Posted 2023-11-19; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12
Bella eyed the large stone building in front of her. A slow stream of people were entering through the large archways, she and the Cullens crossing over to join them from where the wagon was parked in the shade. Jasper and Edward finished tying the two alogo, checking the securing knots and the small bale of hay they'd left for the animals, then jogging over to join them.
Under Esme's arm sat the family's register, freshly retrieved from the city archive the hour before. The stop there had been brief but fruitful; Bella had met with the reparations archivist, Scholar Aguil, while Esme retrieved the heavy book from the general records clerk.
Scholar Aguil specialized in reparations records, many of which pertained to humans. She'd gone wide-eyed with excitement when Edward introduced Bella, excitedly pointing out the parts of the collection she could help with after Bella's qualifications were explained. Bella had left with the sadly familiar impression that the archives were underfunded and that help was rare and welcome.
Even so, Bella smiled as she thought of the records room. She was looking forward to working there. They'd agreed to start with a day a week, though how Bella would get to Presga was yet to be determined. Edward had promised they'd find a way, possibly by coordinating his committee research schedule with hers. The idea of being purposefully employed—God, of being competent—was joy, relief, and lifeline.
After the violent skirmish between Edward and Jasper, the family had acted as if nothing had happened. And after her frightening encounter with Edward that night, Bella had decided it would be better not to ask about it. If anything, he'd been even more polite and attentive the next day, returning to their regular lessons in writing, reading, and Sabellian history and culture.
He'd also begun taking her through the information she'd need for today.
"Let's go in," Esme said. There was an edge to her voice, and Bella's nerves warred with her sense of anticipation. She wasn't expected to say much at the ceremony, but she would have to repeat the familial oath, which she and Edward had practiced over the last two days. He'd told her that her recitation was flawless.
He wasn't one to exaggerate, and his praise meant something to her.
Still, she was nervous, managing only a few bites of breakfast. Thoughts of staring crowds were making her nauseous—a feeling that had steadily grown in the last few days as she'd considered the performance required of her.
And the potential . . . reaction, as Edward had diplomatically phrased it. There would be shock from the assembly, all of whom would be ignorant of her human heritage and the circumstances of her arrival on Aristea. Only the committee and the Cullens knew about those events. Edward's warning did little to hinder Bella's increasing anxiety. Stage fright was an old friend.
While she was lost in thought, a passerby jostled her and she looked up, catching an unwelcome glimpse of a familiar face.
"Ignore him," Edward murmured from beside her.
Mr. Demas didn't stop, but he turned back to glare at all of them.
They passed through one of the two imposing archways into a long stone passage lit by pale-colored lampas. This curved hallway emptied into a round theater with a shallow stage, on which was a wide semi-circular table stacked with documents. Several people stood to the sides, one woman speaking at the front, her voice amplified by the room's shape.
" . . . the sale of their whole dragon stock in exchange for—"
"Please sit down," Esme whispered.
Bella looked over, realized she was the last one standing, and dropped into her wooden seat—which made a loud creak.
The people immediately in front of her turned to look.
She lowered her gaze, peeking up only once they'd turned back, catching sight of a tiny, amused smirk on Edward's face before he smoothed it away.
The speakers rotated by the business at hand. When sale announcements ended, offers of sale began, and then there was discussion of the new water system proposed for the peoples' housing lot. There were new restrictions on the penning of dragons, the terms of which Bella didn't quite understand, and then there was applause for a mating announcement, the couple standing to be recognized. Finally, Edward leaned over and whispered, "Our turn."
Seated at the back, they stood as one, the speaker gesturing to their location. "We have a family member addition. Matriarch, please enumerate your family and household."
Esme recited the names of her household members and family, pausing after Alice's name. "And to this, I am blessed to add another daughter, Miss Bella Swan, a full-blooded human."
With the last phrase, a whoosh of sound swept over the auditorium, shocked whispers eclipsing the speaker's response so that she had to repeat it. "We add her name to the register. Miss Swan, you may give your familial oath."
The family stood with her, Esme reaching out and squeezing her hand.
