Page 18 of Dark Shaman: Eternal Hope
"I'm not trying to take anything from you. I'm trying to protect you from disappointment."
Tamira laughed, but there was no humor in it. "What could possibly hurt more than not knowing? More than wondering if my baby is alive, if he remembers my face, if he ever thinks of me?"
"The certainty that he doesn't," Areana said quietly. "That's what could hurt more."
The words hung between them like a blade. Tamira wanted to argue, but she knew Areana was right. The not knowing was agony, but it also allowed for hope. It allowed her to imagine Darien happy somewhere, perhaps with a family of his own, perhaps sometimes wondering about his birth mother, who had held him for nine precious months before he was taken away. But he could've forgotten her and believed that the Dormant who had raised him in the Dormants' enclave was his real mother.
"I still want to know," she said. "Whatever the truth is, I want to know."
"I understand." Areana reached out tentatively, her hand hovering near Tamira's. "May I?"
She looked at the offered hand for a long moment before taking it. Areana's fingers were cool, familiar, and, despite everything, comforting.
"This changes things between us," Tamira said, not a question, but a statement of fact.
"I know."
"I still don't trust you the same way I did before. I can't."
"I know that."
"But I still love you." The admission surprised Tamira, but it was true. "You're still my sister in everything but blood. That will never change."
Areana's grip tightened. "I love you too. And I'm sorry. Not for the choices I made because I still believe they were right, but for your pain."
Tamira squeezed back before releasing Areana's hand and standing. "I need time to process all of this."
"Of course." Areana remained seated, looking up at her with those ancient blue eyes that held so many secrets.
"Thank you," Tamira said before walking away.
Their altered relationship shifted her reality. They would continue as they had for millennia—supporting each other and maintaining the delicate balance that kept them all sane. But underneath, everything had changed.
The trust that had been absolute was now conditional. The secrets that had been invisible were now known to exist, even if their content remained hidden.
But to know that Darien might be free, might be living a life she could never give him, burned in her chest like a small, precious flame that kept her hope alive.
8
ELUHEED
The large Boston fern was heftier than Eluheed had expected, its fronds brushing against his face as he maneuvered through the harem's corridors. The pot alone had to weigh thirty pounds, and with the soil and root system, he was carrying at least sixty pounds of an excuse. But it was a good excuse—one that would get him exactly where he needed to go.
"Lady Areana requested this for her private sitting room," he told the guard stationed at the entrance to the first level's private quarters. The man, one of the regulars who'd seen Eluheed tend the gardens countless times, barely glanced up from his post.
"She's in the library with the others," the guard said, which Eluheed already knew. He'd waited specifically for this time, when the ladies would be occupied with their book restoration project.
"I've just been there and showed her the plant, and she asked me to place it in her bedroom." Eluheed shifted the pot in his arms, pretending it was heavier for him than it was. "Do you need me to go back and get a note from her?"
He wasn't lying. Areana had actually asked him to put the plant in her apartment, but only after he'd suggested it, explaining how crucial greenery was to a sense of well-being.
"No need." The guard waved him on. "Don't take too long."
"Of course not."
The private quarters were through a set of ornate double doors that opened into a beautiful anteroom, which thankfully wasn't decorated in Navuh's preferred palette of black, white, and splashes of deep red. This was Areana's domain, and everything was soft, tasteful, and inviting.
The ceilings were higher than in the rest of the harem, probably four meters tall if not more, with crown molding that appeared to be hand carved. Everything spoke of wealth and soft indulgence.
