldn’t tell Adelpha that.
“No,” Emily looked away as she felt her anger begin to slip away. “It’s just—you’re leaving, Adelpha. You’re an amazon queen, and he’s, well, he’s a man. You can’t marry him.”
“You think I don’t know this? You think I haven’t been trying to find a solution for the past week? Sometimes it keeps me up at night, just thinking about what to do. I can’t stay here, and he can’t come with me. Sometimes I think about just traveling back and forth, maybe twice a year. But would that be enough?”
Adelpha had mistaken Emily’s objections as an offer of assistance. The anger that had welled up inside Adelpha drifted away, and she started walking again. She caught back up with the motionless Emily and then continued on, expecting Emily to start walking as well.
She didn’t though. She stayed quite still, even as Adelpha passed her by, saying nothing at all until Adelpha stopped a few paces ahead and turned back. When Emily caught Adelpha’s eye, she finally spoke.
“What do you mean,” Emily said slowly, “that you’ve been trying to find a solution all week?”
Adelpha’s eyes popped open, and then her throat swelled up. As had Emily, she’d just said something out loud, something better left unsaid, and realization hit her.
“I thought you said he approached you in the tavern,” Emily said, taking one slow step toward Adelpha followed by another. “I thought you said he started this whole thing, but now you say you’ve had this on your mind for longer than that. Tell me, exactly how long have you two been hiding this?”
Adelpha looked nervous. Emily was not only a foot shorter than Adelpha, but she was considerably thinner, as well. Emily was nothing but a skilled apprentice who learned quickly, while Adelpha, raised to be a warrior, had fought all her life. Yet still, while Adelpha stood on the higher ground with the sun at her back, she looked away as Emily neared her.
“I didn’t lie,” she said.
“Then tell me the parts you left out,” Emily said, stopping mere inches from Adelpha’s face. “Now.”
Adelpha’s face flashed with a streak of defiance, but this was new territory, and she kept losing ground. Under the intensity of Emily’s gaze, Adelpha realized she’d get nowhere with stubbornness, and in the end, she sighed and spoke in a defeated voice.
“I never knew he felt the same until he told me so in the tavern,” Adelpha said. “And I didn’t even know my own feelings until we entered the plains, just you and me. Sure, I thought him cute, like most of the other amazons did, when he first stumbled into The Kraken’s Eye not so long ago, but I was too distracted by you to notice. However, I found myself thinking about him as we started to travel back to Lucifan from Themiscyra. I even dreamed about him once, maybe twice.
“When I got here, I saw the way he looked at me, and I dared to hope he felt the same. It didn’t make any sense to me at first. I kept trying to deny my thoughts. I tried to shrug them off like some kind of fever, but then he’d smile, and I’d think of Chara, and I wanted him to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. How strange is that? I’ve never felt this way about anyone. No matter how mean I was to him, he was always so nice.
“Of course, the whole thing was crazy anyway, I know. Me, an amazon queen, in love with a man? No one could know. It was an impossible thought. So I teased him more, tried to tell myself he wasn’t worth my feelings, especially after you threw him down a hill. I knew then he was not a fighter at heart. I tried to use that as proof to myself that I was just lusting for attention, but somehow it didn’t add up.
“Then I waited at the Banshee’s Wail, and he came.
“He was so awkward that my heart melted before he even opened those soft lips. We talked, and talked, and he had the courage to tell me how he truly felt, how he couldn’t get me out of his head, and how beautiful he thought I was, and that was the first night we kissed. I was so angry at Gavin for showing up, but I had a duty to you, so I left, and we agreed to meet after you were distracted with Gavin.
“Then the minotaur came, Talvorn, and he recognized Abe. He told us you were in trouble so we left to save you, not wanting to waste any time by going to get Mariam. Abe was so strong then. Did you see the way he stood up to that vampire? He was so brave. It makes my heart race just thinking about it.”
“Okay,” Emily held up a hand. “Okay. Alright. I’ve heard enough.”
Adelpha’s mouth shut tight, she looked away, and the elusive, embarrassed, red color on her cheeks returned anew. Adelpha had just regurgitated a whole mess of feelings that’d been churning deep down for a long time, and Emily shared in the awkward feeling—acknowledging an Adelpha who not only had feelings besides rage and anger, but who was also just as vulnerable as anyone else when they fell in love.
And Emily realized something she’d always known was coming but had never really confronted: one day, she’d have to share her older brother with someone else.
“I, um,” Emily stuttered and then cleared her throat, “I still don’t think you’re good enough for him.”
Adelpha turned, eyes alight with surprise and apprehension.
“But,” Emily continued, “I suppose you’re the best he’s ever going to get.”