Bella stared at the rows of faces now all turned her way and froze. Her hands went numb. She felt a wave of fear and nausea.
Someone coughed.
There was a brush at her elbow, and she glanced up, startled. It was Edward. He mouthed, "I, Bella Swan."
She repeated the phrase, watching and speaking as he quietly coaxed her through the now forgotten words. Her face was flushed by the time she finished.
Being the center of attention didn't end there, though.
Bella and the Cullens walked forward to climb shallow, wide steps to the stage, where the woman presiding waved them towards the table.
As they each removed their gloves, Esme set a small metal locket on the table, which Bella stared at, knowing what was to come next and not wanting to embarrass the Cullens by fainting.
In her peripheral vision, she saw the flash of a small knife and redoubled her focus on the artichoke-shaped locket, holding out her hand towards the center of the circle she made with her soon-to-be family. Champagne gold and the size of a penny, the locket would hold ceremonial drops of—she hissed in a breath, feeling the tiny cut on her finger. The presider pressed the open locket to her finger, doing the same with the Cullens, coming back once more to Bella before closing the metal halves together.
"Though not born or made by blood, lace, or chain, you are one family now." She smiled and nodded to the Cullens—Bella's family now in the eyes of Sabellia—waiting until Bella had donned her glove before pressing the locket into her hand.
Bella was only too grateful to return to and then sink into her seat, barely mindful of the weak applause that filled the room or of Esme's quick embrace.
When the assembly's business was concluded, they left quickly, Bella recovered from her stage fright but frustrated with herself. She'd likely embarrassed the Cullens by forgetting the oath.
Esme was placid as ever, walking ahead of them back towards the wagon. "I believe that a celebratory luncheon is in order," she announced.
As he grasped her elbow to assist her into the wagon, Edward leaned in and said quietly, "You did very well."
Bella laughed nervously. "Wow, you're a worse liar than I am."
He chuckled. "In the range of disastrous familial recognitions, it could have been much worse."
"It sounds like there's a story there," Bella said.
"There are a few," Edward said, grinning.
Edward still hadn't talked about the incident from the other night, and Bella hadn't pressed. She'd just been grateful to have her friend back. Having him joke around with her like this was icing on the cake.
As she smiled at Edward, she caught sight of Jasper's fleeting frown, directed at his brother.
"Maybe tell me later," Bella mumbled.
They ate in a small tea room, servers pushing around carts of dishes that diners could choose items from. It reminded Bella of dim sum, bringing with it an almost painful craving for a coconut bun. In Sabellia, sugar and honey were items reserved for only the most special of occasions.
She eyed each passing cart, wondering if today passed for a special enough occasion. Surely adopting a child, even an adult one, warranted such recognition?
By the time the last cup of tea was poured, she'd resigned herself to another sugarless day.
"Alright, Jasper, Edward—will you return the register while I take Bella to the Sherooz? Oh, and Edward, you'll pick up—?"
"Yes, mother. I haven't forgotten." Standing, he and Jasper gave polite nods to Esme and Bella. "Mother, sister."
Sister. That was going to take some getting used to.
It was a short walk to the building where the Sherooz saw patients. The itinerant doctor in town was one of a few that traveled the old trade route, tending to the more human-dominant Sabellian hybrids. Such services were less and less necessary in the South, given the absence of fresh genetic material. Between the work of the tardigrades and the fact that no new humans had been brought here in nearly a century, human illness or weakness was rare.
The day before, when Bella had quietly asked Edward why it was so different in the North, he'd tried to explain the Northerners' contrasting ideologies—ones that included valuing certain physical traits over others. The description had smacked of racial superiority—possibly even eugenics—and his tone had communicated his disapproval. Like so many other times, she'd held off on her questions, focusing instead on Edward's explanation of what was decidedly the more pressing issue: what being made a daughter of the house would mean. There was always so much to learn and she was getting better at prioritizing.
