A boy and a girl.
Or maybe two boys (I’d never heard the name Élan).
It didn’t matter.
Children.
Apollo of this world and his dead Ilsa had children.
Two of them.
Two of them.
Suddenly, I was certain I was going to throw up but luckily he spoke again so I had something to focus on and could swallow it down.
“These women are ladies maids and seamstresses. They will attend you.”
I didn’t need ladies maids and seamstresses. I didn’t even need a bathroom anymore.
I needed Valentine. Like now.
So I asked, “Where’s Valentine?”
“I do not know. She disappeared in the night, as is her wont.”
Disappeared?
Why?
Shit!
“Uh…I think she left a lot out last night,” I informed him.
“I’m late being away to the children’s school. You and I will talk later. But I’ll warn you now, I’ll have little time. There’s much to be done before we embark on our journey, so think on your questions and use that time wisely,” he stated and turned to leave.
Wait.
Hang on a second.
Who was this guy? And where was the guy who was all affectionate and kind and concerned and fierce?
“Wait!” I called when he’d almost made the door.
He turned back to me, definitely impatient now. “Ilsa, as I said, I’m late being away. I should have left half an hour ago.”
“I…” I hesitated and tipped my head to the side. “Are you okay?”
His impatience fled, the blank mask slid over his face and he answered, “I will be, if you leave me to go collect my children.”
“Right,” I said softly. “Of course.”
He didn’t acknowledge that. Not with a nod of his head, a lift of his chin or anything.
He just turned and walked out the door, and without pause, the troop of women rushed forward and descended on me.
* * * * *
It was late evening.