Fic: The Jinn's Debt
Ruya was considered nobility in her village, a princess for lack of a better term, because she was the descendant of a shunned, hideous griot and a jinn. That the griot had birthed the most the most beautiful baby anyone had ever seen without lying with a man should have left the her banished; instead, it had gained her the village chief as a husband and offering upon offering at her feet because that was what she’d asked for, and the jinn had granted her wish.
Sons of village chiefs from near and far would woo this griot’s eldest daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter; for with each, she would be a griot of uncommon beauty, possessing something or things of her jinn sire. Ruya’s grandmother, the child born of the jinn-griot union, could disappear and reappear at will. Ruya’s mother could travel great distances at great speeds. Ruya herself had the ability to do both and something none but her jinn ancestor could.
She could divine.
*
Thomas Leodegrance was not the most handsome man she’d ever seen, nor the most charismatic; but that did not mean his face was unpleasant to behold or his unguarded smile and laugh couldn’t bring forth a genuine smile or chuckle of her own. He was not powerful, either by his father’s or his own right, but rather a servant-tradesman from across many waters who’d wanted to hone his skill from the best. He’d stood out in the crowd not because he was the tallest or the broadest, but because he appeared as golden millet breaking through nutrient-rich soil. And though he spoke a strange language with an unfortunate lack of command of hers, she’d had little difficulty understanding him. He was earnest, eager to improve upon his trade with his own brand of skill and wisdom to impart. But it was his questions about her and her alone, and the intensity with which he’d listen to her answers, that had drawn Ruya to him.
That and the fact she’d Known their futures were inextricably linked the moment he’d walked into her village.
*
No one stopped Ruya from leaving with Thomas, one year after his arrival, because no one could; although, everyone had questioned why she would prefer a servant to one of the chiefs.
“They cannot make me smile like he can,” she would respond, and his blush and grin would endear him to her even more. Her mother did not say goodbye because it was unnecessary. They would see each other again.
Thomas’s return to his village, what he called a kingdom, had been much faster than his departure, and she’d rubbed his back as he’d vomited the contents of the breakfast they’d had with her family before they’d left.
“When you-said-” Thomas coughed and wheezed, and she instantly felt bad.
“I am sorry,” she apologized, close to tears. She’d never wanted her powers to cause him distress, even if she’d thought this accelerated travel would have been kinder for both of them than not.
Thomas brushed away a tear that had escaped and shook his head. “You have amazing gifts, Ruya, but those gifts are not why I love you.”
*
Ruya wondered if she’d ever blinked from the moment she’d walked into Cameliard. It was the largest village she’d ever seen filled with people even paler than Thomas with hair of various colors and peculiar textures! She’d immediately felt self-conscious, wishing she could pull the cloak Thomas had provided to completely cover her. But then there was a section of the kingdom populated with many who looked similar to Thomas, and her anxiety decreased. They were all as lovely as Thomas, too, particularly his mother Salome, who was almost as dark as she was.
“Pulchra,” she’d said, kissing each of Ruya’s cheeks. “Melaina.”
“Melaina?” she repeated.
“It means black,” Thomas had said. “She calls you a black beauty.”
She smiled at him. “I like that, Thomas. I like being called that.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “You should, considering that is what you are, Ruya.”
Salome was a wonderful tutor in this new land of hers, helping her improve her language skills while teaching her how to sew. It had been decided for her to turn a trade as a seamstress.
“Everyone will need clothes, after all,” she’d said. “And the better you are, the better your chances of working in the castle. That is where the money is, Melania.”
And Ruya Knew she would work in a castle. It just would not be Cameliard’s.
*
“What a rare beauty you are!”
The voice was melodic and kind; Ruya instantly liked it. She looked up from the swords she’d been sharpening with Thomas to see a vision before her with eyes as blue as the sky and a smile as bright as the sun, and Ruya felt instant despair on her behalf.
“As are you, milady,” she said and bowed deeply, wincing slightly at her accent.
The bright lady smiled wider and started forward. “Where are you fr-?”
“Come along, Ygraine,” came a deeper, sibilant voice that made Ruya shiver, or maybe it was the ice-blue gaze upon her while the man spoke. “We shan’t keep Roderick waiting.”
“Straight away, Uther,” the woman replied, and she bowed her head to Ruya with a small, yet sincere smile.
Some of the bright lady’s party gasped at her show of respect, but she ignored them to continue King Leodegrance’s tour of the town. Ruya remained staring at the bright lady, so she didn’t miss it when the blonde woman turned her head over her shoulder and smiled once more.
“You shouldn’t stare at royals like that,” Thomas lightly chastised.
Ruya chuckled and rolled her eyes. Her husband could be quite the joker.
Thomas sidled up next to her. “She was drawn to you for a reason, wasn’t she?”
Ruya finally turned her gaze from the touring group and brushed her nose against his gently. “They are to be our new sovereigns, husband.”
*
There was one fact of Ruya’s ancestry that had rarely been revealed to those outside of the blood line, and that was the jinn’s debt. The griot’s wish could not be granted without some sort of recompense, but none had known what the debt would be or when it would be due.
But now Ruya did, and she mourned it every time she gazed upon her growing belly.
“Do you wish for a boy or a girl, Melania?” Ygraine had asked once.
Ruya had been brushing her mistress’s hair, more running the silky tendrils of it against her fingertips because she’d never felt anything so fine. That wasn’t to say Ruya didn’t like her own soft coils, or Thomas’s for that matter; but she reveled in how something called one name could have so many variations, like hair or people in general.
“I wish…” Ruya said, and almost scoffed aloud. Wishes were for fools, clearly. “I would like a healthy and happy baby, milady, no matter what the sex.”
Ygraine nodded, and her shoulders shook from a small sob. Ruya immediately hugged her mistress to her, and Ygraine nuzzled her cheek against Ruya’s swell.
“Yes, that is what I would wish for too.”
*
“You shouldn’t be out here alone; you never know what dangers you may encounter.”
Ruya arched an eyebrow and surreptitiously loaded her sling, but she smiled anyway. “You will not hurt me.”
