Shadow of Night (All Souls Trilogy, #2)(67)

“Let’s say, for argument’s sake, one of your scientific tests revealed we could have children. Would you want me to take the tea then?”

“Marthe’s mixture isn’t very reliable.” Matthew looked away.

“Okay. What are the alternatives?” I asked.

“Abstinence. Withdrawal. And there are condoms, though they’re not reliable either. Especially not the kind available to us in this day and age.” Matthew was right. Sixteenth-century condoms were made from linen, leather, or animal intestines.

“And if one of these methods were reliable?” My patience was wearing thin.

“If—if—we could conceive a child together, it would be a miracle, and therefore no form of contraception would be effective.”

“Your time at Paris wasn’t a total waste of time, no matter what your father thinks. That was an argument worthy of a medieval theologian.” Before I could close the box, Matthew’s hands covered mine.

“If we could conceive, and if this tea were effective, I’d still want you to leave the herbs in the stillroom.”

“Even though you could pass your blood rage on to another child?” I forced myself to be honest with him, despite the fact that my words would hurt.

“Yes.” Matthew considered his words before continuing. “When I study patterns of extinction and see the evidence in the laboratory that we are dying out, the future seems hopeless. But if I detect a single chromosomal shift, or the discovery of an unexpected descendant when I thought a bloodline had died out, the sense of inevitable destruction lifts. I feel the same way now.” Usually I had problems when Matthew adopted a position of scientific objectivity, but not this time. He took the box from my hands. “What about you?”

I’d been trying to figure that out for weeks, ever since Miriam and Marcus had appeared at Aunt Sarah’s house with my DNA results and first raised the issue of children. I was sure about my future with Matthew but less so about what that future might involve.

“I wish I had more time to decide.” It was becoming my common refrain. “If we were still in the twenty-first century, I’d be taking the birthcontrol pills you prescribed for me.” I hesitated. “Even so, I’m not sure the pills would work for us.”

Matthew still waited for my answer.

“When I drove Philippe’s dagger into Champier, all I could think of was that he was going to take my thoughts and memories and I wouldn’t be the same person when I returned to our modern lives. But even if we were to go back right this minute, we would already be different people. All the places we’ve gone, the people I’ve met, the secrets we’ve shared—I’m no longer the same Diana Bishop, and you aren’t the same Matthew Clairmont. A baby would change us even more.”

“So you want to prevent pregnancy,” he said carefully.

“I’m not sure.”

“Then the answer is yes. If you’re not sure you want to be a parent, we must use whatever birth control is available.” Matthew’s voice was firm. And so was his chin.

“I do want to be a parent. I’m surprised by how much, if you must know.” I pressed my fingers into my temples. “I like the idea of you and me raising a child. It just feels so soon.”

“It is soon. So we’ll do what we must to limit the possibility until—if— you are ready. But don’t get your hopes up. The science is clear, Diana: Vampires reproduce through resurrection, not procreation. Our relationship might be different, but we aren’t so special as to overturn thousands of years of biology.”

“The picture of the alchemical wedding from Ashmole 782—it is about us. I know it. And Miriam was right: The next step in the process of alchemical transformation after the marriage of gold and silver is conception.”

“Conception?” Philippe drawled from the door. His boots creaked as he pushed away from the frame. “No one mentioned that possibility.”

“That’s because it’s impossible. I’ve had sex with other warmblooded women, and they’ve never become pregnant. The image of the chemical wedding may have been intended as a message, as Diana says, but the chances of representation becoming reality are slim.” Matthew shook his head. “No manjasang has ever fathered a child like that before.”

“Never is a long time, Matthew, as I told you. As for the impossible, I have walked this earth longer than man’s memories and have seen things that later generations discounted as myth. Once there were creatures who swam like fish in the sea and others who wielded lightning bolts instead of spears. They are gone now, replaced with something new. ‘Change is the only reliable thing in the world.’”

“Heraclitus,” I murmured.

“The wisest of men,” said Philippe, pleased that I recognized the quote. “The gods like to surprise us when we grow complacent. It’s their favorite form of entertainment.” He studied my unusual costume. “Why are you wearing Matthew’s shirt and hose?”

“He gave them to me. It’s fairly close to what I wear in my own time, and Matthew wanted me to be comfortable. He sewed the legs together himself, I think.” I turned to show off the ensemble. “Who knew the de Clermont men could thread a needle, never mind stitch a straight seam?”

Philippe’s eyebrows rose. “Did you think Ysabeau mended our torn garments when we came home from battle?”