Posted 2024-03-26; beta'd by Eeyorfan12

From her place at the kitchen table, Bella watched as Esme read the tiny piece of paper in her hand, her brow furrowed.

As on Earth, it was rude to ask what the message was about. Bella nibbled at her food, admiring Rose's apparent restraint. Her sister-in-law didn't look at all curious. Or maybe she was better at hiding it than Bella, who was itching to find out what the note said, proverbially struggling to bite her tongue. Such deliveries were rare—and had carried distressing news in her recent experience.

Esme carefully folded the paper and put it in her pocket, picking up her spoon again.

The curiosity-piquing paper had arrived with a very early foreas—a messenger. Early enough that even the ever placid Sotiris had been annoyed to have his sleep disturbed. Bella had overheard him mutter "You'd think he was racing to rescue innocents on the dakria, he was in such a hurry."

She hadn't caught much of Esme's mumbled reply. Something to do with matriarchs. Bella studied her porridge, her few bites becoming fewer. She knew 'dakria' had a negative connotation, but not much else. She'd ask someone later, if she couldn't figure it out herself.

"You're not eating like you normally do," Esme said.

Looking up, Bella saw the comment was meant for her. "I don't feel that hungry."

"That's a good sign, then," Esme said.

"How so?"

"It means the baby is doing well," Rose said, sipping her tea. "But enough of your games, Mother. What news did the foreas see fit to deliver when we were all sleeping?"

Maybe not so impervious to curiosity.

"A summons to the Matriarchs' Gathering in Vloray. I've been asked to speak to them about the work we've done with our kotravats."

"Poor timing," Rose muttered.

"It is. I'll have to decline." Esme reached for her pocket, then pulled her hand away again.

"Why can't you attend?" Bella asked. The household was always busy, but there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. Harvesting was long past.

"I need to be ready should Matriarch Leopolas need me."

Would it come to that? Bella frowned. The way Edward had described it, Esme had already done more than her share of service. But with the trouble in Pilkonis, and now at the outskirts of Presga, she supposed it made sense. The men still patrolled, but the Cullens' home always felt safe. Untouchable. Maybe it was foolish to think so, but it was natural to protect one's inner peace, wasn't it?

Better for the baby, at least. She could justify her cognitive dissonance for the sake of her child.

Edward walked into the kitchen, laying his jacket over the chair beside Bella before resting his hand on her shoulder. "Couldn't you send one of the novices?" he asked.

Esme shook her head. "It wouldn't be wise. We just don't know who will be needed. There's been some trouble with a few of the tributes."

"That's not exactly a new development," Edward said lightly.

Bella watched Esme give him a hard glance, a look that communicated it was more than ordinary trouble.

Bella leaned back into the weight of Edward's hand, briefly tipping her face up to catch his eye. He smiled softly at her before returning his gaze to his mother. There were problems in town, yes, but Bella felt safe here—safe with him. She closed her eyes, thinking of the normalcy her life here had taken on. Of the peace she felt with him. Of the simple joy she'd had in the community dance he'd taken her to the week prior. She'd been terrible at it, despite instructions from Rose and Alice, but no one had cared. The choreographed movements had been too complex for her to catch on her first try, but it had been fun just to laugh with and spend time with everyone—a good distraction.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that Esme was eyeing Edward again, her mother-in-law's shrewd gaze becoming speculative. "I can't leave, but you two could go in my stead."

Edward's grip tightened. "To the Matriarchs' Gathering?"

"It isn't unheard of," Esme said.

"And why break with tradition and begin adhering to social norms now?" Rose said dryly.

Edward scoffed.

Bella didn't catch Rose's mumbled reply.

"Vloray would be much safer than here at present," Esme said, looking pointedly at Bella.

Bella felt Edward's hand soften again. It was no secret he worried about her safety. The fact that he continued touching her now, even with others present, was evidence of that.

"It would be," he murmured.

"And it wouldn't be you speaking, technically," Esme said, smiling coyly. "It would be Bella doing so in my place. You'd be signing. She'd interpret."

It was Bella's turn to frown. "Why me?"

"Only women may speak at the Matriarchs' Gathering." Esme pulled out the note from her pocket. "And if they wish to hear of our progress with teaching the kotravats, then they shall; Edward can share what and how he learned from Lucas."

