Chapter Text
Malls are terrible, awful places. We used to come here a lot to escape Faerie, but even that felt more like something Taryn and I did for Vivi—to reassure her we hadn’t forgotten where we came from.
I never minded coming here for her. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I’ve been anything but impartial to malls. They were a one-stop shop for all sorts of human necessities.
Now, weaving through the throng of mortals, who are all doing their best to drive a pic-axe through my skull by the sounds of their voices alone, I can’t believe I ever tolerated coming here.
Taryn holds Lorelei’s hand as she bounces along beside her. For only two, Lore is rather swift on her feet. She could give the speed-walking mall moms a run for their money.
Vivi has her arm slung over Heather’s shoulder. They’re laughing at something I don’t hear. Heather carries her Polaroid camera and snaps photo after photo of Lore in all her varying shades of toddler cheek.
Oak is holding my hand, swinging it wildly about between us.
I’m made nauseous by the thick cloud of cloying smells in the hall. Perfume and fake cheese and nail polish, all at once.
There are so many people in my way. Either unintentionally because they’re idiots, or intentionally because they want me to buy something. Both reasons make me want to shove them hard.
There are also way too many babies, screaming bloody murder or shrieking with laughter. I know they’re just babies, and they can’t help it. But it still makes me want to rage at them.
Suddenly, I don’t blame most of my subjects for turning up their noses at humans. We’re horrible.
When we make it to the food court, Oak lets go of my hand. He runs toward Panda Express, pointing at the big glowing signs above the counter. They advertise things like chicken in a bright orange glaze, fried noodles in a plum sauce, and egg rolls fried to a flaky, golden crisp.
Each dish is displayed behind lighted glass on the counter. The sight of them makes me want to vomit.
“I’ll get us a table,” I say.
A crease appears between Vivi’s brows. “You want anything?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug.
Taryn gives me an odd look, but only bends down to pick up Lore, hoisting the toddler onto the jut of her hip so she can survey her lunch options in all the shiny metal bins behind the glass.
I slog off to a group of small tables shoved together to make one long one. Collapsing in a chair, I try to think of things that don’t make me feel ill.
I move through the minutes as one might through quicksand. I have my head in my hands when Vivi plunks herself down across from me. Heather is sipping on a very large soda and takes the seat next to my sister.
They have trays of their own, bearing an assortment of fast food delicacies—waffle fries, orange chicken, a sub sandwich stuffed with deli meats.
“Brought you pizza,” Vivi says, sliding a red plastic tray my way. “You were looking a little pale.”
There’s a massive slice, cheese and grease oozing over the side of a paper plate. Next to it is a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Usually, I would scarf down this kind of meal and lick my fingers for good measure.
Now, I just grimace.
“What’s the matter with you?” Vivi asks. “I’ve never seen you turn down pizza before.”
“I told you,” I say. “I’m not hungry.”
Taryn joins us, sliding into the chair next to me. She sets down a tray laden with the finest Asian fusion dishes the Maine Mall has to offer.
“Oak and Lore went to check out the charity box,” she says, nodding in the direction of a huge black funnel. “Gave them three coins each.”
Oak stands near a sloped edge of the funnel and places a coin on its side at the very top. Lore stands on her tip-toes to get a good view, her head of copper curls bobbing in anticipation.
Together, they watch as the coin rolls down the ramp, right into the vortex where it keeps rolling on its edge. Around and around, faster and faster it spins, until it reaches the bottom, dropping with a heavy clink into the collection box below.
“Those things are designed for child manipulation, you know,” Vivi says.
Taryn waves her off. “So long as it keeps them entertained,” she says, then turns to face us again. “What’d I miss?”
“Jude isn’t eating,” Vivi informs her. “Not even pizza.”
My twin frowns at me. “What’s wrong, Jude?”
“Nothing,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I just have a headache.”
“Soda might help,” Heather says. She scoots her gigantic cup towards me. I consider it for a moment.
She’s right, of course. I could just be dehydrated. Or possibly, I have low blood sugar. Though something in me doubts that after the massive plate of smoked salmon and eggs I all but inhaled this morning.