“So confident of that, are we?”
“Yes,” Ruya replied, and whirled around, shooting the rock as hard as she could. It nicked a tiny horn, making her companion laugh.
“Oh, my dear Ruya, you will have to do better than that!”
She scowled good-naturedly. “Believe me, you old dragon; if I had meant to get you, I would have!”
Kilgharrah nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Of that I have no doubt, young Seer, but you know I am right still.”
Ruya scrunched up her face but continued searching for rocks. “I need more ammunition.”
“Apparently, since you wasted one on a friend.” Ruya blew him a kiss, and Kilgharrah rolled his eyes. “You and the little one are safe; these are not perilous times.”
“No, not yet,” Ruya sighed, flicking her black eyes to Kilgharrah’s gold ones while caressing her softly rounded belly.
The dragon sighed as well, turning his gaze to the skies where more of his brethren flew. “Not yet…”
*
Ruya preferred to do her sewing at the forge because it was warmer there and she loved watching her husband perform his craft. He was currently out delivering a plow to one of the farmers; his payment would be a chicken she would pluck, dress, and turn into a stew with vegetables she’d purchased from the local farmer.
She’d just finished making a new shirt for Thomas and was now creating small cap for the baby with the leftover fabric. Her child was currently pressing against her stomach with a gentle foot, as if anxious for it already.
“Yes, little one, this is to be yours,” she said, caressing her tummy, “to protect your curls from the winter into which you will be born.”
Ruya had never seen snow before now, and she decided she didn’t like it very much. This was the first time she’d ever felt homesickness, missing the warmth and the celebration a new baby would cause in her village. There was little of that in Camelot.
“Melania.”
Her head snapped up and she pricked her finger with the needle in her startle. She hissed and drew her fingers into her palm, careful not to get blood on her work.
“My lord,” she greeted and attempted to stand, but Uther held out a hand to stay her.
“Is…the blacksmith here?”
Ruya looked down at her belly to hide the rolling of her eyes. As if Thomas would play hide and seek while working! “He is making a delivery, sire.”
“I see.”
She met his eyes, and he smirked in reply. Normally, when the reason for one’s visit was not present, one would leave, but Uther did not go. In fact, he walked further into the forge.
That was because Thomas had never been his reason for coming, and both knew it.
“You and my wife are very close,” Uther said. “She’d been taken with you from the first.”
“Yes, sire.”
“She insisted you become her attendant during our stay at Cameliard, and then convinced me and Roderick to enter into a purchase for you and Tom to come to Camelot-my wife can be very persuasive.”
“She is a wonderful woman, my lord,” Ruya said carefully.
“Yes, none finer,” Uther said in an offhand manner and came closer. “At least…that was what I’d thought.”
“You will stay right there,” Ruya warned, her tone brooking no argument and ringing with the authority of Knowing.
Uther glared at her but stopped advancing, recognizing the otherworldly note in her voice even if he couldn’t determine what it was. He looked around the forge, the beta weapons on the wall, some iron spears harkening to the wooden weapons of her village in a rack next to the hearth, her.
“Tom’s skill is extraordinary,” Uther praised. “Truly, I have never seen such fine craftsmanship.”
“Thank you, my lord; hopefully you have told him that yourself,” Ruya said.
“I shall. In fact, I am considering naming him the royal blacksmith.” His eyes drifted to her middle. “I am sure the elevation in status and income would be most appreciating considering your impending parenthood.”
“It would, my lord.”
Uther swayed as if to step forward, but then remembered he could not…for some reason. “Perhaps a bit of an incentive could help move that process along.”
“What possible incentive could you require other than having the best blacksmith in the land forge your armor and weapons?”
“You cannot gain anything from nothing, Melania.”
“I do not see a ‘nothing for nothing’ scenario, Uther.”
His eyes widened before narrowing dangerously. “You should not be so impertinent.”
“And you should not be so inappropriate,” she replied, and turned her attention to her sewing. “It is time for you to leave, sire.”
She felt the chilly gaze on her for a few more moments, then the king of Camelot left on a whisper. She continued to tremble even when a beaming Thomas bounded in the room with a dead chicken held aloft. When he noticed her mood, he immediately dropped the bird and rushed to her side.
“Ruya!” he cried softly, framing her face in his hands. “What’s happened?”
“Hold me,” she begged.
He did, and the chill went away instantly.
*
Ruya’s belly had grown so that Thomas would have to help Ruya up and down the stairs to and from the queen’s chambers, until Ygraine had put a stop to that completely and had a bed placed into her quarters for her. She and Thomas would share a meal while her lady had hers with Uther and the other nobles of Camelot. Ruya knew Ygraine would dally, too, allowing Thomas to spend as much time as possible with his wife and unborn child.
“The baby will be a girl, eh?” Thomas had asked once, his mouth against her belly button poking through the simple shift she wore.
Ruya had smiled, smoothing her hand over his closely shorn head. “And she will look just like you.”
Thomas had pulled a face and kissed her tummy. “I am so sorry, little one. I’d hoped you be spared such a fate.”
“Uncommonly beautiful, remember?” Ruya had reminded him, ignoring the slight wince of her heart at his mention of fate.
“Yes, well, that’s just another term for ‘ugly’ if she looks like me!”
Ruya had slapped his shoulder amid his chuckles, but then she’d pulled his face up by grasping his chin. “Thomas Leodegrance, you are the most beautiful person I know, and I could not think of a better image for our daughter.” She’d traced the bridge of his nose. “Freckles and all.”
“Oh, no, she gets the freckles too?!” he’d bemoaned comically.
Ruya had giggled and kissed his nose. “They are lovely, just like you.”
*
“Melania? Melania! Wake up! Stay with me, Melania! Look at me!”
Do as she says, Daughter.
Ruya found the strength somewhere to open her eyes to her sovereign’s panicked gaze.
“Breathe! You’re not breathing, Melania! You have to breathe!”
She couldn’t breathe and push at the same time; that was an impossible feat in this late stage.
You cannot avoid your child’s destiny, Ruya. The price must be paid.