Alice walked into the kitchen, nodding to them in greeting.

"You might carry several stories, if the people involved consent," Esme said, eyeing her petite daughter-in-law. "Lucas has already asked that his story be given there."

Edward sat down by Bella. "What do you think? We'd probably be gone for nearly a week. You'd need to miss some time at the archives."

He'd have to miss his work too, but she didn't think that would be a problem. To see more of Sabellia was tempting, but as quickly as she considered it, she thought of the problems such exposure would bring, furrowing her brow.

"You'd be less noticed there," Rose said, noticing her frown. "People in Vloray won't suspect you're human. They'll just think you're weak-blooded."

Just. Bella thought that was an overly kind characterization.

"People further south care a little less about such differences," Edward said softly. "You would have more freedom in that regard. More importantly, you are my wife—and we would both be there as guests of the matriarchs. No one would dare trouble us, even if they did care."

Still, she would stand out, especially if she was speaking in front of a crowd. Her stage fright was the minor consideration there. "I'm not fluent yet," she said quietly, surprised they weren't concerned about that.

Esme stared at her. "Why do you say that?"

She looked around at their confused faces. "I'm still learning new words, sometimes several in a day, and—"

"You have almost no accent, no missed or misused words," Edward said.

"I think you might be biased."

"That he may be, but we are not," Esme said, looking to Rose and Alice.

"If I didn't know you were new to the language, I'd never suspect you were still learning it," Rose said. "Sister?"

"I'm of the same mind," Alice said softly, sitting down at the table, "and it would be Edward's words that you would be translating. He could go over things with you ahead of time."

"No one has commented on how you speak," Esme said. "Some of your questions, yes, have been noteworthy, but you've been here for months. I wouldn't suggest you go if I thought it was unsafe or that you'd draw undue attention to yourself."

The reproach was spoken kindly, but it was still a reproach. And here Bella was, still questioning a matriarch after all this time. "Of course you wouldn't. Thank you for the reassurance," she said, mulling over how her attitude had changed. Months ago, she'd have bristled at the idea of generally deferring to someone. She was fitting in more and more.

"You haven't seen much of our country, and in a few months, you won't have the time," Rose said.

From beside her, she heard Edward clear his throat, and he reached suddenly for his glass of water.

Bella ran her hand down over her stomach. No, she wouldn't. That was, if she was still here. A significant if. One the Cullens almost never mentioned.

Edward had brought it up only once. He hadn't asked her to stay—at least, he hadn't said it in those words—but he'd made it clear what he wanted.

I love you. I want you to have what you desire, but I want to be with you . . . and our child. I have no right to ask, but I need you to know that before you make your choice, selfish as it is of me to say.

Her decision weighed heavily.

But for now, there were very few demerits to the idea of taking this trip in Esme's place. Edward's carefully guarded expression told her he wanted her to be the one to make the choice for them both.

"Then we should go," she said softly.

Edward squeezed her hand, a slow smile spreading on his face.

She thought of how he made her feel, of the joy, the comfort—the safety she felt with him. With the Cullens. And thinking of it felt like being inside a little bubble, one that was slowly expanding. A bubble of possibility. If there were places in Sabellia where she would be just another person and not a grotesque novelty, that bubble of possibility could expand . . . and maybe become permanent.

Or burst.

She'd just have to go and find out for herself.

— o — 0 — o —

Bella and Edward sat at the small table in the dining room of the boarding house, Edward munching on a fresh byalu as they watched the comings and goings on the streets of Vloray. Bella's savory pastry sat on her plate, her mind too full for her to be interested in eating.

"Is something wrong with your food?" Edward asked.

"No, it's lovely. I'm just . . . taking everything in."

Seemingly satisfied with her response, Edward went back to his tart. She didn't blame him. The pastries were delicious, and it had been a long day.

Her appetite remained subdued, though, and not just because of the pregnancy. She felt . . . she wasn't sure how to describe it. Content. Thrilled. Exhausted. Excited.

Was she riding a high from their time with the matriarchs? Maybe. She'd been nervous about translating for Edward, but it had gone well. She'd barely had any stage fright.