Adelpha blinked in confusion, then swallowed and looked away.
“Thanks,” she said. “I think.”
They walked in silence for a bit more. Up ahead of them, Mariam continued to rant, though her gestures were slowing. It seemed she’d gotten everything off her chest and was now just repeating it over and over again, like mothers always do. Soon, Abe would be mouthing the words to himself and finishing her sentences in his head. Emily almost chuckled at the thought of it, but only a smirk escaped her control.
Finally, after surely the tenth repeat of the same lesson, Mariam’s endearing commands for obedience ceased. Abe was looking ahead now, rather than down at his feet, lik
ely because sheer boredom had whittled down any guilt he may have harbored. He nodded once more, eager to have the conversation come to a close.
And so it did, and Mariam reached out a hand and placed it on Abe’s neck, like any mother would be expected to do, rubbing it in a tender way that made Emily’s mouth drop open.
“Wow,” Emily said. “I guess you’re in the clear.”
“Heh,” Adelpha said with a smirk. “I knew Abe could handle her. Now, only Paul is left.”
“My father?” Emily practically laughed. “Oh please, Adelpha. He’ll be a pushover.”
“He will?” Adelpha asked, daring to hope.
“Oh yeah,” Emily said and waved a casual hand. “He’ll be thrilled.”
Chapter 14
And Paul was thrilled.
When they arrived on the farm the next day, Paul was incredibly enthusiastic, even more so than Emily had expected. He smiled from ear to ear, clapped Abe on the back, and wrapped a fatherly arm around Adelpha, all the while completely oblivious to the death stares and shocked looks from his wife. Paul all but welcomed Adelpha to the family, and in doing so caused more embarrassment to both Adelpha and Abe than Mariam ever could.
“Like father like son, eh?” Paul clasped Abe into a proud hug, and Emily barely contained herself. “I knew it. I knew the moment you were born that you were just like me.”
“Father, I,” Abe paused as he attempted to brush off the attention, fumbling under the adoration he didn’t fully understand.
But Emily’s father had already moved on to Adelpha. He reached out with a belly laugh, startling her to death, and she froze like a confused child when his scrawny arms wrapped around her. The tender, fatherly hug looked like the most uncomfortable experience the amazon queen had ever endured, and Emily grinned.
“This calls for a celebration!”
“Paul,” Mariam said, covering her face with a palm, “please, don’t.”
But he wasn’t listening. He was already leading Adelpha into the house, laughing all the while. Abe followed quickly, clearly worried to leave her alone with his overly excited father. Emily, still grinning widely, walked over and stood next to her mother.
“If this doesn’t make Adelpha break it off, I don’t know what will,” Emily said.
“This is terrible.” Mariam shook her head.
“Oh, come on,” Emily replied. “So Father is a little happy. I’ll admit I was pretty mad at them, too, but you have to admit that it’s funny to see them so embarrassed.”
“Emily,” her mother said and turned a disciplinary stare towards her daughter, “do you realize why your father is so happy?”
“Um.” Emily was puzzled because she thought the answer obvious. “He’s happy that Abe shares his taste in women?”
Emily meant it as a joke to prod her mother. Emily smiled but, in reply, received only an icy glare. Her grin disappeared.
“That’s only part of it,” Mariam said. “He thinks Adelpha is going to give him grandchildren.”
Emily flashed a look of surprise and confusion.
“He thinks she’s staying,” Mariam continued after a long sigh. “He thinks the two of them are going to raise a family like we did, but they won’t. She’ll leave. I know it, she knows it, and even you know it. That banshee is going to break both their hearts when she leaves.”
Emily looked down to the ground. All humor had faded from her. Her mother’s statement, though concise, had brought to light something Emily had completely overlooked.
She now saw this event as her mother did: a tragedy. Until this very moment, Emily had never truly realized how much her father had wanted a healthy, thriving, normal family, but now it was clear. His excitement had been a riot when observed with a broad view, but her mother had focused the lens. With that, Emily’s stomach turned at her earlier reaction to laugh at it all.
Paul was a family man—he always had been—and all his life, he’d likely been delighted as his three children grew up, thinking about the families they’d have as well. His life was simple, and he preferred it that way. He loved to teach, encourage, and help, and thus his big heart would grow and thrive in that dream. But this dream was flawed. The woman he loved, the woman he married, had been strong of body and mind. He knew this perhaps better than anyone else, for that was what he saw first in her, what had drawn him to her, and what he loved most in her. This passion, though, would become his dream’s bane as it flowed into the children who would carry out that dream. Abe, Emily, and Nicholas all had been born with a desire for more—much, much more—and although Mariam had traded it all away, her fire continued to burn in the souls of her children. Emily was the first to go. Chara had come to whisk her away, and Paul with his big heart would not deny his only daughter her dream. He’d rather sacrifice his own. So, he let her go. The terrible truth was that Emily had been the least vocal of her desires to leave the Great Plains.
