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The streets are busy at this time of day and I try to avoid bumping into anyone but it’s crowded. There’s so much jostling and coming and going. I wrap my jacket around myself more tightly and hold my hands over my growing bump to protect the little life inside.
I’m doing this for you, I think to myself as I walk through the city.Whoever you are in there, I’m here to protect you. I don’t know you yet but I’m going to be your momma. I’m going to take care of you and love you so much. Enough to make up for any shortcomings that may befall you because of your heritage.
It’s hard to reconcile the fact that my child will grow up without a father. It seems unfair to the child but it was my fault for being with a dark elf in the first place—especially one as high caste as Ris. There was no way that he or society would accept this child. Dark elves are proud and stubborn about change.
So it looks like it will be just me and my child facing the world together. But I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that my baby grows up with love and happiness. He or she will never be unwanted.
I take a deep breath as I approach the woman’s residence. I can hear voices of several children yelling and playing on the floors above me. Trying to gather my courage, I reach out to knock but falter.
What if Lucy doesn’t have any way to help me? What if I’m just setting myself up for failure here? I can’t do this. I can’t put all my troubles on someone else—some stranger. I can’t do this to her!
It’s crazy of me to think that I can just show up here, pregnant belly and all, and demand some strange woman help me out. It’s too much. Especially if she has children with her! What if she turns me away because I’m a bad example in front of the children?
I find myself sinking down onto the pavement, drawing my knees to my body as much as I can around my belly.
“Okay, just breathe,” I say quietly to myself. But the despair creeps up on me and I let out a sob, then another.
I’m a full on crying mess and clutching at my coat as I try to get myself together when someone walks up to me and gently touches me on the shoulder.
I start, nearly toppling backwards when I see a pretty woman with strawberry-blonde hair and kind, warm blue eyes.
“Are you alright?” she asks. I sniffle, trying to get myself together but I can’t seem to stop crying.
So I shake my head. “No,” I say, another sob falling from my lips. “No. I need help. I’m looking for Lucy,” I tell her.
“Oh, she’s upstairs with my triplets,” the woman says. “I’m Annalise. Lucy is our nanny. What do you need help with, sweetie?”
“I’m...I’m pregnant,” I tell her. “Daphne sent me. She said to come find Lucy here.” Annalise helps me to my feet and hands me a handkerchief to wipe my face.
“That’s fine. You’ve come to the right place,” Annalise says. “Why don’t you come on in, have a cup of tea and we’ll get all this sorted right out?” she asks.
I nod, breathing evenly in and out as best I can. Everything will be alright now. I’ve found the place I’m meant to be and now everything will be okay.
12
RIS
Two years later…
The thudding base and delighted shrieks of the crowd travel backstage, but I don’t feel the thrill I should. There’s no anticipation, no joy.
That’s nothing new. Not for two years, at least.
“Are the instruments ready yet?” Rhovier looks more tightly wound than the ilya. She’s definitely more off-key. “He’s going onstage in ten!”
“Easy,” I tell her. If she’s giving me a headache, she must be killing these poor fools.
Can’t she see it doesn’t matter? Harassing the poor zagfer until they tremble won’t help things, and what’s the point? Nothing matters, not without –
“These sound like a deaf dripir tuned them! Honestly, if I have to speak to the management one more time about this…Do you have any idea how many people show up just to hear my brother sing? Without him, you’ll be back to begging people on the street with free drink coupons.”
I know better than to interrupt my sister once she’s worked herself up into a good rant, so I just reach for my homre with an apologetic smile. She’s not wrong, is the thing. They really can’t tune the instruments well at all.
Not like Sienna could.
I trail my hands over the strings experimentally. It’salmostgood, but the notes are still off. Sour. I fiddle with it myself, twisting the strings along with the tuning fork, but my mind’s not anywhere on the same planet as this club.
I’m no better than they are, either. Well, maybe slightly. I’m more talented, without doubt, but they care more. It probably evens out.
