Surfacing Ch. 37

"Iethys."

"Ah-ha." His mate addressed his former Sergeant then. "Well. Um. What do you think?"

Vian took off her glove and carefully reached to pluck up the pearl into her bare hand to study it; weight, texture, appearance...and the aura, testing it against her own. It was not much smaller than Sirana's sapphire pendant when it had been whole. She swallowed, moved by the offer and impressed with the raw magic item in her possession.

"It...feels like something one with Dragon's blood might've made," she said softly, bemused as she smiled up at him. "And I can send you a message, even from down here, with this?"

"Do you accept?"

"Yes, I do," she said, not asking about any hidden motive or disadvantages in owning such an item.

"Then yes, you can, Vian."

"And you can respond?"

"Yes."

She smiled in simple delight. "Thank you, Mourn. Teach me how to use it?"

******

Elder D'Shea stood up slowly, preparing to leave my safe room. She nodded her head to me. "Thank you for offering so much of what you've learned on the Surface, Sirana. I believe I understand much better why you returned to do what you did. We owe you a great deal for breaking the circle."

I was squeezing Shyntre's hand harder than I realized until he poked my thigh and tugged on his hand. I muttered, "Oops," and released him. I cleared my throat and picked up the waterskin to take another swig.

"So...what do you think, Elder?" I asked after wetting my mouth again. "About the Grey Maiden and Musanlo?"

"I understand I owe them both for Phaelous remaining with us," she acknowledged, putting on her gloves. "The Brother for having granted the gift, and the Maiden for being able to guide it right at the moment of my Headmaster's death. There seems a large spot of history missing where this 'safe harbor' and the Noldor are concerned, however."

"Agreed," I said. "Morix's Noldor contact would know a lot more. She never said herself but the hints really implied that she's providing safe harbor for some Noldor ancestors. She would understand what you are experiencing better than anyone."

My Elder gave a wry smile. "It might be some time before I could reasonably manage any contact like that, secret or not, and not simply due to distance and intolerance to Sunlight. But more immediate and perhaps more familiar..." D'Shea considered for a few moments more, weighing what she was about to say. "I ask if you might pass on a message and request for me, whenever you meet up with Gavin Adason again."

"Certainly, Elder. What is the message?"

"Whether his Lady might be able to send that emissary to me again, either in form or in reverie. Even just one conversation, given the right price or agreement."

"That 'emissary'?" Shyntre asked.

"Ada," I supplied, nodding. "Gavin's Mother. Yes, I can pass that on for you, Elder."

"You do not think either Ada or her Greylord will take hostile advantage of such an invitation?" D'Shea asked, because she had to.

"No, not hostile," I agreed. "Ada was tasked to mask Auslan from other powerful eyes such as the Deathless after he learned how to Dreamwalk. He has trusted her with much of his safety before, at the orders of her Lady."

Shyntre nodded in agreement, as he'd witnessed that as well, and I continued. "As I understand it, the Grave Mother herself holds no actual control over Elven essence, but she has an interest in keeping it here where it belongs."

D'Shea looked at her son again and back at me. "And it belongs to the Sisters, supposedly."

I grimaced playfully and winked at my wizard. "I can't say a lot on that. Just a lot of hints from a lot of dreaming males pulling me into their reverie."

Shyntre huffed softly and D'Shea smirked.

"Point taken," she said, finishing up donning her cloak and looking formal again. "Well. Elder Rausery wishes to interview you as well at some point."

I nodded.

"But she's not really waiting outside the door just yet," the sorceress continued. "If you feel ready to go out in public again, I might suggest meeting up with Gaelan at Matron Thalluen's estate. She has asked about you the most but will not leave Natia, and I have dissuaded her from bringing the child here. For the moment she and your Mother have managed quite a team of healers and crafters with Matron Aurenthin. Much of it seems practically anchored around that girl."

My stomach fluttered with nerves but I still smiled and nodded. "That's good to hear, Elder."

"Auslan is there as well," Shyntre suggested, and I could hear he was open to the idea.

"We will take proper precautions with the both of you, of course," D'Shea said. "No one will blow a dart into your back, for whatever reason. Whenever you are ready."

I wasn't, not quite yet. But that was only one good scrubbing and gearing up away.

