“Oh!” Xeref cried suddenly. “But that’s… oh, that’s—oh dear.”
“Father, what?”
“But Selemei, would they really?”
What a question! She turned it around. “Perhaps you mean to ask whether gentlemen would really be willing to sacrifice their desires for their partners’ safety? Some would—you would. But most gentlemen are not you. Must I speak with the ladies of the Pelismara Society to give you a number?”
Xeref ran one hand through his silver hair, uncomfortably.
“What are you talking about?” Brinx demanded.
“Master,” said Imbati Ustin. “I can verify, by Imbati witness, three rapists among those First Family gentlemen known to me. If you wish it, I can investigate and expand my knowledge to assess the scope of the problem across the Pelismara Society. It could have a substantial impact on this proposal’s implementation.”
In the Imbati’s icy voice, it felt terrifyingly real. Selemei swore. “Name of Mai, who?”
“I don’t know, Mistress, I’m sorry.”
Selemei gaped at her. For whom was she protecting that information? Would she tell Xeref if he asked?
Brinx, who had been spluttering, found words. “Father, you must reprimand your Ustin.”
“You think so?” Xeref narrowed his eyes. “Why is that?”
“Accusing her betters of such a thing! I can’t think of anything more presumptuous.”
“Brinx,” Xeref said slowly, “Please think what you’re saying. Ustin has worked as my personal and political assistant and bodyguard for twelve years. In all that time she has never failed to safeguard me or my information, nor have I caught her in any inaccuracy. Her qualities are guaranteed by the certification of the Imbati Service Academy, just as your servant’s are. And this information is quite relevant to our success.”
Brinx flushed. “I know. I’m sorry, Father. And I do really want to help you pass this proposal.”
“If this is uncomfortable for you, why don’t you just let me talk with your mother? Fedron’s got several people he’s negotiating with, and I’m sure he’d appreciate your help right now.”
“Yes, of course, Father. I’ll see you at dinner.”
It was quite common for a room to feel silent after Brinx stepped out of it, but this silence was one Selemei hesitated to step into. Her mind whirled in horror and suspicion of the men she knew. Xeref stared into the distance, dismay written deep into the lines of his face.
“This…” He sighed. “I don’t know.”
That was not what she’d expected him to say. “What don’t you know?” she asked. “I had no idea this was such a huge problem. The question is, how do we address it?” She looked to his Ustin for support, but Ustin didn’t speak. The manservant’s mark arched across her pale forehead like the bars of a closed gate.
“No, Selemei,” Xeref said. “We can’t address it.”
“Why not?”
He rubbed his forehead. “This is a legislative proposal, which will be discussed and voted on by the cabinet. We can’t lose sight of that. Proposals with divided goals fail, even when their goals are entirely ordinary. And… I really don’t want this one to fail.”
Oh, gods, if it failed! She gulped a breath. “I need to sit down.”
“I’m sorry, love,” said Xeref. “By all means.”
Grivi was swift to deliver one of the metal chairs that faced Xeref’s desk; Selemei sat with relief and tried to gather her thoughts. This proposal no longer felt like it was about her, but about Ryoe, Lienne, and Keir—and about her own daughters. To fail would be a disaster. But what if they succeeded, and the law were meaningless to those who most needed it?
“Ladies are vulnerable,” she said quietly.
“You’re right,” Xeref agreed. He took the other chair, which Ustin brought for him. “As Lady Indelis was vulnerable.”
“Or as I was,” she said. “In a medical center, helpless to the wishes of doctors and family.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not angry,” she assured him. “But some ladies are also vulnerable at home. And we can’t send Arissen into bedrooms to enforce this law.” The very idea was appalling.
“Imbati are already there,” Xeref mused. “But we don’t want to put such power in the Imbati, either.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Dear, it’s hardly a reasonable demand on them, even if we did.”
“True.”
Selemei ran her eyes about the office as if the answer might be hiding here somewhere, hanging among Xeref’s numerous certificates or tucked between the law books on his shelves.
“Wait,” she said, “even if we can’t do anything about the gentlemen, this proposal aims to prevent dangerous pregnancies. So, what about the medicines?” What had that Kartunnen mentioned at the party? Amb—something…
Xeref looked like she’d stuck him with a pin. “Those are illegal.”
“So? We’re proposing a new law, aren’t we?”
“A gentleman would never consent to compromise his fertility.”
“I would, if it meant I were never put at risk again.”
He blinked at her. “You would?”
“Isn’t that what we already decided?”
Xeref didn’t answer, but shook his head in consternation. Then, beside her left ear, Grivi rumbled in his throat.
“Yes, Grivi?”
“Mistress, you should be aware that contraceptive medications, when properly used, have no permanent effect on fertility.”
“Well. All right, then.”
“Even for Grobal?” Xeref asked.
“I know of no genetic contraindications, sir,” said Grivi.
“I’m just not sure anyone would agree to it. Could one really ask a man to waste his value to the Race?” Xeref frowned at the floor, and began cracking his knuckles, one after the other.
She realized, then. He was frightened. “Dear—what if we tried it?”
He twitched, and shook his head. “You’re suggesting—no. I could never ask my Ustin to procure something illegally.”
“Master,” said Ustin, “I can procure something for myself with perfect legality.”
That was it! Ustin was a woman, and would have done this before. Then all she’d have to do was get her hands on it, and then…
Selemei put her hand over Xeref’s and squeezed. “Think of it.”
The triangular white pill was small, almost indistinguishable from the marble of the bathroom counter. Selemei forced herself to see it, to confront it, to confront what she had to do. Grivi’s unwillingness to aid her in any aspect of the medication only magnified her sense of transgression. After seven days, it had become no easier.
I am not harming anyone. I’m doing this for Enzyel, for Aven, for Pelli—and for myself. The Kartunnen have deemed it safe. Imbati Ustin herself has used this. A Grobal is not so different from a Lower that it will affect me differently. It is not harming me.
It is not harming me.
She swept it up and swallowed it before she could lose her nerve.
That was it.
She chased it down with an extra glass of water just to be sure. Her body had been feeling a little different, but that could have been her mind’s suggestion. Stripped of the magic that younger women had always begged her to imbue them with, she felt…
Don’t say hollow. I’m more than that. I’ve already contributed five healthy children to the Race.
Her triumphs were written in her body, where no one could take them away. Pale ripples in the skin of her belly and hips proved she had received Elinda’s gift, that she could grow like the moon to nurture souls. Her breasts had earned their delicious softness with each precious suckling touch.