From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(80)
“I have no idea why you sent them away. They have watched over me for the past three days. There isn’t much worse that I can show them,” Jala sighed.
Valor nodded slightly and pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned back against the wall beside the mirror. Still silent he brushed a bit of dust from the black linen of his trousers and rubbed at a scuff on his polished boots.
Jala watched him, her sniffles slowly receding and waited for him to begin speaking. With painstaking care he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and then brushed a bit at one of the silver cufflinks still utterly silent. “I thought you wanted to speak with me,” Jala grumbled after a lengthy silence.
Valor looked up and raised a silver eyebrow. “Ahh. I thought from the way you looked when I entered the room that you needed to speak with me,” he corrected and smiled at her faintly. “Emily and Marrow would both happily abandon all of this and steal you away to live in the wild. None of this truly makes sense to them. They are too primal. They see you suffering and they don’t understand why you don’t simply walk away from it if it makes you miserable. It is possible that Marrow understands better but no doubt his opinion of the matter is the same.” Valor paused and sighed, his gaze flicking toward the door. “Neph would growl a lot should you try to speak with him, and Jail would lock it away in your mind so you didn’t dwell on your losses. Sovann would listen but with his appearance so similar to Finn I imagine his presence is like a knife in a fresh wound. That leaves me and Wisp, and I can fetch Wisp if you prefer to speak with her.” He paused again and rubbed his jaw, his gaze wandering toward the window. “If it helps any, I don’t want this either. I’d love to just disappear right now. I thought when Lord Elijah granted me the commission to lead that I could redeem myself, but when faced with it and those who know my sins; I find I’d rather just sit in the dark and drink. I have lived in Finn’s shadow for so long that I find it rather uncomfortable when the light shines directly on me now. Rather strange, really. I used to adore direct attention.”
“This is too much for me, Valor. All of this is. I don’t know how to do any of it,” Jala admitted weakly.
“Which part? Being a mother or being a High Lady?” Valor asked. There was no sign of judgment on his face and if he had lost any respect for her there was no sign of it.
“Can the answer be both?” Jala asked miserably. Reaching over she grabbed a random dress from the pile and wiped her face. Letting out a ragged breath she looked back up to Valor knowing she must look a sight. As usual he was immaculate in appearance, his hair perfectly pulled back and his clothes of the finest quality and clean.
“It can be,” Valor agreed with a nod and shrugged. “There really isn’t much you can do about either, though, Jala. You are quite pregnant and unless you give the child away, that makes you a mother. Do you have any intent on offering the child to another?”
“No,” Jala snapped, her voice frantic. The simple thought of giving her child to another brought an instant wave of panic to her.
Valor smiled and nodded. “Protective. That is the first sign of a good mother. You are nervous. That is normal. Chastity was, too. My Mother’s advice to her was simple so I’ll pass it on to you and see if it helps any. Love them, protect them, and teach them. That is all there is to being a mother. Each of those three things is equally important. Never forget one of them, and never place the importance of one above the other two.”
“As much as I still have to learn, I think I’ll have to let the teaching part fall on Sovann’s shoulders,” Jala sighed.
Valor frowned at her and shook his head. “The most important lessons in life come from our mothers, Jala, not from lesson books. Our mothers teach us right from wrong, they teach us to be compassionate, and they teach us respect. My father taught me how to fight, but my mother taught me what to fight for.”
“Is your advice about being a High Lady this sage?” Jala asked as she leaned back in her pile of clothes and watched him. Her son shifted inside her and she felt a moment’s discomfort as he pushed hard against her stomach. She shifted her position again trying to find one more comfortable.
Valor shrugged. “That was mostly words from my mother. The only advice I have on being a High Lady comes from my great grandmother’s journals and I’m not sure if you want to follow in her footsteps or not. Her path did not have a pleasant ending.”
“High Lady Veyetta,” Jala surmised, her interest peaked. The city War had shown her was a beautiful sight and the statue of Lady Veyetta had been modeled after a woman that was poised and confident. Somehow, she doubted High Lady Veyetta had ever crumpled to tears like an infant into a pile of discarded clothing. Her son shifted again and pain lanced through her body. Holding her breath for a second Jala slowly released it until the discomfort passed and waited for Valor to continue.
“Are you OK?” Valor asked, his blue eyes fixed on hers.
Jala bit her lower lip and smiled bitterly. “Do I look OK to you, Valor?” she asked sarcastically.
“No, I mean health wise, Jala. You looked upset when I entered but now you look pale and I swear that was pain I saw flicker on your face. Are you all right, physically?” Valor pressed as he stretched his legs out and leaned closer to her.
“My son is active. It’s nothing. He kicked a bit roughly,” Jala explained as another pain tore through her and she felt the clothes go damp beneath her.