42. Plot Thickens
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Someone, somewhere in the bowels of Haalbeg––Goblin Stronghold
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"The brat has caught on. Now, Critin, how did that happen? Were you careless?" My tone is polite, as if inquiring about the weather. It makes the worthless fool shudder in fear.
Years of careful planning hinges on the succubus chit remaining unsuspecting. She's still in the dark about things that matter the most. And it needs to remain that way. Until it's time. To break her.
I crumble the missive relayed over by the human pawn in my fist. It turns into ash from the rot I infuse into it.
"Servant is s—sorry, My Liege!" Critin, one of my trusted soldiers who has risen in the ranks over the years, kneels before me.
"And what do you suppose I do with this s—sorry of yours?" Sneering, I drum my claws lazily on the armrest of my temporary throne. Because once I get my hands on what I seek, a new throne would need to be built. Fit for the new me who shall rule all.
Critin shrinks back in fear as I contemplate tearing out his throat. I despise weakness.
"I—I'll go and fetch the human, My Liege! Kiri and Galo can come with me this time. I'll finish off that pathetic family!" Critin promises with renewed vitriol, a fervent look shining out of his yellow eyes.
"Hmm...another chance wouldn't hurt. But this time, if you fail, behead yourself so I don't have to bother, understand?" I prompt mildly.
Critin's yellowish-green skin turns a muddy-orange from fear and he bows a few times before slinking away.
It's time to draw the obnoxious brat to me. The time for change is nigh and I have waited long enough. The progeny in the prophecy must have taken root by now. There’s no room for failure. I shall have my deepest desires fulfilled at last.
Aleiraah
The seven hills of regret—where my hopes and dreams of a long and loving marriage died—have set up permanent residence on the Nephilim castle grounds.
No matter where I look they seem to be hovering, involved in some activity while watching me.
Always watching, as if they expect me to either burst into flames or wilt into a husk.
It’s annoying as hell and I mostly end up dragging Zenith to sparring sessions to work out my frustrations.
Being a busy general, whenever he can't make it, I test my skills with Ispahan.
He surely makes a wider target but is surprisingly a nimble opponent who gives me run for my money.
And I end up being more tired after sparring with him compared to Zenith.
The gang of gung-ho males volunteer to spar almost every day but I refuse. Ever since the accident involving Rinn and Mooncleaver, I don't have the stomach to physically harm any of them.
So they watch.
To my rising frustration they got themselves integrated into Nephilim society’s activities instead of staying on the sidelines as interlopers.
Last I had heard from Zenith, they started helping with the first matchmaking fair’s setup that's only months away.
And he had been strategizing with them to thwart random attacks at the Nephilim kingdom's borders. Some of them have even accompanied Zenith to border patrols.
I can’t help but feel jealous. They're stealing away my friend, but I can understand that Ispahan's kingdom needs all the help it can get.
What do they truly want? They claim they want me back, but I can't believe it. I refuse to accept ‘love’ from the same mouths that lied to me, broke my trust, and left me drowning in the wreckage of us.
They betrayed me—body and soul—and shattered everything I believed about love until all that remained was a hollow ache. So I can't help but wonder, what could they possibly gain now?
Amid the madness, I sent a missive to Rozalin detailing my whereabouts. Inside was a second, sealed letter for that human worm, Malakai Inkwright, which he must pass along to the goblin scum.
That was almost three weeks ago. Malakai used Rozalin's spell to finally deliver the letter to a goblin lackey after three tries. Since then, total silence. Goblin sightings at Mytherra’s borders have ceased completely. Their sudden disappearance is an ominous sign.
And maddeningly there’s a sudden pop to my belly. Overnight. It alarmed me at first but I’m glad the glamour is still effective. Especially when I’m surrounded by the seven nuisances.
Guilt stings whenever I think about my hidden pregnancy. But I remind myself that this could have been a happy time, if only I had conceived the right way. Not as a byproduct of cruel intentions and baser instincts gone wild.
I wish Mother were here with me, alive. She'd know what to do about this pregnancy and my good-for-nothing husbands.
Yesterday I accidentally spoke to Zenith about the sudden belly-pop and he insisted I see the chief healer immediately.
She predicted that my time in Duat might've sped up the pregnancy since time runs differently in the Underworld as opposed to Mytherra.
Being close to a fertility goddess like Bastet also might have contributed to the accelerated pregnancy.
