Melio drew his hand away from her neck but only so that he could use both his hands to grasp hers. "Now, there's something else we should talk about."

"No." She knew exactly what it was. She knew because she had been thinking about it, too. He had been patient, and she had known that in the joyful times after he had arrived back on the island and Elya was working her magic, he had been on the verge of opening the topic again. If he had asked a few days ago, she would have agreed. Things were different now.

"Let us make a child," he said. "Stop using that root powder and let's be parents to a new generation."

"Not now. Look at what's-"

"Yes, now! We've waited long enough. Do you really want to let me leave to face the Numrek without even trying? What if I don't come back? Will you wash your hands of my memory?" Mena started to object, but he spoke over her. "Why shouldn't I think that? You already do it. I hate the way you wash me out of you! Like there's something wrong with me. Like you don't want any remnants of me inside you. Every time we make love, you kill that part of me that wants to make life with you."

He dropped her hands, a gesture of disgust to match what he was accusing her of. His face-so perfect when he smiled-became a mask of creases, disdain, frustration. It was horrible to see. As he backed away, Mena stepped toward him. "You just told me not to say foolish things. You don't either. I always want you inside me. Always. You are here already. Right here, in my center." She showed the spot by making a blade of her hand stabbing it in her chest.

"Don't tell me the world is going mad again," Melio said. He did not hide the spite in his voice, a twisted sort of malice that coiled with vulnerability and love-hard to separate one from the other. "You always have a reason. You wanted to wait until Aaden was older, to make sure he lived and was healthy. Nice of you not to compete with your sister. But he did live. He's healthy and he'll wake up soon, better than ever. He's the heir. She can't possibly worry about your having children. Just tell her that. Then, it was that you couldn't be with child and fight the foulthings. Fine. That's done. And now you're going to say that the world is in chaos again. Too dangerous, right? Not right now. Afterward. Excuses, excuses, Mena!"

He said that harshly, then seemed to regret his tone. More softly, he said, "There always needs to be a new generation, no matter the circumstances of the moment. We can never know what the future holds. But I know what's true right now. Right now I love you and you love me. That love is a gift from the Giver, and you should thank him for it by making something of it."

"No," Mena said, but then hated the word and knew it was what she meant. It was she who drew closer to Melio now, one arm pulling his torso against hers, her other hand wrapping around the back of his head and pinching his hair between her fingers. "Not now, but after whatever is coming-with the Auldek, I mean-is over we can try."

"Me-naaaa!" He drew the name out, exasperated. "These things of life-love between two people, the quickening of new beings-they don't stop when events ask them to. They are life, much more so than the wars we make, the monsters we slay."

Tugging his hair, she cut in, "Listen. I will swear an oath to you. My promise to you and to the Giver. When the Numrek and the Auldek are dealt with, we'll make a child together. I swear it. But, Melio, I can't not fight if we are to have war. It's the only gift I really have to offer. It's what I'm good at. I'm Maeben on earth. I can't pretend otherwise."

"It's not the only thing you have to offer," Melio began, but did not explain further. He considered her skeptically for a moment. "Make children together. Not just one. We have years of delay to make up for."

"Yes, that's right." She pulled him closer and pressed her cheek against his collarbone. He let her stay like that a moment, but then pulled back.

"Look me in the eyes," he said. "Do you swear by Maeben as well?"

"Yes." And saying so she realized she did mean it. She was going to fight like she never had before. She was going to give everything she had, because the dream she had conjured of a peaceful life remained a thing to fight for. Just one more war. Just one, and surely the Giver would let her rest. "You are my Vaharinda," she said. "You will give me many children, enough to people the world."

He finally released the wonder that was his smile. All the components of his face shifted into joyful arrangement. "Okay, Mena," he said, "I just hope you get to keep this promise."

So do I, she thought, moving her mouth to meet his. So do I.

C HAPTER

A fine morning a week after all the chaos with the Numrek, Delivegu walked past the Marah guarding the entrance to the queen's compound, his chin raised, haughty and disdainful of their fixed stares. He quite enjoyed it. How quickly the talented rise. When he reached Rhrenna's offices in the anteroom, however, he made himself more personable. "Secretary," he said, showing his perfect teeth, "I have need of an audience with the queen."

"I know," Rhrenna said. "You told me as much. That's why I gave permission for you to come this far. I'll need to know why you wish to speak to her before you go any farther."

Why indeed, Delivegu thought, smiling. Why indeed? "Oh, it's a small thing, but I think she'd like to know it."

Delivegu's recent capture of Barad the Lesser had won him more than a few privileges. He now, officially, had a post in Rialus Neptos's staff. It would have annoyed him if Neptos-ratlike creature that he was-had actually been around, but he was away indefinitely, if not dead. Corinn kept her plans so close to her lovely chest that very little came through the offices of the councillor. What little did, the upper-level staff seemed intent on keeping from him. The first days in his post he took to calling himself-privately, of course-"Acting Chancellor Delivegu Lemardine." Time would remove the "Acting," and then, finally, all would be right in the world. Perhaps he would eventually achieve "Chancellor and Queen's Consort Delivegu Lemardine, he of the mighty erection." That last part was true, of course, and the rest… Well, one could always dream.

In keeping with his new role, he was granted office space in one of the outer buildings of the palace's governmental wings-not the most distinguished sector of the grounds. Documents brought to him from the councillor's office had to travel from those rarified regions down several staircases, along a back alley, through a few underpasses, and up a ramp most often trafficked by laborers and their animals. The stink of the beasts drifted through his open window. He would have kept it closed, except the room, shadowed as it was for much of the day behind a high archway, was damp almost to the point of being chilly.

Something similar could be said about the secretary who came with the office. She was not exactly disfigured-nobody who worked within the palace displayed any of the physical ailments one might see regularly among the common people-but there was something unnervingly masculine about her: shoulders wider than normal, hips narrower. Her jaw was square as any Aushenian dockworker's, her voice just as gruff. He was being unkind, perhaps. She filled her position efficiently enough, with barely a wasted word or action. He would rather have employed a dim-witted, pretty girl that he could have slathered across his desk when the spirit moved him. The fact that this woman did not entice him seemed a personal affront. Even worse, he had dreamed about her several times, dreams of a sexual nature that left him squirming when he awoke. He tried to avoid looking at her, not an easy task in a small office space.