Page 51 of Boundless
My lady-wife and I had planned on returning to you in a month's time, but we have the happiest of reasons to be unable to do so: Daega is pregnant with my child, and as Istarii Drakan carry for a mere three months (and she is already a month along), it will be too late in her pregnancy for her to have such a lengthy trip. Instead Her Grace Gayeh and her Lord Kevothaen gladly and warmly invite you and the entirety of the court to their home to witness the happy occasion of our treaty cementing still more firmly, and of your only son becoming a father in turn. Of your becoming a grandfather.
That last bit would be too sentimental for his father; Len could picture his lip curling, his eyes going icy, but it felt necessary forhimselfthat it be in there. A part of him wondered if Haedelon would even come, or if the elf king would just send a missive that amounted to "That’s nice, but if you've seen one baby you've seen them all. I suppose I'll see you when I see you then, son," and be done with it. The thought was equal parts amusing and devastating.
On the bed behind him Daega gave a loud snort, her deep, even breaths giving way to the shallower and more rapid rhythm of waking.
"Mm. Len? What're you working on, love?"
He capped his pen, blowing out the candle to leave agonizing over his letter for the morning. He smiled at her in the dark, settling his slighter weight against her solid warmth, her scent settling deep into his body with every pull of his lungs. "Just w-working on that letter to my father. I'm sorry I woke you."
"You didn't really," she murmured, pulling him closer and resting her cheek on the top of his head. "I tripped in my damn dream and woke myself up more'n anything."
He chuckled, pressing his palm to her belly, concentrating his awareness there until he could feel the beginnings of the life that would become their child. It was so early still, even a third of the way in, that it felt like potential more than a person, but holy gods—what potential it was.
"Do you have any hopes on gender?" Daega asked groggily, her hand covering his on her belly.
He smiled, considering. "No," he answered truthfully. "I only hope they're healthy. That I don't give them m-my heart p-problem. Or anything else comes up b-because we're different species."
"Good answer," she muttered, sounding more than half asleep again already. "I don't care, either. They're going to be brilliant…" Then shewasasleep, soft snores ruffling his curls. Len grinned, snuggling closer against her before he, too, succumbed to sleep, thoughts of what incredible things the future held for him whirling through his mind to inspire his dreams.
DESPITE WANTING TOfocus all his time and energy on Daega and the baby, Len had to set that aside and get on with the business of learning to lead. But the shape of that task wound up looking different from how he’d expected.
To the elves, Gayeh was a queen and Kevothaen a king, but the reality was that the Istarii Drakan didn’thavenobility or regents; they had leaders for every industry they were involved in, and an informal council of elders and sages who suggested courses of action for the horde—but their word was far from law, and if the people disagreed with a decision, then things were discussed and put to a vote.
Len took frantic, copious notes on it all, fascinated and in awe of how smoothly their system worked despite so many more people being involved.
“We look out for each other,” Gayeh explained sharing an afternoon tea with him in between meetings with various people scattered among the horde. “If all a person wants is power and renown, then they’re not suited to leadership. A leader guides, teaches, and most importantlylistens. There’s no room for pride or vanity.”
Len nodded, noting it in his rapidly-filling journal. “Of course. It makes s-sense.”
Gayeh smiled, putting a warm hand on his arm. “Before I met you, my only real fear for the treaty was how we’d manage an elf leader. But I am so glad to say that in you I see the beginnings of a fine leader, son.”
His eyes grew hot, a wobbly smile springing forth. “I—thank you, Mother. I w-worry all the time that I’ll—I’ll let everyone down. Th-that I’ll not quite m-manage it.”
His mother-in-law nodded, sipping her tea. “Well, if you feel you need to build up particular skills, then any of us are happy to help you. Where do you feel like you aren’t ready, yet?”
He considered, drinking some more of his own tea. Istarii Drakan brews were more robust and spicy than the elvish brews he was used to, but he was developing a fondness for it all the same. “I need to improve m-my Draka,” he began, “as not everyone s-speaks Common. And I think an unbiased history lesson is in order.”
Gayeh nodded, smiling at him. “Those are easy enough to arrange. We can practice Draka among the family, and I can introduce you to the elders who hold our stories and teach the children language. Can I make a suggestion?”
“Of course. Your input is very w-welcome.”
“I might also want to see you building up more of a rapport with the horde at large. We will guide you, of course, but knowing our people and finding out from themselves what they need is invaluable.”
Anxiety spiked through him, but Len smiled, nodding. “Yes, I can s-see the value in that immediately. How many are th-there in the horde?”
Gayeh’s gaze drifted as she mentally tallied her people. “In the main camps I’d say there’s over 100,000. But twice that are scattered over the mountains and further east in the hills and plains.”
He couldn’t help it; his eyes bugged out of his head, his mind reeling at the thought of so many Istarii Drakan. His father and the council had guessed they were less than 100,000. There were more elves, of course, but with the Istariin battle trance and their size advantage, the elves had never had a chance at besting them.
Gayeh chuckled, setting her tea on the table to take his hands. “Peace, son,” she chuckled, rubbing his knuckles with her thumbs. “We all want the same thing, now, yes? Happiness, love, freedom from war and oppression.”
Len swallowed, guilt swamping him. It wasn’t what his father wanted. It wasn’t what whoever was behind the attempts on his life wanted. “Th-there’s…there’s some things I h-haven’t told you, Mother.” He took a deep breath, meeting her black eyes. “I think my father m-means to end the treaty. Th-the—the elf king. He wishes to see my m-marriage to Daega dissolve, f-feeding me lies to turn me against you all. And the attempts on my life—I c-can’t discount that he—he may b-be involved.”
“Attempts? There have been more than what happened at the inn?”
Len winced, nodding. “When we w-were still in Llyvelli. S-someone poisoned some water in m-my room. Sevren w-was the one to drink it first. I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t m-mean to withhold—” His throat clicked, refusing to let him say anything more. His pulse throbbed, his head going light and floaty.She’ll be so disappointed and angry with me,the dark voices inside him insisted, making him feel still more sick.I’ll lose her love, her favor, the entire family—
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweet boy,” she said, smiling at him and squeezing his freezing cold hands again. “This troubles me greatly, of course. But with everything else that’s happened since I couldn’t possibly blame you for forgetting.”