*******

Shyntre sat behind me on the riding lizard, his arms wrapped around me and cradling the bump of my belly more often than not. It felt really good, especially when his dick would spontaneously stiffen against my backside as well and he would mutter a quiet curse at his frustratingly independent body parts. It made me chuckle and lean back to tag a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"If I took off my pants, think you could get your cock up my ass while we ride?" I whispered. "I've never done that before."

"Stop it," he demanded on a rousingly shocked breath and wide eyes. "It'll never go down!"

I winked over my shoulder, beyond pleased with the reaction. "Mmmm. Another time, then."

Maybe even on a horse instead of a lizard. I liked that idea. He wouldn't even have to thrust, just press in and stay in. Working to stay on the mare on a mountain trail would be enough to ream me in new, unpredictable ways while rubbing my clit against the saddle. Or maybe it was only a good idea in theory...?

*Just give me a horse, the free time, and a willing wizard to test it,* I thought to myself with a smile, looking forward to returning to the Surface.

If there would be anyone who could be with me at Gavin's Tower and who possessed the ability to keep that small taste of my most memorable Sisterhood sex—which did still suite some of my urges for play—it would be Shyntre. The right level of fight still in him despite everything, the right kind of stubbornness, making me *earn* what I wanted. Not to mention the right size to go right up my netherhole...

He'd enjoy it, too. We had already figured out some ways of blending the "struggle" with vocal consent in the last few cycles in my room, as I'd been randy as a rothe in heat and he couldn't resist either my hungry, seeping slit or the round belly and tits.

Now we just had to practice, and keep practicing. We'd get it right, I knew it.

As we traveled the less-used roads out from the Palace to my Mother's planation, Shyntre also provided the shielding from any possible distance attack, though we'd agreed that when we were among more of a crowd at my Mother's House, I would take over with psionic shielding so the magic wasn't quite so obvious and defensive to those who knew what to look for.

"It could also tempt someone," Shyntre had pointed out, "if they thought no magical shield was there."

"Better to have them show themselves now, then," D'Shea had said without visible concern as we'd saddled the mounts. "Rausery and I will deal with whoever makes such a choice. There will be shadows watching us as well, but ideally we won't notice them."

"I've also got my marrowcaster. I hit anyone, they won't get far."

"Yes, I recall."

Given that we arrived at House Thalluen without announcement and only the two lizards visible, no huge security detail, not that many noticed and they were all actively doing something else already. The only one showing any hurry to spread the word was the sentry tasked to notify the Matrons on D'Shea's behalf. Meanwhile I looked around.

I recognized a couple of temporary set-ups for crafting needed bandages, salves, and potions on site, and far more Drow were working these than non-Drow slaves. I figured most of the slaves were even farther back in the process, gathering raw material to send here in the first place. Likewise, there was an outdoor mess hall and at the same place a constant supply of hot, clean water; all Drow both working and guarding that area. Not too far from that were a couple converted sheds for weaving. They were making clothing and blankets. Some of the other crafters I had no idea what they were making, but no doubt it was necessary.

*Jael wasn't jesting that her Mother is like a Headmaster of Healers...* I thought with astonished admiration.

Elder Rausery's army camp had had a lot of these same things but not nearly the level of energy to them; that had been in drills, magic, and blacksmithing. Given the resources and materials, Matron Aurenthin had turned my Mother's land into an efficient factory of every-cycle items some Nobles acted like they were spun out of thin air. Chances were the other Houses were providing all the raw stuff but not converting it to useful items nearly as quickly. This looked well-practiced.

Not only were there Rausery's shadows hanging about—some of them actually visible now—but I recognized a lot more of Vian's Company keeping the peace and, at first scan, no Red Sisters at all. I supposed the Sisterhood wasn't really needed here and Rausery would still get her reports; most certainly if Ruk was around.

Thinking of him, just how were my Mother and Gaelan getting along? My older Sister had left with them while I'd gone to confront the Elder Mind. I hadn't seen her since. No obvious signs of Noble-Court drama to which I was already finely attuned. No underlying psychic tension among the general populace, either, as if the workers were always looking over their shoulders for their bickering "betters."

I didn't dare reach out more than that, though; I already had to work harder to keep from picking up random thoughts, distractions I neither wanted nor needed. Physical contact with Shyntre helped; I didn't mind keeping tabs on his mood, not only useful on a personal level but it helped filter other strangers out.