A daughter of the house. The phrasing reminded her of something medieval. She wouldn't quite be a sister to Esme's children, though the term was used. She would have full rights as a Sabellian, though, as a member of the Cullen household. Oddly, despite their stance on human slavery, Sabellians didn't recognize full-blooded humans as legal entities. The reasons for this were complex, the simplest of which were that a person with no rights had no place in Sabellia. And humans had no place there, not any more.
Edward had also gone on to tell Bella that if she saw signs with the text or heard people calling "No place, no home," she was to steer clear as quickly as possible. After her misadventure in the marketplace, she didn't need telling twice. Slavery might have ended, but its absence hadn't brought peace.
Just like at home, she mused.
She thought of Mr. Demas and his glare.
Yes, she'd take Edward's advice.
Esme and Bella made their way into a large waiting room, where from the other end came a friendly wave which Esme returned. A tall woman with jet-black hair and a prominently hooked nose marched over, offering an enthusiastic greeting and a polite embrace to Esme.
"You never visit us anymore!"
"I know, I'm sorry. Now that Edward's home, though, I hope to have more time." Esme smiled graciously at the woman, who guffawed.
"Yes, because unmarried sons are no trouble at all." She turned back to the man she'd been sitting with, shaking her head.
"Arla," Esme said, waving Bella closer, "this is my newly-made daughter, Bella. Bella, one of my closest neighbors, Mrs. Arla Hatzis and her son, Mr. Stolos Hatzis."
"Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Bella. Word has already traveled about your becoming a member of the Cullen household." Arla looked around the room.
Esme ignored this, looking instead to where Arla had been sitting. "Hello, Stolos. Are you alright?"
Bella followed her gaze to the young man seated there who had surprisingly not stood during the introductions. He nodded in acknowledgement of Esme's question and opened his mouth to speak. "Good—"
"Oh, riding pains, Esme. You know how it is with sons." Stolos' mother waved her hand in dismissal.
Esme hummed, glancing between son and mother. "Yes, I do. It's been some time though. You have a new flock, I heard?"
"Yes." Arla beamed. "They just arrived a few weeks ago. Stolos is very excited to train them. Aren't you?"
Stolos smiled politely.
"They're . . . all wild?" Esme's face was tense.
There was another wave of Arla's hand. "Well, yes. We can't all afford those so well-pedigreed."
"But so many dragons, in that small pen—"
"The Hatzis family?" A tall wiry man in a dark coat stood at the doorway to a small room.
"Oh, I'll have to visit with you later, Esme. Will you come for supper, if I send an invitation?" Arla asked.
"Of course." Esme gave a tight smile.
Bella suspected there would have been a polite evasion, if one were possible.
"Wonderful. It was lovely to meet you, Miss Swan." Arla went to her son, helping him stand, which explained his not doing so before, and they walked slowly to the next room.
"Your neighbor," Bella said, as Esme sat down.
"Yes. We grew up together. From when we stitched earnest messages to each other in fabric scraps." There was a rueful smile. "It goes without saying that that was a long time ago."
And then you drifted apart, Bella surmised, wondering, not for the first time exactly how old Esme was—how old everyone in the family was. She hadn't asked, sensing that this was as rude a question as it was at home.
Bella and Esme waited quietly. Esme was easy company. Bella busied herself in studying the few faces in the room. She hadn't been able to sketch since leaving home, and paper was very, very expensive in Sabellia. Edward had found one of the old slates and some rough chalk. The materials let her keep up her basic skills, but they didn't permit the kind of detail she wanted.
A few other patients came and went, and finally the man in the dark coat returned. "Matriarch Cullen?"
Sherooz Adnios waved Bella and Esme into a small room furnished with a table, chairs, and a long chaise.
"When I saw your chit, I expected riding injuries, Matriarch." There was a smile from the Sherooz.
"Yes, well, thank goodness their skills have improved. I don't miss those days," Esme said.
"What service might I render then?" He looked from Esme to Bella.
Esme spoke very quietly. "The removal of a placia." She glanced at Bella.
"I see." He leaned back slightly in his chair, an eyebrow raised.
