Queen of the Sylphs (35 page)

Ril was shouting, telling him to look at her. What her? It didn’t mean anything.

“Claw,” Solie gasped suddenly. “Look, Claw.”

Orders were absolute. Claw focused, even as he didn’t want to. Solie’s hair was soaked with sweat; tangled, plastered to her face. She was gripping the sides of the chaise hard and gasping, all of her muscles tight and trembling. Between her legs, between her legs . . .

A baby was sliding out from between her legs, a filthy, slimy baby girl with a face already screwing up into a scream. Claw looked down at that perfect, untouched spirit, and she blew through him, bringing light like a massive, sun-drenched diamond dropped into the pool that was his soul. She took him and made him hers as surely as the girl for whom he’d first come through the gate. Except, this was so much more powerful. Claw stared, rapt.

Ril whispered something in his ear about her being his, or him being hers, but Claw didn’t really hear. The other battler let him go, and he thudded to his knees, staring at the shrieking baby as she was wiped clean and handed to her mother.

Heyou stared like he’d never seen such a thing before and didn’t know whether to smile or run screaming. Claw didn’t care. He looked at the queen, who stared back at him with contented exhaustion.

“Can I call her Rachel?” he asked.

Epilogue

Solie walked past the window that overlooked her kingdom, glancing idly out at the fresh snow that fell during the night. It was warm inside, heat piped in from a central location the fire sylphs took turns making as hot as they could. The entire downtown core of the Valley was riddled with such vents, and those living farther out could relocate if it became too cold in their own homes.

It was peaceful, even with the late afternoon dim and cold. Solie hadn’t fully appreciated how tense she’d been over the last few months, afraid of an enemy she couldn’t even identify. That was over now. Before he’d stopped talking entirely, Claw told them all what Sala had done. Unlike Wat, he hadn’t been ordered to forget, all in the hope that when the time came, he would be insane enough to kill his own queen. Solie wept when she learned what had been done to him.

She left the window and walked past the newly repaired doors to her garden. A big bull mastiff slept before them, his ear twitching as she passed. The garden itself was still devastated, but Shore and Loren would need to wait for spring to fix it.

Since the attack, Solie hadn’t stepped into what had once been her master bedroom. She went into one of the smaller rooms instead. In a corner, a crib stood against the wall, Heyou looming over it with his jacket off and a wondering look on his face. He really hadn’t realized what he was getting himself into, Solie reflected with amusement.

Heyou looked up and returned her smile. “She’s about to wake up hungry,” he said.

That little trick was going to be convenient, Solie thought. There was no chance that this child was ever going to complain that her parents didn’t understand what she was feeling. Or that she would ever feel alone.

Solie stared into the crib at the sleeping little girl and at the blue-furred puppy that lay beside her.

“Hello, Claw,” she whispered, and he shuddered, his wounded gaze never leaving the baby. Beside him, Rachel shifted and screwed up her face, getting ready to scream.

“Aw, it’s all right, sweetheart,” Solie promised, lifting her up and carrying her over to a chair to nurse.

When Claw started whimpering, Heyou picked him up and brought him over as well. Claw didn’t speak to him, but Heyou didn’t seem to mind. He just cuddled the puppy as the two of them settled down to watch.

At least Rachel would always have a protector, Solie thought as she nursed the infant. Claw would always be there for her, and someday, Rachel would be his master. Eventually, she would be his queen. Until then, Claw’s master was asleep in the other room.

It had been an experiment, binding him to an animal, but Claw was too damaged to take orders from anyone. The mastiff was working fine.

Solie nursed her daughter, her thoughts turning toward the maintenance of the Valley. She’d heard from Devon Chole again. He was content in Meridal and planning to stay there as a permanent ambassador. Solie had written him a letter in return, congratulating him and telling him about the daughter he couldn’t ever acknowledge. There would be other children for him, she hoped.

Mace continued to work directing the battlers. Leon was back as chancellor, with Ril as Solie’s majordomo and Lizzy still learning how to keep track of the Valley’s finances. She was a surprisingly quick study, and the Widow helped out on a part-time basis, when she wasn’t working with her orphans. Nelson was starting to help Lizzy, too, brought into the council on a trial basis. He and Heyou had made their status public. Things were safer now, though life in the Valley had changed forever, thanks to Sala. They knew their vulnerabilities more clearly. They lay in the people who were also their strengths.

She felt the emotions of her people. The Valley was at peace, everyone settling down to bear the winter. In the Petrule house, Ril lay on the couch in the living room, his head in Lizzy’s lap and his tunic undone. Autumn had her hands pressed against his chest, working slowly to try and repair old damage, while his masters both watched hopefully and Betha chatted with Gabralina. Children played and argued all around them, making a happily chaotic noise that no one really minded.

In the Blackwell home, the chaos was far less controlled, the orphans playing loudly with a big battler who didn’t often deign to do so. Mace tickled the girls, sending them giggling hysterically while they squirmed to get away. The boys piled on top of him, trying to wrestle him to the ground. The Widow watched all this from the doorway before shaking her head in patient tolerance and turning to go and finish dinner.

Meanwhile, at the Galway home, Nelson headed into the basement while his mother shouted for him to get back in time for dinner. In a corner, he found and unlocked a door that led to a stairwell down into the underground corridors of the hive. Stria had made this connecting corridor for the house, and he was very glad of it as a way to avoid the cold snows whenever he went to the queen’s quarters and his hungry battler.

Solie didn’t know those actual activities, but even with her limited empathy, she could sense that the Valley had breathed a sigh of relief. Winter was here, but it was a cleansing cold, the snow a blanket that would cover the horrors of the past year and freeze them away. Once spring returned, the Valley would be like new.

She kissed her daughter. For now she had no other worries than making sure Rachel was fed and clean. She settled back in her chair with her eyes closed and her child feeding contentedly at her breast. Heyou grinned, and she returned his smile. The future looked good.

About the Author

L. J. McDonald was born in 1970 in Canada and has a bachelor’s degree in Anthropology from the University of Victoria in British Columbia. She grew up reading horse books until Christmas day when she was twelve, when her parents gave her a book titled
The Elfstones of Shannara
by Terry Brooks. It was the first time she ever read fantasy, and from that point on she was hooked. L.J. started writing when she was fifteen, but she didn’t try very hard to get published until she was in her later thirties. L.J. works in the Canadian military and also spends her time drawing, knitting, and reading as many good books as she can get her hands on. Visit her Web site at www.ljmcdonald.ca for more details on upcoming releases.