Twenty-Five
"Do you feel it?" Sin asked her voice distant and detached even to her own ears. "The heart beating beneath my feet?"
The mute slave, her only companion, lifted her face and her pale brows came together as she frowned.
Sin lifted her head and sniffed the air, not the usual pungent mix of her own waste but the sweet scent of roses; a shuddering breath rendered passed her lips and her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed across her pallet bed.
A mangled cry erupted from the nameless slave who rushed out to summon help; her footsteps whispered across the stone and the door creaked but did not shut.
Sin waded out of the dizzy spell and forced herself to stand; her legs trembled and the pain seemed to intensify with each passing moment. The whisper of the goddess breezed through Sin's mind in undecipherable soothing sibilance, her mouth was stuffed with the perfume of flowers.
Sin followed the trail outside of her prison, slow step by slow step progressing through the cool darkness with fingertips on the walls as she had before, her other hand pressed to the girth of her stomach as if she could hold the baby inside herself.
Water was slick between her legs, and she left a trail of foot prints as she went heading slowly, so slowly toward the light.
Linnea leant on the blue tinted window pane overlooking the rose garden, the flowers were in full bloom appearing like a cloud of white petals and their fragrance rose from even this great distance to sweeten the air. She watched Pearl who was posed thoughtfully amidst the flora, a petite vision in the golden glow of the midday sun and she could not deny the small thread of envy, for Linnea too wished to be a wife and mother.
She barely noticed Lucerne arrive quietly at her shoulder. "Do you think she blossoms with it?" He asked, his cool eyes moving over Pearl.
Linnea's brow arched. "She seems different. Quiet."
"A blessing." Lucerne murmured his eyes slipping to the garden itself, inspecting the work of the garden slaves, trying to eke out an imperfection so he might have an excuse to punish them.
"A quiet woman is a dangerous woman." Linnea murmured. "Who knows what she is scheming?"
Lucerne turned to look at his sister full in the face. "She has no great mind to scheme."
"She is a woman." Linnea said with a small knowing smile. "If she is not occupying her mind with something or other inevitably she will turn to scheming."
"And what has she to scheme about?" Lucerne challenged, his own pale brows arching.
Linnea shrugged delicately in response and returned her gaze to the window. Since he had thrown his slave to the Hounds, he had withdrawn, often melancholy and often given over to sudden and cruel rages. He closeted himself in the chapel of Anta; for what he prayed, Linnea could only guess.
"And you? What are you scheming, sister?" He asked and stepped close enough that his body pressed against the expanse of her skirt.
She stiffened and turned to meet her brother's eye. "Nothing."
"Then you are content?"
She shrugged again.
Lucerne considered his sister for a moment. "When my son is born I will think upon finding you a husband."
She looked at him sharply, the dim flicker of hope ignited in her gaze. "Shall you appeal to the Court match maker?"
Anger flashed through his murky blue gaze. "I and only I will have a say on who may wed you."
Linnea turned her face away and back to Pearl who had not moved an inch, frozen like a marble statue adorned in silk. "Then let us pray for a healthy son." She murmured but Lucerne was already striding away.
She released a shaky breath, for Lucerne was as dangerous as a serpent slipping sinuously amidst the tall grass, poised to strike. Her eyes drifted once more to her sister-in-law and wondered at how she too had become withdrawn, rarely speaking, her attention turned ever inward as she forced a smile that sat watery about her lips.
"Is there aught you need, maistresse?" A steward asked.
Even has her lips parted to send him away she saw the slave run into the garden and collapse in front of her Pearl, small hands twisting in her gown, her mouth working in paroxysms of panic.
Pearl's head turned slowly, a bewildered expression on her face that soon turned to horror, a pale hand fluttered toward her face and she fainted, the slave buffering her fall but just barely.
"Fetch the medic." Linnea said to the steward and picked up the hem of her skirt to run.
Sin pushed open the door with difficulty for it was heavy, the weak muscles of her arms corded and she tripped into the daylight.
The light was blinding, it seared her retinas and bringing a terrible cry from her lips. She fell to her hands and knees, greedily sucking in mouthfuls of air. Pain spread through her like nothing she had ever felt. "It's coming." She said between pain wrought gasps.
She managed to raise her head and silhouettes stood against the sun and for a moment she thought she saw…it couldn't be…Verain, his golden gaze all exquisite sympathy and her heart seized in fear.
She was aware of icy hands grasping her arms before she fell unconscious.
"How did she get out?" Pearl hissed as she glared at the mute slave who knelt at the foot of her gilded seat. Pearl's seat was beside the bed which was where Sin lay obscured by swathes of muslin and silk. The mute girl had a purple mark on her cheek where Pearl had struck her hard.
"It was lucky I found her." Alister murmured.
"Where did you think you would go?" Pearl asked.
Sin gurgled incomprehensibly.
"Quiet now." Alister said. "There's work to do."