I press my lips into a thin smile, bringing the straw to my lips. If anything, the cold feels nice.
“Did you eat breakfast before we came?” Taryn asks me.
I nod. “I don’t think that’s the issue, though,” I say, pushing Heather’s soda back across the table. “I haven’t been feeling right since this morning.”
Vivi looks at me, incredulous. “You’ve had a headache this whole time and you didn’t say anything?”
“It’s just a headache. It’ll pass.”
“Is it?” she asks. “Just a headache?”
I hate that she knows me so well. And if I lie, she will know that, too. “No,” I grumble, finally.
“If you were feeling unwell, Jude, you shouldn’t have come.” Vivi says this as a matter of fact. As if we haven’t been planning this trip to the mortal world for months.
Turns out, it’s hard being High Queen and sister to someone with a permanent residence in what is practically a different country.
“I was determined to see you,” I sigh, laying my head down on my folded arms in front of me.
“Yeah?” Vivi says. “And how’s that going for you?”
“It would be better if my sisters were not so solicitous.” My voice comes out less assertive than I’d like and garbled by the table.
“Ah, yes,” Vivi mocks. “How dare we, your family, ask you questions about your well-being?” She snags the pizza off my plate and tears a big bite off the end.
“If we were not so solicitous,” Taryn says, “Cardan would have our heads for sending you home sick.”
“I’ll remind you that I am the haver of heads in our relationship,” I say, glancing up. They all have concerned brows and wary stares, though I don’t believe it’s for their own safety.
I understand their concern and their wariness. I just wish they would aim it at something more important.
I plaster on a feeble grin and add, “Lucky for you, I say you can keep yours.”
“How generous,” Vivi snorts.
“Cardan is more likely to have my head, actually,” I say, closing my eyes.
“It amazes me that you still can’t see it,” Taryn says.
I peek at her face through one squinted eye. She’s shaking her head, which is the worst possible reaction.
“See what, Taryn?” I ask, because if I don’t, she’ll tell me anyway. I brace myself for another lecture on why I shouldn’t spread myself so thin—or some other equally crappy advice that I wouldn’t know how to follow even if I wanted to.
But she just fixes me with a stern look and says, “That boy would paint whole cities red for you.”
I blink. Well, I was not expecting that.
Cardan has always taken pride in the fact that he has killed no one. Rarely shuts up about it, actually. Apart from when he was a serpent—which apparently doesn’t count because he had no self-awareness, or so he claims—his hands are remarkably clean for a king. Of blood, at least.
But I suppose a good deal of time has passed since a threat last loomed over Faerie. Things in Elfhame have been relatively peaceful. Perhaps I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have something I love held constantly in peril. How far both of us would go to protect that thing.
I think about how Cardan looked when I was returned to Elfhame after my sojourn in the Undersea. The fury glittering in his eyes. The waves crashing violently against the rocks.
“She’s right, you know,” Vivi says, “And red is so not my colour. So spill.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I feel… lightheaded. Dizzy. A little nauseous, too. Like I may have a fever or something.”
“Do you have cold sweats?” Heather asks, stabbing a piece of orange chicken with her fork.
“No, I’m just really warm.”
“It is summer,” Taryn points out.
I shake my head. “This is different. I’m exhausted, too. The kind of tired where everything hurts. That could be the fever, though.”
A thoughtful expression crosses Taryn’s face. Her gaze drifts to where Lore and Oak still watch with rapt attention as their coins spin down the funnel. I think about joining them, if not to escape this interrogation.
“Or,” Vivi interjects, “It could be that you’re only twenty-one, and you’re running an entire kingdom?”
I clench my jaw. “And I’ve been doing so for three years, Vivi. I’m used to it.”
“Maybe this is your burnout.” She takes another bite of my pizza, then points the slice at me, a cheese-smeared accusation. “Maybe you need a little breather.”
My nails dig into the meat of my palms.
We’ve had this discussion before. It unsettles me that she should be so sure I will crack under the pressure of responsibility. But she is as adamant about this as she has been since the day of our coronation.
