Between the Moon and Her Night (Between Life and Death #3)

Chapter 44

Sage

T he errant breeze plucked at my hair, twirling the few strands that were not swept into my ponytail. Sitting in the gently swaying branches above me, birds chirped and tweeted in private conversation with one another as the sun set on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pinks and oranges. From this vantage point, I could see a bit of the sky, but not all of it—that was partly due to the massive brick walls that surrounded the manor’s grounds.

The fabric stretched taut over my bent knees was stained with green while my fingernails were filled with earth. I patted the ground beside me, looking for the small shovel I had been using. When I could not find it, I glanced to my left, looking for it. Not there . I glanced to my right. Bingo .

Fingers wrapping around the handle, I plucked it from the ground and began to dig a new hole for the flower I had grown—a vibrant pink lily, its petals etched in white. I gently lifted the plant from the basket and placed it in the ground, then covered it with rich topsoil. After, I raised my hand over top, my fingers rolling rhythmically as I conjured water to rain down from my palm. When the ground was good and soaked, I shifted down and started on the next one.

That was what I had been doing with my time. Planting and growing flowers.

Well, that and—

My stomach rolled.

I lurched over to the side, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to ride out the waves of nausea. But my stomach clenched like an iron fist and the limited contents came shooting out. Acid burned my esophagus as I vomited on the grass. It wasn’t much, considering I couldn’t keep a whole lot down these days.

“Dammit,” I rasped, lungs rattling in my chest as I wiped the back of my hand against my mouth. I laid down on the lush blanket of nature’s green grass, my gaze lifting to the sky. I had thrown up nearly every day since Von brought me here. And although originally, I thought that it might be something to do with the bond, I was now beginning to suspect it might be something else entirely.

That something else scared the shit out of me.

And yet—my fingers danced over my stomach—

What if?

Those two little words were all I would allow myself to ask. They were safe. Because what if was not set in stone. It was based on a dream, on a possibility. But if I were to change those words into the three that I was too fearful to ask, and if I was given an answer that said yes, well, that would make everything real.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that kind of realness because I was just barely picking up the pieces of my shattered heart after learning what Von had done. During our time together, I had come to trust him. Love him. But I also thought I loved Aurelius at one time, too, and that turned out to bite me in the ass.

When I left Aurelius, I felt empowered. Excited. Proud.

But all I had felt since Von brought me here was heartbroken and sad.

I could easily stay in bed all day and sob. That’s exactly what I had done for the first week I was here. By the second, I knew I needed to do something, to get up, to use my hands.

“Would you like a bit of tea, milady?” asked Eliza, one of the many staff members who worked at the manor as she walked towards me.

Head rolling to the side, my cheek tickled by grass, I looked her way.

Eliza was one of the smallest women I had ever seen. She was tiny, but incredibly strong. I’d seen her carry potato sacks that were bigger than her with ease. Unlike some of the other staff, she lived outside of the manor with her sister, who suffered from some type of brain injury.

She offered me a soft smile, lifting the tray to show me what she had brought.

Abdomen contracting, I lifted from the ground and sat up. “Sure,” I said, reasoning that tea would help to remove some of the nasty taste from my mouth.

Eliza walked over to two metal chairs that sat underneath a willow tree, a small table between them. She placed the tray there and then turned to me. “Can I get you anything else, milady?”

Softly, I shook my head. “No, thank you. You are very kind, Eliza.”

She looked at the flowers I had planted. They stretched on and on. Had I made it my life’s mission to cover the backyard in vibrant-colored plants? Possibly.

“They are all so very lovely,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you. You could pick some and take them to your sister. If you think that’s something she might like.”

Eliza’s smile broadened. “She adores flowers. I’m sure she would be very excited if I took her some.”

“Then please see that you do.” My voice was warm.

“I will. I’ll take her some tomorrow.” She bowed her head, and then carried on back to the manor, leaving me alone with my rotting guts.

A few days later, I decided I should go see the downtown core of Belamour. Partly because my fingers were nearly raw from all the time I had been spending digging around in the dirt. The other part was because it would give me something to keep my mind busy—other than thinking of Von and my what if all day.

Getting ready to leave, I found the cloak that I had purchased all those months ago after I escaped Aurelius. I slung it over my shoulders, feeling its weight soothe my weary bones like a warm cup of tea. The pocketed tin thumped against my leg, reminding me that it was still there. I pulled it out, looking it over.

Von had released me from the deal we made. The tattoo he had given me, his branding bite on my backside, had also disappeared in the process.

“I suppose I won’t be needing you any longer,” I said as I walked over to a wicker basket used for garbage. I dropped the tin into it. When it struck the bottom of the basket, the lid popped off. My brow lifted—

There wasn’t salve in the container after all, which explained why it had felt so light.