Ruya’s frown had nothing to do with her current contraction. I must pay for my ancestor’s choice? My daughter?
All is not as it will seem, even for you, Daughter.
Ruya let in a gasping breath and stared crazily at the royal midwife Ygraine had summoned. In a shocking, yet amusing move, the queen had yelled at her husband to leave her chambers; and, yes, a servant could give birth in her bed if she so desired it.
“In this, husband, you have no authority!” she’d cried. “Out!”
“At least Marguerite is finally being put to some use,” Uther had said snidely, glaring at both his wife and her maid before finally taking his leave.
Ygraine’s shoulders had slumped so that Ruya had wished she weren’t currently going through travail so she could confront Uther once and for all. “Do not listen to him,” Ruya had comforted right as a contraction hit.
“Shh, now, you concentrate on this child. Uther can go find a wench who shall lick his wounds for him,” Ygraine had muttered and kissed Ruya’s forehead.
With the sun’s rays peeking through the windows, Ruya could now say she had been in labor for a full day. The morning prior she’d awakened to a soaked mattress, but she’d had yet to feel a contraction. It hadn’t been until around dinner that the pains had started, leaving her hunched over Ygraine’s vanity as she’d been helping her mistress prepare for that evening’s meal. Ygraine had led her straight to her bed instead of Ruya’s, ignoring her protests the entire way.
“I finally see the head!” Marguerite cried, jerking Ruya back to the present. “Full o’ hair too!”
“Oh,” Ygraine breathed and started blinking. “You can do this, Melania! You can do it!”
You will.
If not for her mistress and her mother’s encouragement, Ruya did not think her daughter could have been born; but the sound of her indignant cry was the most beautiful Ruya had ever heard. She had no energy to lift her head to see the baby, but Queen Ygraine held the swaddled newborn in her arms with an expression of wonder.
“She looks just like Tom,” she whispered.
Ruya’s huff would have to serve as her intended chuckle. “I told him she would.”
“It’s too bad he’s off with the knights at tourney; he’ll be so upset he missed it.”
Ruya Knew that; that was why she hadn’t told him. What was the point of him fretting over something that would be unchanged?
Thankfully, the afterbirth wasn’t as arduous as its predecessor. Ygraine cooed nonsense to the newborn that made the child coo in response.
“She is very fair,” Ygraine mused and placed the child onto her mother’s naked chest. “A beautiful child, Melania.”
“Yes,” Ruya said, staring at her daughter staring back at her. The amount of fierce and protective love that overcame her made Ruya dizzy.
She is glorious, Daughter.
“Yes, she is,” Ruya said aloud and placed her palm over the child’s forehead. The baby blinked and closed her eyes. The child was golden against her mother’s sable skin.
“The difference in tone is handsome, striking,” Ygraine noted, placing her hand upon the child’s back.
“She takes after her father’s family,” Ruya said. “Hopefully there will be something of me when she gets older.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Ygraine said with a smile, then bit her lip. “I…this is perhaps too forward of me, but I should like to make a request.”
Ruya already Knew what it was, already Knew what her answer would be. “You may have it.”
“I-really? Just like that? You haven’t even heard it!”
“Milady, you have given me, a mere servant, the utmost care these past few weeks. The very least I can do is give you this.”
Ygraine knelt by the bed and kissed Ruya’s cracked knuckles. “Thank you, Melania. Given my troubles I…I just want to say I had the opportunity to name a child, even if it is not my own.”
Ruya’s heart broke at that. “Yes…”
Ygraine gently took the baby back into her arms. The little one didn’t even make a fuss, and Ygraine smiled wistfully, touching tender fingers to the baby’s crown, nose, and cheek.
“Guinevere. She shall be called Guinevere.”
Though Ruya had the ability to divine, she was by no means omniscient. And though she had Known Ygraine would name her daughter, she’d had no idea what it would be.
Considering all of the names that could go down in infamy, Guinevere was by far one of the loveliest.
*
Though Ruya had been something of a princess in her village, she was nothing but a servant here; and servants had the very infuriating ability to be dismissed. That was why she was out in the corridor, fifteen-month-old Guinevere strapped her back and quite asleep, gaping at the wood of her mistress’s door.
And since Ruya had been something of a princess in her village, she did not beat upon the door and beg for reentry; instead, she marched right up the stairs to Gaius’s workroom.
“How could you let this happen?” she snapped quietly, uncaring the man was stooped far lower than she’d ever seen him. Nimueh remained silent, but Ruya knew she was listening intently.
“You know how stubborn Uther can be-”
“And yet, for some reason, he will listen to you!” Ruya said, her hands on her hips and fury in her eyes. “And you, Nimueh, you know better-!”
“A life for a life, I warned Uther about that, but he insisted,” Nimueh defended.
“And you know, Melania, this is inevitable,” Gaius said quietly, and all but plopped down into his chair.
Ruya shook her head. Why she’d Known Gaius was to be her confidante inside the castle she would never truly understand. “No-no, this is not inevitable! This I could not have even imagined! I Knew Ygraine would die in childbirth; what I did not Know was Uther would be the cause!”
The jar Nimueh had been holding crashed to the ground.
Gaius cast a curious glance at his cohort briefly. “It would stand to reason if you Knew Ygraine would die giving birth, Ruya, that Uther would, in fact, be the cause, as he would be the child’s father.”
“Do not be an ass,” Ruya muttered, narrowing her eyes.
He ran a tired hand over his face. “I’m not, Melania, but I do grow ever weary of people barging into my quarters demanding answers that are not mine to give.”
The fact Gaius had a point only infuriated Ruya more, which exacerbated the dread she still felt ever since Ygraine had joyously informed her she was with child. The minute her mistress’s arms had come around her, grotesque images of the cause and the looming effects of this conception had overcome her mind so that she’d shoved Ygraine away from her. Both women’s eyes had gone wide right before Ygraine had accused Ruya of having a desire to see her ever childless.
No amount of reasoning would sway Ygraine’s mind from that, and she’d sacked Ruya.
“And you are certain it is Ygraine’s life, not Uther’s, that must be sacrificed?” Nimueh whispered, eyes wide with trepidation.
