Six months later, I can barely see my feet past my swollen belly.
The twins are active today, both of them moving constantly inside me. When one kicks, the other responds, creating a rhythm that's become as familiar as my own heartbeat. Sometimes I swear they're already communicating with each other.
“They're restless,” Kiakoa observes, settling beside me on the wide bed we've shared since returning from Vasek's stronghold. His hand spreads across my swollen belly, and immediately the movement inside calms.
“They recognize their father's touch.”
“They recognize strength.” His thumb traces patterns on my skin, following the silver lines that have appeared as my body adapted to carry hybrid offspring. “The healers say they'll be born within days.”
I lean into his warmth, marveling at how much has changed since that night in the throne room. The other coalition lords scattered after Jesseth spread word ofVasek's fate. Some fled to distant territories. Others sent formal submissions, offering tribute in exchange for being left alone.
We kept Vasek's lands, expanding our territory to twice its original size. The increased resources mean better defenses, more comfortable living, and plenty of space for our growing family.
“Scratch says they're already showing abilities,” I say, feeling another flutter of movement. “The shadow servants grow more solid when they're active.”
“They'll be powerful.” His voice carries satisfaction and a hint of wariness. “We'll need to teach them control early.”
“We'll manage. All of us together.”
A knock at the door interrupts us. Scratch enters without waiting for permission, carrying a tea service that smells of herbs and comfort.
“Evening nourishment,” he announces, setting the tray on the bedside table. “The healers insist you maintain regular nutrition for the final week.”
He's changed since gaining his freedom and choosing to stay. Still sarcastic, still counting things obsessively, but there's a contentment to him now. Purpose beyond mere obligation.
“Any word from the border patrols?” Kiakoa asks.
“All quiet. The territories that submitted tribute continue to do so promptly.” Scratch pours tea intodelicate cups. “Your reputation as someone not to be crossed has spread considerably.”
“Good.”
I accept the tea gratefully, letting the warmth settle my stomach. The twins seem to approve, their movement gentling to lazy stretches rather than active kicks.
“They'll be born soon,” Scratch observes, studying my belly with his multiple eyes. “Within two days, I'd estimate. The signs are unmistakable.”
“Signs?”
“Your scent has changed again. Preparing for labor. And the shadow servants have been building... something in the nursery. Nests, perhaps. They sense the approaching birth.”
Kiakoa's hand tightens possessively on my stomach. “Everything is ready.”
It is. The nursery adjoins our chambers, furnished with everything tiny Vethani might need. The healers have been prepared for months. Even the shadow servants seem to understand they'll soon have new charges to protect.
“Are you nervous?” I ask Kiakoa when Scratch leaves us alone again.
“About the birth? No. You're strong, and the healers are skilled.” He pauses. “About raising them? Terrified.”
“You'll be a wonderful father.”
“I'll try to be better than the lords who came before me. Less concerned with power, more focused on family.”
I turn in his arms, studying his face in the firelight. The harsh lines that once spoke of careful control have softened. Not weaker, but more at peace. Content in ways I don't think he's ever been.
“I love you,” I tell him.
“I love you too. All of you.” His hand moves over my belly again, and the twins respond with gentle movement. “My perfect, dangerous family.”
The next contraction takes me by surprise, stronger than the practice ones I've been having for weeks. I gasp, gripping Kiakoa's arm as pain radiates through my lower back.
