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“Thank you for coming with me. Coming alone would have been hard for me.”
Snow crunched as our party of three walked down a concrete walkway between house rows. A light flurry had fallen early this morning, covering the city of Inkopolis in a thin layer of white powder. Above, a blanket of grey cloud covered the sky, now doubt reflecting Hachiko’s mood.
I had never spent time around octolings—I’d avoided it in fact, but even I could tell from Hachiko’s drooping tentacles and downcast amber eyes how much she dreaded where we were going. We had only met today, and I wasn’t sure what news she brought, but I felt sorry for her. My new daughter was not feeling quite so empathetic toward her friend.
“I’m not here for you; I’m here for Three’s parents. I still think you got off way too easy.”
Hachiko winced at the bite in her voice and looked at her with a hurt expression. “You said you forgave me.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not still mad. Anyway, my forgiveness doesn’t matter right now, does it?”
So she said, but I could see the anxious ripples in her stubby tentacles poking from beneath her fluffy winter cap. Although we were still feeling our way into our new relationship as parent and child, I couldn’t let that slide.
“Espia, don’t take your anxiety out on your friend. I know you’re still upset, but if you say you’ve forgiven her, then I suggest you act like it.”
Espia flinched at the admonition. Shame flickered in her tentacles before an agreeing flash of green interrupted it.
I sighed inwardly, mostly with relief. I still felt like I was walking on eggshells around Espia. Even though she had forsaken or original name and asked me and my husband to give her a new one,—a tremendous honour for any adopting parent, she was from a very different world than me, and I had even been an opponent to her found family before I got put in my place.
The Ecclesiarchy had proposed my adopting a child to help me heal and atone for my actions, but I never imagined she would be the one they asked me to adopt, especially when I remained opposed to so many aspects of her life.
Despite being underage—only fifteen, she served as an officer in the imperial army, a reputable and well-respected warrior who had dealt out more death than I cared to think about. Permitting that felt anathema to my duties as a parent, but accepting her job was one condition of the adoption. Despite my reservations, I accepted; now I had to figure out my role in her life. My daughter’s very career conflicted with what I thought a parent should permit, but I couldn’t do anything about it, yet they still expected me to raise her as my child. What did they expect me to accomplish?
“Sorry, Eight,” Espia whispered after a moment. “I’m just frustrated ‘cause I’m still here and Three’s still by herself way over there.” She pounded a fist into her other palm. “And the ones responsible haven’t gotten punished yet. I don’t know what Three did, but I bet it was too soft for them.”
“The Queen is handling the situation. That is all I know.”
“I suggest you focus instead on what’s coming up,” I interrupted. “Espia, think about why you’re here, what you’re trying to accomplish, and what you want to leave with.”
Espia looked at me, her mantle displaying surprise and confusion. “What I want to leave with? I’m just here to support them… and Eight, I guess.” She nudged Hachiko playfully, bringing a slight upward curve to the octoling’s lips.
“Yes, but do you expect to sit there passively or will you be more actively supportive? What does support mean to you? How do you want them to feel when it’s over?”
Her mantle rippled, brows furrowed deep as she thought hard. I suspected she had never considered such things before, or at least seldom did.
“What are you trying to accomplish?” She asked after a moment. I wasn’t sure if she was deflecting or simply asking because she was at a loss herself and wanted an example. Either way, I decided it best to answer.
“I’m here to introduce myself to Cortina’s parents, since I am going to Splatsville to check on her. This also provides me the opportunity to learn more about her and ask her parents how I might best help her. I am also here to support you as your mother, but I can’t do that unless you know what you are trying to accomplish? Do you understand?”
Espia’s mantle gradually turned green, showing a gradual understanding.
“I guess I don’t want Three and Eight’s relationship to end, but with Three not here, I’m not sure what she wants.”
“Indeed. So, since she isn’t here to tell you her desires, you must go by what you know and how well you know her to anticipate what she wants or at least give her options when the time comes.”
“Options?” She asked with a quizzical tilt of her head.
“Does she want to remain with Hachiko or not?”
