13. Healer Kalemon #3
Allora nodded, forcing herself not to tense as she reclined.
She kept her arms at her sides, gripping the edges of the table as Kalemon prepared.
The vulnerability hit her in waves. She was exposed in every sense of the word, lying with her legs wide open before a stranger, trusting this gruff woman with secrets that could get them both killed.
Her skin prickled with awareness, every sound magnified in the quiet room.
Gloves snapped over calloused hands. A speculum, metal worn smooth from years of sterilization, caught the glow of candlelight. Soft cloths, clean but frayed, were laid out with ritual precision. Kalemon's movements were brisk, practiced, unflinching.
The room went silent except for the low hiss of resin burning in its bowl.
The scent of thyme and clove thickened the air.
Allora stared up at the ceiling beams, her jaw locked, discomfort crawling over her body like ants beneath her skin.
She forced herself to breathe slowly, to stay still, to trust.
Kalemon worked without comment, careful and efficient.
Until she stopped.
Allora felt the pause, the shift in the air, and panic spiked through her. She lifted her head, voice breaking. "What is it?"
Kalemon blinked once, slow. Then she looked up at her, one brow lifting in disbelief mixed with dark amusement.
"Congratulations."
Allora's head shot upright. "Say what now?"
Kalemon peeled off the gloves and stepped back, her voice matter-of-fact, though a grimace tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You're pregnant. About ten, maybe twelve
weeks along if I had to guess. You are not showing much but you are definitely screwed if your Awyan master finds out.”
The word slammed into her like a stone, even though she had suspected it all along.
Allora's shoulders dropped, her head dropping forward as she pressed a hand to her face. "Damn it," she whispered. "I was hoping you'd tell me it was anything else. Parasites. A tumor. Stress-induced hormonal imbalance. Literally anything but that."
Kalemon gave her a long, measured look. "The signs are all there, clear as day. And since the father is Canariae, you're running to protect it, aren't you? Afraid of what your Awyan master will do when he finds out you've been touched by one of your own?"
She didn't say it unkindly, just like someone hardened by too many ugly truths.
Allora blinked hard, breath catching. "No. It's not a Canariae."
Kalemon stilled, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Don't play games with me, girl."
"I'm not playing games."
"Then who's the father?"
Allora looked down, her hands trembling where they clutched the table edge. Her throat burned as the words forced their way out, cracked and raw.
"Malec."
The hush that followed was absolute.
Kalemon stared at her, searching her face with those storm-gray eyes. Then she let out a biting bark of laughter, humorless and cutting. "Malec as in Talandros? The Silver Fox himself?"
Allora nodded, her breaths short and shallow. "I've only been with him. No one else since I got in this fucked up nightmare fantasy world!"
Kalemon's expression hardened. "You're lying to me."
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are." Kalemon's voice became challenging now, her arms crossing over her chest. "You're not even the same species. Awyans and humans can't produce offspring. It's biologically impossible. You had to have been with someone else. A Canariae male, maybe someone you're protecting."
Allora's jaw clenched. "I told you. There's no one else."
"Girl, I think I know who has and hasn’t been in my vagina! Like I get it, it's impossible and I can’t readily prove it without any lab equipment or dna testing but you asked me and I answered the truth!"
Kalemon's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing not with suspicion but with a sudden, keen interest. "Wait. Lab equipment? You know what DNA is?" She stepped closer, her voice dropping. "You said 'biologically impossible' like you've studied it. You're using terms that sound like... like..."
She paused, her storm-gray eyes searching Allora's face with sudden intensity.
"You're from Earth?" Kalemon breathed, the words barely above a whisper, it was more of a statement than a question. Realization hit Kalemon. A recognition.
Allora froze, her hands stilling on her coat as she dresses herself. She stared at Kalemon, her heart hammering in her chest. Slowly, cautiously, she nodded.
Kalemon’s expression cracked, raw vulnerability flickering across her weathered features. “You know what Earth is?”
Allora's breath caught in her throat. "I'm from California. I was an epidemiologist army major… once upon a time."
"I was born there," Kalemon said quietly. "Fifty-seven years ago in a place called Louisiana. I was a nurse once, studying medicine in the military." Her voice shook slightly. "I thought I would never see another human from home ever again, small galaxy I guess."
