I left Angela and Emmy sleeping peacefully when I got up for a morning workout at the hotel’s surprisingly well-outfitted but completely deserted gym. I put in a solid two hours of mostly weights, thankful for the chance to shake off my travel lethargy.
When I checked my phone on the way back up to the suite I saw I’d missed a text from Emmy’s dad. He asked about meeting for lunch, and I agreed, telling him to pick the place and I’ll meet him there.
To my complete lack of surprise everybody was still asleep back at the suite. Emmy and Angela were cuddled together in bed, looking completely adorable. I snapped a few photos to capture the moment, then showered and got dressed.
Returning to the bedroom, I found the two of them awake, but still in bed.
“Em, I’m meeting your dad for lunch,” I said.
“Do you want me there?” she asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
“No, I think he wanted to just talk to me,” I said.
“Angela told me that my mother realized that we are pregnant,” Emmy said, sitting up and scooting back against the headboard. “Is that what my father wants to talk about?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think it’s Night Children business.”
“Oh,” she said.
“But I’ll bet your mom wants to talk to you and Ange about babies,” I said.
“Oh, no,” Emmy groaned, sliding back down under the covers, where Angela laughed and wrapped Emmy in her arms.
“Babe, she was nice last night. I think she’s excited for us,” Angela said.
“I am certain she is,” Emmy replied. “And I am also certain she is already planning the lives of her granddaughters. I do not wish to think about it any more. Angela, since Leah is going to have lunch with my father, would you like to go shopping today? There is something I want very much to get for you.”
Angela gave me a knowing smile and agreed to go shopping with Emmy.
“Make sure you take Tiny and Grant,” I said, probably unnecessarily. “I’ve got to take off in a few minutes to meet your dad. I’ll text you guys when we’re done with lunch and we can meet up.”
Plugging in the address that Mr Lascaux had sent, I was surprised to see it was in the opposite direction from their mansion, way over in the area called Belleville. It would take me a while to get there, but I was O.K. with seeing more of the city.
“Looks like I’ve got to a take off now,” I said, giving both of them a kiss. “See you two later.”
Sure, it would have been quicker and easier to take a cab, but I opted to travel in a more Parisian way. The streets were somewhat empty on a cold and rainy winter Sunday morning, and so was the Metro station. This suited me fine, as it gave me the time to get reacquainted with the system. Of course it hadn’t changed noticeably since the last time I’d been to Paris, but still… Musing that Emmy had admitted to me that she’d never once ridden Paris’ famous subway system in her entire life, I bought my ticket and made my way downstairs.
The red line took me to the olive line and then the brown line, which dropped me off just a couple of blocks from the Thai restaurant where I was going to meet Emmy’s dad. Quick, easy, and painless.
The neighborhood I emerged in was solidly middle class, from what I could tell. It was clean and nice, but there was graffiti on the roll-up doors for the businesses that were closed for the day. This definitely wasn’t a tourist district, but it still had plenty of Paris’ effortless charm in the stone-fronted buildings and the rows of (now leafless) trees lining the street.
The Thai restaurant was different than I was used to- the interior was done up in urban graffiti, with spray-painted art on the walls and ceiling. The menu was written on a chalkboard behind the register counter, and the music playing on the sound system was some sort of French Hip Hop. The lighting was from a series of randomly colored neon tubes running at angles across the ceiling, making for a sort of ‘Blade Runner-esque’ feel.
Glancing around, I saw that Mr Lascaux wasn’t there yet, so I just ordered an iced tea and settled down to wait.
He entered alone, his wife and Edouard nowhere to be seen. Nodding at me to indicate he saw me, he quickly ordered at the counter and then sat down opposite me at the table.
“I hope you like satay,” he said. “This place has the best peanut sauce in all of Paris.”
“I do,” I said with a laugh.
It didn’t take long for the waitress to set down a couple of paper baskets of papaya salad and a double helping of chicken skewers on rice (with extra peanut sauce). I found the disposable wooden fork and knife to be odd, but I was O.K. with chopsticks anyhow, so I didn’t use the strange utensils.
Mr Lascaux thanked the girl by name as she brought us our food, confirming to me that he was a regular.