Ruya nodded sadly.
“Dangerous times are upon us,” Gaius mused. “Tell us, Melania, will they last long?”
“Too long,” she said honestly. The rest of what she could see was no one’s business to know…at least not now. “But it is a good thing you can keep a secret, Gaius. You will have a lot of those in your possession as the years go by.”
*
“I made this for you!”
Ygraine smiled and accepted the floral crown the toddler had made for her, then drew the little girl into a hug. “You are precious,” she declared, adjusting the child’s own floral crown, “so regal, Guinevere!”
The girl giggled and shimmied out of the queen’s arms. “I made this for the baby!” she cried, and placed the smaller floral wreath on the Ygraine’s generous swell. “I hope she’ll like it!” The child kissed Ygraine’s belly as if it would persuade the baby to accept her gift.
“I’m sure the baby will, Guinevere, but I’m hoping for a boy,” Ygraine said, winking at Ruya.
The two year old made a face of displeasure. “Boy!”
“All right, Guinevere, come to Mama,” Ruya said in Wolof.
The toddler huffed but ran on unsteady legs to her mother. “Mama, I don’t want it a boy, please make it a girl!” Guinevere requested, raising her arms so her mother could lift her. Ruya obliged her, the two rubbing noses together.
“What did she say?” Ygraine asked, reclined on the chaise and still doubly crowned with flowers Guinevere had borrowed from the various vases in the queen’s chamber.
Ruya switched languages again. “She wants me to turn your child into a girl.”
Ygraine laughed lightly and sat up a little. “Is that right?”
“She wants a sister,” Ruya explained.
Ygraine’s eyes widened. “Are you quickening?”
Ruya shook her head. “No, milady.”
Ygraine laughed tiredly, falling back upon the chaise. “I do not fault you that; this has been the most draining experience of my life! I dare not wish to do this again!”
Ruya had no answer for that. Guinevere snuggled into her mother’s chest and patted one breast. “Mama, I’m hungry.”
“It is not time for a feeding; and you are going to try some stew when you get home,” Ruya said against Guinevere’s forehead. And no matter how utterly adorable her daughter was, Ruya would not be swayed by the tiny pout marring her features.
Because Ygraine had been coming to the end of her term, Ruya had stayed in the chambers with her during the night. After a quick meal with her husband and daughter, Ruya would return to make sure her mistress was settled in.
But this term had gone over what most women experienced, and everyone was on edge.
Everyone except Ygraine.
“I will be back shortly, milady,” Ruya promised. “I am just taking Guinevere to the steps so Thomas can take her home.”
“Tell him hello for me,” Ygraine requested. “And good evening, Guinevere!”
“Good evening, milady!” Guinevere chirped. “See you tomorrow!”
The exchange with Thomas was quick with brief kisses to golden brown cheeks. As she started up the stairs, a shiver went through Ruya, and she made a quick detour before returning to her mistress’s quarters.
“It is time,” she told Nimueh.
With each contraction and each push, more and more of Ygraine’s life-force drained out of her body and into the child she was bringing into the world. Ruya was anchored behind the queen, her sovereign cradled between her legs for extra support and encouragement.
“Rest,” Nimueh said after a few hours of the intensive labor. “I shall let Uther know.” Stark, yet grave blue eyes met Ruya’s and Ruya nodded. She could handle this.
“Do you think it will be a full day for me?” Ygraine asked tiredly after Nimueh left.
“No, milady,” Ruya said, wiping her brow. “It will be over quicker than that.”
“Thank heavens,” Ygraine groaned. “You would think after almost a year, the baby would be eager to arrive!”
“What better place to be than a mother’s womb, milady?” Ruya asked.
Ygraine chuckled softly. “Good point, but the future king will be born tonight; he shall not dally any further.”
Another contraction stole her breath and more of her inner light. Her blonde hair fell limply about her shoulders, and her normally vibrant blue eyes seemed so dim. This was hard to watch for Ruya, to see someone she’d grown to love like a sister meet her demise right in front of her. But Ygraine maintained a positive disposition; Ruya supposed finally bearing an heir outweighed any negatives.
“I feel something happening down there,” Ygraine breathed after a moment.
Ruya was at the foot of the bed a second later. Ygraine was too out of it to care how she’d gotten there, so long as she was there.
“You are crowning. Baby Pendragon arrives.”
It took seven large pushes to birth the baby, and he was a red, splotchy, ugly thing. But the baby certainly had his mother’s eyes…and hair…and mouth and lips. Ruya was personally grateful for that; it would make it that much easier to like him.
“What is it?” Ygraine rasped, and it was if Ruya could see the light flickering out of her. She hurried to the queen’s side and placed the baby in her arms.
“A boy.” Ruya returned to the foot of the bed to handle the queen’s afterbirth.
“He is beautiful,” Ygraine croaked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I so wanted to watch him grow.”
Ruya snapped her eyes to Ygraine. “Milady?”
“You will nurse him for me?” she asked, ignoring the question lying underneath Ruya’s address, her gaze completely transfixed on the baby. “I do not trust anyone else with my son.”
“Ygraine-”
“And you should name him too,” Ygraine continued, trembling fingers mapping every single feature of her child’s face. “It is only fair. I named your daughter; you should name my son.”
“Ygraine.”
Her queen sobbed one and kissed her son’s forehead. “I am always with you, my boy. Mummy loves you.”
There was a roar outside of the queen’s chambers, and then the doors burst open to reveal a stricken Uther. His roaring and pleading did not stop, and he rushed to his wife’s side.
“Ygraine! I am sorry! I am sorry! I did not know!” he moaned.
Ygraine said nothing, did not even look at her husband. The final moments were to be between her and her child alone. One single tear fell down Ruya’s cheek the moment it happened, and she immediately took the baby from its mother. Ruya ignored the grieving king behind her and concentrated on blue eyes that regarded her with such innocence it made her breath catch.
“A strong leader requires a strong name, does he not?” Ruya asked. The baby widened his eyes briefly as if in affirmation, squirming inside the blood-red blanket that had held her daughter almost two years prior; a blanket this boy’s mother had made for her own someday child.
