I stare. This is both better and so much worse than what I was imagining. Easy enough to connect the dots now. “You don’t need me, then. You need a child.”
To his credit, he doesn’t look away as he nods. “Our child will be the next ruler of this territory and, if they’re half human, they will invigorate my people in way I am incapable of doing. Harvests haven’t started to fail, but it’s only a matter of time before we’re unable to use magic to keep the soil fertile. No one’s starving yet… But in a generation or two? They will.”
I try to sympathize. I do. He’s obviously carrying a burden beyond anything I can imagine. So many lives held in the balance. To be thinking of the future instead of attempting to curate his own power is a testament to the kind of person he is. I can appreciate that, even if I’m already shaking my head. “You want me to have a baby with you and then walk right out of their life in seven years. Do you realize what a big ask that is, Sol? I’ve already lost everything. You’ll take this from me, too?”
He doesn’t flinch or look away. “I’m sure we can find a way around that.”
Around what? The seven-year deadline? Around the inability to cross realms without Azazel or one of his people involved? Even if I wanted to take the child back with me, if they look anything like Sol, we wouldn’t last a month before someone attacked them or some government took them for experiments. Technology has made my world too small to effectively hide in. “The cost is too high,” I whisper. I fumble for the goblet and take too large a drink. “It’s not fair. You can’t ask that of me.”
“We have seven years, Briar. You don’t have to answer tonight.”
He would say that. What is he risking? “The answer won’t change. It’s no. No babies. Absolutely not.”
Chapter 11
Briar
Dinner passes in awkward silence. I realize I’m punishing Sol for telling me the truth, but that very truth is lodged in my throat. It doesn’t matter how delicious the food or wonderful the drink. Sol wants my baby. I haven’t even decided if I want children. It was a future I refused to share with Ethan, going so far as to get a birth control prescription and hide it from him to ensure I didn’t bring a child into this world and under his control.
The idea of going back on that determination, only to pass the child off, never to be seen again, is unthinkable.
Sol rises suddenly. “I’ll be right back. Please wait here.” He strides out into the darkness before I have a chance to respond.
Now’s the time to flee, to run back up to my bedroom and hide. Since I’ve arrived here, I’ve needled Sol and challenged him and infuriated him. He hasn’t said so much as a sharp word in response. Yes, he detailed out exactly what he wants to do to me, but I can’t pretend what he described isn’t at least partially welcome. It’d be hypocritical in the extreme to do so after I touched myself to the fantasy of it.
If a baby weren’t in the picture…
I take a hasty sip of my wine. I’ve nearly drained the glass, which should be worrisome, but I don’t feel drunk in the least. Buzzed, maybe, but I can’t blame the wine for that.
Sol appears on the other side of the courtyard, stepping out of the shadows as if he teleported in. His crest is half-raised, and it sinks when he catches sight of me. “You didn’t leave.”
I don’t think I could have gotten to the edge of the garden in that amount of time. But he’s right; I didn’t even try. “You asked me not to.”
He rounds the table and sinks to a knee next to me. With the height of my chair, the position means I can look directly into his dark eyes. They flicker strangely in the firelight of the candelabras. Sol holds up an arm. A thin chain hangs from his fist, a pendant swinging lightly with the motion. It’s a simple thing, an oval with a strange symbol burned into it. “Here.”
“Thank you,” I say automatically.
He hisses a little. “Don’t thank me until you know how it works.” He cups my hand and sets the pendant on my palm. “This was passed along by Ramanu when they visited. A few drops of your blood will activate the spell. You’ll need to reactivate it on the first day you start menstruating each month, but the pendant is good for decades.”
I stare at the symbol and then lift my gaze to his. “What does it do?”
“As long as you wear it, you won’t become pregnant.” He closes my hand around the pendant. “You’ve only been here a few days, Briar. I realize my honesty is unwelcome, but I won’t lie to you about what I want.” He hesitates. “However, I’m willing to be patient.”