"Heavy is the head that bears the crown."
Heavy? Heavy is the hand that holds it maybe. Heavier the hand that forms it. Heaviest the hand that bends it into shape. I cannot fail. --Jonah
Heavy? Heavy is my burden. Heavier still my fate. Heaviest the hand that guides the stars into the future. For friends, for family, for everything I ever knew and will know. I cannot fail. --Imani
⚜Part Two⚜
“Heavy is the head that lies the crown.”
After a tumultuous car ride, I’m ushered into an underground bunker. Women move about, dressed either in long dark robes or military camo. Blood stains on more than a few and multiple are carried in on stretchers. From the cries of pain that come from the distance, it sounds like it’s been a bruising defeat.
‘What happened here,” I ask.
Iris glances at Nia. “Believe it or not, we won that battle. You should see the other side.”
“Yeah,” a passing witch says. Her pointy hat droops to the side. She would be a stereotypical witch with her red hair and dark hat if it weren’t for her black trench coat and ripped cargo pants. “We have more mutt blood on our hands than they have witch blood on theirs.”
Iris gives her a bruising glare before looking back at me. “We don’t call them mutts. We’re trying to restore balance and give ourselves rights, not exterminate them.”
She shrugs and walks away. Iris turns to me. “I’m sorry about that-”
“I don’t really care. It never bothered me, I was raised thinking I was human.”
“Right, right.” She rubs her temples. “I have to go train newbies. Nia can show you to where you’ll be staying.”
“Thanks.”
I walk with Nia, marveling at the base they’ve built for themselves. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is a fighting chance. And then I think back to his face.
Jonah’s smug, knowing face.
What was it that he knew?
Weeks go by and I settle into my life at the base. I watch them go through morning drills, I help out in the kitchens...anything I can do to support their war effort in the little ways I can. When I watch them do their workouts, I’m prevented from joining in because of the pain in my stomach. All I know since I got here, there’s been pain in my stomach, one strong and sharp enough to keep me on my toes. And even when I drink Wolfsbane, I end up expelling it all out. Maybe I’ve developed an allergy. Maybe their wretched goddess has cursed me to this.
My stomach problems only grow worse, until I can’t keep down my food, my water. My head is light in the morning and it gets to the point where I can’t see, but the pain keeps marching on, creeping in, slowly taking more and more control of my life.
Only then do I learn it’s not an illness at all.
No, no, staring down at the pink liquid in my hand, I learn what’s been ailing me isn’t any type of illness. It’s a new life.
###############################################
“You’re pregnant.” When they asked me to take a potion test, I was skeptical. But after I let a drop of blood fall into the clear liquid and it turned pink, positive, my heart sunk to the floor.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
“Is he the father?” Iris asks with a cool expression on her face.
My tongue is dry and heavy as I nod. “He was my first and only.”
“Okay,” Nia says, “what do you want to do?”
I put my hand on my stomach. Inside, beyond my organs, is another life growing. Half of me and half of him. A werewolf no doubt. Could I love a werewolf child? A child of his. No, this child is mine too. “Is it a girl?”
Nia shakes her head. She can tell. She narrows her eyes. “I’m not healer, but I can….it’s faint, but I sense it. A boy.” I almost gasp. A boy. Boys take after their fathers don’t they? No matter what I do, will I be staring Jonah in the face when he grows? Hearing him speak? My hands linger on my stomach. “What am I going to do?”
“Whatever you want. No one is forcing you to keep it.”
Perhaps a potion would rid the child from my womb. I would be just as I was. No trace of my mate on my body, or in either.
I furrow my brow. I could do it. Easily.
My hands still remain on my stomach.
“This child will be Crown Prince right? He’ll inherit the throne?” That could make him a weapon for our cause. But I don’t want him to be a weapon. Better unborn that a weapon, a child used for the benefit of others.
Oh god, do I know what that feels like.
“He’ll be the King’s heir.” Iris says, softly. “And soon, someone will discover you’re pregnant. It’ll make the war harder because The King will have two people to fight to retrieve.”
I bite my thumb nail. “You’re right.” My hands fly back to my stomach. The feeling of them there warms me. In my womb there’s a child. One that belongs to Jonah. But also to me. He might have my father’s eyes and my mother’s smile. Or he might look like Jonah with curly brown hair and mocha skin. An exact copy with a drip of my features added. But he is not Jonah’s alone. He won’t be Jonah’s at all. He’s mine.
I am his mother.
I’m going to be the one to bring him into the world.
He is my child.
Mine.
My heart swells. I close my eyes.
Love?
I’ve never felt this feeling. Not for Jonah, that...that is a different kind of love. Want, desire, lust, companionship.
This is something else entirely.
My fingers splay out on my belly. A fierce pride grows in me. “I’m keeping this child.”
Iris nods solemnly. “And you know the risks?”
“Yes. But this child is as much mine as it is Jonah’s. More mine than it is Jonah’s. Flesh from my flesh, blood from my blood, this child is mine. Even if I have to go it alone.”
“You’re not alone you idiot,” Iris says. She rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. We’re not going to kick you out onto the street because it’s his baby. A heat is a heat, you couldn’t help it.”
Nia puts a hand on her twin sister’s forearm. Her eyes are soft and mothering. They’re truly night and day--compliments to each other. Whereas Iris is rough and tough, her love hidden, Nia wears her heart on her shoulder and doesn’t hide her wish to protect everyone. “What my sister means is that you, Imani, are one of our truest friends. We would be glad to help you raise your child.”
