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“Hey kid,” he says. “You wanna see some real magic?”
The porch boards groan under our feet and a rock clatters down the mountain. A moment later, a mess of black tentacles snakes across the porch, rises, and then dances around Lyari’s head. She shrieks enthusiastically.
Rowan turns around, and something on my face makes him frown.
“What are you staring at?” he asks.
At you, I want to say. At Rowan Sans Undervale, the only person ever born in the Lands Below. The man who broke Rensivar the Wicked’s barrier and freed our entire kingdom. And your magic. The magic our father tortured our mother to give you because he wanted to turn you into a weapon, something he could sell off to the highest bidder. Something he could control. And right now, I’m watching you use the voids-cursed magic that changed the entire world to make a baby laugh.
But of course, I can’t say any of that.
“Voids,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You’re going to be just like that with your own kid, aren’t you?”
Rowan turns to me with his eye wide, and the blood drains from his face. Even the magical tentacles freeze.
“What?” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. For such a smart guy, my brother can be a real idiot.
“You know Arryn can get pregnant, right?” I say. “We’re not in the Lands Below anymore.”
Rowan’s mouth opens. And stays open. For once in his life, my brother has nothing to say.
“I’m kind of surprised it hasn’t happened yet, honestly,” I continue. “They say it takes a thousand nights, although hells, if you’re going at it multiple times a night— But maybe the two of you are taking precautions?”
Rowan makes a sound that isn’t quite a word, then sinks back into the chair. The tentacles evaporate silently; Lyari makes a protesting sort of whimper.
“Shit,” Rowan finally says.
I sink into the chair next to him.
“I blame myself,” I say. “As your older brother, I should have had this conversation with you a long time ago. You see, when a man and a woman love each other very much—”
“Stop,” Rowan replies, waving the hand that isn’t curled around Lyari in the air between us. “I know how it happens. I just, with everything that’s happened. I just didn’t think about it actually, you know. Happening.”
I snort, and Lyari gurgles in a disappointed sort of way. I couldn’t agree with my daughter more. A breeze rustles the bright green leaves on the aspen trees all around us, and a chipmunk chatters its disapproval.
“So, what kind of a business does Arryn’s family want to open here?” I ask, trying to guide the conversation back to more comfortable waters.
But Rowan doesn’t respond, and when I turn back to him, he’s still staring at Lyari with a sort of wide-eyed terror.
“Rowan?” I say. “You okay?”
He turns to me. The empty cavity of his left eye stares at me, vaguely accusatory in a way I might never be able to shake, and his remaining eye gleams with what might actually be tears.
“Shit,” he says again. “Phae, I can’t be a dad. I’d be terrible.”
“No,” I snap. “Our dad was terrible. You’ll be mildly incompetent at the very worst.”
Rowan sniffs, then runs the back of his hand over his eye.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he asks, in a ragged voice.
I shrug. “Being a parent is, in my experience, completely terrifying,” I say, watching little Lyari as she wriggles in my brother’s lap. “I don’t think anyone could ever say anything to change that fact. But it’s not like you’ll be doing it alone. Hells, we’re literally twenty steps away.”
Rowan exhales slowly. Some of the color starts to climb back into his cheeks.
“Also,” I say, trying to be delicate. “Isn’t this a conversation you should be having with Arryn?”