I will always be the naive little sister to her. No matter the heights or station to which I ascend. I could become like a god, and Vivi will always think I am in over my head.
“It would be natural, Jude,” Heather says softly. “To want a bit of a break.”
“I don’t burn out,” I snap, glaring at them. “And I don’t need a break from being Queen. So stop trying to convince me. It isn’t going to work.”
“Yeesh,” Vivi says, “We were only suggesting—”
“Well, don’t.”
“Okay, okay.” She makes a gesture of surrender and goes back to her food.
I wonder briefly if Madoc put her up to this. If, somehow, he managed to sink his hooks into her, too—convinced her to persuade me off the throne so he could swoop in, the bright knight once more.
But then I remember how much Vivi loathes our father. She would rather live in Elfhame forever than see him come to power.
“Jude?” Taryn’s voice sounds. “When are you due for your next period?”
I narrow my eyes. “If you’re trying to imply something witty about PMSing, you can shove off, Taryn,” I say. “I’m not on my period.”
“I wasn’t,” she tells me, looking earnest enough. “And that’s not what I’m asking.”
My eyebrows sink into a concentrated V. Now that she mentions it, I’m really not sure. Which I am aware may sound stupid for a mortal like me, who’s bleedings occur monthly.
But the irregularity of my cycles has always made tracking them a futile task. Stress, I’ve heard, is reason enough for this in humans. And I can’t remember more than a handful of days in Faerie that haven’t been stressful.
Besides, ever since I became High Queen, I’ve had more salient things on my mind. Usually, my period just happens—and I deal with it when it does. “I don’t know,” I tell her. “Probably soon.”
Taryn bites her lip.
Suddenly, we are rushed by two bounding children. Their excitement rolls off of them in exhausting waves. I rest my chin on my arms again.
Oak grabs a fry off of Vivi’s plate, and Lorelei climbs into Taryn’s lap. She flings her little arms around her mother’s neck.
“Mama,” Lore says, nuzzling Taryn’s shoulder. “Can we have more coins?”
“What happened to the ones I gave you?”
“All gone.” She holds out her empty palms, proof they’d spent their last copper.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Taryn says. “Eat two pieces of chicken, and I’ll give you two coins.”
Lore’s eyes light up at the opportunity for a bargain. Bargains are things that grown faeries make. Young fae are typically, and understandably, excluded from such dealings.
I am unsure whether Lore hasn’t yet grasped the rules of spoken word and how differently they apply to mortal tongues, or if she simply trusts her mother enough to know she won’t go back on her promise.
Either way, she reaches for the plate on Taryn’s tray.
“If I eat five pieces will you give me five coins?” Oak asks through a mouthful of orange chicken.
“I’ll give you five coins if you don’t make a mess of your shirt while you’re eating,” Heather says, shoving a wad of napkins in Oak’s face just as a glob of sauce dribbles down his chin. She swipes it up quickly.
Oak gives her a broad grin. “Deal.”
When Lore is finished with her two chicken nuggets, Taryn fishes out a velvet coin purse from her bag. Heather dutifully inspects Oak’s shirt before digging in her own pockets for change. Once they’ve collected their earnings, the children go running back to the charity box.
Taryn turns on me. “When was the last time you and Cardan… you know…”
Heat pricks my cheeks, and I give her a wild look. “Are you really asking me about my sex life right now? There are children.”
Taryn seems unruffled. “They’re going to learn about it some day. Besides, they can’t hear us.”
I think about fae hearing and really hope she’s right. “If you’re suggesting,” I hiss, “That I’m in a piss poor mood because of a dry spell, I’ll have you know it’s not that.”
“So, recently then.”
I grit my teeth. “Yes.”
Taryn’s face twists in thought. “How recent is rece—”
“Dear gods, Taryn. Last night,” I blurt. “It was last night.”
Heather suppresses a snicker behind her coke. Vivi pops a Dorito into her mouth, smirking. My cheeks blaze.
