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I’m not sure where to look. I don’t think I can take seeing the panic and fear that I know will flood her once I tell her the truth. It will stop me, that much I’m sure of. Instead, I look just over her head at my newest mother and her pups, drawing strength from my beloved pets. They are the only goodness I’ve known, and I rely on them to get me through this life.
“He intends to see if you can carry demon children.”
The silence between us is stifling. It feels so thick that I think I could cut through it. Against my better judgment, my eyes cut down to survey Cora’s reaction. Just as I feared, her face has gone deathly white, her fists balled up so tight I worry she’s going to dislocate something.
“Cora--” I start, stepping toward her, but she jolts back.
“What do you mean ‘carry demon children?’”
I sigh, and this time I hold her gaze as I answer. “Our race is dying out. Our matrons are so rare and produce so few offspring that we will go extinct if we do not find some other means of reproduction.”
Her eyes widen, and I don’t see any point in stopping now. “We need breeders or we won’t survive, and so our only option seems to be humans.”
“What about the elves?” She gasps out, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes dart around with that panic I wanted to avoid. “I’ve seen them here. Use them!”
I wrinkle my nose in disgust, though I’d do anything to get rid of the terror etched in her features. “Dark elves are a foul race. We do not want to sully our blood by mixing it with theirs.”
She’s gasping now, and I ache to calm her. I don’t know what else to do as I watch her. She’s stuttering trying to find something to say, and I don’t know why I even try to bother.
“Dark elves are poor breeders anyway. It’s hard for them to conceive and harder for them to carry,” I say as if it’s assuring. “Humans have been able to carry half breeds throughout Protheka, and we are sure that you will survive the pairing.”
I want it to come across like a compliment and hopeful, like she just needs to pop out a few kids and she’ll be fine. I know it’s more than that. I don’t know what kind of way she’ll be forced to conceive, in what manner she will give birth or with what type of demon. It could very likely tear her apart, even if we have seen that there are half-human, half-dark elf kids on the ground.
If their bodies can survive those monsters, they should be fine with us.
Cora doesn’t see it as the positive I try to present it as, and she starts to tremble, her eyes growing enormous as she withdraws inside of herself. I hate the way it hurts me, and even more, I hate that I can do nothing to fix it.
21
CORA
My heart thunders in my chest, and my blood pounds so loud in my ears that I almost can’t hear Giroth’s words.
I almost wish I hadn’t.
Panic grips me tightly, and I don’t know how to swallow it down as horrific images roll through my mind. As soon as he said the word ‘breeder,’ the idea of that massive, fire-horned demon dragging me to bed flashed behind my eyes. Then, it turned into a slide show of all the prospects I saw on the street today.
I doubt any of them will be gentle, and I squirm a little at the difference in my size compared to all them. I don’t want to even imagine what it will be like, especially if I do conceive.
Then, a war starts to wage in my mind over what is worse: to conceive and hope it doesn’t kill me or for the pairing to be incompatible and hope the demons don’t kill me. I’m not sure, but either way, I don’t think I’ll live.
My mind is racing as I think about the possibility of a horned newborn ripping its way out of me. I’m trembling, the prospect too much for me, and I want nothing more than to be back home. At least there, I knew my way around. I could disappear into the forest if I needed to, and although the dark elves were cruel and clearly wanted something from me, I wasn’t abducted just to be impregnated.
Another shudder flows through me. I always thought if I were to have a child, it would be with someone I care about. Sex may not be sacred on Protheka, but having children isn’t usually a concern. It’s always been a little bit of a relief that the dark elves seem to have a hard time conceiving, with each other and with us. Or maybe they feed us something to keep us sterile and we don’t even know it.
My head is a thundering mess, and there’s a low hum in my ears that seems to block out all other sound. There are so many ways for this to go wrong, but I can’t think of a single way that makes it right. There’s no escaping it, no option for me, and while I’ve always been a little fearless and reckless, I’ve always had the opportunity to be.
What do I do when my only option is death?
I don’t realize that the noise I’m hearing is not in my head until Giroth throws his hand out. That’s when it clicks for me that it’s his hounds that are growling, the sound low and deep and echoing throughout the kennel.
To my surprise, they don’t fall silent. My emotions seem to be taking a toll on them and as my thoughts grow, so do their protests. Their growls turn to snarls and barks, their teeth exposed and their bodies tensing. They seem ready to rip me apart.
They transform from the gentle creatures he showed me into the fearsome ones they were bred to be. I can feel all the chaotic energy rolling off of them as they leap at the walls separating me from them, clawing at them with their dagger-like nails.
There’s worry in Giroth’s eyes, and I fear that his hounds are going to attack me. I’m already so wound up and afraid that when he turns his back to silence the dogs, using his stern voice that’s still softer than the one he used with me when he had a blade pressed to my throat, I bolt.
"Find a way out," I murmur, urging my legs faster.