Alister had brought her down the slave paths, smuggling her into Pearl's room where he had barred the door and told the anxiously gathering Lords and Ladies that the Lady of Elysion was ready to give birth to the Heir of Elysion.
Pearl sat with her finger curled around the arm rests, her knuckles white with tension as she watched Alister leant over the slave girl who was soaked with feverish sweat. Beads of sweat formed on her own brow to think of her Peers without expecting so much of her.
What if the child would die, for it was notoriously difficult for a child of two kinds to survive infancy.
Pearl watched as Alister spread the slave's legs and administered a cool compress to her brow. The slave looked weak, with bruised eyes and a trembling mouth given over to the trauma of child birth.
Linnea looked at her brother, her expression drawn and anxious. She offered her hand to him. "We will pray for the birth of a strong child, brother."
He looked down at their hands connected together. When they were children things were simple, when he had longed for nothing more than this: just he and Linnea hand in hand. How things had changed? Now he harboured many secrets, and now there were so many things to answer for.
Now that he had a son he could rest by night. But…but the icy fingers of doubt and dread slowly extended toward his heart. "I must get some air." He said and left the ante room.
As he paced his mind drifted toward Sin, had she not also carried his child? A child that had become fodder for Hounds; he shuddered to think of how the gods might punish him. He had named her Anata and he had fed her to the beasts of Elysion.
He went to one of the altars of Anata in the private courtyard; the vestibule was white marble floor, Grecian pillars and steps descending to small courtyard where a variety of flora and fauna were tenderly cared for. The narcisse flowers were in blossom and the sweet scent was a relief from the strange fetid air of the House that was always vaguely sour with the tang of blood.
In the tall reeds and surrounded by jasmine flowers a small statue in marble stood a miniature of Anata. This place he had built for Verain's mother when he had favoured her above all others.
Lucerne went to his knees amongst the fauna, bowed his head and began to pray.
Sin could hear the beating of her own heart, beckoning her from the bright whiteness that stole her from her consciousness. The rhythm grew louder beckoning her to move, leading her through the crystal bright tunnel. The beat was the sound of the ocean against the shore.
"Hello?" She called out to the empty shore, the inexhaustible expanse of the sea. Where was the old mother, where was Anata? She walked down the beach, a never ending stretch of shore and she didn't seem to tire.
In fruitless pursuit on the ribbon of gold she turned instead toward the forest, a verdant tunnel that consumed her and when she glanced back there was no more beach just the green and dark of a wild forest. She wrapped arms around herself, it offered little comfort.
From the corner of her eye she saw the shadows slither against the darkness, eyes flashed, teeth flashed. The scent of fur stuffed her nostrils and she remembered the scent well, the stench of the Hounds in the Den.
She saw another shadow stretch out in the dark, this one larger and sturdier than any other she had seen. It was not moving save for the rise and fall of breath, she drew close to it, curiosity outstripping her fear. It was a sleeping wolf, no not a wolf, a Hound.
She stretched out her hand and put it to the muzzle and the wolf woke, golden eyes snapping awake; hot breath alighting goose bumps on her arms. She jumped back as the wolf lunged forward and she was helpless and trapped beneath his weight. Its hot breath puffed on her face making her eyes water.
Those eyes. Such eyes. She knew them well. Large gold circles gleaming with unnatural light.
Her fear began to slip away and she pushed fingertips into the fur of its shoulder, of its cheek and it allowed her to pet it until it withdrew from her and allowed her to sit up.
It flashed its sharp teeth and a growl vibrated past its lips and she gathered her limbs and ran. She turned toward the dark tangle of forest but a warm human hand grasped her wrist holding her from her escape. She turned slowly and was only mildly surprised to see Verain in human form. "You live." He said.
"Let me go." She begged.
He enfolded in his arms, she had only ever known the sensation once before. The length of her body pressed tightly against his feeling all the lithe muscles and hardness. "You live." He repeated.
He released her and she moved away, staring wide eyed with disbelief that her mind could conjure such a solid phantom. "Why are you here?" She asked and then looked about as if the goddess might reveal herself and the purpose of such a dream.
"This is my dream." He said.
She shook her head. "You shouldn't be here."
Tears, hot and sudden, filled her eyes and panic rushed in like a wave and the pain of the real world intruded on her senses.
"Sin-" He reached for her but she held up a hand to ward him away.
"Don't come back to Elysion." She said savagely. She didn't want him to know what had become of her.
He grasped her elbows trying to draw her close, his face contorted with anger as he lowered his head to hers, his mouth hovering above hers and at the instant they would touch her, her lips parted on a scream and the fullness of pain returned to her and snatched her from the dream and into Elysion.
She fell back on the sweat slicked, blood stained sheets, her blurred vision capturing the sight of a squalling child, her child, being taken away in the medic's arms.
She raised a hand, heavy and weak and it took too much strength to even raise it at all. She closed her eyes to hear the small sweet cry of the child and then she resisted it no more and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Miss S
30/09/2012