Page 194 of The Immortal’s Mark

He kisses my forehead. Soft. Deliberate.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

I close my eyes. Let myself breathe. Let myself feel the impossible thing growing in my belly, the impossible man holding me together, the impossible future stretching out ahead like something I might actually want to see.

“I’m not running.”

The words surprise me. But they’re true.

“I know.”

“How?”

“Because you’re still here.”

My journal is where I left it. The ink dried on the last entry, something about the tomb, about the ritual, about dying. That feels like a different person now. A different story.

I find a fresh page.

Chapter 644: The one where everything changed.

I died for love. I came back carrying it.

Apparently the universe decided that eight hundred years of running meant I’d earned something. I’m not sure I agree with its logic, but I’m not going to argue.

I have a dragon who calls me “little dawn” and has already threatened to incinerate anyone who looks at my stomach wrong.

I have an archivist who appeared this morning with a pregnancy research file. Three hundred pages. She apologized that it wasn’t longer.

I have a general who doubled the palace guard and pretends it’s about something else.

I have a cat who has claimed my stomach as his new territory. He purrs directly onto it. The physician says this is fine. I remain skeptical.

I have—

I stop. My hand moves to my stomach without permission. Stays there.

I have a daughter. I think. I’m terrified.

But I’m not running.

“What happens next?”

Ren’s voice, warm with sleep. He’s reading over my shoulder, one arm wrapped around me, chin hooked on my shoulder. Dumpling is trying to fit himself into the nonexistent space between us.

“I have no idea.” I set down the brush. “We prepare for a very angry, very patient immortal who wants our daughter. I get increasingly large and uncomfortable. You write terrible poetry about it.”

“My poetry isn’t—”

“I’ve read your poetry.”

“You could give constructive feedback instead of—”

“It’s bad, Ren. It’s very bad.”