My wizard was interested to be here. He looked forward to seeing Auslan, and he liked my Mother and how she had treated him. He thought I would be well meeting up with her again.

I hoped he was right.

Matron Thalluen appeared promptly to welcome the Elder publicly, but she was alone, formal, and very calm. She was also dressed the plainest I'd ever seen her—dark trousers, simple boots, and an attractively cut but undecorated, tan shirt. Her hair wasn't pristine though it was put up off her neck, with strands still escaping; she looked like she had been doing actual work herself up until she'd been notified of our arrival.

"Elder D'Shea, we're most glad to see you well. Have you immediate need of anything?"

That was getting right to it, wasn't it?

"No, Matron. I've brought my son and your Daughter to see the Consort-Healer."

Rohenvi glanced at me up on the lizard with Shyntre's hands at my thickened waist, but it was a little too quick for me to judge anything; she hadn't made eye contact but she spoke quickly to my Elder. She sounded concerned.

"Is Auslan needed for the baby?"

"No, they're both well, Matron." D'Shea smiled in amusement at her realization she hadn't been clear. "No urgent need for a healer for once, but rather they're here to see a companion who happens to be a healer. We've also come to visit with yourself and Gaelan, if you can make time."

Rohenvi visibly relaxed and smiled back. "I see. Here, let me lead you to the stables."

Another difference from how I remembered this place; no one scuttled over to take the mounts and care for them while we walked inside to sit down to taze, and Mother didn't make one gesture or expression of being put upon by this necessity.

Of course, entering these particular stables, I looked around after dismounting and helping Shyntre down, trying to spy anything familiar but not certain why. This was where Juarinia had fallen to her death, and several times before she had, she had chased me in here, delighting at the easy reach of riding crops and straps to use on me. If I hadn't tolerated it a few times while I'd tended my own secret pincer worm up to lethal size, she wouldn't have been so easy to trick that final time.

"You're squeezing my hand too hard again," Shyntre whispered.

I let go on a breath. "Sorry."

Plenty enough had changed—it was full of so many supplies, the ladder to the loft wasn't even in the same place—that I told myself I could shake off the darker mood without it clinging to me. Shyntre didn't really know anything about what had happened here, but D'Shea did—I'd confessed the details to her—and she was looking directly at me now.

"Elder," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else.

She smirked. "The fall proved to be enough, though the venom would have worked just as well."

My Mother paused in unbuckling the girth strap, looking between us and choosing not to pretend to be confused as to what D'Shea was talking about. She exhaled. "My Third was lucky it appeared so clearly to be an accident, despite all suspicions at the time."

"I would say your First was lucky as well," my Elder replied. "A broken neck is a lot quicker than a pincer worm bite."

Rohenvi's brows lifted, curious as she finally looked at me. I grimaced. Over twenty years ago and it had never even been mentioned directly between us.

"I wanted her dead, Mother," I said plainly. "I'm sorry. She was driving me insane. And she mutilated me."

"I know," my Matron whispered, stark sorrow showing on her face in a way I'd only sort of seen before, though for the moment her eyes stayed watching her hands as they tugged at the saddle.

She huffed the saddle off of D'Shea lizard while D'Shea got ours, and we continued putting the tackle away before securing the mounts in cages where they could hang from the ceiling if desired but they couldn't crawl out.

My Mother had been a very somber figure through all of my childhood, rarely loud or angry but almost oppressively brooding and serious and too aware of how other Houses saw us. It was partly why I had been such a gregarious slut when she'd sent me away to Court; to be different from her, louder, smarter; to play the Game better as she moped back home dealing with a mentally-blunted Second Daughter as the only fertile one left to take the title of Matron.

"I'd always known," she said now, not seeming to care if anyone might be hiding about to listen in, "even if Juarinia never let me see what she was doing to you."

"You mean raping me?" I tested, crossing my arms.

Rohenvi flinched, glancing at the marrowcaster as if she wondered if I'd shoot her with it, but nodded, finally looking at me and holding my eyes. The sorrow was still there as it had always been, but the difference now was that she looked...I wasn't sure. Awake? Her eyes were a clearer red than I remembered.

"Yes. I knew she was raping you. I never caught her, and you never accused her. You never even hinted your secret."

"I couldn't!" I said immediately, my voice tight. "She forced a compulsion potion down my throat. The only way to break it was to outlive her!"