Tears prick at my eyes. I’ve thought this so many times but every time I’m given another reason to think it again. What have I ever done to deserve people like this in my life? My voice wobbles. “Thank you.”
“Do you know what you’re going to name him?”
“Andreas. It means brave. I think it’s a fitting name.”
“Like mother, like son.”
I pat my stomach. He will be braver than me, I hope. But first, I have to clean up the world he’s going to grow up in. I stare at my fingers. I have to clean it of the monster I created.
##########################################################
I walk through the camp, towards the area set up as the mess hall. We’re on the road again, the bulk of us, targeting another east coast town. That’s the plan, take the east coast back and then invite other countries to support us. The spring air presses against my face. It’s smell fresh, like not only hours ago, blood watered these fields, both werewolf and witch. It will be bitter fruit that grows here after this. Cries come from nearby tents and a scream hits my ears. “Imani, get over here! They need you!”
I turn my attention in that direction. It looks like the kitchen won’t be getting any of my help today. I jog over there. I’ve learned that witches can’t keep their energy forever, so potions tend to run scarce here. So when that happens, there’s me. With the nursing school I have under my belt, I could have taken the test to become an RN. And that’s exactly what they need. I dip into my own tent and grab my pouch. Just normal medication, a stethoscope, surgical scissors. I look at the heavier bag. My operation gear. Hopefully we won’t need that today, but I’ll take it just in case. I run my eyes. I’ve already done two operations with the doctor in the last day. I can’t expect there to be another already.
With my things in tow, I rush to the healer’s tent. A witch huffs and looks at me. Her face is red and her skin shines with a sweaty sheen. “What took you so long?”
“Surgical gear.” I slip into the sterile clothing and uniform as the girl turns away and I put a drop of sanitizer on my hands. A mask too--I can’t get sick with a baby on the way--then I head inside.
The girl--yes a girl, because she’s not old enough to be here--writhes on the bed. She’s clutching her arm and I can see it’s swollen already. I don’t want to have to cut it. “Stop moving, you’re hurting yourself more.”
She looks at me, as if my voice broke her out of her daze, if only for a moment. “Who are you?”
“I’m a nurse. I’m going to help you.”
Her eyes clear for a moment. “You’re a wolf. You’re here to finish me.”
I shake my head. “You’ll learn exactly who I am later, but first, let me save your arm.”
She backs away. “Don’t touch me mutt. Don’t touch me!” The word makes me stiff. At first it didn't even touch me, but now, it gets to me, really gets to me. I shake my head.
“Look, I’m under the protection of Nia and Iris. They’re my closest friends and we’ve been together for almost five years now. So you’re going to shut up and take my treatment.”
“Mutt.” She whispers.
“And stop calling me that or I’ll get a witch to shove a potion down your throat to put you to sleep,” I snap. “And she’ll be rough with it too. We need our potions for those who might die. Not little girls with dreams of glory.”
Her skin pales and my words seem to sober her. I yank her by her good arm and pull her closer to me. I can’t tolerate this. There must be someone in the next tent over dying. I can’t let this girl take up my time; I have to get to my rounds. I roll up her sleep and press upon the bloody wound with my finger. Lightly, but she winces and pushes air from between her front teeth. “Werewolf bite.” I say it more for myself, but she nods. “Were they shifted?”
Her eyes go wide. “No. That’s the problem. They...he...he went for my neck first, but I blocked him and his teeth tore across my arm.”
“It was an accident? Why were you so close to a wolf?”
She begins to stammer. “I was on patrols. It was supposed to be simple, but we were ambushed. He cornered me by a building and tried to bite me.”
I wipe down the bite with my hand. If anything, she’s shaking because of the shock. This wound is shallow. I’ll stich it up and it’ll heal. “You’re the one they were screaming about? This wasn’t a bite to kill.”
“It’s because...it’s because I was hysterical.” Her voice is breaking down. “His eyes...they were yellow!”
I don’t even hesitate. I put my hand to her mouth. “You will not scream. What you have just said is confidential, you hear me? You will not tell anyone what you are about to tell me.” She nods, tears brimming at her eyes. Breathing in I let her go. “He tried to mark you didn't he?” Her nods, too scared to say anything. Her eyes are wide saucers. “What did he say? Tell me exactly.”
“He just, he just came closer. He told me to put my crystal down and come with him. He told me that he loved me and would treat me like a queen. He told me he would bite me but it wouldn’t hurt. I was terrified.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I pointed my finger at him. I was going to shoot, I was going to kill him with my magic. But his eyes flared up and he lunged at me, teeth out. I blocked it though and the sight of my blood mystified him. It was like he was in a trance. He kept whispering sorry, sorry, sorry.”
Her story has me stepping back. Something is very, very wrong here. I’ve been told werewolves mate with werewolves, witches marry warlocks or humans. They don’t, they can’t. They can? “Who knows about this? Do the other girls know why you’re here?”
“They just think I’m here for the bite. I’m not going to turn, am I?”
I give her a tight lipped smile. “That’s not how it works.” I take my suturing supplies out of my bag. “Let’s get that wound cleaned up now.” I’m disappointed to say I rushed on her sutures. When I’m done, I don’t even get out of my uniform. I rush straight to where Nia and Iris will be, leading the whole operation. There are things I need to tell them. Impossible things. True things. And when I see them in their tent I don’t even wait before I launch into my story.
I start at the beginning. “A werewolf tried to mark a witch.”