I don’t know if I’m more mortified by the intrusive nature of her questions or by what she’s implying. That she believes PMS or a dry spell over the possibility of illness.
“Okay,” Taryn says. “And the time before?”
I look daggers at her. “I’m not going to tell you every time I’ve had sex in the past year.”
“I don’t need the whole year.” A teasing smile tugs at her lips. “Just the past month or so.”
I steeple my fingers in front of me. “Let’s just assume Cardan and I are not in a dry spell and have not been for… longer than that.”
“You’ve been taking a draught then, I take it,” Taryn says. “Or at least using protection?”
I feel myself blanch.
Oh.
Oh no.
My stomach does a little flip. She cannot be suggesting what I think she’s suggesting. Even if it were possible for me to be pregnant, which it’s not, I’d rather be at once PMSing and in a dry spell.
Regardless, I will not sit here and be lampooned by my own sister.
My chair screeches across the tiles as I go flying to my feet. Then, I’m taking off across the food court in a breathless fury.
I’m about halfway to Claire’s when Taryn calls from behind me. “Jude, wait! Where are you going?”
I whirl around on a dime, coming face to face with her. She almost runs right into me.
“I am going to CVS,” I tell her, “To pick up some Tylenol for this headache, which definitely does not have anything to do with pregnancy, as you so kindly hinted for all the mall to hear.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” my sister says. “Honestly.”
Over her shoulder, I see Vivi, Heather, Oak, and Lorelei have caught up with us now. They stand a few feet away, apprehension written on their faces.
I heave a sigh. “I know. I’m sorry, it’s just—” My eyes mash shut. “My head is killing me.”
A gentle hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “We can leave the mall, if that’s what you want.”
I’m too weak to shrug her off so I nod meekly.
“Okay,” Taryn says. She turns to where the others are gathered and waves them over. “Come on, guys.”
“Are we going to Build-A-Bear?” Oak asks. “I want to make one for Lore.”
“That’s very kind of you, sweets,” Taryn says. “But we’re going to CVS and then we’re going home.”
“CVS?” Heather asks.
“Jude needs Tylenol,” Taryn informs her. “For her, uh… headache.”
☽☽☽☽☽
There’s a CVS right across the street from the mall. We walk to it. Though the sun droops low in the sky, it’s still muggy outside. Swarms of gnats flit about our ears.
The walk does nothing to quell the stress of our little outing. Nor does it shake the lingering sense of anxiety clinging to my thoughts.
The automatic doors to CVS slide open when we approach. Without saying a word, I stalk off to find the medicine aisle.
“I hope you’re planning on buying a pregnancy test, too,” Vivi calls after me.
I shoot a middle finger over my shoulder and don’t look back.
“Jude’s pregnant?” I hear Oak gasp.
I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, turning sharply down the nearest aisle so I’m out of their view.
Could this be any more mortifying?
I don’t think I’m pregnant, of course. We’ve been using protection. Or at least, all the protection Elfhame can provide on a regular basis. A simple draught cooked up by one of the palace nurses. Rare, considering the low birthrate of faeries, but not unheard of.
I’d been embarrassed to ask for it in the first place. Fae children are exceedingly uncommon, and I had a feeling this meant any measures taken to prevent them would be frowned upon.
But the thought of raising a child while still trying to gain our footing on the throne is what ultimately sent me hurtling for the nurse’s corridor. Tiny crystal vials of varying colors have been delivered to the High Chambers every morning since.
I haven’t missed a dose.
I find the Tylenol in the medicine aisle. I grab a thermometer, too, in case Heather doesn’t have one.
This headache makes me feel like someone’s cracking my skull open like a walnut. The air conditioning in CVS is blessedly cool, though, and I try to focus on that.
With my haul, I make my way to the checkout. Vivi is standing there with a bag of her own, flipping through the glossy pages of a magazine. She has a lollipop stick hanging out of the side of her mouth.
“What did you buy?” I ask when I’ve paid.
“This lollipop,” Vivi tells me, pulling it out and giving it a flourish. It’s bottle green and looks disgusting. “Oh, and pregnancy tests.” She shoots me a devilish grin.
