Chapter 36 #2
Itanya was a little miracle. After I’d scoured the mark from my skin, I’d been told by a number of healers in the Matriarch’s camp that I’d never be able to have children.
That the abuse I suffered at the hands of my master, coupled with the trauma I inflicted on my own body, had rendered my womb useless and barren.
But then, after a whirlwind and extremely brief relationship with a now deceased Earth Mage, I found out I was miraculously pregnant.
I’d wanted to tell her father so desperately, but I’d discovered her existence while he was out on a mission for the Matriarch to gather intelligence in one of the northern cities.
When the task force returned, he was woefully absent. He’d been captured during one of their intelligence raids and was killed on sight, his body burned to ash by a Fire Mage.
Itanya’s father and I were never in love—our relationship was more of a physical companionship, but he was a good person, and I was saddened that Itanya would never know him.
But Torin had stepped in and acted as her father for much of her formative years, though she called him ‘Uncle.’ Now that Peytor was with us, she had not one, but two positive male figures in her life, and she’d attached to Peytor like glue.
“What’s wrong, Momma?” Itanya asked, her sweet little voice so full of wisdom beyond her years.
I often wondered if raising her in a rebel camp would have a negative effect on her development—if she’d see and hear things that no little girl should have to experience.
That, maybe, I should have fled camp and tried to make an honest living somewhere in the south.
Somewhere she could grow up in a stable environment with kids her own age, the ability to play with dolls, and go to school.
Maybe I’d even decide to get married and give her a father and a sibling.
But each time I’d contemplated leaving, something deep inside the recesses of my soul pulled me back to the camp. I needed to be here so I could finally lay my demons to rest.
Selfish? Yes.
But she needed a mother who was content in her own life, too, or I’d never be able to give her every part of me. She at least deserved that.
So I did my best to hide the worst of what happened—the gravest of my sins—from her, to preserve her innocence a little longer.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, Itanya was smarter than I gave her credit, and she interpreted a lot of what was happening, especially my emotions. She was good at reading situations and had the oldest, wisest soul I’d ever met.
The Bondsmith thought so, too, and took a liking to Itanya immediately. Whenever I was training or in meetings with Torin and Peytor—or at offensive dinners with rude lords—the Bondsmith acted as a stand-in grandmother.
And I think they both loved it.
The Bondsmith sat on my bed, a fond gaze settling over me and my daughter. She always seemed a little far away when Itanya and I embraced or laughed together, like she was remembering something. Or someone.
“Momma?” Itanya asked again, wriggling out of my arms to look at me. She clutched my face between her small hands and gazed into my eyes with the intensity of someone much older than five.
I smiled, pushing my reservations and fears from tonight to the back of my mind, while I drank in the sight of my world.
She was so little for her age—short and waiflike, so unlike the bulky build of her father.
Her skin was on the darker side of brown, and her hair was a mess of corkscrew curls that bounced all over the place when she walked.
Mine was like that when I was her age, but my eventual slavery dictated that I keep it out of the way.
It was either shave my head or braid back my curls.
I didn’t have the heart to shave it—the only thing on my body that was truly mine—so I learned to twist them into braids and locs, eventually adding beads and trinkets once I escaped to the Matriarch.
She was so like me—mind, body, and spirit.
But her eyes? Her eyes were all her dad—beautiful, bright-green orbs with flecks of blue that reminded me of the shallowest parts of the ocean near Iluul.
Those eyes regarded me now with a deep understanding that I wished she didn’t possess—that I wished she didn’t need.
“Nothing, baby,” I whispered, brushing her curls from her forehead before placing a gentle kiss in the same spot. She melted into me, then, wrapping her little arms around my neck in a fierce hug. “I’m happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you, too, Mommy! Gamma and I had so much fun, though! Can I show you all the art we made together?” She squealed in excitement when I nodded my head. Itanya had taken to calling the Bondsmith “Gamma” recently, and I didn’t have the heart or desire to correct her.
We were creating our own family, and if she wanted a legendary goddess to be her grandmother, then who was I to tell her no?