Ruya smiled and cupped the baby’s cheek. “You are now Arthur Pendragon, son of Ygraine, future king of Camelot.”
( Part II )
Sons of village chiefs from near and far would woo this griot’s eldest daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter; for with each, she would be a griot of uncommon beauty, possessing something or things of her jinn sire. Ruya’s grandmother, the child born of the jinn-griot union, could disappear and reappear at will. Ruya’s mother could travel great distances at great speeds. Ruya herself had the ability to do both and something none but her jinn ancestor could.
She could divine.
*
Thomas Leodegrance was not the most handsome man she’d ever seen, nor the most charismatic; but that did not mean his face was unpleasant to behold or his unguarded smile and laugh couldn’t bring forth a genuine smile or chuckle of her own. He was not powerful, either by his father’s or his own right, but rather a servant-tradesman from across many waters who’d wanted to hone his skill from the best. He’d stood out in the crowd not because he was the tallest or the broadest, but because he appeared as golden millet breaking through nutrient-rich soil. And though he spoke a strange language with an unfortunate lack of command of hers, she’d had little difficulty understanding him. He was earnest, eager to improve upon his trade with his own brand of skill and wisdom to impart. But it was his questions about her and her alone, and the intensity with which he’d listen to her answers, that had drawn Ruya to him.
That and the fact she’d Known their futures were inextricably linked the moment he’d walked into her village.
*
No one stopped Ruya from leaving with Thomas, one year after his arrival, because no one could; although, everyone had questioned why she would prefer a servant to one of the chiefs.
“They cannot make me smile like he can,” she would respond, and his blush and grin would endear him to her even more. Her mother did not say goodbye because it was unnecessary. They would see each other again.
Thomas’s return to his village, what he called a kingdom, had been much faster than his departure, and she’d rubbed his back as he’d vomited the contents of the breakfast they’d had with her family before they’d left.
“When you-said-” Thomas coughed and wheezed, and she instantly felt bad.
“I am sorry,” she apologized, close to tears. She’d never wanted her powers to cause him distress, even if she’d thought this accelerated travel would have been kinder for both of them than not.
Thomas brushed away a tear that had escaped and shook his head. “You have amazing gifts, Ruya, but those gifts are not why I love you.”
*
Ruya wondered if she’d ever blinked from the moment she’d walked into Cameliard. It was the largest village she’d ever seen filled with people even paler than Thomas with hair of various colors and peculiar textures! She’d immediately felt self-conscious, wishing she could pull the cloak Thomas had provided to completely cover her. But then there was a section of the kingdom populated with many who looked similar to Thomas, and her anxiety decreased. They were all as lovely as Thomas, too, particularly his mother Salome, who was almost as dark as she was.
“Pulchra,” she’d said, kissing each of Ruya’s cheeks. “Melaina.”
“Melaina?” she repeated.
“It means black,” Thomas had said. “She calls you a black beauty.”
She smiled at him. “I like that, Thomas. I like being called that.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “You should, considering that is what you are, Ruya.”
Salome was a wonderful tutor in this new land of hers, helping her improve her language skills while teaching her how to sew. It had been decided for her to turn a trade as a seamstress.
“Everyone will need clothes, after all,” she’d said. “And the better you are, the better your chances of working in the castle. That is where the money is, Melania.”
And Ruya Knew she would work in a castle. It just would not be Cameliard’s.
*
“What a rare beauty you are!”
The voice was melodic and kind; Ruya instantly liked it. She looked up from the swords she’d been sharpening with Thomas to see a vision before her with eyes as blue as the sky and a smile as bright as the sun, and Ruya felt instant despair on her behalf.
“As are you, milady,” she said and bowed deeply, wincing slightly at her accent.
The bright lady smiled wider and started forward. “Where are you fr-?”
“Come along, Ygraine,” came a deeper, sibilant voice that made Ruya shiver, or maybe it was the ice-blue gaze upon her while the man spoke. “We shan’t keep Roderick waiting.”
“Straight away, Uther,” the woman replied, and she bowed her head to Ruya with a small, yet sincere smile.
Some of the bright lady’s party gasped at her show of respect, but she ignored them to continue King Leodegrance’s tour of the town. Ruya remained staring at the bright lady, so she didn’t miss it when the blonde woman turned her head over her shoulder and smiled once more.
“You shouldn’t stare at royals like that,” Thomas lightly chastised.
Ruya chuckled and rolled her eyes. Her husband could be quite the joker.
Thomas sidled up next to her. “She was drawn to you for a reason, wasn’t she?”
Ruya finally turned her gaze from the touring group and brushed her nose against his gently. “They are to be our new sovereigns, husband.”
*
There was one fact of Ruya’s ancestry that had rarely been revealed to those outside of the blood line, and that was the jinn’s debt. The griot’s wish could not be granted without some sort of recompense, but none had known what the debt would be or when it would be due.
But now Ruya did, and she mourned it every time she gazed upon her growing belly.
“Do you wish for a boy or a girl, Melania?” Ygraine had asked once.
Ruya had been brushing her mistress’s hair, more running the silky tendrils of it against her fingertips because she’d never felt anything so fine. That wasn’t to say Ruya didn’t like her own soft coils, or Thomas’s for that matter; but she reveled in how something called one name could have so many variations, like hair or people in general.
“I wish…” Ruya said, and almost scoffed aloud. Wishes were for fools, clearly. “I would like a healthy and happy baby, milady, no matter what the sex.”
Ygraine nodded, and her shoulders shook from a small sob. Ruya immediately hugged her mistress to her, and Ygraine nuzzled her cheek against Ruya’s swell.
“Yes, that is what I would wish for too.”
*
“You shouldn’t be out here alone; you never know what dangers you may encounter.”
Ruya arched an eyebrow and surreptitiously loaded her sling, but she smiled anyway. “You will not hurt me.”
“So confident of that, are we?”
“Yes,” Ruya replied, and whirled around, shooting the rock as hard as she could. It nicked a tiny horn, making her companion laugh.
“Oh, my dear Ruya, you will have to do better than that!”
