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“She wants kids.”
Rowan says it the same way you’d admit that you wanted to start keeping a pack of feral dogs in your bedroom. I bite my lip to keep from laughing, and something Alindra once said to me floats back through my memories, tangled in a haze of pleasure.
“Look,” I say, leaning forward. “You’re Rowan Undervale. You’re the undefeated chess champion of the World’s End pub. You mapped the shifting void. Nine hells, you defeated an army, and then you outwitted Rensivar the Wicked, and then you punched a hole in the barrier and freed all the sorry sons of bitches in the Kingdom of the Fall.”
Rowan turns to me with the slightest suggestion of a grin on his face.
“And, stars help us,” I continue, “I just saw you using a voids-damned mop. So I think you’ll be able to handle one tiny little baby.”
Lyari’s face scrunches up. She makes that hiccuping warning sound and arches her back. Rowan starts to bounce her on his knee, and the hiccups trail off into more content burbling.
“I guess,” Rowan finally says, as a smile spreads slowly across his face. “It could be okay.”
“The world is changing,” I reply. “And sometimes, it changes for the better.”
Rowan grins at me, that same cocky grin he’s been giving me since he was scarcely older than the baby in his lap.
“I’ll drink to that,” he says.
I pick up my mug of tea and clink it against his as the world spins on beneath us.
* * *
