An Oath Of Lords And Ladies (ARTK, Book 1)

Chapter 31

Maux 6th, 3328 A.G

The twentieth loss happened so quickly that, hours later- Tiffan was still processing it. She was walking through the gardens with Esabell at dawn when the water came gushing out of her, soaking her favorite purple dress and spilling onto the stone pathways- with brown chunks of different sizes floating in it.

She was immediately alarmed, as the more difficult recoveries almost always came along with the brown chunks. She tried to remain calm, but it was difficult. So, so difficult.

As always, the pain slowly became unbearable- until her screams were heard outside of the main home's walls. That was the hardest part. The pain- with no reward, twenty times.

When her body told her it was time to push, she made Esabell and Albree stay. By then she was sweating uncontrollably, already unsure of how much she had left to give- but she had no choice but to try at that point.

  The pushing lasted far longer than any of her other births- at a few hours total. As the babe's body entered the birth canal, she felt her insides stretching and ripping. Pushing was not supposed to be more painful than the contractions. That should have been  her second indicator, but she'd forced herself  to become consumed by the idea that it might work out. Why not? Twentieth time's the charm.

  For a brief time- minutes, the pushing stopped. She could feel something in the birth canal that was poking at her insides, pushing at her right side in a way that none of the others did. The blood poured out of her at a rate that scared even Jhone- the witch who'd attended every single one of her previous births. Jhone gave her every concoction she could and worked down below to stop the bleeding, but not fast enough.

  When Tiffan felt as if she couldn't take it anymore and was close to begging for death, for them to kill and cut her any way they needed to get the babe out- there was a sickening pop inside of her. The thing pushing at her right side seemed to relax, finally crushing against the babe instead.

  Tiffan slipped away from consciousness before she could name the babe or watch him take his first breath.

  When she woke, Esabell sat by her bedside and Albree stood in the corner. She knew it hadn't lived just by the looks on their faces, but when Jhone started going into specifics she wanted to cover her ears.

  "She was a girl......" The witch sadly mumbled. "Lived for nearly an hour. Esabell.... She held her."

  "Jhone-" Tiffan croaked out, her voice reflecting the pain and weakness she felt. Everything around her felt so distant, like she were another person trapped in her own body. "What happened to my child?"

  "She.... Was born with a leg the length of her body  on her head, ears where her cheeks should have been , and greyed eyes. She breathed for a while but did not cry or make any noise despite the foot attached to the leg being at an angle none should ever be." Even Jhone, the witch who'd seen it all- seemed bothered. "You know how I feel about stitches, but there were so many tears, big and small- I felt there was no other way for you to eventually heal. Moving will be extremely painful for a long time, if you are able to at all. I wouldn't recommend it- at least not until the fog lifts."

  Tiffan closed her eyes as tears began to slip out of them. At that moment, the pain was a dull ache- so she wondered what Jhone had given her while she was out.

  She'd failed again- not just herself or Gervaise, but her family name as well. She was one of just three Raynerus's left in the world, and she'd failed to produce an heir. How lucky she was to be alive entered her mind for only a second. Had it not been fogged by the blood loss and powerful herbal concoctions, what would happen next might have registered faster.

"Would you like to see her before the burial ceremony?" Albree asked, pointing to a small, blanket covered lump on the window table. Tiffan slowly glanced in her direction, then shook her head.

"Get it out of here-" Tiffan's face went stoic, but her tears betrayed her. "Get it out!!"

She'd meant to yell, but her voice came out strained. Jhone sighed, gently grabbed the small bundle and her box of things- and started for the door. Esabell being Esabell, had to help carry the box.

"I'll be back in a little while to give you more valerian root." Jhone announced, pausing for a second before she went. When Tiffan said nothing, made no attempt to stop her- she was gone.

Jhone kept her word. A few hours later she came back- a small bowl of beef soup with the root crushed in in hand, Drue Raynerus trailing behind her.

Tiffan had spent a few hours staring at the wall, not processing things, but she rolled her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to deal with him, but her expressions softened when she saw the look on his face- almost convincing enough to make her think he felt bad for her. Then he opened his mouth.

Jhone fed her small spoonfuls of the soup while Drue talked- which wasn't for very long because of how strong the freshly crushed root was, but it was enough.

"I cannot blame you for the failures." Drue started. "I blame myself for being a fool enough to believe in your womb's.... capabilities after the fifth and sixth deaths. Now I am seventy one with two female heirs. It is long past time to marry your sister off to another strong military territory- Segar Whittaker of Posan, Petyr Hilith of Sharean, hells- even Cam Alymere would do."

"Esabell is seventeen years old." Tiffan said weakly.

"Exactly-" her father replied like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Long past time."

Before Tiffan could say anything back, the valerian root dragged her under.