She scowled good-naturedly. “Believe me, you old dragon; if I had meant to get you, I would have!”
Kilgharrah nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Of that I have no doubt, young Seer, but you know I am right still.”
Ruya scrunched up her face but continued searching for rocks. “I need more ammunition.”
“Apparently, since you wasted one on a friend.” Ruya blew him a kiss, and Kilgharrah rolled his eyes. “You and the little one are safe; these are not perilous times.”
“No, not yet,” Ruya sighed, flicking her black eyes to Kilgharrah’s gold ones while caressing her softly rounded belly.
The dragon sighed as well, turning his gaze to the skies where more of his brethren flew. “Not yet…”
*
Ruya preferred to do her sewing at the forge because it was warmer there and she loved watching her husband perform his craft. He was currently out delivering a plow to one of the farmers; his payment would be a chicken she would pluck, dress, and turn into a stew with vegetables she’d purchased from the local farmer.
She’d just finished making a new shirt for Thomas and was now creating small cap for the baby with the leftover fabric. Her child was currently pressing against her stomach with a gentle foot, as if anxious for it already.
“Yes, little one, this is to be yours,” she said, caressing her tummy, “to protect your curls from the winter into which you will be born.”
Ruya had never seen snow before now, and she decided she didn’t like it very much. This was the first time she’d ever felt homesickness, missing the warmth and the celebration a new baby would cause in her village. There was little of that in Camelot.
“Melania.”
Her head snapped up and she pricked her finger with the needle in her startle. She hissed and drew her fingers into her palm, careful not to get blood on her work.
“My lord,” she greeted and attempted to stand, but Uther held out a hand to stay her.
“Is…the blacksmith here?”
Ruya looked down at her belly to hide the rolling of her eyes. As if Thomas would play hide and seek while working! “He is making a delivery, sire.”
“I see.”
She met his eyes, and he smirked in reply. Normally, when the reason for one’s visit was not present, one would leave, but Uther did not go. In fact, he walked further into the forge.
That was because Thomas had never been his reason for coming, and both knew it.
“You and my wife are very close,” Uther said. “She’d been taken with you from the first.”
“Yes, sire.”
“She insisted you become her attendant during our stay at Cameliard, and then convinced me and Roderick to enter into a purchase for you and Tom to come to Camelot-my wife can be very persuasive.”
“She is a wonderful woman, my lord,” Ruya said carefully.
“Yes, none finer,” Uther said in an offhand manner and came closer. “At least…that was what I’d thought.”
“You will stay right there,” Ruya warned, her tone brooking no argument and ringing with the authority of Knowing.
Uther glared at her but stopped advancing, recognizing the otherworldly note in her voice even if he couldn’t determine what it was. He looked around the forge, the beta weapons on the wall, some iron spears harkening to the wooden weapons of her village in a rack next to the hearth, her.
“Tom’s skill is extraordinary,” Uther praised. “Truly, I have never seen such fine craftsmanship.”
“Thank you, my lord; hopefully you have told him that yourself,” Ruya said.
“I shall. In fact, I am considering naming him the royal blacksmith.” His eyes drifted to her middle. “I am sure the elevation in status and income would be most appreciating considering your impending parenthood.”
“It would, my lord.”
Uther swayed as if to step forward, but then remembered he could not…for some reason. “Perhaps a bit of an incentive could help move that process along.”
“What possible incentive could you require other than having the best blacksmith in the land forge your armor and weapons?”
“You cannot gain anything from nothing, Melania.”
“I do not see a ‘nothing for nothing’ scenario, Uther.”
His eyes widened before narrowing dangerously. “You should not be so impertinent.”
“And you should not be so inappropriate,” she replied, and turned her attention to her sewing. “It is time for you to leave, sire.”
She felt the chilly gaze on her for a few more moments, then the king of Camelot left on a whisper. She continued to tremble even when a beaming Thomas bounded in the room with a dead chicken held aloft. When he noticed her mood, he immediately dropped the bird and rushed to her side.
“Ruya!” he cried softly, framing her face in his hands. “What’s happened?”
“Hold me,” she begged.
He did, and the chill went away instantly.
*
Ruya’s belly had grown so that Thomas would have to help Ruya up and down the stairs to and from the queen’s chambers, until Ygraine had put a stop to that completely and had a bed placed into her quarters for her. She and Thomas would share a meal while her lady had hers with Uther and the other nobles of Camelot. Ruya knew Ygraine would dally, too, allowing Thomas to spend as much time as possible with his wife and unborn child.
“The baby will be a girl, eh?” Thomas had asked once, his mouth against her belly button poking through the simple shift she wore.
Ruya had smiled, smoothing her hand over his closely shorn head. “And she will look just like you.”
Thomas had pulled a face and kissed her tummy. “I am so sorry, little one. I’d hoped you be spared such a fate.”
“Uncommonly beautiful, remember?” Ruya had reminded him, ignoring the slight wince of her heart at his mention of fate.
“Yes, well, that’s just another term for ‘ugly’ if she looks like me!”
Ruya had slapped his shoulder amid his chuckles, but then she’d pulled his face up by grasping his chin. “Thomas Leodegrance, you are the most beautiful person I know, and I could not think of a better image for our daughter.” She’d traced the bridge of his nose. “Freckles and all.”
“Oh, no, she gets the freckles too?!” he’d bemoaned comically.
Ruya had giggled and kissed his nose. “They are lovely, just like you.”
*
“Melania? Melania! Wake up! Stay with me, Melania! Look at me!”
Do as she says, Daughter.
Ruya found the strength somewhere to open her eyes to her sovereign’s panicked gaze.
“Breathe! You’re not breathing, Melania! You have to breathe!”
She couldn’t breathe and push at the same time; that was an impossible feat in this late stage.
You cannot avoid your child’s destiny, Ruya. The price must be paid.
Ruya’s frown had nothing to do with her current contraction. I must pay for my ancestor’s choice? My daughter?
All is not as it will seem, even for you, Daughter.
