Epilogue
EACH PREGNANCY WAS different than the last. His second pregnancy was manageable, but the third round had Ardor reeling.
He propped up his swollen feet, gazing despondently at the lilies.
Flowers were supposed to “glow” during pregnancy, and he hid his discomfort as much as possible, but this was his third child, and damned if he’d endure the symptoms without proper elevation.
He watched on as Mindeh and Mindar played in the flowers, the elder, wiser sister solemnly explaining the world to her little brother as he attempted to eat a daisy.
As much as he respected Eminence Heavenly’s bravery and intelligence, Ardor refused to use genecraft on his own children.
Sindar made it easy for him. He was not like the consorts who demanded that their Flower hold up a mirror and return a perfect reflection.
He adored the children no matter what they looked like or how they grew, and this one would be no different.
So Ardor watched and waited as the zygote within him swiftly developed of its own accord.
This child wished to favor Lord Patel. Without genetic intervention, the king’s youngest child would be a little person, and the secret of Sindar’s paternity would be out.
Ardor would be more stressed if he wasn’t confident in the court’s appreciation of their king, and of Lady Ambani and Lord Patel’s ability to maneuver any crisis.
Sindar would love this baby. But how to tell him?
Would he be shocked to find his “father” was his father all along?
Was Ardor doing the wrong thing by refusing to influence the zygote’s development?
Was he putting Kysan’s people in danger and endangering his family?
Pondering all this kept Ardor awake at night, and he was often cranky. Even now, he continued turning questions over in his mind, even after Sindar arrived with a small box and stood beside him to watch the children play.
“Beloved,” Sindar said finally. “I’ve been thinking…”
“I have a headache,” Ardor said, keenly aware he was whining and frankly not caring. “My feet hurt.”
Sindar held out an offering: Kysanian sugar cakes. Ardor seized it at once and promptly ate two.
Sindar kneeled at his beloved’s feet and gently rubbed his insoles. “I wanted to talk to you about something… I know this probably isn’t the best time emotionally…” He drew a breath and plunged forth. “I want to amend our marriage contract, and Patty says it should be done before the baby comes.”
Ardor chewed the cakes, eying him with open grouchiness. “If you want more babies—“
“No! Devils, no,” Sindar said. “I actually, ah… Beloved, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m going to just spit it out and let you skewer me if I’m wrong.”
He was genuinely nervous. Ardor straightened up. “Darling, you can ask me anything,” he said, growing concerned.
“What if we stopped at three, and didn’t have a Flower child?
” Ardor paused, for this was the last thing he’d expected, and Sindar hurried on.
“I don’t want to deprive you of anything you desire, and I will love all the children equally, but I can’t stop thinking about…
” He gestured vaguely. “Giving my child up to be married. The rules. The ceremonies. They say Flowers cannot be touched. They act as though their wombs are all they offer. I…” His expression darkened.
“To hells with tradition. I won’t do it!
I refuse to isolate my child, and not be allowed to hug and play with them!
I refuse to hand my kid over like a bargaining chip! I want them all treated the same!”
“I see,” Ardor said. A lie. He did not see. Conflicting emotions warred within him. A Flower child would be like him and would understand him uniquely, but how many times had he rued birthing a child destined to suffer the same trials as he had?
Ardor had kept Eminence Heavenly’s secrets, and so had Lord Patel.
Sindar didn’t realize he and his children did not have the royal mutation.
As far as he knew, a Flower child was an essential bargaining chip to ensure he could have grandchildren.
“Your Majesty, if Kysan does not produce a Flower, you will have nothing to barter with. How will you continue the royal line?”
Sindar kept his eyes on his Flower’s feet, gently massaging. “About that...”
Ardor raised an eyebrow.
“Well, the Archon chooses an heir, doesn’t she?”
“Among her children, yes.”
“Well, if we chose someone who wasn’t cursed, then Kysan would never have to barter Flowers again.”
As Ardor gazed at his dearest, he appreciated the perfect storm that brought this idea into being.
Sindar was uniquely suited to arrive at this revolutionary and blasphemous conclusion after all.
He’d been shut out of royal life growing up and had absorbed much of his understanding of the world through Lord Patel’s filter.
He understood monarchical tyranny intimately.
After mingling with commoners and living as one, he’d had the audacity to fall in love with a Flower.
Sindar of Kysan had broken every rule, wittingly or otherwise, from the moment of his conception. So why not break this one?
If dismantling a monarchy were that easy, others would have done it centuries ago.
Ardor smiled at him and asked, “And what would you tell them?” He gestured between his belly and the two children, who were in deep philosophical discourse about a bug Mindar was considering eating.
“How will you explain handing over their birthright? How will you gain consensus for the heir you choose? How will you prevent violence and upheaval during the leadership transition?”
“Now, see here,” Sindar said. “All I know is I want to keep all the glorious little monsters you give me, and I want you with me as long as possible! You’re the clever one, aren’t you? You can help me figure it out!”
Ardor still did not know how to feel. “Did you tell Lord Patel all of this?”
“He had a good laugh, but he settled down when I noted this would give one of his countless children a shot at the Ruby Throne. Is there any better candidate than a child of the cleverest man in the kingdom? He got that shrewd little glint in his eye, and said you should decide if it was time for a change. Also, I’m king.
At least for now. He has to do whatever I say, or it’s the guillotine for him. ”
Ardor nibbled another cake. As his orderly mind considered this insane notion, he recalled his studies of ancient history.
This had been done before, long ago. It certainly wasn’t impossible.
Politically fraught and difficult, but not impossible.
Already, his agile mind was connecting strands and arranging the pieces.
“Dissolving the monarchy could destabilize—“
“Beloved, I will happily destabilize the entire world to have an extra moment with you. We have the brightest minds in Kysan at our disposal, including yours. Surely we can at least try?”
“You’d upend centuries of precedence and potentially destabilize or destroy your ancestral home out of selfish desire?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Sindar said, settling onto the seat beside him. “I’m a greedy, greedy man, and I want it all.” He kissed Ardor’s knuckles, one by one.
Even if this seemingly impossible goal was truly impossible, and never came to be, the fact remained: the king of Kysan had chosen, and he’d chosen his Flower and their children above all else.
A flush was spreading across Ardor’s cheeks. The baby kicked, and it was not so painful this time. “I’ll think about it,” he said.
* * *
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