As we dug in on the salad he confessed, “The dinner we had two nights ago? I simply can’t eat like that more than a few times a month. Yes, it was a fantastic meal, but just too rich to have very often.”
“It was great, but yeah, I’m with you on that one. This is perfect,” I agreed, indicating our lunch.
We ate in companionable silence for a little while, but I noticed a group of girls at one of the other tables in the small restaurant kept looking at us. Finally, prodded by her friends, one of them came over to speak to us.
She couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, but with her perfectly smooth, unlined face and her hair hidden by its hijab it was hard to judge.
“Excuse me,” she said in French. “Are you- are you the wife of Emmy De Lascaux? And you, sir, are you her father?” she asked, shy but determined.
“Yes, you are correct,” Mr Lascaux responded before I could put the words together.
“We saw the show last night and it was the most amazing concert ever and Emmy is so beautiful and we love her music and we thought it must be you and I just wanted to say that I love Emmy so much and we’ve been waiting to see her and we want her to know that all Paris loves her and she should come here more to play, or even move back here because the whole city is so proud of her,” she said, or something like that. Her rapid-fire French was hard for me to follow, especially since it seemed to be a nearly random stream of consciousness.
“Thank you for your kind words,” Mr Lascaux responded gently. “We will make sure to tell Émeraude that you feel this way.”
Finally marshaling my French, I asked, “Would you like to speak to her yourself?” as I pulled out my phone.
The girl’s eyes grew wide in surprise and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. I dialed Emmy for a FaceTime call, and when she answered, I said, “Hey, babe. I have a fan here who wants to talk to you.”
I held the phone up so Emmy could see the Somali girl and her friends at the table in the background, and of course, they could all see her.
Emmy chattered with the girl for a few minutes, her friends eventually abandoning their table to crowd around. When Emmy signed off, the girl thanked me over and over again, saying that was the best thing that ever happened to her in her entire life, if I understood correctly.
“Does this happen often?” Mr Lascaux asked when the girls went back to their table and left us in peace.
“Things like that happen a lot,” I admitted. “And Emmy is always, always happy to engage. She loves her fans, and tries to make a personal connection with as many as she can.”
Silent for a long moment, Mr Lascaux seemed to be thinking. Eventually he asked, “Has she told you much of her childhood?”
“Not that much, no,” I said. I didn’t want to say that Emmy hadn’t really painted an idyllic picture of her growing up.
“Emmy was never destined to be… normal,” he said, measuring his words. “Before she was born, her mother and I had a plan to bring our people out of the shadows. We saw that it was necessary. The old ways were no longer sustainable, but inertia is very hard to combat.” Selecting a chicken skewer he deftly slid the pieces of meat off the stick and onto his plate. “We had to show that it was possible to live as the rest of the world does, so we determined that the princess would never, ever hide. She would never wear the makeup our people use to… camouflage ourselves.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“She’s told me all that,” I said, savoring my own chicken with the excellent peanut sauce.
“When she was born, the first Night Child born in a day walker hospital to our knowledge, we saw that she was moon kissed, and our resolve strengthened. Moon kissed are always bringers of change. They are always great leaders, and do things beyond what others can achieve. We laid our… Our dreams and goals on her when we saw this. Of course, we knew it was unfair of us. We resolved to continue to do what we could for the cause and not merely hand over the responsibility to a child, but at the same time, we knew that she could do what we could never manage,” he explained, thinking back.
I kept eating, waiting for Emmy’s dad to continue. He had set this meeting up to talk to me, and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to find out more.
“We did everything we could to prepare her for what we imagined would be her role in all this. We taught her the old ways, which many have long forgotten. We trained her in so very many ways to be the… paragon, the most perfect exemplar of what our people can be. We, her mother and I, we knew that this denied her of any sort of typical childhood. She never got to run and play with other children, never got to do so many of the things that children must do for the sake of their maturation. I don’t want you to think that she had no playmates her own age,” he added. “But they were carefully selected for her, and her time with them was limited. She had dance lessons, and vocal coaching, and so many things that were intended to build her into the woman that would be the ambassador for our kind.”
“She’s alluded to this,” I said.
“Please, don’t think of us as monsters,” Mr Lascaux said, sipping his tea. “We know we sacrificed our daughter’s childhood, and that is a terrible thing. It isn’t something we did lightly. I hope you understand why we did it, and what our goal was in working our daughter so hard.”