Ruya let in a gasping breath and stared crazily at the royal midwife Ygraine had summoned. In a shocking, yet amusing move, the queen had yelled at her husband to leave her chambers; and, yes, a servant could give birth in her bed if she so desired it.
“In this, husband, you have no authority!” she’d cried. “Out!”
“At least Marguerite is finally being put to some use,” Uther had said snidely, glaring at both his wife and her maid before finally taking his leave.
Ygraine’s shoulders had slumped so that Ruya had wished she weren’t currently going through travail so she could confront Uther once and for all. “Do not listen to him,” Ruya had comforted right as a contraction hit.
“Shh, now, you concentrate on this child. Uther can go find a wench who shall lick his wounds for him,” Ygraine had muttered and kissed Ruya’s forehead.
With the sun’s rays peeking through the windows, Ruya could now say she had been in labor for a full day. The morning prior she’d awakened to a soaked mattress, but she’d had yet to feel a contraction. It hadn’t been until around dinner that the pains had started, leaving her hunched over Ygraine’s vanity as she’d been helping her mistress prepare for that evening’s meal. Ygraine had led her straight to her bed instead of Ruya’s, ignoring her protests the entire way.
“I finally see the head!” Marguerite cried, jerking Ruya back to the present. “Full o’ hair too!”
“Oh,” Ygraine breathed and started blinking. “You can do this, Melania! You can do it!”
You will.
If not for her mistress and her mother’s encouragement, Ruya did not think her daughter could have been born; but the sound of her indignant cry was the most beautiful Ruya had ever heard. She had no energy to lift her head to see the baby, but Queen Ygraine held the swaddled newborn in her arms with an expression of wonder.
“She looks just like Tom,” she whispered.
Ruya’s huff would have to serve as her intended chuckle. “I told him she would.”
“It’s too bad he’s off with the knights at tourney; he’ll be so upset he missed it.”
Ruya Knew that; that was why she hadn’t told him. What was the point of him fretting over something that would be unchanged?
Thankfully, the afterbirth wasn’t as arduous as its predecessor. Ygraine cooed nonsense to the newborn that made the child coo in response.
“She is very fair,” Ygraine mused and placed the child onto her mother’s naked chest. “A beautiful child, Melania.”
“Yes,” Ruya said, staring at her daughter staring back at her. The amount of fierce and protective love that overcame her made Ruya dizzy.
She is glorious, Daughter.
“Yes, she is,” Ruya said aloud and placed her palm over the child’s forehead. The baby blinked and closed her eyes. The child was golden against her mother’s sable skin.
“The difference in tone is handsome, striking,” Ygraine noted, placing her hand upon the child’s back.
“She takes after her father’s family,” Ruya said. “Hopefully there will be something of me when she gets older.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Ygraine said with a smile, then bit her lip. “I…this is perhaps too forward of me, but I should like to make a request.”
Ruya already Knew what it was, already Knew what her answer would be. “You may have it.”
“I-really? Just like that? You haven’t even heard it!”
“Milady, you have given me, a mere servant, the utmost care these past few weeks. The very least I can do is give you this.”
Ygraine knelt by the bed and kissed Ruya’s cracked knuckles. “Thank you, Melania. Given my troubles I…I just want to say I had the opportunity to name a child, even if it is not my own.”
Ruya’s heart broke at that. “Yes…”
Ygraine gently took the baby back into her arms. The little one didn’t even make a fuss, and Ygraine smiled wistfully, touching tender fingers to the baby’s crown, nose, and cheek.
“Guinevere. She shall be called Guinevere.”
Though Ruya had the ability to divine, she was by no means omniscient. And though she had Known Ygraine would name her daughter, she’d had no idea what it would be.
Considering all of the names that could go down in infamy, Guinevere was by far one of the loveliest.
*
Though Ruya had been something of a princess in her village, she was nothing but a servant here; and servants had the very infuriating ability to be dismissed. That was why she was out in the corridor, fifteen-month-old Guinevere strapped her back and quite asleep, gaping at the wood of her mistress’s door.
And since Ruya had been something of a princess in her village, she did not beat upon the door and beg for reentry; instead, she marched right up the stairs to Gaius’s workroom.
“How could you let this happen?” she snapped quietly, uncaring the man was stooped far lower than she’d ever seen him. Nimueh remained silent, but Ruya knew she was listening intently.
“You know how stubborn Uther can be-”
“And yet, for some reason, he will listen to you!” Ruya said, her hands on her hips and fury in her eyes. “And you, Nimueh, you know better-!”
“A life for a life, I warned Uther about that, but he insisted,” Nimueh defended.
“And you know, Melania, this is inevitable,” Gaius said quietly, and all but plopped down into his chair.
Ruya shook her head. Why she’d Known Gaius was to be her confidante inside the castle she would never truly understand. “No-no, this is not inevitable! This I could not have even imagined! I Knew Ygraine would die in childbirth; what I did not Know was Uther would be the cause!”
The jar Nimueh had been holding crashed to the ground.
Gaius cast a curious glance at his cohort briefly. “It would stand to reason if you Knew Ygraine would die giving birth, Ruya, that Uther would, in fact, be the cause, as he would be the child’s father.”
“Do not be an ass,” Ruya muttered, narrowing her eyes.
He ran a tired hand over his face. “I’m not, Melania, but I do grow ever weary of people barging into my quarters demanding answers that are not mine to give.”
The fact Gaius had a point only infuriated Ruya more, which exacerbated the dread she still felt ever since Ygraine had joyously informed her she was with child. The minute her mistress’s arms had come around her, grotesque images of the cause and the looming effects of this conception had overcome her mind so that she’d shoved Ygraine away from her. Both women’s eyes had gone wide right before Ygraine had accused Ruya of having a desire to see her ever childless.
No amount of reasoning would sway Ygraine’s mind from that, and she’d sacked Ruya.
“And you are certain it is Ygraine’s life, not Uther’s, that must be sacrificed?” Nimueh whispered, eyes wide with trepidation.
Ruya nodded sadly.
“Dangerous times are upon us,” Gaius mused. “Tell us, Melania, will they last long?”
