Luminous

61 - Motherhood

Silence fell between them. The woman's grip on his arms slackened, yet he felt her eyes lingering on him.

"So, you're like my babe." She whispered as her hand traveled to caress her middle. Jerald's heart seized up at the sight. My babe, she'd said. She'd accepted the babe as her own. She moved closer, a sign of trust as well as curiosity, "Do you know your father?"

Jerald shook his head. He wasn't one to spill his family's secrets to every other soul on the road, but he felt compelled to. Her plight hit too close to home.

"My mother was never to reveal his name." He unfurled a wan grin as he settled on the shaded patch of grass along the church's wall. The maid cautiously followed suit. He felt the heat of her stare on his cheek, as he gazed ahead into sunshine and blue sky,

"He must have been powerful enough. Even my Lord Uncle didn't dare confront him. He forbade my mother from exposing his deeds, spread rumors that I was born from an affair. As soon as I weaned, I was whisked away to live out my days here in secrecy."

The maid paled as realization dawned on her. 

"You're the bastard of Lady Arynea?" She gasped. Jerald bowed his head. The maid clutched at the bosom of her tunic as she edged back, gawking in fearful suspicion.

"Why have you told me all this? We barely know each other. Aren't you afraid your Lord Uncle will be angered?"

"My mother might be able to help you." Jerald willed every last dredge of sincerity he possessed into his eyes. The poor woman shook her head vigorously,

"No-one could help me! Not with the father being Lord Crosset!"

The words slammed into Jerald like blows of a battering ram. Even after what had happened to Jerald's mother—his little sister—his Lord Uncle took this woman by force. How dastardly. How heartless. How selfish.

"You're Lord Uncle's mistress?" Jerald dipped his head in shame. The mistress whipped around, her delicate hands clenched into trembling fists.

"Don't call me that." Her voice struck like a clap of lightning, jolting Jerald out of his misery. She straightened, her nose high, her eyes flashing with determination,

"I'm an alchemist." At Jerald's unwitting stare of bewilderment, she blushed and turned sharply away, adding hastily, "Someday. Hopefully. I'm more than a broodmare for your uncle's demon-spawn."

Only after a beat did she realize the harm of the words she had let slip in her anguish. Jerald closed his eyes, pursing his lips against grief. The maid scurried back to his side,

"Oh, Freda. I—I'm so sorry, sir." The warmth from her hesitant hand hovered over his elbow. "I didn't mean to. After all, you seem a decent man..."

She trailed away into a torturous silence. Jerald shook his head, pushing the pain back inside his heart so it wouldn't leak onto his face.

"I understand. My mother probably feels the same way about me. Only sometimes, hopefully." He chuckled bitterly. The woman stared unblinking at him, studying him. Whatever she gleaned paralyzed her with terror.

"So, your mother still can't love you?" Jerald turned around. Somehow, the heartbreak on her face was a warm balm mending the wounds on his heart. Her eyes swept him from head to toe, welling with disbelief and pity,

"After all this time? Even as you grew into such a fine man?"

Jerald didn't know the answer. And he'd rather it remained that way for the rest of his days. The woman seemingly took his silence for a nod. She heaved a sigh of despair, muttering bitterly,