“I do understand, and Emmy does too,” I replied. “And, to be honest, you guys doing that made her into the woman I love, for better or worse.” I took a moment to think of what I wanted to say next before adding, “And it worked. I mean, she is the ambassador for the Night Children. She is charming, friendly, and undeniably perfect in almost every way. I’m sure most of that is her natural personality, but I won’t deny that the way you guys raised her made a big difference.”
Mr Lascaux nodded, showing that he understood my position.
“I’m not convinced the ends justify the means, but ultimately, that’s between you guys and Emmy, not me,” I said.
“We have always tried to be the best parents we can for our daughter, but we have had to balance that with the needs of our people,” he said. Then, sort of changing the subject but not really, he said, “And now you tell us the princess is with child.”
“Maybe,” I hedged. “She tested positive for pregnancy right before her tour started, but, like Emmy’s mom said, the early stages of pregnancy are… well, unpredictable. That’s why we’re going to a clinic in London for more advanced testing on Thursday.”
“I see,” Emmy’s dad said. “Assuming the pregnancy is viable, what is the next step?”
“Well, we’re going to have the fetal DNA tested from Angela’s baby to make sure everything is going O.K. After those results come back, we’ll have a much better idea about Emmy’s pregnancy. Emmy’s was a lot harder to start with- it took a lot of tries to get the fertilized egg to bind in her uterus. We’ve always suspected that low Night Child birth rates might be a problem for Emmy, so it was no surprise that it was hard to get the egg implanted. But now, if Angela’s baby is healthy and everything looks good, the odds are they will be with Emmy’s baby, too,” I explained.
“I see,” Mr Lascaux said again. “And you said this experimental lab used your DNA to fertilize both of their eggs?”
“Yes, exactly,” I said. “That’s actually something else we’ll find out from the DNA testing- if they actually did it or not.”
“Do you think there is a chance they didn’t?”
“Not really. I mean, they have to know we’ll do this testing, right? If they used some random guy’s sperm it would show up like a bright red flag. I’m giving them a lot of money, and the bulk of it is contingent on success. They have to know that any faking it will get caught,” I said.
Nodding he understood, Mr Lascaux signaled the waitress, who then brought us two small bowls of coconut ice cream.
“I don’t indulge very often, but this is my favorite ice cream anywhere,” Mr Lascaux confessed.
After we finished our ice cream and left the restaurant, Emmy’s dad suggested we walk, since the rain had stopped.
“Last night, before Émeraude and her band took the stage, we started to talk Night Children politics,” Mr Lascaux said as we strolled along the tree-lined street. “When word gets out that the princess and the queen of the new nation in North America are expecting a child, it will cause quite a furor. The child will be the heir to our nation here, as well as the one you are creating over there. This may be viewed as a power play on your part, or an attempt to legitimize your rule, since you are not blessed.” Raising his hand to forestall any protest I might have, Mr Lascaux said, “You and I both know the reality of the situation, but as I said last night, some of our peers do not have such complete access to information.”
“Emmy is your only child, right? So she’s the sole heir to your nation?” I asked, even though I knew it was true.
“Not the sole heir, but the first and most important in line,” Mr Lascaux said. “If she does have a child, it strengthens her claim to the title.”
“What effect does her being queen in our nation have?” I asked.
“She is not widely understood to be equal queen with you among our people outside of your domain. You are seen as the queen, and she is your consort. She is still thought of as the heir to our nation here.”
Mr Lascaux led me through the gates of a forested park which had a surprising number of joggers and strollers, despite the cold weather.
“This- You said you’ve been in contact with some of the other rulers, right? Is it as simple as calling them on the phone?” I asked.
“No, no it is not,” Mr Lascaux said with a chuckle. “I can only wish that it could be that simple. No, we all have… ambassadors…” he said, then corrected himself. “No, that really isn’t correct. We all have spies in each others’ circles, and we all know who those spies are, so we play a game of speaking secrets in front of these known spies, expecting that they will communicate with their people back in their own courts. The other kings and queens do the same with the things they wish the rest of us to know. It’s a silly game, a remnant of times long past.”