Esme sat up straighter, hands clutched nervously in front of her. "I have a good bag of amaranth—"
"No, no," the Sherooz said, holding up his hand. "The procedure is free. I—it's been some time since this was commonplace." He smiled at Esme and then Bella. "But first, let's see how you're doing." From the bag on the table, he pulled out what looked like a blood pressure cuff. "If I may?"
Bella felt the familiar flood of questions about the item's origins in Sabellia. The cuff was made of leather, braided cord leading to a glass bulb. No doubt all handmade. She shelved her questions, mindful of the people still waiting outside.
After taking her blood pressure, Sherooz Adnios asked to listen to her heart. Esme politely averted her gaze as he did so, much as Bella's own mother had once done. The exam was reassuringly similar to the ones Bella had had at home, and she wondered if it would be rude to ask where he trained.
"Your heart rate and blood pressure are a little high on the human scale," he said, putting away the stethoscope. "Do you know if that's normal for you?"
Bella shook her head. "No, they're always perfect, at least that's what my doctors said."
"Nerves will lift both, of course." He smiled gently. "Now, the placia. How long has it been present?"
After a few more questions and answers, he had Bella lie down on her right side, placing a small metal disc by her ear. The position left her feeling oddly nauseated, and as she settled herself into place, she realized that she'd taken to lying consistently on her left, facing away from the bright window in her room. Still, if a little discomfort meant having the creepy damn placia removed, she was game for it.
"The trick for removal is just that—to trick the placia into thinking its work is done and to attach to the metal here"—he tapped the disc—"though not much trickery will be required. Given how fluent you appear to be, it should practically fall out."
He instructed Bella to focus, using only Sabellian words to think, guiding her with simple images and sentences, working his way through what appeared to be a proscribed list.
The effect was almost immediate—and unpleasant. There was a zap that made her whole head sing painfully.
"Focus, Bella," Sherooz Adnios instructed. "The sensation is unpleasant but harmless, and it means the removal process is working." He pulled her hand away from her head, bringing it to rest with her other. "Now, let's try this again."
The process continued for four more body-twitching zaps and then stalled.
The Sherooz frowned. "You're certain it's been less than a month?" he asked Esme.
She nodded, a wrinkle appearing in her forehead.
He peered down at Bella's ear, shining a penlight onto the flat metal by her ear, his hair tickling her skin.
"No, that's working," he mumbled, pulling back. "I can see the probes landing." He cocked his head to the side, pulling out his stethoscope again, seeking Bella's permission with his lifted eyebrows. She nodded, and he pressed the stethoscope to her chest, listening intently. "It's a bit higher," he murmured. "Can you switch to your left side, please?"
When Bella looked down towards where the placia was supposed to be going, he shook his head. "It's alright. A change in gravity won't affect the removal."
A little awkwardly, with the thin metal coin dangling from her ear, Bella switched to her other side, the mild nausea instantly disappearing.
"Oh, that feels better," she mumbled.
"Pardon?" the Sherooz asked.
Bella shook her head, the metal disc bouncing against her ear. "I felt a bit nauseous on that side. It's gone now."
She wouldn't have known what to call his expression if she hadn't seen it before, but the careful absence of emotion was more disturbing than its presence. Something was wrong. She knew because she'd seen the exact same expression when she'd heard her mother first describe the odd back pain she'd been having to their family doctor.
"What?" Bella asked.
There was no reaction from the Sherooz, but Esme looked two shades paler than before, her face also devoid of emotion.
Something was very wrong.
"Can you not get it out?" she asked. No one had gone into details about why it was bad to leave it in, but she had imagination enough to supply ample reasons.
Sherooz Adnios pulled out another metal disc from his bag. "There's no issue with the removal. I think we might need to tease it out a bit more." He gave her a guarded smile.
This did little to ease her speculations, but she forced herself to listen to his instructions and focus. It was three more lurching zaps before she felt a click as something landed by her ear. She jerked away and up a few inches, a wave of dizziness sending her right back down again.
The Sherooz stuffed a blanket under her head, pressing a small cloth into her hand and by her ear. "It's out," he said quietly.