Hachiko stiffened, and Espia glanced sideways at her, mantle rippling in thought, then sighed. “Knowing what happened and how Three responded, I think she does want to stay with Hachiko. Whether she thinks she can or should is another story.”
Hachiko cringed so hard that her next few steps were on the tips of her toes. I guessed whatever had caused the disruption in their relationship was more unpleasant than I thought.
“And what about Cortina’s parents?” I asked. “How do you want to help them?”
“I just don’t want them to worry as much,” Espia said. “’Course, I know they’ll do that anyway ‘cause they’re good parents, but… I dunno. I want to help them somehow.”
“And you, Hachiko?” I asked. “I know you are doing this out of responsibility and obligation, but you must have an end goal in mind?”
Hachiko let out a heavy breath and nodded. “I don’t deserve their forgiveness, but I am hoping they will give me another chance to fix things with their daughter. They need to know I can change, that I can protect her if they are going to trust me again. I failed her once; I will do better.”
Cortina Scarlleteri, despite being only seventeen, was perhaps the deadliest inkling alive with a well-earned reputation as a cunning, ruthless bringer of death and mayhem. The idea of her needing protection from anyone made me intensely curious just what disaster had befallen her and Hachiko’s relationship.
After another few minutes of walking, we came to a white, two-story house surrounded by stout bushes. The windows appeared new; the white paint of their frames contrasted with the cracked paint on the house’s wood siding. The walk up to the house also drew my attention. Each concrete slab sat straight and level all the way to the cracked concrete stairs to the front door. Such signs of home improvement without a full makeover implied that the husband came home often. Reassuring.
We climbed the steps to the front door, then Hachiko knocked. A few seconds later, it swung outward, revealing an inkyar in his late forties or early fifties. His arbour-green mantle made it clear from whom Cortina inherited her own colouration.
He met my gaze, then dipped his head, his mantle displaying patterns of welcome and respect. “Welcome to our humble home, Matriarch. I’m Dekin Scarletteri.” His voice wavered somewhat, but I gave him points for not stammering. Hard to blame him for being anxious; few people experienced matriarchs showing up at their doors, though given the company his daughter kept, I found it somewhat ironic.
I bowed my own head in greeting, displaying patterns of gratitude and reassurance. “Thank you, Mr. Scarletteri. I am Matriarch Rumen, and this is my daughter, Espia.” I placed a hand on my daughter’s head, and Dekin’s mantle turned a bright orange before turning yellow, displaying confused patterns.
Espia turned green and smiled, leaning into my touch. Clearly, the Scarletteris were unaware of recent events. Given how quickly things had happened and that they had two babies to look after, I didn’t blame them.
Dekin let us inside, greeting Hachiko as she walked in.
“My wife is upstairs putting the twins to sleep,” he said quietly. I allowed him to take my jacket. So far, I had a positive impression of the family. It made me regret so many of the past assumptions I had about Cortina.
“We’ve got the kettle on,” he said. “Would you care for some tea?”
“I would, thank you.”
He brought us to the living room, a space just large enough for six people, told us to make ourselves at home, and then hastened to the kitchen. Most people, inkyar in particular, settled down when given a task. I capitalized on his absence by examining the room.
The furniture didn’t match, likely purchased more for practicality than for any cohesion in interior decorating. The genuine hardwood floor and warm-yellow walls gave the room a comfortable, homey feeling I appreciated.
Hachiko and Espia sat on a cream-coloured love seat while I remained standing, examining the space further. My eyes soon settled on a small memorial on a shelf, a silver-framed photo flanked by white candles. In the photo, an inkyora with scarlet eyes and tentacles, coddling an inkling toddler with the same coloured eyes. That could only be Fulvia Scarlleteri.
I knew little about Fulvia, beyond what Espia had told me about her and some bits and pieces I had picked up over the past six months. I knew she had been a street racer in her past, little more than a delinquent according to my former colleagues, but seeing her in that photo, I could only see a warm maternal glow and her beautiful, loving smile. Whatever her past, she clearly loved her daughter.
Other photos decorated the shelves below, many of which included Fulvia, but others appeared more recent, including one with Cortina dressed in her Imperial Army uniform.
