And I would never ever be a mother. Some people just weren’t meant to be parents, and that should be okay. Freedom of choice ought to mean freedom to choose not to breed.
Eli, however, had to have a kid. There wasn’t really a compromise there.
It wasn’t even that fae law was unreasonable. There were exemption options for infertility or if a person was gay or lesbian—or if they had a sibling who was able to pass on the family memories. Elphame Law addressed most concerns. There were even Temple partners who were magical enough to have multiple children. That enabled the exceptional cases—gay, lesbian, or second children—to pass on their genes.
Eli was neither gay nor a second son.
I’d be asking Eli to sacrifice his ancestors if he was with me. I wouldn’t do that to anyone I liked even a little, much less someone I trusted and respected as I did with him.
“It’s complicated,” I said quietly.
I didn’t have consent to share the fae secret of ancestry. I couldn’t explain why I was refusing him. And no one quite understood my aversion to parenthood. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to pass on my fucked up genetic soup. That was a huge factor, but when Eli explained how we could avoid that . . . I still didn’t want to be a parent. I wanted my life. My mission in my city. I liked what I had.
The only thing I’d change was . . . adding Eli.
He’d always been the flame that drew me. His glamour hadn’t ever worked on me—either because of my witch blood or maybe my other blood. I wasn’t sure what he looked like to others, but he’d always been perfect to me.
If not for the whole royal requirement and duty to pass on his ancestral lineage, I’d be naked with him by now.
Without quite meaning to, I looked over and met his gaze again, and this time, he walked over to the table. I guess a guy could only ignore being stared at so long.
“Christy. Sera. Jesse.” He nodded at each of my friends. Then he looked at me. “Geneviève.”
My insides turned to mush, and I realized I was still staring at him. It had been forty-three days since I’d thought we could be together. Forty-three days that we had been engaged. Two weeks since the last job together when we kissed and sparred. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t even pretend to want anyone else. I’d never been monogamous, but something about Eli had me embracing monogamy—without the sex that should go with it. It was baffling.
I licked my lips unconsciously, and then blushed at his responding smile.
“What?”
“I said ‘Would you accompany me?’” he asked, eyes twinkling as if he was aware that I’d completely failed to hear him the first time. He added, “To meet Lady Beatrice.”
“Beatrice?” I echoed.
Eli nodded. “Indeed.”
I had been avoiding the draugr queen since she’s saved my life. I was being ungrateful, but I had complicated feelings. I was, awkwardly, related to her, and as best as I understood, she was my maternal ancestor—but she was a draugr. My job was killing her kind. So, yeah, it was complicated. “I’m not sure I—”
“She has requested my presence, and I am unable to visit her alone.”
I startled. Eli was the strongest person I knew—other than Beatrice—and they had no discord. She knew who he was and had no desire to start a war with the fae. And while Eli had no great love for her, they’d spoken almost cordially.
“It would be inappropriate to see her without you with me. A fae who has pledged devotion must not meet unchaperoned with anyone sexually mature.” His voice was level; he always had the same calm tone when I was panicking or about to lose my temper.
“Like you can’t see her because you might be overcome and marry her instead?” I stopped short of saying that would be fine. It wasn’t—and everyone who knew me knew it. I might not be interested in making his babies, or a future in Elphame, but I was exceedingly interested in Eli.
“Geneviève—”
“Monkey balls. This is that whole faux engagement that—”
“Not faux,” Eli interjected. “My hand is already yours, sugar cookie.” He gave me the sort of look that could melt knickers. “This was a formal invitation, Geneviève, which means I cannot visit her without accompaniment of my intended, a relative, or a male friend.”