She rubbed at her abdomen, acknowledging the little kick from the baby with a press of her hand. The movements had started only a few days before, much to Edward's delight. She watched a cart go by, this full of several adults and even more children who were squirming and wriggling about in the back. The adults were smiling. Bella did too, watching them.

The housekeeper came by with a tray, frowning as he saw Bella's uneaten tart. "Could I bring you something else to eat?" he asked politely.

"Oh, thank you, no, it's delicious. I'm just savoring it."

This earned her a smile. "I'm glad to hear it. They are our speciality." He turned to Edward, who had just taken the last bite of his. "Another, Mr. Cullen?"

Edward, mouth full, had to swallow before he could reply. "Please."

Bella smiled down at her stomach, trying not to laugh. They didn't have many sweets at home. Edward was like the proverbial kid in the candy store.

"I'll bring some tea as well." The housekeeper stepped away lightly.

It was strange, being waited on, but not unwelcome. Their time away from home was a holiday of sorts, and Bella would be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying it. She was enjoying it immensely. There had been the odd glance from one or two people, but beyond that, she was as noticeable as the scenery. She hadn't realized just how much on guard she'd been in Presga or when others had visited the Cullen home. Here, she felt like an ordinary person.

But that positive thought came a distant second to what she'd seen and experienced at the Matriarch's council.

It wasn't that she hadn't heard Edward talk about Lucas, but she hadn't heard him tell the entire story. His bluntness, his humility, and his seeming disregard for the consequences of admitting to what others might be ashamed to had been stunning enough. But it was his fervor for betterment, his fire for change that had made the auditorium melt away. There had been glimpses of this Edward, but never a display of the passion he had for what Sabellia—for what even Aristea could be. And that had been without him uttering a word aloud.

In preparing for their trip, he hadn't asked for her help in translating any words even when she'd offered, explaining that it had to be Lucas's story he carried and, therefore, his words, which Edward had then delivered to a riveted audience.

And what words they'd been.

And what a man sat before her, even covered in pastry crumbs.

He was staring out the window before he returned his attention to the took the unguarded moment to watch him, smiling as he tried and failed to brush away the evidence of his dinner.

It was easy to envision the two of them working together towards the plans he'd laid out, work already begun by his mother, his father, and now himself, to some degree. The reparations that were needed most, he'd argued, were not abroad, but at home. The inner work, he'd called it.

She couldn't agree more. Changing people's thinking. Tugging at the threads between them. Powerful imagery. Powerful ideas.

She picked up her pastry and took another bite. Inside, the baby moved in an excited squirm, and she wondered about what kind of life the three of them could have in Vloray. Only two days away from the Cullens' home, the city was markedly different. There were all sorts of people present, plenty of them light and weak-blooded, many Sabellians more alien-looking than Bella was used to seeing. All were accepted.

She had been accepted.

"You're savoring more than your dinner. What are you pondering so deeply?" Edward asked.

She smiled. "Reliving your fine moments today."

He chuckled. "My missed calling."

"I'm not joking. You were impressive."

"As you've already said."

"I meant it." She nudged his toe with hers.

He smiled. "I know, thank you. It's kind of you to say, but speaking to crowds"—he shrugged—"it isn't the work I imagined myself doing."

"That I also know." She took a bite of her pastry. Crumbs flew everywhere. "But it was effective, and you've never been shy about saying how your work with the committee isn't accomplishing what you expected."

Edward hummed thoughtfully, looking out the window and then back at her. "Maybe it wasn't me, but you who was effective?"

Bella laughed. "I was only translating."

"You underestimate your speaking skills. But perhaps we're both right. It's the two of us together who are effective."

It was her turn to hum thoughtfully.

"Maybe that's what people need to hear, more than slogans and angry chants—what we are doing, what is working." Edward spoke almost under his breath.

Maybe, Bella wondered. She thought of that bubble of safety she felt with the Cullens, imagining it growing, expanding, pushed out by Edward and herself and then others.

But perhaps a bubble wasn't the right analogy. Those were fragile. What she imagined was a world like what the Cullens had created in their home. An expansion of something powerful: a true equality.

"Maybe," she whispered, the word encompassing a future she hardly dared to imagine.