In it was a folded white cloth, densely packed.

Bending, I picked up the bottom half of the tin and gently pulled the cloth out. I ran my fingers over top of the soft linen, feeling the small oblong pieces tucked beneath.

“You pee on them,” said a familiar voice, young and vibrant.

A smile touched my lips as I looked up, finding Ezra standing in the doorway. with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Ezra!” I exclaimed, shaking my head. “What are you doing here?”

She pointed to the tin. “I came to make sure you take a tinkle on those.”

I gave her a peculiar look. “Excuse me?”

Ezra walked over to me, her hand gently cupping mine as she unfolded the corner of the linen, revealing a layer of purple seeds.

“In the old language, these are called Neptuah.”

“They look a bit like barley, just longer,” I said, surveying the seeds.

“They are a relative,” she replied with a nod. “They are less nutty in flavor. A bit sweeter. But they also serve another purpose. They will tell you if you are pregnant or not.”

And there it was— the word that I had so desperately been trying to steer clear of.

I took a deep breath, felt the air fill my lungs. “How do they work?”

“Traditionally, women would urinate on barley seeds, and if they sprouted within so many days, it meant they were pregnant, but these seeds are a bit different. They work much quicker, or so I’ve been told. So—” she shoved them towards me and then began to shove on me, “—go, go! Get whizzing.”

“Wait a minute.” I pressed on my heels, my feet rooting to the floor. “You gave me this tin months ago. How did you know I would need it?”

“Lucky guess.”

I squinted at her and her ambiguous answer.

“Alright. Fine, fine. The day you showed up at my apothecary, the rocks told me that you would need the grains more than the salve,” she said, as if it explained everything.

It didn’t.

The rocks told her?

I stared at her blankly, deciding at that moment that I would never understand her hokey-pokey ways and continued to the bathing room.

When I was done, I left the grains on the vanity and stepped out into the hallway—fighting the urge to vomit. Not because I felt nauseous, but because I was so incredibly nervous. Like shit-your-pants nervous.

“Now what?” I asked Ezra, who was stretching, her hands above her head.

She dropped her arms, scurried over to my side, and said with a big, vibrant, grin, as she hooked her arm in mine. “Now, we wait.”

So that’s what we did.

Without a doubt, it was the longest wait of my life.

When it was time, Ezra turned to me. “Do you want me to go look, or do you want to?”

“You go look,” I told her as I sat on the end of the bed, my hands twisting uncomfortably in my lap. My heart fluttered in my chest, but that was nothing compared to the acrobatic moves my stomach was currently performing.

What if the seeds sprouted? What would that mean for me? What would I say to Von? What would that mean for us? Would he even want it? What if he didn’t? Did I even want it?

My world spun on its axis, threatening to fly off into oblivion as I was bombarded with question after question after question.

Ezra came into the room, the tin in her hand. Her brows were raised as she stared at the grains. She looked . . . shocked.

At that moment, I realized I didn’t need her to tell me if the seeds had sprouted or not because judging by the look on her face, that was all I needed to know.

“I’m pregnant, aren’t I?” I cried out. I was excited and afraid. My emotions were all over the place.

Ezra’s blue eyes lifted from the grains, settling on me. Then she shook her head and showed me them—not one had sprouted. “You are not.”

I nearly fell over.

“What?” I scampered off the bed, grabbing hold of the silver container and peering at the seeds, searching for a speck of green, but finding the same answer over and over again—Not pregnant. Not pregnant. Not pregnant.

I didn’t understand.

Ezra fished a handful of rocks out of her pocket. “How could you get this wrong?” she asked the mismatched stones, then brought them to her ear.

I blinked.

“You are sure these grains work?” I asked, thrusting them in front of her.

She batted my hand away, as if I was interrupting a private conversation.

“Ezra,” I snapped.

She lowered her hand, tucked the rocks back into her pocket, and then said, “The rocks are surprised as well, but they apologize. They said they might have jumped the bow on this one.”

I shook my head, unwilling to believe what I was being told. “But my emotions, they have been all over the place. Not to mention I have no interest in food and can’t keep anything down,” I said, my hand falling over the flat of my stomach.

“Both of those things are easily explained by the bond. It is suffering right now, and so naturally, it is messing with your body as well.”

I supposed that made sense. When the bond was newly formed, it made me extremely aroused, as well as emotional. With everything that had transpired between Von and I, now it was affecting me in an entirely different way—it was making me sick.

I took a deep breath, glancing once more at the unsprouted seeds.

On one hand, I felt relieved.

And on the other, I felt, well . . . sad.

Empty.