“Too long,” she said honestly. The rest of what she could see was no one’s business to know…at least not now. “But it is a good thing you can keep a secret, Gaius. You will have a lot of those in your possession as the years go by.”
*
“I made this for you!”
Ygraine smiled and accepted the floral crown the toddler had made for her, then drew the little girl into a hug. “You are precious,” she declared, adjusting the child’s own floral crown, “so regal, Guinevere!”
The girl giggled and shimmied out of the queen’s arms. “I made this for the baby!” she cried, and placed the smaller floral wreath on the Ygraine’s generous swell. “I hope she’ll like it!” The child kissed Ygraine’s belly as if it would persuade the baby to accept her gift.
“I’m sure the baby will, Guinevere, but I’m hoping for a boy,” Ygraine said, winking at Ruya.
The two year old made a face of displeasure. “Boy!”
“All right, Guinevere, come to Mama,” Ruya said in Wolof.
The toddler huffed but ran on unsteady legs to her mother. “Mama, I don’t want it a boy, please make it a girl!” Guinevere requested, raising her arms so her mother could lift her. Ruya obliged her, the two rubbing noses together.
“What did she say?” Ygraine asked, reclined on the chaise and still doubly crowned with flowers Guinevere had borrowed from the various vases in the queen’s chamber.
Ruya switched languages again. “She wants me to turn your child into a girl.”
Ygraine laughed lightly and sat up a little. “Is that right?”
“She wants a sister,” Ruya explained.
Ygraine’s eyes widened. “Are you quickening?”
Ruya shook her head. “No, milady.”
Ygraine laughed tiredly, falling back upon the chaise. “I do not fault you that; this has been the most draining experience of my life! I dare not wish to do this again!”
Ruya had no answer for that. Guinevere snuggled into her mother’s chest and patted one breast. “Mama, I’m hungry.”
“It is not time for a feeding; and you are going to try some stew when you get home,” Ruya said against Guinevere’s forehead. And no matter how utterly adorable her daughter was, Ruya would not be swayed by the tiny pout marring her features.
Because Ygraine had been coming to the end of her term, Ruya had stayed in the chambers with her during the night. After a quick meal with her husband and daughter, Ruya would return to make sure her mistress was settled in.
But this term had gone over what most women experienced, and everyone was on edge.
Everyone except Ygraine.
“I will be back shortly, milady,” Ruya promised. “I am just taking Guinevere to the steps so Thomas can take her home.”
“Tell him hello for me,” Ygraine requested. “And good evening, Guinevere!”
“Good evening, milady!” Guinevere chirped. “See you tomorrow!”
The exchange with Thomas was quick with brief kisses to golden brown cheeks. As she started up the stairs, a shiver went through Ruya, and she made a quick detour before returning to her mistress’s quarters.
“It is time,” she told Nimueh.
With each contraction and each push, more and more of Ygraine’s life-force drained out of her body and into the child she was bringing into the world. Ruya was anchored behind the queen, her sovereign cradled between her legs for extra support and encouragement.
“Rest,” Nimueh said after a few hours of the intensive labor. “I shall let Uther know.” Stark, yet grave blue eyes met Ruya’s and Ruya nodded. She could handle this.
“Do you think it will be a full day for me?” Ygraine asked tiredly after Nimueh left.
“No, milady,” Ruya said, wiping her brow. “It will be over quicker than that.”
“Thank heavens,” Ygraine groaned. “You would think after almost a year, the baby would be eager to arrive!”
“What better place to be than a mother’s womb, milady?” Ruya asked.
Ygraine chuckled softly. “Good point, but the future king will be born tonight; he shall not dally any further.”
Another contraction stole her breath and more of her inner light. Her blonde hair fell limply about her shoulders, and her normally vibrant blue eyes seemed so dim. This was hard to watch for Ruya, to see someone she’d grown to love like a sister meet her demise right in front of her. But Ygraine maintained a positive disposition; Ruya supposed finally bearing an heir outweighed any negatives.
“I feel something happening down there,” Ygraine breathed after a moment.
Ruya was at the foot of the bed a second later. Ygraine was too out of it to care how she’d gotten there, so long as she was there.
“You are crowning. Baby Pendragon arrives.”
It took seven large pushes to birth the baby, and he was a red, splotchy, ugly thing. But the baby certainly had his mother’s eyes…and hair…and mouth and lips. Ruya was personally grateful for that; it would make it that much easier to like him.
“What is it?” Ygraine rasped, and it was if Ruya could see the light flickering out of her. She hurried to the queen’s side and placed the baby in her arms.
“A boy.” Ruya returned to the foot of the bed to handle the queen’s afterbirth.
“He is beautiful,” Ygraine croaked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I so wanted to watch him grow.”
Ruya snapped her eyes to Ygraine. “Milady?”
“You will nurse him for me?” she asked, ignoring the question lying underneath Ruya’s address, her gaze completely transfixed on the baby. “I do not trust anyone else with my son.”
“Ygraine-”
“And you should name him too,” Ygraine continued, trembling fingers mapping every single feature of her child’s face. “It is only fair. I named your daughter; you should name my son.”
“Ygraine.”
Her queen sobbed one and kissed her son’s forehead. “I am always with you, my boy. Mummy loves you.”
There was a roar outside of the queen’s chambers, and then the doors burst open to reveal a stricken Uther. His roaring and pleading did not stop, and he rushed to his wife’s side.
“Ygraine! I am sorry! I am sorry! I did not know!” he moaned.
Ygraine said nothing, did not even look at her husband. The final moments were to be between her and her child alone. One single tear fell down Ruya’s cheek the moment it happened, and she immediately took the baby from its mother. Ruya ignored the grieving king behind her and concentrated on blue eyes that regarded her with such innocence it made her breath catch.
“A strong leader requires a strong name, does he not?” Ruya asked. The baby widened his eyes briefly as if in affirmation, squirming inside the blood-red blanket that had held her daughter almost two years prior; a blanket this boy’s mother had made for her own someday child.
Ruya smiled and cupped the baby’s cheek. “You are now Arthur Pendragon, son of Ygraine, future king of Camelot.”
( Part II )