My stomach does another little flip. If it wasn’t for the fact that my sisters are currently trying to prove that I am pregnant, I would have rushed to the parking lot to be sick. As it stands, I’m trying to prove them wrong.
I muster up a simper for my dear older sister. “For you, I hope.”
“I’m not the pregnant one.” Vivi closes the magazine she’s holding and places it back on the rack.
“Neither am I,” I tell her firmly, nodding at the bag in her hand. “So you can return those.”
She doesn’t budge. “Oh, come on, Jude. Humour us.”
“No.” I step around her and out the automatic doors. “I don’t think you’d find me very funny.” The summer air is thick and cloying—claustrophobic on my skin.
Vivi doesn’t leave off, remaining close on my tail. Which is annoying and makes me want to snap again. But I think that might bolster her and Taryn’s point further, so I clench my jaw against her badgering.
“If you’re so sure you’re not pregnant, what do you have to lose?”
“Time?” I offer, looking for the bus stop on this side of the street. “And my dignity.”
“Fine,” Vivi says, “What say we make a bargain?”
A laugh bubbles to my lips. “I’m not bargaining with you.”
“A deal, then?” Vivi grabs my wrist to stop me. She wants me to take her seriously. I do not, but I roll my eyes and wait. “I will give you $8.95 in real mortal dollars for every test that comes back negative.”
I cock my head to the side. “Why $8.95?”
“That’s how much one of these babies cost.” Vivi pulls a box out of the bag and gives it a shake. The contents rattle around inside.
I give her an acidic look. Really? A baby pun? Tasteless considering I’m not pregnant.
I regard her for a moment. If I take those tests, I could get my sisters to stop hounding me about things I am nowhere near ready to consider—things that make me want to be swallowed up by a black hole, or fling myself into the stormy sea.
I’d also get some money out of it. Which I would probably just give back to Vivi and Heather anyway, since they’re always skint. But I could buy myself a lotto ticket first. Or maybe a packet of Skittles. The tropical kind that taste like a sugary vacation.
“And if it comes back positive?” I ask out of curiosity, not because I believe it will. I want to know what’s in it for her, and I refuse to participate in being the butt of a joke for less than thirty bucks.
Vivi’s cat-eyes gleam in the setting sun. “Consider it my ‘congrats on getting knocked up but please don’t ask me to attend the birth of said little progeny’ present.”
I scoff. As if I’d want anyone but the midwives there to witness such a butcherly event.
I would maybe allow Cardan to accompany me; but only if he wanted to, and only if I could use him as a personal punching bag in lieu of an epidural.
Then I wonder if they might have epidurals in Elfhame. Or some magical substitute of the sort. If they don’t, maybe I can ask that one be acquired from the nearest mortal hospital.
I shake my head because I’m getting way too ahead of myself. I’m not pregnant, and don’t plan on being for a very long time. I square my shoulders.
“Fine,” I say to Vivi. “Make it ten real mortal dollars. For every negative or inconclusive test. Consider the extra charge a tax for my wasted time and dignity.”
Vivi gasps a mock. “A Queen taxing her subject? You know, some around here might think that’s in poor taste.”
I have no idea what she means by that, so I shrug and pluck the lollipop from her mouth. It makes a popping sound against her lips. “Fortunately,” I say, “I don’t care what anyone thinks.” I stick the candied end between my teeth.
It tastes like kiwi and a lot better than I expect.
With that, I sling my plastic CVS bag over my shoulder and strut across the parking lot toward the bus stop.
“Hey!” Vivi shouts after me. “If you get your gross sick germs all over that—”
“According to you,” I remind her, “I’m not sick. So you have nothing to worry about.”
☽☽☽☽☽
We take the bus back to Vivi and Heather’s apartment. The whole way there, Oak asks a string of insufferable questions.
“Is it a boy or girl?”
“We don’t know that yet, sweets,” Taryn says, bouncing Lore on her knee.
“What are you going to name them?”
“I think that’s up to Jude and Cardan to decide,” Vivi tells him.
