of my wrap tunic. “And Calanthe is an island.”
Con narrowed his eyes at me, the tawny gold of them striking in the dappled sunlight. “Don’t give me that shit, Lia. You’re the one always telling me Calanthe is alive and could stand up and start walking around. Why wouldn’t She have a literal womb? And don’t smile all mysteriously like that, either.”
“That was a smile of amusement,” I retorted. “And yes, I was born here, so I suppose calling the temple a womb isn’t a bad metaphor.”
“You were born here … Does that mean your mother lived here, not at the palace?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I replied drily.
“You haven’t been paying attention, Conrí,” Ambrose chided from behind us. “You’re the one who intuited the cure to restore Her Highness to health, so you should also be able to guess who Lia’s mother is.”
Con seemed to be wrestling with accepting that concept.
“A creation of human flesh and the floral body of Calanthe,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, but I thought that meant … well, a woman still had to give birth to you. And you told me your mother had been married to your father, then died.”
I gave him a cool look. “I lied.” When he narrowed his eyes at me, frowning, I nearly rolled mine. “You were the enemy, holding Me captive and forcing Me into an unwanted marriage. You’re surprised I didn’t answer your questions honestly?”
He snorted but held up his hands in peace. “So what is the truth, now that you’ve agreed not to lie to me anymore?”
Aware that Ibolya—who had been at least raised on this mythology—and Sondra were listening intently, I asked our horses to halt on the last landing before we emerged onto the greensward before the temple. “My father provided the seed, which mixed with the fertility of the maidens who volunteered themselves for the rites. But the priestesses then extracted that mixture and planted it to be incubated in large blossoms. Calanthe chose which of us would emerge to be Her daughter.” I watched Con carefully for signs of disgust.
“So you were … hatched?” he ventured, trying to sound neutral and not quite succeeding.
“In My head it looks more like a seedpod with a tough hide that had to be sliced open,” I replied.
He started to smile, then sobered. “I can’t tell if you’re joking this time.”
Feeling weary of it all, I shook my head. “I’ve never actually seen the process. It’s sacred knowledge belonging only to Mother Ascendant, the high priestess. Besides, it really isn’t relevant, except that you should understand even more clearly now that you and I are different in more than temperament. I am truly not human.”
“I know that, Lia,” he said softly.
“You think you know, but you pretend I’m a woman anyway.”
“Because you are a woman,” he argued. “I’ve been as close to you as anyone can be and—”
“And you’re deluding yourself. Open your eyes, Conrí. I’m a monster, just like Calanthe.”
A strained silence descended, our entourage no doubt embarrassed by the lovers’ quarrel. I asked our horses to continue. As they stepped onto the emerald moss, Sondra rode up beside me. “Can I ask a question, Your Highness?”
“Why stop now?” I replied, flicking a quelling glance at Con, who glowered blackly.
“Great.” Sondra grinned, undaunted. “So if the Calantheans can essentially grow their own nobility, why was old King Gul a fully human guy? I mean, he was, wasn’t he? And then, when You were gone, why didn’t they just harvest a new queen? Or, you know, have some podlings ready to go before this?”
I laughed at the image, which was maybe Sondra’s intent. For all her brusque ways and sarcastic mutters, she had a knack for relieving the tension of heightened emotion.
“Yeah,” Con put in darkly. “If you could just grow a new daughter, why were you concerned about getting an heir with me?”
My breath caught at that reminder. I’d been so concerned with simply clawing my way back to life and health that I hadn’t been paying attention. Ambrose had promised Con would give me a true heir, and perhaps he had. I’d felt a seed of life bursting into being when I’d fed on Con’s blood, making love to him at the same time, but I thought it had been my own life. Could it be that … Something to think about later. Much later. Like, after we knew if we would survive.
“It’s not that simple,” I told Sondra. “The previous queen died without an heir—I