“Emmy once said that your people are an extremely ancient culture and are very much stuck in old, old ways of doing things.”
“She is, unfortunately, completely correct,” Mr Lascaux said with a sad shake of his head. “But this is why I have such great hopes for what you have been doing. You are showing the rest of us the way forward, simply because you don’t know and don’t care about so much of our tradition, which ultimately is what holds us back.”
“What would happen if I were to send a real ambassador to each of the other- courts, you called them?” I asked.
“At least half would get killed immediately,” Mr Lascaux said with a shrug. “I can tell you which might be receptive, but even that is no more than a guess.”
“How about if we turn it around? What would happen if you leaked to the spies in your court that I’ve invited you to send an ambassador to the US? Do you think they would follow your example?” I asked.
“Some most likely would,” Emmy’s dad said, pondering the idea. “If you made it clear they would be welcome and unharmed.”
“I think we’d have to set some ground rules,” I said, giving it some thought.
“If the idea seems to work, perhaps the others would follow suit,” Mr Lascaux said, thinking about it.
We walked in silence for a while, lost in our own thoughts.
“It would have to wait until I have total control over the whole continent,” I said. “That might take as much as two more years.”
“I am still astonished at what you’ve done over there,” Mr Lascaux replied. “None of us had any idea there were any of our people over there at all, and for you to have found so many and brought them under your shadow- a whole continent’s worth- in this short a period is incredible.”
“It has taken a lot of work,” I said.
“Are the stories true?” Emmy’s dad asked. “Have you actually disposed of your enemies yourself?”
“I don’t know what stories you’ve heard, but yes,” I admitted. “My knife has seen a lot of action.”
“Be careful,” Mr Lascaux said. “You are too valuable to risk needlessly.”
“Funny- that’s exactly what I’ve told Emmy. That’s why I don’t want her anywhere near where fighting might happen.”
“She knows how to fight. We trained her well,” Mr Lascaux said as he led me onto a long suspension bridge to an island in the park’s little lake.
“She does know how to fight, but honestly, I don’t think she has it in her to, well, to kill,” I said. “And personally, I’m glad for that.”
“But you do.”
“That has been proven on a number of occasions,” I said. I wasn’t proud of the fact that I was able to kill people and sleep well afterwards, but I’d come to accept that it was an aspect of who I was.
“This is a lot to think about,” Emmy’s dad said as we climbed the stairs to the faux-Greek temple at the top of the island’s little hill. We admired the view for a little while, neither of us saying anything.
“Angela’s baby,” he said, breaking the silence. “What does Émeraude think of it? How does she feel that you are having a child with another woman?”
“She’s overjoyed,” I said as we headed back down the little hill. “She always refers to the baby as ‘our baby’. She will be as much of a mother to that little girl as she will be to the one she gives birth to. Honestly? And don’t ever tell Emmy or Angela, but I think that they both, consciously or not, I don’t know, they both want the other for their child. I mean, Emmy knows that Angela is so sweet and caring and loving that little Emmy junior will have Angela to hold her when she needs comforting, probably better than she could do herself, if you understand what I mean. And Angela, she knows that Emmy can teach little baby Angela how to be so confident in new situations, and to encourage her more than Angela could, if that makes sense.”
“You think that each one believes that the other brings things as a parent that she herself might not be able to provide?”
“That’s a much better way of saying it,” I agreed.
“I can understand why they both might feel that way,” Mr Lascaux said, nodding. “This helps me understand the relationship better.”
“But that’s not all of it,” I protested. “Angela is deeply in love with Emmy, and Emmy loves Angela, too. I don’t want you to think that I’m the glue that holds the two together. They’d love each other even without me in the picture. Each one of us brings something unique to our household of three, and our relationship is better for it.”
“I’ve seen that,” Mr Lascaux agreed. “You are correct- when Émeraude’s mother and I first heard about Angela, we assumed that you had taken another lover and the princess was somehow accepting of the situation, but she quickly disabused us of that idea. She made a point of telling us that it was she, the princess, who had asked you to accept Angela as a lover.”
We’d reached one of the park’s gates and made our way onto a busy street by this time. Mr Lascaux expertly hailed a passing cab, saying, “We should go and see how our wives are doing. I expect it will be a very expensive afternoon, with the three of them together.”