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“They’ll need counseling, a lot of it. I will as well. I want to be up-front about that.”
“Of course.”
Fiona’s gaze fell to Alison’s belly once more, but she looked away, her gaze skating back to the window. Fiona was still young because she was partially ascended. She could remarry in this dimension. Vampires took husbands, or wives as the case may be. They had weddings and bore children—Twolings. The thought appealed to her. She had always loved being married, having a family to look after.
The memory of Jean-Pierre, the night of her rescue, was suddenly within her mind, the full glory of him in his leather kilt, heavy sandals, and shin guards; the silver studs of his leather wrist guards, the brace of leather over his chest. She recalled her desire for him, which returned to her in a quick flush that almost brought a gasp from her lips. A sudden craving for coffee burst in her mouth and she swallowed hard.
It was the strangest thing and yet she’d already been told all about the infamous and troubling breh-hedden.
She shuddered. That couldn’t be her fate. Yet she had to admit that even a thought of the powerful French warrior sent shivers in places she’d ignored for, yes, longer than a century. These were modern times and sex had certainly transformed into a strange yet wonderful public conversation.
But in her day, the days of her marriage, it had been intensely private, a thing never discussed even between husband and wife. Fortunately, her husband had been generous in their marriage bed, and she had enjoyed what most women of her day were taught was a painful duty to be endured.
And Jean-Pierre had already proven to her, albeit unwittingly, that even his kiss could bring her to a place of ecstasy. Again she suppressed a gasp. What would lovemaking be like if just a kiss ignited her?
Alison frowned. “You seem distressed. Will the palace be all right with you? The security there is unequaled and we want you off the enemy’s radar, especially since it would seem you are Warrior Jean-Pierre’s breh.”
The breh-hedden. Even though she could be intrigued by the concept of sex with the warrior, she knew she was no more ready to be anyone’s breh than she was to take up a sword and battle Commander Greaves all by herself.
She met Alison’s worried gaze. “The palace will be fine, of course.”
“Good. For a moment there, you seemed upset, and that is not what I want.” She began to talk about completing the ascension ceremonies for each woman to make sure they would become fully acclimated to this larger world; it was thought this would be done after a few weeks of rest. She talked about several counselors she knew and trusted. She even spoke about possible vocational training, all sensible things.
Laughter sounded from down the hall and for a reason she couldn’t explain, a sudden chill traveled over Fiona’s shoulders, as if she were getting a virus. She could hear a woman’s voice. Two voices. Parisa, perhaps? Laughter again. No, not Parisa. Havily. Yes, Havily, the one who worked in the darkening with Madame Endelle, the one bonded to Warrior Marcus.
Now she could hear Colonel Seriffe’s booming masculine voice. She liked the colonel very much. He headed the Militia Warriors in Metro Phoenix. He was a tough, commanding man but there was always a warm light in his eye, as though he lived with a constant sense of hope no matter how bad things got. Yes, she liked him very much.
He was laughing now, and as she listened to his words, she realized he was bragging about his little boy, who had walked at nine months.
“Do you hear him?” Alison said, smiling. “He adores his children, and his wife can do no wrong.”
“In other words, he’s the perfect husband.”
Alison laughed. “You are more right than you know. He is one of those rare men who combine great strength at work with compassion and love at home. I’m afraid I tend to hold him up as a model too often to Kerrick. I have only to mention Colonel Seriffe and Kerrick bristles. Although, to be honest, sometimes I do it just to watch him pace a little, scowl, and glare at me. I can be very bad sometimes.”
Fiona laughed and something inside her started to relax as well. She and Alison had both turned slightly toward the doorway to listen. Havily’s excited chatter rose above even the colonel’s voice. It was so great to be hearing what would have been normal conversation when she was a young mother. Is he walking? Cutting teeth? Picking the wrong things up and throwing them? Havily’s three little girls had died before her ascension.
So much sadness in life.
Yet so much joy.
“Why don’t we go chat with the colonel? It sounds like he may have brought his entire family in today. Would you like to meet them?”
“Yes, I’d love to.”
Alison rose, all stately six feet of her.
Fiona heard another woman’s laughter, and that earlier chill once more caught her across the shoulders. What was that? Maybe she was getting sick. Then she remembered—ascenders never got sick.
“Yes, he brought his wife. She’s a joy. I think you’ll really like her. In some ways, oddly, you remind me of her. Probably because your eye color is very similar, a lovely silver-blue.”
Fiona heard the rippling laughter and was transported back more than a hundred years. Her mother had had a laugh just like that. How strange.
Sadness crept in at the reminder of something so familiar to her, yet something she had lost when she’d been abducted. She felt an urgent need to remain where she was, maybe crawl under the conference table and stay there, oh, for a year, maybe a decade. She wasn’t stable yet. Her knees shook as she stood. For all her strength all those decades, of being killed and brought back to life month after month, for some reason coming to a place of safety at long last had robbed her of her staying ability; she felt almost unequal to meeting the colonel and his family.
But she wasn’t about to give in to such weakness. She’d always squared up to life, even when it was hard.
She moved next to Alison down the hallway. Colonel Seriffe came into view first. His wife was somewhere behind him, as was Havily. He had a little boy in his arms, dimpled fists, light brown hair in soft curls at the nape of his neck. So adorable. The sight of him, of a child thriving in this world, filled her heart with … joy.
But at the same time, a sense of knowing began a slow march down her spine. Again she had an impulse to run away and hide, but she didn’t know why. What was it about the presence of this family that threatened to undo her?
Still, she stayed the course. She straightened her shoulders and took a couple of deep breaths. She focused on the child, the little boy, the one seated on the colonel’s left arm.
