Chapter 4: Morning Tea

For another week Erika was bedridden, plagued by nausea and splitting headaches. She lost track of day and night, sleeping more than she had in several years. Without a sunset or sunrise, such a thing was easy to do. The parasite feeding on her blood was draining her body of everything, energy especially.

As per their contract, Nadir was at her beck and call. He arrived every day to perform the role of servant and left for home only when she dismissed him. Erika gave him funds to run errands, at least on the days he caught her in a somewhat good mood. On the many, many times he walked in during the mornings, when the nausea was at its worst, she would require him to drain his own funds on a purchase she needed.

Though, with the morning sickness, a lot of the food he fetched went to waste – including the breakfast Nadir had just tried to surprise her with. All she'd had to do was look at the fruit basket and the retching started. Nadir stood at her bedside, holding her hair as she dry-heaved into the waste bin.

"Please," she said during a respite, "get that basket out of my sight."

"I would feel more at ease if you ate something." Nadir could tell her stomach had been empty all night. Not a drop of acid left her lips. Still, he held her hair as a courtesy.

She heaved up nothing one last time and tried shoving him away one-handed. "Go to Hell."

It wasn't Hell, but the kitchen was far enough away. From there, Nadir put a kettle on to boil (as he knew she would be asking for tea by noon) and called to her: "Are you faring better since I saw you last?"

Hanging over the side of the mattress, hair knotted and unwashed, Erika groaned: "I hope for your sake that's a rhetorical question."

She regretted making the deal. She highly regretted making the deal. It had caused her nothing but prolonged misery, and the worst was yet to come. She never said a word to Nadir, but frequently she considered sneaking off to the apothecary and doing away with the pregnancy.

Only one thing kept her from doing so: he would never forgive her.

He wouldn't believe the claim of a natural miscarriage. Even if he did, he would always have his doubts. The trust she'd earned from him would be broken. What would stop him then from turning on her? What would make him think twice about reporting her as a fugitive?

Erika rose from the bed, fingers pressed into her throbbing temples. She was becoming more resigned to her condition each morning, and for good reason.

"I should begin penning my last will and testament," she stated.

Nadir's head swiveled 'round to face her, too taken aback to say anything at first. How was one meant to react to such a declaration? "Don't start speaking like that."

Erika splashed her face and neck with cold water from the wash basin. The shock on her skin sucked blood away from the pain in her skull. "It would be the wise thing to do."

"Your condition is not going to cause you any harm." Nadir paused, suddenly attacked by memories that were much, much too painful to bear. He shook his head, clearing them away before they could overwhelm him. "I'll make sure of it. You have no need of a will."

Erika likely would have seen the light in his eyes change had she not had her face in a towel. All the same, she heard the subtle shift in his tone. She had never been explicitly told how Nadir's wife passed...but it was clearly related to childbirth. Reza hadn't remembered his mother in the slightest.

Their gaze met briefly as she patted her collarbone dry. She was the one to look away.

"Nadir," Erika said, her voice grave, "you know precisely why I do."

The Persian couldn't fend off the memories this time. Erika's words opened the floodgate, and it all came rushing over him.

Rookheya conceived after a struggle with infertility. Their prayers for a child went unanswered for six years. Then, at the age of twenty-five, she blessed him with Reza. Nadir's mother-in-law and the other women of the family assured him that both mother and child were healthy. And they had been right. The following three days spent with his first love and their long-awaited child...were the happiest Nadir had lived.

The delivery had gone well. Rookheya had been perfectly fine for three days, albeit tired. Reza's fourth sunrise brought the biggest trauma of Nadir's life.

He awoke to find his wife's cooling body beside him, pallid and already stiffening.

An unnoticed injury, her sisters said. The bleeding had been slow, but unstoppable. Mistaken for common bleeding after a birth.

Nadir said nothing.

"I do suppose there aren't many I could leave my possessions to," Erika continued, choosing to ignore her companion's stunned silence. "Monsieur Giry would want the clothes he's given me through the years. Although, he's managed as Box Keeper without his old suits. I'll be keeping one to be buried in, regardless of –"

"Stop speaking that way, I beg of you!"

Erika slipped a bath robe over her shoulders. "And how would you have me speak?"

"Of anything other than death."

The shriek of the kettle startled them. Erika entered the open kitchen while Nadir prepared a weak tea.

"Fine, I won't make up a will." She put a hand up to shield her eyes from the fruit basket. "If I pass, do whatever the devil you will with my estate."

"As you wish, Erika. As you wish."

Erika waited for a further response, but the argument was over.

At her writing desk, she resumed work from the night before – calculating figures on stolen office ledgers. Someone upstairs had overvalued the records and Erika took it upon herself to correct them. Several weeks of being secluded in her home had her concerned about what she'd missed. The new season was about to open, and it was high time the Mirage returned to her managerial duties. She intended to return above when she was feeling more herself. Her pregnancy hadn't progressed far enough to hinder her agility, and that needed to be taken advantage of.

Nadir's heavy footfalls approached her from the side, and she saw a flicker of white steam in the corner of her vision.

In his hands he carried a teacup and saucer. He'd decided to offer her a drink before she started getting moody. Of course, he spied on the papers from over her shoulder. He needed to be vigilant of her now more than ever before.

"You would not rest, would you?" Nadir sighed. He knew his Erika too well and knew what she had in mind. She would work through sickness and hellfire if she had her schemes in mind.

Without a word, Erika held out her upturned palm, waiting. Nadir placed the porcelain saucer on her worktable, prompting her to take the teacup. With payment in-hand, Erika acknowledged his presence.

