Daughter of the Lion by Jennifer Roberson

Author:Jennifer Roberson [Roberson, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Fantasy, Fantasy Fiction; American
ISBN: 9780886773243
Publisher: DAW
Published: 1989-02-07T07:00:00+00:00

Ilsa looked at me. "Keely—are you all right?"

The gods know what my face showed. "Aye . . .

aye, of course."

She smiled, setting the chamber alight. "When she is done, would you care to hold her?"

The immediate response was instinctive. "Have you gone mad?"

Ilsa laughed. "If you fear you will drop her, be certain you will not. It is a fear all of us have. You should have seen Hart the first time I put her into his arms."

I shook my head. "I have no desire to hold her. It has nothing to do with fear."

Ilsa said nothing at once, being more concerned with the baby. She tucked in a fallen fold of linen, then traced the fuzzy black hair as the baby sucked greedily. The wet-nurse murmured something in

Solindish, crooning to the child.

"Did you want her?" I asked abruptly, heedless of the others.

HIM

looked at me in shock. "Did I—? Of course I

wanted her! How could I not?"

"Did you want her?" I repeated. "Not because you hoped for an heir—no need to speak of that to me but because you desired a baby . . . for yourself as well as for Hart, the throne, the title . . .

were you willing to let your body be used so simply to bring a child into the world?"

Ilsa stood very still. Then she turned to the wet-

nurse, said something in Solindish and took the sated baby from her. In silence, she crossed the chamber to me.

"You will hold this child," she commanded. "You will hold this tiny girl who is the flesh and bones and spirit of all our ancestors, and then you will tell me there is no room in your heart for compassion, for love, for empathy, for awe and tenderness . . . even, I know, for fear, because fear is what every woman feels." She thrust the baby into my arms. "You will hold her," she said fiercely, "and I promise, you will know."

I recoiled as far as I dared. "Ilsa—I beg you—"

"Hold her," she said. "Do you think you are the only woman in the world who believes she cannot want a child?"

I shivered, chilled to the bone. I had not thought it so obvious.

Desperation welled. "But it is true," I told her rigidly, feeling the baby squirm. "Take her back . .

.

take her back

—"

Ilsa turned from me and looked at the others in the room. She said a single word. As one, all of them left. All. Even Ilsa. Leaving me clutching Hart's tiny daughter.

And knowing, as she had promised.

All of it, and more.

Seven

Alone, in the darkness, I went to see the Lion. To see the mythical beast shaped in wood to form a throne, and to ask him for the answers. Surely he had one.

I lighted a torch, thrust it into a bracket. It was hardly enough to fill the Great Hall with light, but sufficient for what I required. I left it near the silver doors and made my way toward the dais.

Out of gilded, ancient eyes it watched me as I

walked.

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