NOT THE SAME AS LETTING HIM STAY

Elaris's POV

Morning comes without footsteps outside the house.

For the first time since Averic came to her door, Elaris wakes without wondering whether someone is waiting beyond it.

The fire has burned down. Neryss is awake already, checking the shutters, peering the road from a small slit in the curtain.

Nothing has changed.

No note this morning.

No messenger.

No unexpected rider.

The two anonymous messages still sit hidden where Elaris put them last night wrapped in cloth below a loose floorboard.

She does not touch them.

There is nothing more they need to tell her this morning.

Neryss prepares breakfast while Elaris folds the blanket, straightens the small room, their movements forming a sort of habit.

This unsettles Elaris more than danger would have.

She has spent so long surviving one crisis after another that peace feels something of a transitory state.

Still, she allows herself to sit at the table and eat.

Near mid-day, the swish of wheels reaches the house.

Neryss immediately away from the table.

"Stay inside."

Elaris only manages to go as far as the window following her.

A small cart, presumably of supplies has stopped several lengths from the house. Two palace servants climb down and begin emptying its contents.

They maintain the distance Averic promised.

No one knocks.

No one demands.

No one tries to speak to Elaris.

Crates of food arrive first, then covered containers of water, medical supplies and clean bandages, bundles of firewood.

One of the servants pauses to check the list in his hand.

"The Alpha ordered these delivered."

Neryss's features darken.

"He said no one would disturb her."

The servant merely nods.

"We were instructed not to enter the yard."

They finish, crawl back onto the cart and are gone without another word.

Elaris watches until the wheels have disappeared around the bend.

Averic has somehow found a way to serve her without coming inside.

She is not altogether sure it was meant to be easier.

Neryss checks every crate before allowing them to be taken inside.

She looks the seals over.

She opens the medical chest.

She smells the herbs.

She examines the water containers for any tell-tale sign of tampering.

There is nothing hidden beneath the supplies.

Nothing with an unfamiliar scent. Nothing tucked between the packages of food with a message for Elaris. No request, no insistence that she reevaluate her position or consider him again.

Even the packages do not carry the mark of personal delivery.

Yet everything Elaris could have gathered herself is good enough to last her several days: enough food for several days, clean bandages, pregnancy-safe herbs, essence-restoring broth, firewood, fresh blankets, already cut into more manageable lengths.

Elaris stares around at the collection for several seconds.

"We keep them."

Neryss looks up at her.

"You're sure?"

"I won't punish the child to prove that I can live without him."

That seals it.

They take everything in.

Elaris accepts the practical help without pretending it means anything else.

The afternoon passes undisturbed.

I begin setting up a life around the small house.

I wash the clothes, sort the herbs, check the water.

I pace from one end of the house to the other if the thought of sitting still is more unbearable.

There is very little space, but the idea almost comforts me.

There is nothing here demanding that I adopt a certain position.

I am not a caretaker for Maevra.

I am not some accused woman standing on her defense.

I am not the second mate beneath hostile eyes.

I am just Elaris, and I am pregnant.

When I pause, it is because my body tells me to. When I eat, it is because my child needs.

I ask Neryss nothing about Averic delivering the things themself. She does not ask whether I want to know.

His name being absent entirely from the conversation forms something of an understanding.

Evening comes across the house.

Just as Neryss begins stoking out a fire for the night, she finds something amiss outside.

A small folded note rests atop the flat stone on which the previous ones had sat.

Neryss retrieves it with the end of a piece of wood, not with her hands, first checking the road to ensure that no one has seen it.

It's empty.

Nothing more than Neryss had found when Elaris first began receiving letters.

When she brings the item inside, her stomach tight.

"Another warning?"

"I don't know."

The hand-writing on the note is unfamiliar to Elaris; she waits for the road to be clear before she breaks the seal.

This time, she does not fear what she might find.

She is more wary of what accepting what he has written might mean.

The letter is nothing but a few paragraphs.

Averic relates that Virelle remains under guard, that the medical records have been retrieved, that the secondary-bond resonance which had allegedly been withheld had been formally entered into the record.

He informs her that the council has been made aware of the discrepancy.

There is nothing in the letter meant to soften what had taken place.

Nothing to suggest why it took so long.

Nothing to demand that they meet again.

Elaris stops reading at the practical details of his writing. The outer house will continue to receive supplies. No one, not a single servant or guard from the palace, will enter without exception.

No council servant or personal guard of the palace would enter without necessity. Not someone who would find a means to disturb me where I am.

The penultimate sentence is almost painfully simple.

I will respect the boundary you gave me.

I reread what he has written to me then.

I read it once.

Again.

