“Doing this means crossing into Fisa alone and unprotected,” he eventually says. “And going back onto the Ice Plains.”
“We’re not alone or unprotected. We have each other,” I argue. “And you know we can’t bring anyone new into this, not when the basic usefulness of my magic is in question. The information is too sensitive to trust anyone with it. Gods, we couldn’t even trust—” Piers. Even unspoken, it’s like I shout the name out loud.
Stealing a look at Griffin, I see that his face has taken on the blankness of emotional denial while still managing to seethe with anger. His expression more or less defiantly screams I’m fine, perfectly fine, and don’t you dare tell me that I’m not, because I bloody well am!
Frowning, I face forward again. “Right now, Beta Team is more useful to us where they are, and the Ice Plains don’t scare me anymore.”
“But Fisa does.” It’s a statement. No question necessary.
But he’s not exactly right. “It’s not Fisa that scares me. It’s just land, filled with people who will probably welcome us. It’s Mother who petrifies me.”
Griffin grunts, his countenance darkening even further.
As always when I think or talk about Mother, anxiety takes root in my belly, growing like a rotten but deeply entrenched vine. I’ve been conditioned—like a dog. Mother equals fear. Fear equals cold sweats and nausea.
It’s too bad. Little Bean gave me the morning off from the fun of vomiting, and I was actually feeling pretty good.
Absently, I run a hand over my belly. Little Bean seems to have been lulled into a stupor by Panotii’s even gait. She’s not doing acrobatics with her zippy little life force or tossing the contents of my stomach around. Maybe I’m finally done with the morning sickness, and now I’ll just start getting big.
I shift in my leather armor. It does feel unusually tight. I glance down. Do I need to loosen the side buckles?
To Griffin’s delight, my breasts have already received the expansion message—loud and clear. Right now, I’m almost back to looking like I did when he first saw me, before all the running around and almost dying. It’s nice to have a shape again. Although pretty soon, I’ll likely have more shape than I can easily manage.
“Do you know what terrifies me the most?” I ask. And by that, I’m not including giving birth or having to figure out motherhood, because those pretty much top the list—with one exception.
Griffin shakes his head.
“Mother has no reason to keep me alive anymore.”
He scowls, looking like he just swallowed a mouthful of rocks. “There’s your Kingmaker Magic,” he reluctantly points out.
Thinking about how she used me to discover truths, I stare off into the distance, unseeing, the memory of my unwilling participation in the misery of many jostling me like an army of cold, dead feet. The memories of the consequences of noncompliance aren’t pleasant, either.
I quietly scoff. “I would never let her use me like that again.”
“You were a child,” Griffin says, as if youth exonerates all.
“So? I don’t think that’s much of an excuse. I never have, and actual age didn’t matter when you grew up in Castle Fisa. None of us stayed children, not even when we were small. Survival trumped innocence.”
“Children aren’t meant to understand everything, to sort through the moral pathways. They can’t.”
“In my case, blissful naivety didn’t last long. In fact, I don’t remember ever having it.”
“You stopped betraying people to your mother, despite her wiles and…incentives. Despite her violence and abuse. You protected lives at your own peril.”
I snort. He’s giving me more credit than he should.
Griffin levels his hard look on me. “Self-blame is useless at this point. It’s unfair to yourself, and to the people who love you. I talk in circles, and you don’t listen.”
My mouth drops open on a huff of breath. Well then.
“Ares was with you. Bouncing you on his knee.” His tone turns testy. Testy and jealous. “Why didn’t he protect you?” Griffin demands.
I study the horizon again, not wanting to face the hostility and accusation in Griffin’s expression.
“He did,” I eventually say. “And he taught me to protect myself. But remember, he was in human form and not as powerful, all-knowing, or invulnerable as he otherwise would have been. The Gods’ goal was apparently to get me to where I am today, whatever the cost.” Eleni, my mind provides, and my heart spasms as if still fresh from the loss. “I guess to be what I am today, I had to take my knocks.”
“Take your knocks?” Griffin echoes, incredulous. “Andromeda nearly beat you to death. Repeatedly. Where was Ares during that?”
“I don’t know.” I glance down. “He always came to get me after, he and Eleni. They’d bring me to the healer.”
Almost every time I refused to betray someone’s inner thoughts to Mother, I got beaten, sometimes to the point of needing a Death Mark. Healers leave those thin, silvery scars when they have no other way to save a person other than to split their flesh from elbow to shoulder and then enchant their blood. It’s incredibly painful—if you’re still conscious.
Conversations like this one always make my husband look like he’s ready to beat something to a bloody pulp—preferably my mother. I doubt I’d object, and I’m not sure what kind of a person that makes me. Probably not a good one.
“She threatened. A lot. And carried through on her threats spectacularly for the most part.” I shake my head. “But she also bribed and cajoled me. There were times when I just…didn’t fight. I told her what she wanted to know. She’s a horrible person, but I’m not blameless, Griffin. Some things are my fault. Like relying too much on Eleni and loving my sister more than anyone else. I turned her into a target for Mother’s obsessive life lessons and vindictive wrath.”
“Stop.” Griffin’s voice drops an entire octave and comes to me through his tightly clenched teeth. “Is this what you want to teach Little Bean? To never forgive herself? What good does that do anyone? You tear yourself apart for things you had no control over.”
“I did have control. My mouth. My words. My life!”
His expression darkens like a storm rolling in, one that’s inevitable. The first crack of thunder is always the one that rattles me the most. “Your life? You think you’re a coward and to blame because you didn’t throw it away? Because sometimes you compromised what you knew was right in order to survive?”
While his voice rumbles deeply, remaining ominously low, I nearly shout. “When have you ever compromised?” Griffin is pretty close to perfect. Just. Right. Fair. Bloody infuriating!
“My morals?” He snorts. “Plenty of times. Every time I took a boy to war that I knew was lying about being over sixteen years old and then sent him onto the battlefield to fight and die just like anyone else. Every time I dealt a killing blow instead of a debilitating one just to be sure I wouldn’t have to fight the same person twice. Every time I went to a willing and hopeful woman I had no real interest in just to satisfy my own baser needs.”