A painful longing tugged at my soul, remembering the photos of my son that still decorated much of my own living room at home. I thought perhaps I should take a lesson from the Scarlleteris and focus more on the present. Besides, I didn’t want Espia to think she was merely a replacement for my dearly departed son.
I sat in the room’s only armchair as Dekin returned carrying a tray with small generic cups rather than bespoke teacups. I guessed they didn’t entertain often. The tea was palatable, but I kept my opinions hidden. I wasn’t here to judge this family; I was supposed to help them.
Dekin sat on the other couch, wearing a brave face but failing to mask his nervous energy. His mantle rippled beneath the surface, and he kept tapping his heel against the floor. Hachiko sat frowning at her tea, brows furrowed in concentration, as if the liquid revealed something to her. Espia didn’t appear to pay much attention to the tea; instead, she looked across at Dekin and said, “Thanks for the tea, Mr. Scarlleteri. How’ve you–uh, how have you been holding up?”
I told Espia a few days ago that she should work on improving her speech, given the circles she was likely to socialize in as my daughter and as a member of the royal house. I hadn’t planned to start that education right away, but it was nice to see her already putting in the effort.
Dekin stopped tapping his heel and looked at her. “Oh, alright, I guess. Winter is always busy. The cold always breaks things, and people always forget to check their furnaces.”
“I noticed your yard appeared well-kept,” I said, hoping the compliment would give him a little confidence.
“Look pretty bad if the handyman’s own house looked in rough shape,” he said with a rueful smile. “’Course I don’t get as much time as I’d like to take care of things, so I focus on making things work and worry about making it look pretty later.”
I hummed as I took another sip of the tea. Seeing both the exterior and interior of the house, I could believe what Dekin said. If he imparted a similar philosophy to his daughter as part of her upbringing, that said a great deal about her as well.
Espia sat up straighter in her seat, and a few heartbeats later I heard someone descending the stairs.
I rose, and Espia followed my lead, followed a second later by Hachiko. A tall inkyora with coffee-brown tentacles and eyes stepped into the room, garbed in a simple, dark-yellow house dress with short sleeves. Her eyes widened only minutely upon seeing me and bowed.
“Matriarch, welcome to our home.” Her soft voice set the initial tone of the meeting, a subtle reminder that infants were sleeping upstairs. “I am Purdie Scarletteri.”
“Honoured,” I said, matching the volume of her voice. “I apologize if my presence makes you feel uncomfortable, but I ask for your indulgence. I am travelling to the Splatlands soon to look into some matters surrounding Cortina, so I wanted to use this opportunity to get to know you and learn more about her.”
Purdie and Dekin’s mantles both darkened, rippling with worry. “So this is about her,” Purdie murmured, sitting heavily on the couch beside her husband.
Dekin grasped her gently, rubbing her back with his other hand as his mantle displayed reassurance and solidarity.
“I think it has less to do with her and more to do with the broader political situation.” I sat and picked up my tea again, making a show of acting casual to ease their surface worries. “Rather than me going there to fix a problem, you could look at it more accurately that The Empress is sending me to grant her a little support and advice.”
Purdie and Dekin both perked up, surprise clear in their displays. As I suspected, they were more familiar with my former persona. I couldn’t blame them, frankly; that was one reason I wanted to meet them with Espia, whom they already knew. It would put them more at ease and help them trust me a little more.
“A lot happened,” Espia chimed in, the levity in her voice cutting through some of the tension. “Sorry I wasn’t able to visit you sooner, but it’s been a busy month. I wanted to see you again and bring you up to speed before I go back.”
“You’re going back already?” Purdie asked.
Espia flashed green. “It’s been at least a month. I have to take back command of my company and Cortina’s gonna’—going to need me to help her clean up whatever mess turned up since I left.”
Purdie looked at her with concern, glancing between the three of us before narrowing her eyes and regarding me with a questioning look. I could guess what she was thinking and didn’t blame her one bit.
“I’m not happy about Espia being in the military, but I have had to accept it. You can relate, I’m sure.”
Purdie’s mantle pulsed green, but it suddenly rippled with confusion, and she looked at Espia who gave a reassuring smile.
“My name’s changed,” she said. “I’m Espia Rumen now. This is my mom.” She gestured to me with a toss of her head, which generated even more confusion in Purdie’s mantle. Espia responded that “a lot happened”, implying that wasn’t the reason we were there.
Worried, both parents looked at Hachiko, who met their gazes with upturned eyes.
“Cortina is fine,” she assured them. “I don’t bring bad news; I am here to… tell you that some things have… changed.”
If Hachiko had been trying to make the parents feel less worried, she failed. The unknown was always more frightening.
Hachiko’s hands clenched, her face set into a serious expression as if she were riling herself up. “I have already told the Queen, the Empress and… Espia. I did not come to you first because what happened included issues that concerned them professionally; otherwise, I would have.”
She gripped her knees tightly. Her gaze kept alternating between the floor and the Scarlleteris. Her expression twisted into a horrible grimace, as if shame and regret were fighting for dominance.
“The truth is, due to various events in Splatsville, which include many of my own failures, I’ve… become engaged to someone else.”
It took every gram of experience and self-control I had developed over my life not to flinch. I knew what she had to tell them wasn’t good, but I hadn’t expected something quite that extreme.
Espia wriggled uncomfortably in her seat next to Hachiko, watching the Scarletteris stare, faces frozen in shocked disbelief, their mantles awash with bright, jagged patterns. Hachiko forged on before anyone could interrupt.
“Octoling males suffer… mating urges when they reach a certain age. Since I have a male tentacle, I am also vulnerable. I did not know this before I went to Splatsville. By the time I learned about it, it was already too late. I tried to tell Cortina, but every time I tried, something got in the way. One night, the urges became unbearable. I and… my companion, Shiver, were attacked and nearly killed. After we escaped, I was on the verge of losing all control. Shiver thought her family sent the assassins, or perhaps even Cortina. So… unable to bear my suffering and feeling like she had no place to go, she… sacrificed her honour for my sake.”
As a matriarch, I knew many stories about people and their romances. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard of two people sharing the same love interest. Those situations didn’t always end peacefully, and it took little imagination to guess how someone with Cortina’s ruthless reputation might react to that.
No, wait, the situation is different, isn’t it? If Cortina and Hachiko were dating as potential bondmates and not mates, then that would be less severe. Of course, either way, it sounds like Hachiko was seeing Shiver behind her back, and Shiver was seeing Hachiko as a potential husband. Wait, but she’s a girl, isn’t she? No, she’s both. I rubbed my forehead, thinking how confusing dealing with other species could be.
As bad as it might have been for me, the Scarletteris had it worse. They appeared dazed, as if struggling to process everything they had just heard, too stunned to react.
“And since you didn’t want her honour ruined, you agreed to marry her to save her from disgrace,” Espia added, moving the story along. The tension in her voice hinted at anger just beneath the surface; although I wasn’t sure if she was angry with Hachiko in particular.
“Yes,” Hachiko said slowly. “I couldn’t simply abandon her. I tried to tell Cortina about the situation, but she wasn’t in her office; I was only able to tell Pearl and Marina.”
Well, at least she attempted to communicate, but what was Cortina doing that she couldn’t spare even a few moments? Was it simply bad timing or something more nefarious? If Cortina had been so busy she could not spare a few moments for someone she held dear, then how swamped with work had she been? I could only imagine how much she must be struggling.
I remembered how things had gotten with my husband leading up to our temporary separation, and even with my son. I hadn’t had time for the people who were supposed to be most important in my life; too caught up in what I was doing to remember why I was doing it. Had Cortina gotten herself caught in a similar trap.
Espia’s expression and mantle darkened. She had more context than we did for what Hachiko was saying. She could put faces and places to the names. Judging by her display, whatever I imagined probably didn’t come close to how bad things had actually been.
“Somehow,” Hachiko continued. “Shiver’s family found out what happened and summoned her home. When I learned this, I went myself to help her.” Anger darkened the octoling’s features, and her tentacles curled inward at the tips.
“I found Shiver lying on the floor, bleeding from her lip. Before I could try to resolve the situation, I learned that they had summoned Cortina to their estate.”
“What for?” Dekin demanded. They were the first words the couple had spoken since Hachiko had launched into her tale. His anger clear now that he had finally caught up. In response, Hachiko’s own jaw tightened.
“They saw what happened between us as an opportunity. Cortina, to them, was nothing more than a bloodthirsty killer. They thought if they could get her angry enough at Shiver, then she could do what they could not, and kill her. So, when she arrived, they told her their version of everything that happened between us, claiming that Shiver was a harlot who had deliberately tried to steal me from Cortina to get back at her.”
Tears leaked from Hachiko’s amber eyes, dripping down her soft cheeks, her body trembling as she fought through a storm of emotions to continue her story.
“That was how Cortina learned about our engagement, about what happened between us, Dentia stomping on her hearts, trying to get her as angry as possible so she would kill Shiver.”
“Who’s Dentia?” Dekin asked, his voice low and razor-edged.
Hachiko explained that in traditional Octarian families, because of the sexual urges they suffered, a male would take one or two barren girls as his wives, which were called kaaslan, and they acted as the head wives. They would eventually help their husband look for proper mates when they were ready to start a family. The resulting children would be the children of all the wives, and the children would regard all the father’s wives as their mothers. Hachiko didn’t delve into the reasons, but Shiver had never received this equal treatment because of the circumstances of her conception, and her mother had received equally poor treatment. Shiver’s situation sounded so similar to Espia’s that I instinctively looked at her.
My daughter sat in silence, but the storm beneath the surface of her mantle betrayed the powerful emotions raging inside her. I suspected she had conflicting feelings about Shiver.
“So, Dentia is one of these, kahs-lahn?” I asked, struggling with the foreign word.
Hachiko nodded. “With Shiver’s mother demoted, she is the highest authority in the family behind her husband. She led the others in their attempt to get rid of Shiver. Shiver’s only ally was her egg mother, who had been helping her husband with work.”
No doubt they had planned it that way. The idea of the scheme sickened me. That they would so ruthlessly and coldly trample on a young girl’s feelings and rip her hearts out like that was enough to make my ink sac boil. I had a thousand questions desperate to pass my lips, but I held my tongue. I had to let Hachiko finish her tale.
“What happened next?” Purdie’s voice came out in a strained croak, as if fighting strangulation. Her skin had gone pale, and the tips of her tentacles had shrivelled. I could imagine the worry tearing through her soul as she thought of what her daughter must have gone through. What might she be going through now?
“I failed her,” Hachiko sniffled. “I just sat there like an impotent fool, letting Dentia tear into her with every word when I should have spoken up.” She held her head in her hands, teardrops falling onto the hardwood.
Espia rubbed Hachiko’s back in a comforting gesture, her friendship overriding any lingering anger or sense of betrayal. She took over Hachiko’s story as the octoling sobbed, unable to speak.
“Cortina basically took off after Dentia told her about Hachiko and Shiver’s engagement. Apparently, it’s common sense in the Splatlands that mixed relationships never work out, so I think she saw it coming.”
I couldn’t help wincing in sympathy. On top of everything else, she had to worry about her relationship with Hachiko falling apart. Unfortunately, the story wasn’t unique. Many relationships had broken down from external circumstances pulling people apart. Frankly, I was astonished she hadn’t had a mental breakdown.
Or maybe it just hasn’t happened yet.
I better understood why the Empress wanted me to go to the Splatlands to check on her. Yes, it served as an excuse to spend more time with Espia and to see the nature of her job, but they were worried about Cortina, and I would have a more objective view of her situation.
They must think they’ve already failed her. Now that I had more context, resolve filled me. But I didn’t need to just help her; I needed to help her family.
“I do not know how it happened,” Hachiko said, wiping her face with a tissue from her pocket, “but Cortina and Shiver somehow worked together to bring her family into compliance.”
Espia’s mantle displayed incredulity, but if true, it represented a significant turnaround in Cortina’s situation, and I worried about the circumstances. Had Cortina’s spirits been so beaten down that she willingly submitted to the requests of the one who had taken Hachiko’s affections? I made a mental note to inquire about that later.
“And were those the circumstances when you left?” I asked.
Hachiko dabbed at her eyes again and sucked in a deep breath. “I met her one last time, alone, before I left for Inkopolis.” She shook her head a little as if to clear it. “I told her I still loved her, how sorry I was for failing to help her when she needed it most, but then she began telling me how she thought she had been the failure, how she had let me down.”
Purdie brought a hand to her forehead, the brown of her mantle desaturated to the colour of dried tree bark. Abruptly, she rose. “I need to check on the twins,” she said, and walked briskly toward the stairs. Dekin rose to follow her, but I stood and waved him back down.
“I will check on her. It might be dangerous for you.”
Purdie was stressed, angry, sad, and she was an inkyora with two very young children. That made her volatile. She had to be approached carefully.
I climbed the stairs and found the room at the end of the hall. Purdie stood, hands gripping the edge of a steel-framed glass tank the size of a bathtub and filled with water. A layer of sand covered the bottom, and two small squid forms rested there, eyes closed, their four flippers curled inward as if they were still inside their eggs. I could easily imagine her thoughts.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, staying beyond the threshold of the room. Purdie needed to feel like she had control of the situation, that I would not intrude without her permission. She was already on edge, and the last thing I wanted was to set off her protective instincts. “How old are they?”
Purdie glanced in my direction without moving her head, then looked back down into the tank. “Just over six months.” She brushed a hand along the tank’s padded edge and sighed. “Cortina bought this tank for us.”
“Did she? That’s nice of her. It looks expensive.”
“I didn’t dare ask how much it was. We rented a larger tank for the first period, but she bought this one so we could keep it in the nursery and it would be easier to get them out once they could sleep alone.”
“She sounds like a considerate daughter,” I said, watching Purdie carefully for any sudden shift in mood or her stance.
“Considerate of everyone but herself,” Purdie said, her mantle rippling with frustration. “Even after everything she’s accomplished, and the way so many people look up to her, she still thinks so little of herself inside.”
That didn’t fit with the public persona I knew about. Cortina had often been called arrogant by many functionaries in the government and by various social and political commentators. What little I had learned about her from Espia had cracked that impression for me. Purdie’s revelation threatened to shatter it.
“Has she always been like that?”
Purdie left the tank and walked to the far wall where several picture frames rested on a trio of small shelves. The patterns in her mantle permitted me entry, so I passed through the doorway, then to the bench sitting next to it, keeping well away from the tank and her.
Purdie grasped one of the picture frames with delicate hands and stared at it, her back still to me. “Cortina was never the same after Fulvia died. She was always quiet and never had many friends growing up, partly because other mothers didn’t want their children around the daughter of a former delinquent like Fulvia. Despite that, though, she loved to sing.”
She turned back around and handed me the photo. It depicted Fulvia and a younger Cortina, only about eight, wearing a cute little white dress and a beautiful smile. She held a small trophy in her hands.
“This was when she won a music competition at school. She was so nervous leading up to it. She’d never really sung in front of an audience before, so Fulvia told her to just sing to her in the audience and pretend nobody else was there. Somehow, she got through it.” Her eyes fell and her smile vanished, her mantle turning dark blue with sorrow. “Fulvia died barely fifteen minutes after this picture was taken.”
I inhaled deeply, looking at the photo, the way Fulvia had her arms wrapped lovingly around her daughter, exuding a mother’s intense pride in her child. I could imagine the bittersweet feelings this photo generated.
“Does she not sing anymore?” I asked, handing the photo back to her.
“She does, but not often anymore. She had a throat injury that meant she couldn’t even speak for a while. And even seeing that, and knowing what she’d gone through, some kids picked on her when she started going back to school again.”
A shadow fell over Purdie’s face before she turned back to the wall and replaced the picture. “Cortina had never raised a hand to anyone before, but that day, she snapped. Had the teachers not stepped in, she might have killed those children.”
That sounded more like the Cortina Scarletteri I knew. Still, hard to blame the poor thing. No child endured the loss of a parent unscathed. Still, mauling other children within an inch of their life was rather atypical.
“I assume she had to change schools after that,” I said.
“Yes,” Purdie sighed. “And she became more closed off than ever. She didn’t want other people around her, wanting everyone to stay away, but we could tell how lonely she was. When she turned fourteen and we sent her off to Inkopolis Square to get her out and involved in things, we hoped she might finally come out of her shell with a little independence, so we were glad when she started hanging out more, getting busy.”
That must have been when she got involved with Callie and Marie in their clandestine war against the Octarians.
“And that changed her?”
“Little by little.” Purdie walked back to the tank, peering down into the water. “At first, she just mentioned helping an old inkyar. She was usually fine among adults, so it seemed like such a small thing, but over time she seemed to brighten up, and whatever was happening, we were glad she was at least opening up a little. Things just kept getting bigger from there.”
She walked back to the shelves and brought over another photo. This one featured a Cortina from perhaps one or two years back, with three other inklings, all holding up a large trophy and a ribbon that read “World Champions”.
“That’s a significant change,” I remarked.
“My husband and I stayed up late to watch that match. I’d never watched Turf War before, but seeing our little Cortina playing on the world stage was like a dream. We were on the moon when they won. We welcomed her when she got off the plane, got to meet her teammates, and then we took her out for a celebration dinner. It was a wonderful time.”
I got an unpleasant feeling in my ink sac. “So what happened? Clearly, she didn’t continue this career.”
I handed the picture back, and Purdie replaced it. “She retired from professional turf war. The attention was too much for her. She only joined the team because two of her friends had begged her and stuck around until the world finals because she didn’t want to let her teammates down after coming so far.”
I didn’t need to guess who those friends were. Unlike them; however, Cortina clearly didn’t like being in the spotlight.
“And now she’s a member of the royal house, a senior officer in the Army, and is currently acting as a governor.” I handed the photo back. “I can see why you would be worried.”
“Part of it is her own fault,” Purdie grumbled, mantle pulsing blue. “She’s as stubborn as her mother, but she also has her father’s sense of responsibility. That combination gets her into trouble because people take advantage of it.”
My muscles tensed as I understood. The sort of people a governor would deal with wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of her. I had been afraid of that since the start, but after everything Hachiko had said, my concern rose to new heights.
“You must worry about her a lot,” I said.
Purdie flashed green and sat next to me. “She always tries not to worry us by withholding things, but that only makes us worry more. If Hachiko hadn’t told us about what happened, I don’t think she would have ever mentioned it.”
Sighing, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I feel like she lives in a whole different world from us now. She’s an officer in the military; the Octarians practically worship the ground she walks on. She’s true family with a queen, an empress, and a priestess, and your daughter. She’s so much more than I could ever imagine, and I’m so proud of her, but at the same time…” Her voice trailed off, and she hung her head, sorrow rippling down her tentacles in deep blue waves.
“You feel like she’s leaving you behind?” I asked.
“Maybe a little.” She stared down at her hands as her fingers curled into her palms. “We’re her parents, but we just feel useless when she’s suffering through all these things and we can’t do anything to help. And besides that, she’s seventeen! She’s spending her entire youth overworking and risking her life when she should be wasting time with friends and getting into mischief. It’s safer.”
I couldn’t help smiling a little to myself, remembering my thoughts from earlier. “I feel the same way about Espia. She’s even younger, but she’s doing much the same job. Given how she was suffering with her original family though, I can understand why she thought doing a job that earned her respect and appreciation would be more appealing. Thinking about the present, it’s hard to know what I’m supposed to do with her, but perhaps looking toward the future can provide both of us a better answer.”
Purdie frowned and looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that with the way things are changing, they won’t be in their current positions forever. Priorities and politics shift, necessities change, and the world changes too. Maybe there isn’t much we can do right now, but we can think of the future and prepare them for that. Besides, even if our children don’t need us at the moment, they still want us to be there. Espia and I have spent less than a week together, but she’s trying hard to be a good daughter because she wants a mother.”
I put a hand on Purdie’s back and looked into her brown eyes. “And while Cortina may have lost her mother, she still has you, and still wants you and her father. That–,” I nodded to the tank. “–Is proof that she still thinks about her family and still wants to be a part of it. After all, if she hates the spotlight, what better place could she escape it than home?”
Purdie took a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I suppose you’re right.” She smiled and looked at the two dozing infants. “She loves the twins. I’m sure she’ll want to spend more time with them when she gets back.”
“I imagine she’ll have a great deal she’ll want to talk to you about too,” I said. “She may have a lot of people vying for her attention, but she’s never forgotten you.”
Purdie flashed green, then her mantle darkened to maroon. “Still, thinking about what Hachiko said, that’s not the sort of thing a governor should deal with, should it?”
“People in power often have to suffer people trying to manipulate them, and they will use every trick possible to get their way, even if it means making a young girl suffer.” My own mantle turned red. “What this Dentia person did was reprehensible, and I doubt Hachiko was telling us the complete story. She probably omitted things that are more… politically sensitive, based on my discussion with the Empress. One way or another, they will make her pay for what she’s done, on your behalf. I’m certain that if you wanted to speak to them, you could. Espia would arrange it for you, I’m sure.”
Purdie stared at the ceiling, waves of anger still washing down her tentacles. “No, I trust them. Callie and Marie have always looked after Cortina. I’m sure they feel guilty for letting something like this happen, and I trust Tani, er, Espia, to help her when she gets there. Still… if you are also going, I don’t suppose I could humbly ask you to send a message for me?”
I couldn’t help grinning, knowing where this was going. It would create a fuss, but it would be worth it.
An hour later, I walked back to the car with Espira. Hachiko had left some time earlier to attend to her own duties.
“Are they going to be okay?” Espira asked me, keeping her voice down.
“I think they will feel better when their daughter comes home, but for now, all they can do is worry. That’s why it’s up to us to look after Cortina for them as reasonably as we can. Of course, you’re my daughter, which means you are a higher priority.”
Espira flinched, her mantle rippling as she looked up at me with a worried expression. I almost laughed out loud.
“Don’t give me that look. You were neglected, Espira Rumen, which means I need to reeducate you on how a proper family functions and what expectations you should meet. The Ecclesiarchy made me not merely your guardian, but your mother, which means I need to raise you and prepare you for a very different life than you expected. High society is difficult to navigate even for experts, and whether or not you like it, that’s something you’re going to have to deal with.”
Espira looked doubtful. “You think high society would accept a soldier from the country?”
“You’re not just a soldier, you’re a member of the imperial house, and as such, you will have to take on duties not purely military, just like Cortina. After everything you and Hachiko told me about how Cortina has been struggling in Splatsville, I feel we cannot start too soon. Do I expect you to need these skills tomorrow? No, but I do expect you will need them in the future, so we shouldn’t waste time.”
Espira’s mantle pulsed blue, but she gave me a wry smile. “I guess I did ask for a real mom. My own fault I guess.”
I smiled back, a satisfying warmth spreading through my chest. “Just promise me something,” I whispering. She met my eyes, ready to hear what I had to say, rather than dreading it. “Please, don’t make me worry any more than I need to.”
Espira smiled and took my hand. “I’ll try, Mom. Thanks.”
“I wish it didn’t have to be you doing this job,” I said. “But I know it does. It’s the price I pay for having a special daughter.”
She snorted. “What about me? I have to deal with having a special mom and dad.”
I laughed, and then she laughed. It felt good to release the tension. I couldn’t help worrying; I doubted I ever would, but at least my daughter knew I loved her, and I could feel her love in return, something I wish I could have shared with my son before the end. The regret of letting him join the Bastion Guard gradually fell away, replaced with pride in what he had accomplished and what he had fought for. Now I had to support my daughter to do the same, even if it was painful, it was my duty as a mother.
My duty as a matriarch was to help other mothers and parents have their feelings and grievances heard. On Purdie’s behalf, I would carry one grievance all the way to Splatsville, and I would guarantee that grievance would be heard loud and clear.