He extended his hand to Esme, who eyed the item in his palm with disdain, shaking her head.
"May I?" he asked, curling his claws over the placia.
"So long as it's never used," she said, eyeing it darkly.
"Never," he said, giving a solemn shake of his head. Tucking the placia into a small box, he set this in a bag, buttoning it shut. Then he turned around and eyed Esme, who shook her head. The careful mask was gone, and she was pale and worried.
"I think it might be best if I speak with Bella alone," he said.
"I suppose so," Esme said, getting up from her chair. "Bella, I'll be right outside. I . . . will endeavor not to listen."
Alarmed, dizzy, and now confused, Bella gave a cautious nod, watching Esme leave and close the door behind her.
The Sherooz pulled out a scrip from his breast pocket, quietly scribbling for a few minutes, before speaking softly. "Miss Swan, I won't tell Matriarch Cullen anything you say to me, unless you expressly permit me to. This will include what you tell me about the party who seeded you."
Seeded her?
"Pardon?" The word was unfamiliar, and now without the placia, she struggled to grasp his meaning.
"You've been made receptive."
She gave him another confused look.
"A man has lain with you and begun the breeding process."
She choked out a half-laugh. "No!"
Sherooz Adnios maintained his serious expression. "Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated. You feel nauseated lying on your right side and prefer your left. No doubt, you've raced through the water titration too? You've begun to experience mood swings?"
Check, check, and check. She frowned. "Yes, but I haven't—"
"I expect you haven't menstruated in the last month, either."
"No, but that's not surprising, all things considered." She gestured to the room, her clothes, belatedly realizing he didn't know her full history. "Stress can disrupt menstruation . . . in humans, at least." Perhaps he didn't know that?
He acknowledged this with a nod. "If I examine you, I'll find your womb has thickened. Have you not noticed that your stays have had to be loosened? That your breasts are fuller?"
Didn't a corset make anyone's boobs look bigger? Make them feel like they'd gained weight? But . . . she thought of everything he'd said. She hadn't slept with anyone—ever! Still . . . there was the first squiggle of fear in her stomach. She'd been in and out of consciousness for at least two days when she'd first arrived in Sabellia, and she'd had no memory of how she'd gotten there.
"I can't be pregnant." It wasn't a statement of fact, but of strong denial.
"No," the Sherooz said. "You're not pregnant. You're seeded. But the process is begun in the same manner." He fixed her with a hard stare. "And there is no other explanation."
"I've nev—I haven't slept—I mean, I haven't—" she struggled for the right word, giving up and switching to English, "had sex with anyone. Ever. I—" The wave of nausea she felt had nothing to do with a possible pregnancy, and everything to do with how her state had come to be. She thought of the men in the Cullen household. No, they wouldn't have.
And of course Esme would never have allowed it.
Then she thought of the aged men who'd placed the placia in her ear and she shivered, reminded of the way she'd woken in Sabellia.
"Matriarch Cullen's family?"
"No." She shook her head adamantly. "But if . . . " Could she make herself say it? "If, somehow, someone . . . did it without my knowledge before I . . . is there a way to tell?"
It was the Sherooz's turn to shake his head. "Not until the child is born."
"Child? But you said—"
"You are not pregnant. Not yet. And that is my greater concern." His tone became increasingly urgent. "Once the seeding is started, it must be completed—it must be finished. You will need to—"
"I'm quite fine not being pregnant, thank you." Bella pushed herself up, pulling the cloth away from her ear, seeing a few spots of blood, and putting it right back, queasy at the sight of it.
Sherooz Adnios leaned forward, and for a moment, she thought he was reaching for her but he clasped his hands together in front of him. "You don't understand, Miss Swan. Seeding is the start of the fertilization process. If it isn't brought to fruition, it . . . I'm sorry but there's no other way to say this, it ends with the woman's death."
For the first time in her life, Bella wished she was a fainter. It seemed like it would have been a much kinder way for her body to react to the news of a fatal diagnosis. Instead, she turned her head to the side and vomited onto the Sherooz's floor.