“Am I going to be a big brother again?” Oak wonders.
“No, dear,” Heather says, chuckling. “That’s not how that works.”
“You’ll be an uncle again,” Vivi grins. “Even better.”
“And a cousin,” Taryn says. “Technically.”
Heather frowns. “How does that…”
“It’s a complicated family tree.” Vivi stretches an arm over Heather’s shoulder. “I’ll draw it out for you when we get home.”
I scowl, refusing to look any of them in the eyes.
Reaching into my shopping bag, I retrieve the bottle of Tylenol and pop two in my mouth, swallowing them dry.
I press my forehead against the grimy window. Exhaustion sweeps over me. I know I’ll need a nap, or several, after this. I close my eyes and hope that home comes swiftly.
☽☽☽☽☽
When we arrive back at the apartment, Heather puts the kettle on for tea. I flop down on the couch and let the weight of the day smother me into the cushions.
Oak leaps over the back of the sofa, dropping down beside me. He turns the television on. It’s already on Cartoon Network, so he leaves it there and finishes off my bag of Doritos that Vivi rolled up and saved when it became clear I wasn’t going to eat them.
I stare at the TV without really seeing it. Everything is acute, splintered in my vision. The bus ride broke down any resolve I once had. I am nauseous with nerves.
I know I can’t be pregnant, but what if I am?
I think about how I wanted to scream at the babies in the mall for crying. I think of the way I wanted to shout at Sophie for breaking down when I was trying to save her. Of the way the sound of child’s laughter has only ever made me a particular shade of cruel I don’t like to think about overmuch.
I would be a horrible mother.
“Here,” Vivi says, sticking a bottle of Gatorade right in my face, making me blink. “Drink up.”
I cross my arms over my chest and slump further into the sofa. “M’not thirsty.”
“Well, that’s too bad, your Majesty,” she quips, crouching down so she’s at my eye level. Like I’m a child. I scowl like one, too. “You’re going to drink this for two reasons. One, you’re looking even paler now than you did in the food court.”
“The bus made me nauseous,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine.”
Vivi ignores me. “And two, you have to pee on a stick,” she says, gesturing to the CVS bag on the coffee table. “Or, I guess, three sticks.”
I groan.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she says, wagging a finger. “You made a deal, remember?”
I glare up at her for a moment before snatching the bottle from her hand. “Fine.” The cap clicks as I twist it off and take a swig of blue liquid. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “But only because when I win, I’m buying myself the biggest package of Tropical Skittles I can find. And I’m sharing none with you.”
“If you’re not pregnant, Jude, I will give you thirty bucks and all the Tropical Skittles in the candy aisle.” Then, my awful older sister leans over and plants an awful kiss on my forehead.
I feel my face flood with red humiliation.
Vivi joins Heather and Taryn at the dining table. I remain sulking on the couch with Oak, watching cartoons and sipping my Gatorade, trying hard not to think of screaming babies and dirty diapers.
When the bottle is empty, I grab the plastic bag of horrors from the coffee table and head for the bathroom. On my way, Vivi raises a mug of tea in salute.
“Good luck!” Taryn chimes.
I don’t know what she means by that so I roll my eyes and slam the door.
Alone in the bathroom, I can finally think. I lean over the sink taking deep calming breaths.
This is stupid, I tell myself. There’s no reason to get worked up. Yet, my heart races like I’m sparring an especially challenging opponent.
I raise my eyes to the mirror.
I look terrible. Worse probably than when I first tried my hand at mithridatism. Definitely worse than after my first lesson with the Ghost.
I splash cool water on my face to calm down.
My hands shake as I remove the tests one by one from their Pepto Bismol pink cardboard boxes. I lay them out in a neat row on the counter. Then, I read the instruction pamphlets through. Twice.
I shake my head. I am being a coward. I just need to buck up and do it. Vivi is right. I’m not pregnant, so what do I have to lose?
Waiting is the hard part. I flush the toilet and place the peed-on sticks back in their little row on the counter before washing my hands. The instructions say I am to wait three minutes to confirm a negative result.