Perhaps that night, Paul saw that he would lose all his children if he didn’t act quickly. Perhaps he saw it when the behemoth fell and the old gunslinger, John Bagster, left his guns in the world of the living. Maybe that was why he gave them to Abe, because Paul knew that the fire in his three children would never burn out, so he had to control it instead. As Emily left to a world of danger and unknown, Paul pulled Abe aside and gave him the tools to carve out a life on the Great Plains, so that he would carry on.
Nicholas left without so much as a whisper of where he was going. Emily came back, but with vengeance in her heart. Paul’s entire dream had fallen on his one remaining child.
And Abe had just fallen for a woman.
But not only that, she had fallen for him as well! To Emily’s father, this wasn’t just news, this was a revelation. No! It was a revitalization! A resurrection of a dream long buried on the Great Plains, which all too often swallowed whole any breath of hope exhaled into its desolate nothingness. Paul was happy once again.
This was truly a tragedy.
“He’s going to be crushed,” Emily whispered. “What should we do, Mother? Should we warn him?”
“I honestly don’t know if I can,” she replied. “Hopefully, your friend does us the honor and cuts this short. I’m sure she’ll open her big mouth soon enough.”
“I hate to say it, but you’re probably right. Oh, and Mother?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Please, try not to insult my friend.”
Emily’s words startled Mariam. For a moment, she looked like she was going to reach out and give Emily a harsh smack across the face. But then she checked her movements and met her daughter’s gaze.
Emily never broke eye contact. In all honesty, she was terrified. She’d just made a direct challenge to her own mother. Her palms were bleeding sweat, and her heart was racing. Emily felt like she was staring down a charging bugbear, but she wearied of the infighting and petty drama between hotheaded amazons. They had real enemies now, immortal ones, and Emily just wanted the people in her life to get along. She was only six months older than the last time she’d been on this farm, yet it seemed years had passed. She felt stronger, tougher, smarter, and for once, right. She was right.
And Mariam knew it, too.
“Sorry,” she relented.
“It’s alright.” Emily finally broke eye contact and sighed in relief. “I know she’s a pain. I’ll talk to her about it.”
Mariam nodded and then changed the subject.
“Let’s go make sure your brother hasn’t passed out yet.”
* * *
As the day was ending, everyone retreated inside and a lantern was lit. In the coming darkness, the amazon queen’s torture resumed.
“So, Adelpha, tell me about yourself,” Paul said.
They were all seated around the table—bread in hand, water in cups, and a smile still plastered to Paul’s face. Adelpha had taken Nicholas’ seat and seemed rather uncomfortable about it. This day had been both the shortest and longest in her life, and now it seemed she’d have to
endure the grueling task of becoming a friendly guest. It was something she never considered herself to be, and were Paul not Abe’s father, she likely would have declined the challenge.
“I’m, um, well, I’m Adelpha. I’m the amazon queen.”
“Wow.” Paul gave Abe a quick elbow. “That’s amazing! And at your age? Well, I’d say that’s quite an achievement.”
“Thank you,” Adelpha replied. “But it’s not like what you think. In our culture, queen is really just more of a title than anything else. The group can choose to agree or disagree with me if they have strong reason or support, or if my leadership proves ineffective. In desperate times, we’ve even been known to replace our queens when the need arises, though that is rare. I mean, it’s not as important of a title as you may think.”
“Well now.” Paul smirked. “It seems you’ve just unintentionally complimented yourself.”
“I have?” Adelpha said, fearful of more praise.
“Yes, you have!” Paul smacked a hand on the table. “Not only are you a queen at your age, but your people love you! Here you are, all the way out on a two-woman mission in the Great Plains, and still the amazons did not replace you. They must trust in your guidance. I’d say, judging by what you’ve told me, you must be an amazing leader, Adelpha. I’d whisk you away myself were I in my son’s position.”
“Father.” Abe groaned.
Adelpha looked at the table now, her jaw clenched tight. Emily, although embarrassed for her father, couldn’t help but be entertained by Adelpha’s awkward moment.
It wasn’t that Adelpha despised compliments—she tended to enjoy them mostly—but this was different. Amazon encouragement was swift and justified. A single hand on the shoulder and a stern look said more than a mountain of words ever could. A quick hug was like a lifetime of praise heaped into one motion. One was never given respect simply through title or word of mouth. It had to be earned, brutally and honestly, through acts of courage, skill, and judgment. Emily knew this quite well, for it was the same treatment she’d received all her life from Mariam.