D’Argen was already another three glasses in with conversations all around him when Cana leaned uncomfortably close into his space. He flinched away but refused to look at her. Fortunately, she was not leaning into him for him.
“Lemisyre,” Cana called the woman’s name where she sat on the other side of D’Argen.
The seamstress turned with a wide grin and leaned into D’Argen as well. He pushed his feet against the bottom rung of the table in the hope of pushing his chair back and giving them more room. Unfortunately, one of his feet slipped and thunked loud enough on the marble floor to garner a few eyes. D’Argen finished off his glass and then raised it slightly above his head.
“Were you able to get it done?” Lemisyre asked from D’Argen’s left.
“Yes, we were. Exactly to your specifications too,” Cana replied from his right.
The mortal staff member refilled D’Argen’s glass only halfway then made a motion to the doors that led to the kitchens and disappeared. Great. D’Argen finished an entire pitcher of mead by himself.
“We got another two villages that have turned to silk production and a few of the workers were able to implement your metal weaving technique perfectly.” Cana continued. “I have brought samples for you to look through and make notes on.”
“Perfect,” Lemisyre purred the word out and her warm breath touched D’Argen’s raised arm. “And the colours?”
“Oh yes. Royal purple, you wanted to call it? You have to see the samples, I have a few different options for you.”
“Cana,” Acela’s raised voice silenced a few of the conversations around the table. “You are focusing on silk production?”
“Yes. We have—”
“Would it not benefit you to train more scholars and scribes instead?” Acela interrupted.
Cana stiffened up along D’Argen’s side. She shifted so she was no longer touching him and he let out a heavy exhale and took a few more sips from his glass.
“We have multiple schools in Jiya. The villagers go to them.”
“No schools in the villages themselves?”
“It is not—”
“Is this why you had a revolt?”
“It was not a revolt,” Cana replied, grinding the words out as if they hurt her physically.
“So the mortals understand the importance of harvesting the life crops yet still refuse it?” When Acela asked that question, the last of the murmurs around the table silenced. She did not take her eyes off Cana.
“I already said earlier: Kenin took care of it,” Cana replied, straightening her spine.
“Yes, yes. Pardon me. I am still thinking about it. It is just strange that this happens in your territories and not in Olov’s or Darania’s.”
D’Argen’s stomach churned and he drank, feeling the alcohol slide down his throat as slowly as the honey it was made of.
“Olov and Darania will help me if the problem arises again. It was nothing of note.”
“You are too close to them,” Acela gritted then turned her glare to Olov. “You too, actually. You are both aware that we are their rulers, not their friends. Do they even pray to you anymore?”
“Weren’t ya da one that told us ta get close to ‘em?” D’Argen did not realize he asked the question until he felt multiple eyes on him. He poked the back of his teeth with his tongue and it felt large and cumbersome in his mouth. “I’m juss… wonderin’. I’ve been travellin’ through many of da smaller settlements and—”
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“You are not involved in this conversation,” Acela interrupted him and turned back to Cana. “They are your subjects. As long as you rule them, they will follow your commands. Understood?”
An awkward silence descended over the entire table and D’Argen wanted to break it so badly. He opened his mouth and then immediately closed it when he felt a tight grip on his thigh. He looked down to see Cana’s slim fingers on him under the table. When he looked up at her, she shook her head so subtly that he almost missed it. Her grip loosened and D’Argen felt his shoulders relax only once she was no longer touching him.
Cana broke the silence. “They are not cattle.”
D’Argen held his breath.
“What did you say?” Acela asked, her voice chilling.
“When we first fell to this realm, you told us to integrate ourselves and become a part of them. Now, you want us to appear as gods in their eyes, above them, ruling them, yet we do not accept the consequences of us doing us. Yet you ask us to treat them as—”
“Mortals!” Acela interrupted with a snap and slammed her utensils on the table. “They are mortal. They are the ones who decided to call us gods. They are the ones who built the temples and started the pilgrims and decided to worship us. They have to listen, even if they do not understand.”
“Understand?” Cana sounded angry too.
“They do not understand how one decision now can affect their offspring for generations to come. The reaping is not for our benefit. There are records in the library: the life crops are working. Slowly, but steadily. Over the last few centuries, the average lifespan of a mortal has increased by five years. Over time, it may become even longer. They can have centuries to be with their loved ones.”
“What if we can do it faster?” It looked like Cana was aware of the shock her question brought up because she spoke up again. “I have been… doing an experiment. There is a small village in the forest—”
“What!?” The shout came from multiple seats at the table. Nobody lived in the Rainbow Forest. Just like nobody lived in the Rainbow Fields or the Rainbow Reefs. It was death. It was an overdose on the scents and the magic. Even those mortals that did the harvests and reapings had strict schedules.
“We cannot have children,” Cana spoke up over the commotion, her voice trembling. Everybody silenced. Everybody knew how sensitive the topic of children was for the queen. For Cana, God of Intoxication and Sex. Both of them had spoken, many times, of their want to have children of their own. Like all Never Born, they could live forever if unharmed by magic, but they could never have offspring of their own. “And adopting mortal children as our own is… it is too painful. But it is only so painful because their lives are so short.”
“What are you proposing?” Zetha asked, his tone wary. He kept a firm hold on his wife’s hand, giving Acela silent support. They both wanted children. They both had taken care of multiple mortal children as their own and buried each and every one of them.
“We almost succeeded once. We just have to channel our mahee in—”
“No!” Zetha interrupted loudly. “No. Unless you are willing to break the decree, I suggest you change topics.”
D’Argen heard a dry swallow from the table though he was not sure who was so worried. None of them spoke of children nor what those thoughts had led to in the past.
“But—”
“No! We lost too many of us. We used to be in the hundreds. Now, I barely see more than a few of us in a room together.” Zetha motioned to the long table where only twenty of them were sitting. “We have scattered throughout the lands to try and create order, and peace, and to help. We just restored the peace. We just got back to how things were before the demons ever came. We cannot try this. Not again.”
D’Argen felt himself shrinking in his own seat just from the volume.
Acela was holding herself so tight in her seat that her hands were visibly trembling.
“What if I find a different way?” Cana asked, her voice low and hesitant.
D’Argen reached under the table and touched her thigh. It was stiff and solid, her entire body wound tight. He put more pressure on it to show her support. She did not even glance at him but neither did she shake him off.
Acela shook her head, then hesitated, then nodded, and then shook her head again. “If you find it, then come to me. We will discuss it. We will make sure that it works. We will talk to everyone about it. Everyone. And I promise I will be the first to help you,” she finally said.
Cana nodded then took a deep breath and raised her chin high. She reached up and pulled the long edge of her robes off her shoulder, revealing her neck and collarbones to Acela without any obstruction. “My queen, thank you for talking to me about this. I beg your forgiveness and ask for permission to return to my lands. There is much work to do to prepare for the reaping.”
Acela nodded, though she looked reluctant.
Cana took D’Argen’s hand off her thigh and squeezed it gently. Her smile and that hold revealed her thanks and D’Argen smiled back. Cana then put her napkin down, got up, and scraped her chair away from the table.
“She said experiment.” D’Argen heard somebody whisper along the table.
“Wait a moment,” Olov called over the whisper and rose in his seat. The call and scrape of his chair silenced the whispers but Cana did not wait and walked out of the dining hall. Olov turned to look at Acela and she nodded. He did not say another word as he rushed out after Cana. The two clearly still had more to talk about.
After the two left, the whispers returned.