In Which Rona Learns to Dance Again

August 5, 1181

"...Darry has my eyes, though. And he was born blond, but his hair is starting to look a little red, more like..." Rona trailed off. Ashe was the last thing she wanted to think about just now, but whatever she said, whatever she forced herself to ponder, he just kept coming back to her. "...his father. Aspen, you don't think my kids...?"

"Your kids are fine." So she herself knew that deep down. Thank God. "Physically, Ashe is human, so there's nothing wrong with your children. And they do have souls, if that's what you're worried about."

"So Ashe doesn't."

"Why would he?" Aspen raised one knee and rested her arm upon it. She'd sometimes sat posed like that, even as a young girl, had she judged the situation casual enough. Ashe sometimes sat like that too. "Not even magic can create new souls. The closest he'd have would be the mental framework he inherited from his template."

"Mental framework?"

"Memories, thought processes, practical knowledge--enough to make him pass as a person." Was that why he felt so real? "I thought you didn't want to talk about Ashe."

"I don't, but it's difficult not to." Rona stood, turning her back to her old friend and taking a few steps toward the pond. In spite of the muck, the water was blue and clear, her reflection only obscured by the rushes and the lilies. It was so unlike the pond of her childhood horrors and in its own way, perhaps that was alarming. "I don't want him to be what you say he is."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But you know I can't lie to you here."

"I know." A frog sprung from the muddy shore to a nearby lily-pad, then dove into the water. Rona recalled her mother once telling her and Xeta a story about a frog who, upon receiving a kiss from a princess, had transformed into a handsome prince. Back then, Rona hadn't thought anything other than handsome had been required of a prince. Maybe the frog had been meant to remain a frog. Maybe the princess would have been happier with the frog. "Tell me about Ashe's template."

"What is there to tell? It wouldn't matter anyway." A sigh, then the rustle of skirts as Aspen too clamored to her feet and strode to Rona's side. "Templates... they give themselves freely, because they themselves cannot do something that they take great interest in seeing done, and not even magic can make a person, even a shadow of a person, out of nothing. Ashe only exists because his template no longer does."

"So he... he effectively killed someone?" The only someone who had ever loved her. Was there much point in waking now, knowing that?

"No. No one died. It's possible to stop existing without dying. And even if the template had died, Ashe wouldn't know. Don't hold him responsible for any of this. He lacks the autonomy for responsibility."

"Oh." That didn't sound any better, but she supposed nothing would, at least nothing that wasn't a lie Aspen couldn't tell. "He's so sweet. Is that real, or...?"

"Yes. Lies aside, and love aside, he treats you the way his template would have. I doubt it can occur to him to be anything but sweet to you. And that's good, really. You deserve someone sweet." But did she want someone who was only sweet by instinct and couldn't be anything else? What good was love--or any semblance of such--if it was only hardwired? If she hadn't earned it, maybe she was better off not having it at all. "And he can't help what he is. He's not horrible. He's a good father, isn't he?"

Rona shrugged. Ashe was a good father, or so she'd thought before she figured he might not be capable of truly loving their babies. Those poor darlings. They deserved to know, but it would be cruel to tell them.

"And I bet he doesn't have a wondering eye."

That was true. Not that philandering was a likely aspect of his designed behavior.

"And he can fight--and he's a good dancer, like you."

Dancing. Maybe that was worth a smile. "I was even worse than Lonriad before you taught me."

"You taught yourself, silly." With a mischievous smirk, Aspen took her by the hand and twirled her under one arm, like they'd once practiced in Rona's girlhood bedroom long after they should have been asleep. "I was only standing in for the lead."

She couldn't help it--she giggled. "And where did you learn to lead?"

"Just a strange, random talent, I suppose." One hand on the small of Rona's back, Aspen spun her around and dipped her to ground. "If it makes you happy, then I'm glad Ashe inherited that."

Wait. That... that was an odd way of phrasing it.

Unless...

"Aspen?" Rona forced her gaze on the narrowing green eyes and tried not to focus on the fact that they were drawing nearer. "Aspen, are you--?"

"Shhh."

*

"Rona!"

He looked so happy to see her. If only he really could have been. "Thank God! I'd never been so scared in my life."

Rona tried to smile back as she pushed the covers aside, but it was a feat beyond her. That might as well have been her dog staring down at her, tail wagging, just after scratch behind the ears--natural behavior, but not true emotion. Not the kind she'd always hoped for. "You... you don't even know what fear is."

Brows scrunched, Ashe shared a glance with the only other person in the room--Rona's mother. She looked concerned, but how could she suspect the truth? Even Ashe couldn't. At least she knew she couldn't hurt him, not when he couldn't hurt in the first place. "Are you all right?"

Rona swallowed as she dangled her legs off the bed. They were numb from lack of movement, but that might have been for the better. "I'm alive. I guess... I guess that's all that matters, isn't it? The way you see it, I mean."

She tried to stand and stumbled on her unpracticed feet. Ashe caught her by the hand and steadied her, and for that she supposed she was grateful, at least until she remembered that such gestures had little to do with genuine care. "I don't understand..."

"I... I don't know." She pulled her hand back from his. If her legs gave out, she'd let herself fall. "I guess it's not fair to expect you to, is it?"

Ashe's frown deepened. Beside him, her mother cringed. "Rona--"

"Mama?" She swallowed. Her throat was parched and she didn't doubt she'd nearly sweated herself into a puddle as she'd lain in bed. There was nothing left to cry. "Leave us for a minute?"

NEXT CHAPTER: