Chapter 38: Taran

"How are the babies doing today, Skye?"
I've come up to the rooftop to check on and water my tomato plant. A tiny sprout has made its way through the dirt, making me dance in excitement. Now, I'm sitting on the ground underneath the bird's nest, doing what Diogo taught me and picking the dead leaves and flowers off the plants. It seems like sacrilege to do such a thing to the plant, but he insists that it helps them grow bigger and stronger. I dragged the strawberry barrels over to Skye's nest so we could chat.
I laugh as she looks over the side of her nest and chirps at me, making high-pitched sounds as though actually talking to me. She's probably warning me off, though she's been less hostile to my presence the more time I spend with her in the makeshift greenhouse. "So, you want them to hatch sooner rather than later? That seems like a solid plan. It's a bit late in the season, but who am I to judge. I'm not a momma bird."
Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
"Well, I guess I've never met another bird I wanted to have hatchlings with. And other reasons best not discussed in front of tiny egg ears." I touch my finger to a green strawberry. My mouth waters as I imagine the burst of flavour once it ripens. The last time I ate a strawberry is when they were smuggled in with a group of refugees coming off the train. I was given a handful by the grateful people as a thank you.
"And what about now?" Diogo's voice startles me. I turn my head to look over my shoulder. He's standing in the doorway, the dying light of the sun setting against his back. "Have you found someone to have a baby with now?"
Though his tone is light, I can still sense the intensity surrounding his question. The way he says it, as though he means not just himself as a candidate, but someone else. Who could he possibly mean? My ex-husband?
Diogo turns to light a lantern sitting on the bench by the door, crouching to strike the match against the concrete floor. His figure lights up as he straightens and walks toward me, settling the lantern beside me. I hadn't noticed how much I needed the light until he gave it to me. I'd been squinting into the shadows, doing my best with the plants. Lamp oil is always a luxury. One I try to do without if I can manage.
He goes down on one knee next to me and tips my chin with his gloved hand until I'm forced to look at him. "Well, Taran. Do you want a baby?"
I try to speak, to say something flip to his words because they're too serious. Do I want a baby? What woman my age doesn't want a baby? The idea of holding something so sweet and innocent, of breathing in its scent as I hold it to my breast. Rocking it to sleep like I've watched the other women do. But then
"We live in a dangerous world, Diogo. The first thing we have to teach a baby is not to cry. Not to make a single sound. And too often the correction must be harsh so the child learns faster. To save its life if it's ever confronted with a Primitive. It amazes me that women keep having babies at all. Not with the risks they face. And not just the Primitives. Food shortages, tainted water supplies, vaccination shortages, riots. There's just too much that can kill a creature as small and helpless as a human baby."
"And yet some of them still survive," he stays, studying me closely. "The lack of birth control is an issue that has aided the human cause."
"Only someone like you would think that way." I don't bother to hide my disdain of his statement. "Not only is the baby coming into an uncertain world, but the woman having the baby is at much greater risk than women fifty years ago. How many people are trained for caesarean sections, or able to deal with pre-eclampsia? Women are dying in childbirth at a rate that hasn't been seen in almost 200 hundred years. Or dying in botched abortion attempts because they choose not to have the baby. No, thank you, Diogo. I don't want any part of that."
His brows slowly lower until he's staring down at me with a dark expression, his harsh features set in serious lines. "You won't have a choice, Taran. You will have our child when we decide the time is right. You will have nothing to worry about. You'll be given the best medical care we have in this city. And if that isn't good enough then I'll travel to another Sanctuary and find a better doctor."
His conviction, his insistence on my safety in all scenarios, is breathtaking and almost romantic. I have to remind myself that I disagree with almost everything he's saying. The way in which he chooses the birth of our first child without my input, his ability to gain access to medical care for someone he cares about but not the lower classes, and his suggestion that he'll just kidnap a doctor if the going gets rough.
"And you're going to decide when we have a baby? And what, you'll just let me know? Do you also intend to choose the sex? Maybe a mini boy warlord, like yourself, or a girl that you can sell off to the highest bidder when the time is right."
He sighs, reaches out to take my face in his hands, says, "I don't want to fight, Taran." And then he kisses me. I forget my ire under the magnificent pressure that starts at my lips and then travels, building a fire in my belly. If Diogo knew how easily he can ignite this feeling, how he makes my knees go weak and the fight drain from me, I'd be in big trouble. He'd have me wrapped around his finger all the time. By the time he ends his kiss, finishing up by nuzzling my nose with his, I've completely forgotten what we were arguing about, or if we were arguing at all.
"Mmmm," I mumble, reaching for him, intent on dragging him in for another kiss. We haven't had sex in the greenhouse yet. Now seems like a good time to add this place to my rapidly growing list of places we've had sex.
Diogo takes my hands in his and pushes them back. Then he moves away, putting distance between us. I narrow my eyes. He hasn't rejected any overtures from me yet. Usually at my first tentative touch he's all over me. Even if he doesn't have time, has a meeting or something to get to, he finds a few extra minutes to satisfy both of us.
"I have some questions for you." He stands and pushes a hand through his hair. He paces away a few steps and then paces back. In this tiny greenhouse he looks like a cooped-up giant. Some sections slant inward forcing him to stoop. "About your ex-husband."
"I thought you didn't want to fight?" I say with a frown.
"We won't fight, but I need to ask you about Xavier and I need you to answer truthfully."
"I always answer you truthfully," I snap, pushing to my feet and shaking a soil-covered finger at him. "And we will definitely fight if we talk about Xavier. You get jumpy when Garrett holds a door open for me. I can't imagine you being even close to okay while we're discussing a man I once went to bed with."
"Well that answers one question," he snarls, pacing away from me toward the door. "You fucked him."
Hands on my hips, I turn to face him fully before answering. "First of all, we fucked together, not I fucked him." I ignore his growl of anger as he paces back toward me. I step lightly out of his way but still follow up with, "And secondly, I was forcibly wed to the man by your processing department. I didn't have a choice in the matter. I had no idea who you were or that we might have a future together, so you can stop being an asshole just because I had sex with the man."
"Stop talking about sex with Xavier and I won't go and immediately kill him."
I press my lips together to stop the next sentence, but it bursts out anyway. "He's not the only one I've had sex with. Are you going to murder them all?"
"Shut the fuck up, Taran!" he snarls, and then turns around and punches a hole in the wooden frame next to the door. My mouth falls open as splinters of wood litter the floor. "He said you fucked half the rebellion."
"He said that? Seriously?" I yell furiously. "Fine, you can go kill him. I'll wait." He stands still with his head down, but I can see his lips twitch. Some of the tense anger drains from him as his shoulders relax. "Better yet, just maim him. Maybe stab him until he knows better than to talk about his ex-wife that way."
He turns back to me a real smile stretching his lips. "You're something else, baby. You know that?"
"I know that," I reply cheekily. Then soberly add, "You know, I only slept with two other men besides Xavier. Both were brief flings. I was lonely and the human connection felt good. What you and I have is so much more, but it doesn't erase my history. I won't regret the things I've done, Diogo."
He shakes his head. "I won't pretend I like hearing that there've been other men in your life, but I understand. Even surrounded by people, Sanctuary can be a lonely place. You want to feel alive, even if it's only for a few minutes."
I smile. He gets it. We aren't nearly as different as I always imagined. We have some fundamental issues to work through, but Diogo Fuentes, Dictator and Warlord, isn't nearly as terrifying as I thought. He's human.
"What did you want to ask me about Xavier? We got sidetracked while fighting about my ex-husband."
He laughs. "You need a spanking, sweetheart?"
"Promises, promises." I bat my lashes and crook my finger at him.
He shakes his head. "Business first, pleasure later."
I sigh my disappointment. "Okay, ask away. But I think you'll probably get mad and start another fight."
He ignores my bait. "How long did you live with Xavier?"
I shrug. "Not very long." Then I think about it, wrinkling my nose in concentration. "I lived with him for a few years after we were first married, maybe two. Then only a couple of months when I was twenty-two. We decided to actually try to make our marriage work."
"Did he fuck you when you lived with him the first time? When you were just a kid?" he demands. He's vibrating with tension again and I can tell he's trying to keep a tight leash on his temper.
"Not that it's any of your business, but no, he was never interested in underage girls." I feel the need to point out, "It's your policy that married me to him at the age of fourteen. He had every right to have sex with me if he wanted to. It wouldn't have been a crime in the eyes of the law. Your law."
I'm satisfied with the visible flinch he gives.
"We need children, Taran. It wasn't an easy decision to allow women that age to marry, but they have a good chance at fertility and delivering healthy babies." I'm about to argue, to tell him that, in a dying world, forcing women to have children instead of giving them the chance to decide for themselves is barbaric. He doesn't give me the opportunity. Instead, he says, "I'm bothered by the thought that you could've been forced to have sex and bear a child at that age. I will have the law changed. I'll raise the age of marriage to 16 unless otherwise requested by both parties."
I'm stunned speechless for a moment. He's going to change a law because of me? Because of what might've happened when I was a teenager. The brief moments of happiness I've been feeling over the past week explode out of me into full-fledged hope. If Diogo is willing to change such an important law just for me, he might be willing to at least listen to my other suggestions. We might actually have a future together. My eyes tear up and my throat begins to close with the scratchy feeling that I get when I weep.
Still "Make it eighteen, Diogo," I say through my tight throat.
He laughs and reaches for me, pulling me against him. "Seventeen. End of negotiation."