Fold the paper back along the crease of its seal.

Neryss watches me closely for a long moment.

I put the letter aside.

Put Averic's note next to the other two in the pile, leaving an uncomfortable arrangement of messages on either side.

The first two had brought warnings.

The latter had shown her that the cracks in the palace's foundation had reached the record-keeper's vault.

None of this changes the where or the manner in which Elaris finds herself.

He has learned how to serve without entering her domain, and how to impart information without demanding a response, and he has for the first time learned how caring does not necessarily make one entitled to another's presence.

I understand the distinction.

Neryss watches me carefully before turning back to the room.

I put Averic's note with the other two in the pile, leaving an uncomfortable arrangement of messages on either side.

The first two had brought warnings.

The latter had shown her that the cracks in the palace's foundation had reached the record-keeper's vault.

None of this changes the where or the manner in which Elaris finds herself.

He has learned how to serve without entering her domain, and how to impart information without demanding a response, and he has for the first time learned how caring does not necessarily make one entitled to another's presence.

I understand the distinction.

Neryss waits for me before stepping away.

I put Averic's note with the other two in the pile.

Night comes quiet.

Nothing knocks against the door.

No hurried messengers appear. No warning whistle.

The house grows comfortable around me.

For the first time in what feels like something of an age, I sleep soundly, waking at intervals to ensure that footsteps do not come at some hour when I am expecting them.

The child's movements remain even.

That is, in the end, all that allows my body to finally rest.

I wake once during the night, drink some water and return to the cot. A second time, the light has already begun to glimmer along the edge of the window. I realize I must have slept for several consecutive hours when suddenly the alarm sounds inside me, something wrong somewhere, and my body reacts as if I have slept too long. I am exhausted again, not injured, not frightened.

Something worse.

I place my feet on the floor.

Room spins.

I wait, and the feeling passes.

I do not wake Neryss.

I dress slowly for a second day in a row, making my way to the table where Elaris has already prepared her breakfast.

I eat half-heartedly for a while, convincing myself I am only doing it for the child. I finish just enough, still tired, and before the day is truly over, I have managed to convince myself that rest is the better cure and I find myself returning to the bed before I have finished the day's travel.

The few steps to the well from the doorway fill me with more air than I should have. At the table, I press a hand to the surface, familiar with what comes next. It frightens me.

Years ago, after months and years of donating essence and then, after too many donations to the cause, there were days when the feeling of it being sapped out of me before I could even realize what I had been doing, was something close to this.

But that was a time when no other life was feeding from her strength.

I press both my palms over my stomach, and this time my child moves strongly before slowing again.

She takes nothing but what I give her.

That does not mean that I am capable of giving her limitless strength.

I close my eyes against the sensation, and the old wound has not healed but has simply fallen quiet.

Neryss says nothing before my exhaustion makes it obvious.

"You're pale."

"I'm tired."

"You've been tired before."

I look up levelly at her; she does not draw back.

"You're resting after walking through one room."

That draws out a reluctant breath of amusement from me, but it dies too quickly.

I finally admit to what I have been fearing.

"The damage from the donations may be catching up to me."

The look on Neryss'es turns to something else entirely.

"Then we need a healer."

" not a palace healer.“I didn’t say palace.”Any healer who reports directly to Averic eventually becomes a another path back to him."

Neryss studies me for a long moment.

"What if it gets worse?"

I hold up my hands for her inspection.

"Then I will decide what happens next."

I refuse to allow one day of difficult weakness to become another surrender of power.

But even as I say it, I know the truth is not that simple.

Elaris manages to make a small meal out of what she can find in the house, but halfway through doing it, the strength is simply stolen from her arms and she finds herself gripping the edge of the table, trying to steady herself.

Neryss is there in a heartbeat.

"Elaris."

"I'm fine."

A lie barely leaves her lips before her knees buckle under the weight of the cot.

She takes a seat, her hand pressing into where her other elbow meets the mattress and another laying over her stomach.

The movement of her child's movements beneath my fingers are strong and true.

She lives. She breathes.

But somewhere deep inside me, her strength seems to have been stolen.

Neryss turns again toward the door. I prevent her from going.

"not him."

She turns back, and I take a moment to stand.

"If this is damage from the old donations, then it is mine to hold on to until I decide otherwise."

Neryss is fixed between the doorway and me, still.

I want for a moment to think that I still have time before the edges of the room begin to blur for the first time.

The fire stretches into a smear of light.

My fingers press into the cot's frame tighter just now, and for the first time since leaving the palace behind, I understand something that I have been refusing to allow myself: this might not be a time when I am capable of deciding for myself how long this can remain.

I may not be in this by choice after all.