AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't intend for this chapter to end up the way it would, but it did, and I'm not disappointed. What was planned for it can wait until chapter twelve. There's no hurry. Dedicated to AcidCherry, as she seems to be upset about something.
When the first cool fingers of light steal into my chamber the following morn, I have but one intention in mind. Mia is not amongst the maids who come to help me prepare for the day ahead. When I ask after her they shake their beautiful heads sadly, and tell me that she cannot come, that she is busy. I do not insist. Mayhaps I can enquire after her when I breakfast with Cassiel and Titus later. She is not of any real importance.
The meal laid out upon the long, shining table is as indulgent and appetizing as the previous night, yet I do not fall upon with the same eagerness. Titus carefully ignores me as we eat, studiously peeling a ripe peach with far more care than necessary. He is utterly engrossed in his work, meticulous and calculated, yet when the juice dribbles down his long, skillful fingers he does pause to dispel it. Cassiel joins us just as I am finishing the remains of my meagre breakfast. Titus rises as she enters, intent upon avoiding her presence.
“Titus.” Cassiel’s voice rings out like a bell. “Surely not? After all this time can you truly not bear to sit in the same room as me? Am I that unforgivable? Please, sit, and we will discuss the issue at hand in civil manner.”
Titus nods curtly, but I see him shoot her look of pure loathing as he reseats himself. He is so bitter, it almost hurts. How can he be so incapable of acquittal?
“How do you wish to proceed with this matter?” Cassiel is addressing me now, her lovely face full of genuine concern.
“It matters not,” I reply, honestly, “I have one request, however. Might I see my child, before a decision is reached?”
“I am sorry.” Cassiel says, and for one, heart-wrenching moment I fear she may deny me it. “I forget how strong a mother’s love is. It is only natural that such separation should hurt you so. Please, you have my most humble apologies for my lack of insight. Saye will take you to it.” She gestures to a maid with white-blond tresses and the darkest eyes I have ever seen. “It is not far from here.”
Within a few moments we have reached the room in which Garaeli rests. Saye leaves me at the door, clearly realizing that I wish to be alone. I push open the door, and survey my child’s abode. It is sparsely, but elegantly furnished. A beautiful mahogany crib stands in the centre. I rush to it, ready to embrace Garaeli. But it is empty. I rummage frantically through the silken sheets and lambs-wool blankets to no avail. Alarmed, I rush out onto the balcony and call in the hoarse voice of a madwomen. There is no reply.
Tears of loss sting my eyes as I pace agitatedly up and down. I know not what I should do. The palace must be larger than I dare to imagine, and it would not be hard to conceal such a small babe. Yet still I cannot quite comprehend the situation. Who would have taken him? It makes little sense.
And then I hear something – a gently cooing, low and soft. I look up, to see Mia, a bundle resting in her arms as she murmurs an incomprehensible lullaby. Her eyes meet mine and the songs stops, abruptly. I snatch Garaeli from her arms, and cradle it close. It whimpers quietly, panicked by the sudden change of temperament.
Mia makes to flee the chamber, but I catch her by the arm. She writhes in my grasp, terror flickering in her beautiful eyes.
“Please, I meant no harm.” She stutters. Her expression is pleading and imploring. “I sought only to comfort him. He was crying.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either, Mia. Only to speak with you.” I pause. “Did… did you just refer to Garaeli as he?”
She nods.
“Yes… Is that not correct?”
“I know not, in truth.” I admit, “Yet I have always, well… I have always believed Garaeli to be genderless. Neither male, nor female.”
She shrugs, seemingly calmer.
“I feel that he – it – is male. I simply sense it.”
“You sense it?”
“In my culture who you are is defined my how the Wisdom senses you. That defines your gender and personality. My grandfather was the Wisdom for our tribe. He taught me some of his skills. And your… son has a very powerful radiation. I can tell a lot from his aura. Not just his gender. He is strong, determined. He will grow up to be very similar to you. Brave.”
“You think me brave?” I release her arm, and she settles herself upon the floor beside me, massaging the bruised limb.
“Of course. What have done is truly inspiring. You didn’t give up, not even when everything seemed hopeless. You carried on fighting.” She smiles nervously. “I can tell more of what I can sense if you me your hand.”
I do as she bid, and she closes her eyes rapt in deep thought for a few moments. Finally she speaks,
“You live for causes. Any cause. Love. Passion. Determination or hatred. Your impulsive – you’ll do anything on a whim. You don’t think things, through, don’t think about the consequences. You’re selfish, but very loyal. You’re a fighter. You fight for things, not negotiate. You’re very judgmental, very opinionated. You care about what people think of you, but you never reveal that. But you’re clever. And very observational. You see things that others don’t. You’re always animated, always alive. You’re very passionate. You don’t like to give up. You think it shows weakness. You’re not easily swayed, you’ll hold your ground to the very last stand. You wouldn’t think twice about lying if you thought it was the right thing to do. Honesty doesn’t hold much moral high ground with you. You hate to admit that you’re wrong. I cannot tell whether or not you’re good at coping. It’s very complicated. You’ll cope and cope and cope. But the tiniest thing can break you. You - ” She stopped in mid-flow, alarmed by the tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry if I have caused offence. I only meant to…”
I shake my head vigorously, fighting with the tears. I feel as though half of my soul, the blackened, filthy part, had been stripped bare for all to see, exposed in all its horror to the world. And however painful, the experience is remarkably invigorating.
“Thank you.” I manage to smile gratefully at her. “Now, you seem to know all there is to know about me. But I know little of you, and I am eager to discover more. Care to divulge?”
“I… I’m not sure where to begin.”
“Then I will question you. It shall be an investigation. First I would like to know this: are you afraid of me? Only you seemed to be terrified last night and today when I first saw you, and I was concerned that I was the source of your terror.”
“I am sorry, to have caused you such a worry. It is not you, nor was I truly frightened. You intrigued me. Yet I felt that you may object to my interest.” She glances to Garaeli – my son – ensconced in the folds of the borrowed gown I wear. “I knew that I must see him, yet I felt certain that you would be protective of him. He’s beautiful, the most precious creature to grace this earth. The mixed blood within him will make him powerful, yet a force of good strives within him.” She stops once more at the expression on my face. “What?”
“Nothing. Just the way you speak. With such certainty. Almost as though…” I sigh, wondering how best to phrase my thoughts. “There is a belief here, one shrouded in myth and legend, that tells of seers, of fortune-tellers. People who have the ability to read the future. I always doubted such claims before now, yet you. It is not quite the reading of the future, but it something similar. Something akin to such a nature. You seem to be able to read people, not just through the Wisdom you mentioned. Through your own strength and integrity.” I bow my head, to nuzzle Garaeli’s wispy head. “How old are you?”
“Thirteen.” Just two years younger than me. I wrap my fingers tightly around her delicate hand. I feel duty bound to protect her, in a similar way to how feel in relation to Garaeli. A intrinsic desire to help and defend her.
“Mia…?”
She looks up at me expectantly.
“I don’t know where my journey will take me next.” I begin, unsure as to her reaction. “Probably you are far better off here. I won’t blame you if to remain is what you choose, but should you ever wish it I would delighted if you were to consent to continue with me. Don’t answer me now,” I hasten to say, “I just want you to know that it is an option.” I look slowly up at her. Her face is alive with light and happiness. But then I realise. For all her learned ways and so-named “Wisdom”, Mia is the same as I was at thirteen; naïve and innocent, desperate for the thrill of adventure and peril. I may well be leading her to her doom by indulging this desire. But the though just makes me all the more determined to take her with me, wherever my journey may leads next.