"My cast, my show, my business," Erika said. She tested the drink with her lip before taking a drink. Citrus and something floral, unfamiliar. "What is this?"

"Myrtle," Nadir said. "My wife, she would drink nothing else while expecting Reza. I suppose it might settle your stomach more than peppermint."

She ignored him, her eyes focused on the calculations as she sipped her tea.

It was clear she didn't wish to engage, but he remained looking over her shoulder. He noticed the drafts of letters apologizing for her absence and claiming she would be present at final rehearsals to give her approval. His intuition was correct. She had every intention of scaling the rafters in her condition, risking both her health and the health of the babe. The Persian forced grim thoughts away. At least, no one had more skill in such ventures than Erika. Yet, could he say nothing?

"You know you shouldn't gamble with heights, Erika," he muttered, as if there was anything he could do to stop her.

"I can handle myself," Erika responded, not looking up from her work. "If anything were to happen, Nadir, I would tell you. Anything that could potentially be a risk, you would know. A fall, an illness, etcetera. This arrangement is a business deal. I'm carrying your property in exchange for your services. Therefore, it's my duty to tell you when that property could be damaged."

How could words describe the emotion her statement inflicted? A ghostly blade had pierced between his ribs, straight through pulsing muscle. Yes, he was aware Erika disowned this baby; yet calling it – an innocent living being – someone's property? That was wrong, just…wrong. As the former police chief of Mazandaran, Nadir had witnessed slavery countless times. With his own babe spoken of as a purchase, it sent a prickle up his back.

"I appreciate your honesty," he said. "However, this child is not my property. It is my child. A child is no one's property."

Erika gave an absent nod. "I suppose you are correct, at least in this matter of affairs."

It was hard, at times, not to think of the human body as a commodity to be bargained for. She'd seen far too many examples of it, starting with her own mother selling her to a carnival for wine. Then she had seen the horrors of human trafficking and exploitation – had been a part of it herself.

She thoughtfully rested her hand over her lower abdomen. She estimated herself to be at three months gestation, and the growth was undeniably visible on her skeletal framework. That was why she had avoided bathing for a few days, to avoid looking at herself as much as possible. The changes in her body frightened her. However, she refused to give Nadir the satisfaction of seeing her afraid.

Even if this child frightened her, even if she wasn't keeping it, she realized she was using the same terminology her Masters had used to describe it. "Property" was what they would have called the child had she conceived it in captivity.

"This child isn't being born into slavery," she murmured, almost reminding herself of that fact. Perhaps, when she was much younger, she had expected this day to come while behind the bars of a cage.

Erika turned to Nadir and, after a bit of hesitation, touched his arm. "Forgive me, my friend, I meant no offense." She realized she had – essentially – likened him to a slave owner, and she would never do so again.

Nadir drummed his fingers into the back of her chair. Her words certainly hurt him, offended even, for a father's temper flared to hear his child insulted. But did he not understand? Did he not know her and her mindset? Hearing the apology made the Persian forgive immediately. Perhaps his old heart had grown too soft, perhaps it was out of love, but for all her deceptions he felt the apology was genuine.

"You are forgiven," he said, rubbing his forehead. "However, I beg you, never speak that way again about our –" Nadir corrected himself swiftly, "—about the child."

Did it slither past his jade eyes unseen, how she covered her swollen stomach at the mention of the babe inside her? No, it did not. And as foolish as it may be, it sparked fragile hope in Nadir's heart.

Erika was silent for a long, long while with her hand against Nadir's arm. What did he want from her? To love the child? Certainly not. She couldn't love it any more than she could love herself. Aside from her art, everything that came from her existence was negative, impure or a farce. This child was no different. It would be just another blight on humanity, as she was. But, if Nadir wanted it, she would gladly give it to him.

But…

"Nadir," she finally spoke after a while, surprised he hadn't left her to her own devices by then, "will our relationship change any, once your child comes?"

Nadir stood quiet as well, deciding the silence was hers to break. She needed to think, she needed time. He would remain patient with her, no matter what. And through it, he would hope beyond hope. Hope beyond hope that she would develop a kinder view of their little one to come.

Torn out of his thoughts by her voice, the Persian found Erika's gaze. For some reason, he felt…relieved. He had concerns that Erika would want nothing to do with him once the babe was his to raise. Either to avoid him or the child, it was plausible she would shun him from her life. But her question suggested that would not be the case. His old friend still wanted him close.

Nadir shook his head, the corners of his brown-pink lips curled up. "No, Erika. I have already told you, I will not abandon you. Come what may, you will never be rid of me. Not in this life, nor the next."

Erika bit her inner cheek to try and hide a grin, but it showed anyway. She took a large drink of the myrtle tea. It was truly working wonders, but she would say nothing about it. Until she asked for another cup, of course.

"Oh, you could live without me," she grinned.

"No, I could not."

Erika raised an eyebrow. Nadir's tone had become so grave it was jarring. "I beg your pardon?"

Nadir's face was smiling, but his eyes betrayed his sincerity. "I need you. I will always need you. And you, my dear old friend, know the reason why."

Erika felt her breath become hot. For a moment, she was back in that drunken memory that felt like a dream. Her body was warm, her heart was pounding, and a ghostly voice was whispering in her ear: "I love you." And perhaps it was her imagination, but she could almost hear her own voice returning the sentiment.

Sometimes…she found herself wanting to have that dream again.

Erika cleared her throat, hoping her expression hadn't given her innermost thoughts away. She shifted uneasy in her seat before throwing herself back into her work.

"I know," she said, glancing at Nadir from the corner of her vision. "I know, Nadir."