Between them the suspicion thinned, replaced by recognition and then understanding, and finally by the kind of grief that comes from losing a world you can't go back to.
Kalemon's eyes glistened, though she blinked rapidly to clear them. Then she let out a short breath that might have been a laugh. "I knew I liked you when you first walked in here."
Allora's eyebrows shot up. "You literally told me the shop was closed and tried to kick me out!"
Kalemon's mouth twitched an expression akin to a smirk. "Yeah, well, I like you more now that I know you're paying in gold and not just dripping snow on my rugs."
Despite everything, Allora let out a choked laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob.
Her expression softened for just a moment before she reached for her coat.
"Thanks for the help," she said, grabbing it and shoving her arms through the sleeves.
"I appreciate the confirmation. I'll get out of your hair before trouble follows me here.
Now I need to figure out what the hell I'm going to do next. "
She snatched up her bag, her movements quick and strained.
"Wait." Kalemon's voice had lost some of its edge. "Just wait a damn minute."
"For what? So you can call me a liar again?" Allora turned toward the curtain, her eyes burning. "I came here for answers, not judgment."
"Stop." Kalemon stepped forward, her hand raised but not touching. Her gray eyes searched Allora's face with sudden intensity, really looking at her now. At the flush in her cheeks. At the way her body had changed. At the desperate honesty carved into every line of her expression.
Kalemon's voice dropped lower, quieter. "You're dead serious?"
"Of course I'm serious!" Allora's voice broke. "Why would I make this up? Who the hell would want this to be real? Can we move past the shock and try to figure out HOW?"
The space between them turned molten — deliberate, incendiary, full of what neither would say.
Kalemon paced to the worktable, her fingers drumming against the worn wood as her mind visibly churned through possibilities.
She picked up a vial, set it down, moved to her notes, then back again.
"There has to be an explanation. Some kind of biological bridge we're missing.
The blood transfusion maybe, or a variable in Awyan physiology we don't understand yet.
Parthenogenesis? Chimerism? Some kind of genetic manipulation through the soul bond?
" She was talking more to herself than to Allora now, her scientist's brain grasping for rational answers to an irrational situation.
She yanked out a thick tome, flipped through it with practiced speed, then shoved it back with a frustrated grunt.
"The Awyans keep most of their medical texts locked up tight, but I've got copies of some of the older ones.
Pre-unification stuff, when the bloodlines were still experimenting with...
" She trailed off, pulling out another book.
"There was a healer in the northern territories who documented attempts at interspecies breeding between Awyans and other sentient races.
None of them worked, but the methodology might give us clues. "
Allora watched her pace and search, watched her pull down jar after jar, text after text, her mind working through possibilities at a frantic pace. And slowly, like ice water seeping into her veins, the reality of her situation crystallized.
She couldn't have Malec's child.
The thought hit her with brutal clarity.
She was already on the run, hunted, branded as his property in the eyes of Awyan society.
But a child? A baby by the High Lord Commander, by a Talandros, the most powerful bloodline in the realm?
That would change what she was in the eyes of every living soul in this realm.
Ultimate claim. No matter where she went.
The phrase rose unbidden in her mind, and she wanted to shove it away, wanted to deny it, but she couldn't. A child would give Malec more reason to own her, probably legal justification for his obsession.
His society would solidify that claim, would protect it, would view her not as a person but as the mother of his heir.
She would never escape. Not with a child tying her to him for the rest of her life.
And she did not want that.
Allora sat rigid on the edge of the exam table, her arms wrapped tight around her waist. Her shirt still not fully buttoned, boots untied, scarf laying across the chair across the room—none of it felt as exposed as the truth she had just heard.
Her breaths came shallow and fast, each one scraping her throat raw.
Kalemon didn't move from where she stood at the cabinet. She only watched, her storm-colored eyes steady. Those eyes had seen wars. Riots. Plagues that turned the living to ghosts. But this was different.
Allora's hands trembled against her own skin. Her knees bounced restlessly, betraying her rising panic. "I can't have his child."
Kalemon turned fully toward her, a text still clutched in one hand. Her voice dropped, quieter now, gentler. "Allora?—"