"Ah." My Mother nodded. "I see. Brought by Gaelan, wasn't it?"

I frowned. "You knew that, too?"

"Not precisely what or when, but she was coming here often enough visiting Treyl for it to be likely."

Treyl. Oh yes, the "First Son" that Gaelan had told us about at Gavin's Tower; she had overheard gossip he existed somewhere. Of course, I'd been standing right next to her when we learned from Ruk—with no small amount of pressure applied—that the unknown First Son had been real, and right beneath Gaelan's nose. Quite a few times.

I could ask about Natia right now. I could put Mother on the defensive asking about Ruk and Vekika. I could change the subject from me and my cursed half-sisters...

"I regret everything, Sirana," Mother said earnestly. "I did nothing, and everything about that lack of basic courage was wrong and contemptable. I should have defended you somehow. Even on suspicion alone, I should have done more. All I had to do was talk to more servants. I'm sure they'd seen plenty."

"They had," my Elder broke in gently, looking at Rohenvi. "But by that point they were more afraid of Juarinia than they were you, Matron. I'm not sure that would have done much good, even without the compulsion on you as well."

D'Shea and I met eyes like two bulls in the same pen.

"Your Mother is not entirely at fault, Sirana. Juarinia conditioned her to 'look the other way' long before you were born, and as one of the first Consort-bred First Daughters with a known interest in joining the Priesthood, Rohenvi actually *couldn't* act against her First Daughter with impunity, especially not on suspicion alone, without unpleasant consequences for her and her House. I had my own orders from the Priesthood, after all. I saw it happening, and even I could only wait and see whether you won against your older sister or not."

Fucking Hells.

I found myself scowling at them both, and noticed Shyntre was frowning as well even as he was stayed out of it. With the exception of reaching tentatively for my hand. I took that hand, because I needed it. He didn't complain about my grip this time.

"Can I say right now I'm fucking glad all of that fucking shit is fucking *leveled*?"

D'Shea smiled broadly, looking between us. "I think you've earned that right, Sirana. You and my son. And I concur, with all of my essence."

*And Phaelous's as well.*

I blinked, breaking eye contact and looking away. I'd picked up that side-thought by accident, and it reminded me to gain a better grip on myself before I scared my Mother more than Juarinia ever did. As much as I didn't like hearing it, the picture they made fit with everything I'd come to know—never mind what I'd decided what they were thinking as a child—and my Mother looked as miserable as ever because of it.

"I am sorry I failed to save you from your sister, Sirana," she said, her eyes tearing up enough for two or three tears to escape and wet her cheeks. "And I am glad that she is dead, and you are alive."

And that was it. She said nothing more. No excuses or reasons, no requests for forgiveness or to "just move past it." I wasn't sure I was in the frame of mind to hear that anyway; maybe she knew it.

Shyntre was looking behind us, and when the silence stretched out long enough, he said, "I think some others need supplies but they won't enter with us in here. Sirana will be hungry soon as well. Could we go inside the manor, Matron Thalluen?"

"Of course, Priest," my Mother murmured, smiling sadly at him. She sniffed once, deeply, and wiped her eyes, composing herself. "Please follow me."

Someone had told Auslan we were here, and he'd been looking for us. The lithe, plainly dressed healer—his braided hair just as frazzled as my Mother's—saw us coming from the stables and broke into a run.

I could have told him not to do that—as not only D'Shea but more than one shadow or Rin'oveaus went on alert at the sudden movement as they looked for the source of trouble—but then I saw the exuberant smile on his face, so much like some of the Wilder, and I thought, *Oh, well.*

"Brace yourself," I warned Shyntre out of the corner of my mouth.

"Uh-oh," he replied, resigned.

Auslan let the sorcerer take the full brunt of stopping his momentum as he threw his arms around Shyntre's shoulders while his brother barely kept them from toppling over—as I expected—but instead of kissing him first as I'd been willing to wager, my Consort immediately reached out and caught me around my waist and pulled.

If Mourn had done that, I wouldn't have had a choice but to enter the three-way embrace as I was yanked in. As it was, it was just as much Auslan's beautiful eyes and his smile along with the pressure from his arm that persuaded me to step forward and loop my own arms around each of them. It was a bit loose, awkward maybe with my stomach in the way, but I was grinning nonetheless.