The Hod King (The Books of Babel, #3)

by Josiah Bancroft

While the captain and pilot parlayed with Algezian royalty and Byron watched the proceedings from the bridge, Ann sat upon the foot of Voleta’s bed reading a book of droning verse to an unresponsive audience. Midstanza, Iren interrupted her to ask, “Did you ever want to have children?” “Me?” Ann said, closing the book with her finger still in it. “I had children. I had many. Xenia was the last, and I think she finished off my appetite for any more.” Her cheeks puffed with an exasperated sigh. “Although that Olivet is the dearest little infant I’ve ever seen! I have to confess, that will always be my favorite age.” “But those are just the children you looked after. They weren’t really your own, were they?” “Why? Just because I didn’t have them? Just because they didn’t carry my physical traits or my family name? I’ve never put much stock in all that, really. Those children were as much mine as they were their mothers’, who rarely spoke to them, rarely fed them, and never nursed them when they were ill. I knew their dreams and their fears. I could recognize a change in mood from across the room. I could tell what they were thinking just from a smirk.”