SWNOVELS The Dark Elf’s Surprise Baby: Chapter 11
After that nightmare, I couldn’t possibly go back to sleep. By the time I allow myself to venture from my room I feel exhausted and drained. I feel as though I’m moving so slowly all morning.
But I have to keep going. I can’t slack off now. I don’t want to work but I push myself to keep going. Ivrir reminds me to take things easy for the sake of the baby. Someone overheard me telling Bryrion and now the whole staff knows.
He insists that I only do light chores and makes one of the other zagfer take up my more heavy cleaning, which makes me anxious. I don’t want anyone to resent me. Bryrion insists that no one is resentful and they’re all just thinking of Master Demethys and how upset he would be if he came back and found out that I wasn’t being looked after.
I accept the help reluctantly but insist I can still do most of the things I did before. I still help with the grocery orders and cleaning Master Demethys’ office and I still tidy his bedroom and help out with any other chores that the servants need assistance with.
It’s important to me that they know I see myself as an equal, and not above any of them. No matter what my status with the master.
I move about, my body feeling sore in many places and uncomfortable. I know my body is changing to accommodate the child but I wish I felt a little better. I stare out the window as I absentmindedly wipe down the window in Demethys’ office, considering laying down for an hour when suddenly someone clears their throat and I startle, nearly falling off the ladder I’m standing on.
“Oh, by the gods, Harper!” Bryrion says, reaching out to help steady me as I climb down, hands protectively over my belly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, voice wavering. Bryrion looks at me with big eyes.
“Don’t apologize,” she shakes her head. “You look shaken up.”
“I shouldn’t be climbing ladders anymore, should I?” I ask, rubbing my belly and sighing.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Just a little anxious.”
Bryrion looks at me, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“I promise I’m alright,” I insist, reaching out to run a soothing hand over her arm. “I didn’t fall, see? I’m fine.”
“So you haven’t heard the news yet?” she asks, voice thick. My brows furrow.
“What news?” I ask, heart pounding in my chest. If it’s Demethys, any news is welcome. My stomach is in knots. Bryrion is silent for too long. “What news?” I ask again, voice rising. “Bryrion, what news?”
Bryrion sniffles and wipes her eyes. “Oh gods, Harper. I can’t…I thought Ivrir would have told you.”
“What’s going on?” I demand.
“I’m just worried about you. About the baby. The news came this morning, early. Why didn’t anyone tell you?” she says, sounding nearly hysterical.
“Byrion, please for the Thirteen, please tell me what is going on?”
“It’s Master Demethys,” she says, dropping her voice. “News came from the battlefield. A letter, addressed to Ivrir. Master Demethys died on the battlefield a few days ago.”
“NO!” I scream, clutching at my best friend as I sob. I almost fall but Bryrion holds me up.
“Harper, there’s more,” Bryrion says, cradling me. I can hardly calm down but I sniffle, watching her through tear-filled eyes. “His family wants to sell everything he owns. Including us!”
“No, what?” I ask, blinking and wiping away my tears. “Selling us off? Like we’re a herd of taura?”
“It’s unfair,” she agrees. “But you need to leave. You need to keep his child safe. If they sell you off, who knows what might happen to you both.”
She’s right. They might separate us. They might sell me to an even crueler master than I had before. I can’t stay here and wait for them to decide my fate.
“Thank you, Bryrion,” I tell her, hugging her tightly.
“Go somewhere far away from here. Protect the master’s child,” she says, blinking back more tears.
I nod, understanding where she’s coming from. Even though my heart aches, even though I’ve lost the love of my life, I have to do what’s best for our child. For Demethys’ son or daughter.
If I stay here, I risk getting the child sold off as a zagfer servant—or worse—as a half-human slave. No one would believe they were the child of such a prominent family and half-human children are looked down upon in dark elf society.