Itanya practically bounced around the small room while she showed me all the drawings and paintings she and the Bondsmith had done together over the last few hours. The newest artwork was carefully tacked to the stone walls, and it brightened the drab space. Made it feel more like a home.
I smiled and laughed with my daughter, entranced by the happiness on her face as she spoke about her art.
I wanted her to be able to do whatever she wanted with her life; to be an artist if she wanted, to fall in love if she wanted, without the fear of the Warlord hanging over her head.
She was my new why and had been since the day I held her bloody body against my chest.
“Itanya,” the Bondsmith called softly, “it’s time for me to get to bed. You probably should too, hmm?”
Itanya nodded sagely before scampering the few feet across the room to launch herself into the Bondsmith’s arms. The goddess fell back on the bed with a musical laugh as she peppered kisses against my daughter’s head and hair.
“I love you, Gamma,” Itanya exclaimed before pulling back and planting a sloppy, wet kiss on the Bondsmith’s cheek.
The Bondsmith closed her eyes, squeezing her a little tighter as she whispered, “I love you too.”
“Now, you be good and go straight to bed for your mommy, okay? If you do, we can paint some more tomorrow,” the Bondsmith instructed sternly but lovingly, and my daughter bobbed up and down in excitement.
“Oh, I promise, Gamma! I promise!”
They hugged once more, and Itanya huddled under the covers, waiting for a goodnight kiss from both her “Gamma” and me.
The Bondsmith said her goodbyes quietly, and I sat next to my daughter as she closed the door softly behind her.
Quietly, I hummed a song that I remembered my older sister singing when I was little and tired.
I could never remember the words, but I remembered the tune enough to fill in the gaps with my own song.
I traced gentle patterns on Itanya’s head as I sang, my voice softly lulling her into sleep.
Her breathing evened out and her body slumped as sleep took her, but still, I didn’t stop my ministrations.
I loved her with the force of a thousand suns, with every fiber and atom in my being. There was nothing—nothing—I wouldn’t do for her.
I just wished doing what was right didn’t pull me away from her.
Soon, we won’t have to be away. Soon, when all of this is done, it can just be you and me. And maybe Peytor and Uncle Torin. We’ll live somewhere safe and warm, and you can have anything you want. We just have to get through this first. We’re almost there, love. I can feel it.
I spoke to her in my mind, promising her the world and more, before I bent slightly and kissed her forehead once more. I extinguished the lone Mage Orb in the room before exiting our space, quietly shutting the door behind me.
“If you have to leave, I’ll take care of her. I promise nothing will happen to her.” The Bondsmith’s voice lilted in my ear, and I nearly screamed in surprise.
People never got the jump on me; I was always aware of my surroundings; of the threat they posed. But I was distracted and more at ease now that I’d seen my daughter.
Plus, the Bondsmith was a goddess. That had to count for something.
I whirled to face the Bondsmith, my back pressed against the door, with a stunned look of acceptance.
“How did you—” I trailed off but shook my head at her small smile. “Dumb question, you’re a goddess. Of course you know.”
She smiled, then, but it was a sad thing. “It has less to do with being a goddess and more to do with being so old that I know how to read people with an alarming accuracy.”
I had nothing to say to that, so I simply looked at her.
“With your permission, I’d like to put some Rune Wards on her.” I tensed at her suggestion, but the Bondsmith held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Nothing over the top, but just a few to keep her safe, should something ever happen.”
I chewed my lip in thought and reluctantly nodded.
The Bondsmith’s shoulders sank in relief, the lines in her face softening as she reached one hand to squeeze my bicep. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love that child as if she were my own grandchild.”
That same wistful look crossed her face before she schooled her expression again.
“Now, go in there and speak to those boys. I know you have a plan to concoct tonight.”
With one last squeeze, she turned, her dress and curly blonde hair fanning behind her, before she made her way up the stairs and to her own lavish apartment.
I took deep, fortifying breaths, clearing my mind of the beautiful child sleeping behind the door, and donned the mask of Torin’s ruthless general before striding to his door and knocking twice.