It took several minutes for Samira to explain everything that had happened to bring her to this point, long enough for Noomi to finish her meal and to tend to little Saku as well. Thankfully, her baby boy was well behaved and nodded back off to sleep as soon as heâd finished nursing, though she wasnât sure how much longer that would last.
"I donât know what you expect me to say, Lady Jailor," Noomi said at the end of it as she folded away the cloth that had contained her meal and handed it back through the bars to Samira. It was a measure of the disdain that her captives held for her that no one had noticed Samiraâs routine trips to the dungeons at night to supplement the meager meals she was given by the guards each day, but she wasnât about to be careless enough to keep things around that could expose the other womanâs actions.
"You seem to think that the man who murdered my husband and killed anyone he could find in my village will somehow be kind to you for bearing his child," she said, her tail thumping the cold ground of her cell in disbelief. "That man has no kindness in him. Only a mask he wears to conceal his cruelty from the world."
The look of satisfaction on Owain Lothianâs face when he drove his sword through her husbandâs chest before turning to her and commanding his men to take her alive was one that she would never forget for the rest of her days. He wasnât triumphant or exultant at winning a victory against a challenging foe. Heâd slaughtered a basket weaver and captured a pregnant woman and, doing so, left him... satisfied, as though heâd done a good dayâs work in the forest chopping down trees.
"I, that is," Samira started with some difficulty. "He was kind to me at first," she said awkwardly. "Sometimes, when he made love to me, I felt like I was already his wife..."
"But you said he called you that other womanâs name," Noomi said, shaking her head. "Any man who cries out another womanâs name in the depths of pleasure should have his three treasures bitten off," she said, snapping her sharp teeth fiercely to make her point. "Thatâs a man who doesnât see you at all, just a convenient field to plow."
"I, I think... I think youâre right," Samira said softly. "Once Lady Jocelynn arrived, he stopped seeing me. Not, not immediately," she added quickly. "We still made love once or twice more, and he said that heâd keep me at his side along with Lady Jocelynn, but... I donât think she likes the idea. And now, now that he has a real Lady at his side..."
"He has no need of a fake," Noomi said with a conflicted look at the other woman. "So run away from here. Raise up your child to remember your dream of him. But I doubt youâll be as lucky as you think you are," she added, choosing to pay back the sustenance sheâd received with a small measure of advice. "If he wants this other Lady to be his âpublic wife,â then you wonât enjoy being a âlittle wifeâ if you have the oldest child. That other lady wonât stand for it."
"And that man," the captive woman said, remembering the look of flames reflected in Owainâs eyes as her village burned. "That man wonât hesitate to burn you and your little one alive if he thinks he needs to."
"I still have some time," Samira said, gently stroking her belly. "Three months more before the little one is due. Just after the new year begins. Maybe, maybe heâll visit me, and I can see what he thinks," she said, though her voice was uncertain.
"I think youâre a fool for it," Noomi said, shaking her head. "But who knows. Perhaps you can keep me company from the cell next door if you try," she said with a dark laugh. "Then weâd really be a perfect pair."
"I, I donât want that," Samira said, clutching at the bars as she felt her knees go weak at the thought of being confined to this damp, abysmal place, forced to give birth to her child on a bed of soiled straw the way Noomi had been. "I, Iâll think of something. Something for both of us," she added.
"You donât have to pretend with me, Lady Jailor," Noomi said, leaning back against the cold stone wall of her cell. "You saving yourself from him would already be an impressive feat. You donât have anything to save me with. You canât fight, and youâll either be even more pregnant or carrying a wee one of your own. Itâs impossible for you to escape and trying to bring me with you..."
"But you can fight, canât you?" Samira interrupted. "Arenât demons all terrifying warriors who can slay armored knights? Canât your tail crush a manâs skull and your teeth tear through armor? If I can get the keys to your cell, I can even carry your little one while you fight and..."
"And nothing, Lady Jailor," Noomi said with a shake of her head. "Iâm not a âdemon.â I told you that before. Thatâs your word. The Eldritch are people, not nightmares from your holy books. My Esko, he, he was just a basket weaver," she said, thinking back on how proud her husband was whenever people came to him asking for one of his baskets instead of making their own. "I made fish traps. If I could fight off knights, do you think Iâd be here like this?"
"I know Iâm done for," Noomi said, closing her eyes and shifting herself to find the most comfortable spot on the damp straw that she could. "But maybe you really arenât. If you ever do find a way out of here," the captive woman said. "Would you take little Saku with you? I donât want that man of yours to get his hands on my little man and twist him into something as wicked and heartless as he is."
"Donât, donât give up," Samira said as her eyes grew misty. Reaching into the cloak she wore to ward off the chill of the dungeons, she retrieved the other item sheâd fetched from the kitchens and stretched her arm through the bars to offer it to Noomi. "Here, I got this for you," she said.
When Noomi opened her eyes, she was shocked to see her Lady Jailor clutching a short, splintered piece of red cedar. It wasnât very large, less than the length of her forearm, and there was a large knot halfway along the stick of wood, but it was a piece of wood nonetheless.
"What is this for?" Noomi said without taking her eyes off the piece of cedar. "You think I can fight knights with this?"
"No, no, thatâs not it," Samira said, shaking her head fiercely. "Didnât you say that youâd have to wean Saku soon? And that you should have carved a weaning spoon for him by now? I, I know itâs just a stick of firewood from the kitchens. Thereâs not much here, but I thought... if you wanted, if it would help..."
"Why?" Noomi said, turning away from the stick to look directly at her Lady Jailor. "Why would you give me this thing when you know they wonât let my claws touch wood? Theyâre all afraid Iâll make some kind of âdemon weaponâ if they give me even a splinter to pick my teeth, but youâre giving me this much? Arenât you afraid of what Iâll do?"
"Iâm not afraid of you, Noomi," Samira said, placing the stick in the captive womanâs outstretched hand. "You just want to make a spoon to feed your little one with, donât you? A spoon that holds your feelings of love for him and your memories of his father, right? Isnât that what you said?"
"So, make him a spoon," Samira said as she turned to leave. "And, and Iâll try to find a way to get you out of here. Maybe, maybe even both of us out of here," she said as she began to walk toward the door.
In her heart, sheâd already begun to believe that Owain wouldnât let her keep her child. Not with Lady Jocelynn around. But it wasnât until now, until she had a chance to say everything aloud to someone who saw the other side of Owain, that she realized that the fears she hadnât wanted to face werenât just idle fears of a day that would never come to pass.
"Samira," Noomi said, clutching the small stick of cedar while her eyes filled with moisture. At the very least, even if she died in the days to come, her son wouldnât become an orphan. Heâd have something carved with his motherâs own claws to feel for himself just how much she loved him. It was a small stick of cedar, but in her hands, it felt like a mighty tree that could prop up the world, or at least a little corner of it. "Thank you."