Three minutes isn’t that long, I think. But time always moves differently when you’re expecting something.
I lie down on the tiled floor, resting my head on the braided floor mat.
Once, when Taryn and I were little and still living in the mortal world, we were charged with taking care of the class newt for the weekend.
Taryn was off buying new shoes with mom because hers didn’t fit anymore, and I stayed home to watch Fig (yes, his name was Fig the Newt—but what else could you expect from a class full of six-year-olds).
Of course, newts don’t really do much, so I got bored after about five minutes. I felt sad that Fig should always have to stay in his little tank. So I took him out for some “fresh air”, sitting him atop the lime green composition notebook on my nightstand.
“There,” I remember telling him. “It’s green, just like home.”
I fed Fig treats from the palm of my hand and, after a few, I decided he must be thirsty from all this excitement. Newts liked cool, wet environments, according to Mrs. Myers.
So, like the dutiful temporary ward I was, I went downstairs and filled a plastic Tupperware container with water. I was only gone for a minute. I didn’t think it would matter. But when I got back to my room, Fig was gone.
Vivi helped me search the upstairs for an hour before mom and Taryn got home. Then we all searched some more, tearing up the whole house in our wake.
We never found Fig. Taryn was devastated.
The next time we were at the farmer’s market, we bought a cactus from the plant lady and named it in his honor. A month later, Fig the cactus died.
I can’t take care of a salamander. I can’t even take care of a cactus. I am known by an entire kingdom of immortal creatures as a murderous wielder of blades.
How the hell am I supposed to care for a baby?
A knock sounds at the door and I start.
“Jude?” Taryn’s voice comes muffled through the door. “You alright in there?”
Looking at my watch, I realise I’ve been lying here for far longer than three minutes.
“Give her time, Taryn,” I hear Heather say. “She might still be working up the nerve.”
“Ten bucks says she jumped out the window,” Vivi says. “Fled the scene.”
“You need to stop making bets,” Heather scolds, “Or it’ll become a habit.”
The rest of their conversation fades away as I swallow and pick myself up off the floor. My heart speeds. Squaring my shoulders, I look down at the three tests.
Six lines glare back at me. They are judging little things, as if they see the whole of me and know that I am much too unworthy for the role I will soon have to play.
There is something rising in my throat. I feel as if I’m drawing away from the cluttered bathroom, the din of chatter outside the door, the rawness in my chest. Back and back into the haze of my mind. Slipping into it is like slipping into a pool of held breath.
I’m not pregnant. This isn’t real. I’m going to wake up now. I’ll be sweaty and panicked, but Cardan will be there to reassure me and everything will be fine.
Only, it’s not.
Because when I open my eyes again, I’m still in the bathroom in Vivi and Heather’s apartment. And the pregnancy tests are still lying in all their positive, two-lined reprehensibility on the countertop.
I rip the door open.
A crowd has gathered in the hall right outside, it seems. They lapse into immediate silence when they see me.
“Well?” Someone says. I am not sure who, because I’m staring blankly past all of them, into the sitting room where Oak and Lore are sprawled on the couch sharing the last of my Doritos.
“Positive,” I say, and I’m numb when I say it. Then, I look at them and feel nothing about that, too. “They’re positive.”
“All of them?” Taryn squeaks.
I give a curt nod of my head.
“Congratu—” Vivi starts, but I cut her off with a glower.
“Don’t.” I push past the group into the living room. Oak and Lore look up at the disturbance.
“Jude, wait,” Taryn says.
I’m being followed, I can tell. But I don’t pause, heading straight for the kitchen. Once there, I turn on the stove.
“What are you doing?” Vivi wants to know. They’re all standing in the doorway of the kitchen, observing me like I’m some sort of museum exhibit.
“I’m making tea,” I tell her in as calm a voice as I can. Blood rushes in my ears. I fill the kettle with water from the tap. It all sounds the same.
“So… that’s it?” Vivi asks. “You don’t want to talk about it?”