Her warning about unpredictable cross-species pregnancies worried me. Unable to identify what I was carrying or how long it would last, she demanded regular checkups. But what shocked the daylights out of both me and Zenith was when the healer detected multiple heartbeats!
I thought I was carrying one baby. One. And suddenly I'm having a litter?! Of what? No one knows!
Panicked, I went all woozy until Zenith did breathing exercises with me to calm my nerves.
Which brought on tears because it should've been my husbands instead.
Holding my hand through these moments of anxiety.
But those bastards are the reason I'm in such a position to begin with!
I refuse to seek comfort from my abusers.
Naturally, my mood plummeted into an irritable, listless slump. I moped in my room, refusing company, even as sweet Snow chirped and rubbed her downy head against my cheek to cheer me up.
Today, ignoring my excuses, Zahara has dragged me to the outdoor dining area.
"What's the wildest thing you have ever done, Aleiraah?" Zahara asks, as I feed a tiny piece of moonberry to Snow who daintily gobbles it up, while perched on my shoulder.
I swear Snow makes me feel like a fashionable pirate. Reminds me of the time I dallied in kraken-racing.
Butterball is currently taking her afternoon nap in her nursery with a tangle of pixies watching over, otherwise she'd have demanded I feed her a piece too.
That kid loves moonberries. Emotional support pets are demanding that way. Case in point, Snow, who opens and closes her beak impatiently—as if I never feed her—for another sliver of the sweet, bright purple berry.
"Attended a combined centaur and satyr orgy one night." I reply nonchalantly, and immediately hear a series of growls from several unwanted-but-always-hovering eavesdroppers.
"Really? Wow! I had a centaur boyfriend once and let's say it didn't last." Zahara lets out a sigh.
"Why?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Because we didn't fit? I don't know how you managed an orgy." She giggles, with her eyes widening slightly.
"Well, I was horny and maybe had access to a spell or two." I wink and yet another chorus of unnecessary growls ensue, followed by a few muttered 'fuck'.
"Ooh, that sounds interesting! Maybe I should have experimented with spells too." Zahara whispers with a knowing smile.
"You had a centaur boyfriend? Why did I not know about this?" Ispahan suddenly hovers over us blocking the sun, frowning at Zahara. He was in the throne room performing boring kingly duties until now.
"This was way before we met, Han!" Zahara pouts.
"Then, why are you still thinking about his manhood?" Ispahan asks while grinding his teeth.
"I'm not! Geez, calm down! I was just wondering out loud." Zahara rolls her eyes at him.
Ispahan huffs and turns to Zenith who had followed him out and was now calmly polishing his wickedly sharp sword with a soft cloth. "And what about you? Do you have a preference for centaurs too?"
Zenith puts the sword back in its sheath and remarks lazily, "No, but I did have a satyr boyfriend once, and—" making Ispahan turn red, muscles puffing up.
"So I’ve to watch out for those horny fucking satyrs now too?" Ispahan interrupts him indignantly.
"If you had let me finish, Your Majesty, I'd have said that now I only prefer hulking Nephilim and pretty Butterflies." Zenith smirks playfully as Zahara giggles.
Ispahan reaches Zenith in a couple of strides and grabs Zenith's jaw in his large palm. Tilting his head up, he growls, "Only one Nephilim. Me."
Zenith's throat bobs as he looks at Ispahan, gaze turning molten. If I didn't know better I'd have thought Zenith was the bottom, with Ispahan radiating boatloads of dominance.
When he remains quiet, Ispahan lowers his head and kisses Zenith fiercely.
He circles the strong column of Zenith's throat in his palm, squeezing, as Zahara fans herself.
I discreetly fan myself too, as a blast of lust arrows toward me.
Ispahan releases Zenith's mouth after a long moment and licks his lips, looking smug.
Poor Zenith appears slightly dazed and flushed.
With once last glittering look, Ispahan pivots to Zahara who sits up straighter.
"You better not be thinking about centaurs, Hara, else I’ll spank your ass red! "
"Tsk! Promises, promises." Zahara sniffs but squeals when Ispahan lifts her up from the chair and kisses her soundly making her dissolve into moans and giggles. Zenith shakes his head, smiling slightly.
Suddenly, I spot the will-o'-the-wisps by the rosebushes.
Making an excuse to check on Butterball, I escape the playful bickering and guide them across the castle.
They hurriedly inform me that while goblin sightings stopped after Malakai delivered the letter, three soldiers suddenly snatched him from his home today, injuring two of his siblings.