The rest of the day passes by in a blur. I can’t even do my chores. I decide that it doesn’t matter anymore and take to my bedroom, laying down in the dark as I sob my eyes out. I’ve lost the only man I’ve ever loved.
My fears came true. Everything I felt inside was telling me that something was wrong. I knew that Master Demethys was in danger. I should have listened to my gut.
But then again, what could I have even done? I couldn’t have gone out to wherever he was and stopped his death. It’s not like I could simply write to him and tell him I had a bad feeling—I wouldn’t have even known where to send the letter.
No, I couldn’t have done anything to stop it and that only makes it worse. I roll over and clutch at my belly. It’s still quite small, barely even more than the slightest of swells but I rub it anyway, trying to soothe the ache inside of me that I know will never be mended. My whole world came crashing down today.
Everything that mattered to me is gone. And if I stay, I’m likely to face an even harder life. I wish I’d never met Demethys. I wish I’d never agreed to work for him. Then I wouldn’t feel so lost and alone and angry.
It’s not fair! Why did you have to make me love you? I ask him silently as tears stream down my cheeks. Why did I have to fall for your handsome face, your easy charm, your kindness? Why did you have to go and leave me that day? Why couldn’t you have just stayed? Why didn’t I agree when you suggested quitting your job?
The questions plague me all through the evening and into the night. I can’t move. I’m numb inside. It hurts so badly. I clutch my pillow close and scream into it, my despair taking over as I thrash around and sob, grief-stricken over losing everything in the space of one day.
Late that night, I sit up and wipe my eyes. I can’t do this. I can’t be there for my baby if I stay here. I need to leave like Bryrion suggested. I don’t know where to go so I pack a bag and head out, going to the only other person I can trust right now.
I head to the local parchment shop, which I started going to on my own after I met the shopgirl, a human named Charmaine, a few months back. We became fast friends and I would come for our spice order once a week and spend an hour gabbing.
She’s the only person I trust outside of the master’s household who I can talk to right now. Charmaine is just finishing up her nightly inventory when I knock on the door, startling her.
“Charmaine?” I ask, tears in my eyes.
“Gods, what happened, Harper?” she asks me, taking in my disheveled appearance and my red-rimmed eyes.
“Demethys…he’s dead, Char!” I sob. “They got the news this morning! He was killed in battle. Oh gods!”
“Harper!” Charmaine hugs me tightly, wrapping herself around me and stroking my hair. “I’m so sorry!”
“And…I haven’t told you yet but I just found out I’m pregnant with his baby,” I whisper through my tears.
“Oh gods, Harper. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do. Or where to go. I can’t stay here. They’re going to sell off all the servants.”
“You can go south,” Charmaine offers. “I heard there’s this place in the southern seas, south of Tlouz. It’s an island where they have human refugees. They work there and the humans are treated better than they are here in Oshta. You and your child would be safe there.”
I hug her tighter. “Thank you so much Charmaine. I don’t have a lot of money. How can I get there?”
“I’ll help you,” Charmaine says, giving me a squeeze. “I want to help you. You’ve always been so kind to me. My master gives me a little money, I’ll go buy you a ticket now. You can stay here and cry as much as you need while I’m gone.”
“I can never repay you,” I tell her.
“Don’t worry about it,” she promises. I watch her leave and start sobbing again. I’ve lost the only person who mattered to me and now I have to leave everything behind, everything in Oshta. This place was my home and I have to say goodbye.
Charmaine returns after a while, just before the sun has started to peep over the horizon. She presses a ticket into my hands, insisting that it’s the least she can do to help me.
I try to stand up but I crumble under the weight of my grief, collapsing into Charmaine’s arms. “You can do it,” she murmurs, stroking my hair.
“I can’t!” I wail, eyes swollen from all the crying I’ve done and head pounding from a creeping headache.
“Yes you can,” Charmaine insists. “You have to be strong now. It’s not just you anymore.”
She’s right. I have to think of our unborn child. I have to be strong for him or her.