I slam the kettle down on the stove. Water sizzles and pops as it sloshes over the sides. “You want to talk, Vivi?” I whirl around. Three pairs of eyes widen, their expressions nearly identical. They think I’ve gone mad. They’re probably right. “Fine,” I say. “Why don’t we talk about how this is all your fault.”
Vivi gives me a horribly smug look. “I should hope not,” she says. “You have no one but yourself and your husband to blame for this, sweetheart.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “If you hadn’t pushed me into taking those stupid tests, pregnancy and panic and… pregnancy panic would be the furthest things from my mind.” I choke all of this out and hate how brittle my voice sounds.
“It wouldn’t make you any less pregnant, though,” Vivi says pointedly.
A sound of frustration gutters in my throat. Throwing my head back, I implore the ceiling for guidance, but there’s only water stains. I dig the heels of my palms against my eyes.
“Jude,” Taryn says. “Why are you so distressed by this? You love Cardan, don’t you?”
“I do,” I rasp, letting my arms fall to my sides. “Gods, you have no idea.” Everything is blurry for a second while my eyes readjust to the light.
Taryn purses her lips. “Then why aren’t you happier about this?”
“Just because you were a teen mom,” I snap, “Doesn’t mean the rest of us want to be.”
Taryn flinches like I’ve slapped her. She folds her arms around herself.
“Stop being a jackass, Jude,” Vivi chides. “Besides, you’re twenty-one. You’ll hardly be a teen mom.”
“I just…” My jaw sets. “I don’t understand how this could’ve happened.”
“Really?” Vivi asks, disbelieving. “Because it seems pretty self-explanatory to me.”
I give her a black look. “We use protection. Always. I take a draught every morning before bed.”
Taryn pulls an odd face, but she quickly averts her gaze when she notices my attention, and starts fidgeting with the tassels on her shirt.
“And you haven’t missed a dose?” Heather asks me.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod.
“Maybe the nurses made it wrong,” Taryn suggests, and I arch a brow at her. “What? Mistakes happen.” She shrugs, mumbling under her breath, “Clearly.”
I choose to ignore her snide remark. “If that’s the case, they’re all dead.”
“Whoa, hang on,” Vivi warns. “That’s a pretty steep price to pay for what’s normally considered a good thing.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not a good thing to me.” The words barrel out of me before I can stop them. And then they just hang there in the air like grotesque festoons.
The silence that follows is unbearably sharp. So sharp it feels as if someone has punctured my lungs with a shard of it.I don’t feel bad about my outburst, because what I said was true. I just feel ashamed for having spoken the thought aloud. It’s not really the kind of thing a normal person would say about their unborn child. Though, I feel maybe that just reinforces my theory.
Either way, I am so out of sorts I can’t keep track of what to say and what to keep to myself. I am entirely unmoored.
“I’m going to bed,” I say in a frayed sort of voice. “Excuse me.”
I duck out of the kitchen.
It is a ridiculous excuse. It’s only a little past midday by faerie standards. But I don’t think I can bear their judgement much longer.
Tonight, I will allow myself to cower, because it is the only thing I presently know to do.
When I’m back in my makeshift room, which is actually Heather’s office space turned guest bedroom, I close the door softly behind me and lean against it.
I can’t breathe without tremors racking my body. It feels like air is being forced into my lungs, one long wave of breath that rises and rises but never crests. This feeling claws at my chest. I’m afraid it will never stop.
All these years, I’ve resented Vivi for treating me like I couldn’t handle myself, like I was in over my head. Now, I think that maybe she’s been right all along. I’m in way too far over my head.
I feel sick to my stomach. One hand raises on its own accord, coming to rest on my belly. I snatch it away instantly.
To steady the panic, I set small goals for myself.
Stop leaning against the door.
Stand up straight.
Walk over to the satchel in the corner of the room.
Find nightclothes.
I change into my pyjamas, biting my lip hard the whole time to keep from crying. When I slip under the sheets and turn out the light, I haven’t shed one tear.
I guess that’s a small kind of accomplishment, too.
☽☽☽☽☽