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“I’m sorry,” Peregrine sobbed. “I couldn’t stop it. It was too much. My body would not listen. I have failed you again, I know, but please, please do not send me away. I will do better next time. I will be stronger. I will be able to listen.”
But no matter what he said, Sebastian would not stop staring.
“Sebastian?” Peregrine sniffled. “Sebastian, what is—”
Another cramp tore through him, worse than the ones before, causing Peregrine to scream and bear down all at once. He’d thought he’d pushed out the thing inside of him, but he’d been wrong—there was more. It lurched and shifted in uncomfortable ways, then slid out of him, knocking into whatever was already there.
How could it be that losing this baby felt so different from losing the first? It was nothing like it had been before. Peregrine dared not look, because he was sure his heart would break, and judging by Sebastian’s shock, it was a gruesome sight indeed.
“Perry,” Sebastian uttered, and came to sit very delicately on the edge of the bed. All the while he kept his eyes on the mess between Peregrine’s legs. “You haven’t failed. Not in the least.”
“But it is too soon,” Peregrine sniffled. “It’s happening all over again. I’m losing the baby and I can’t stop it.”
“You’re doing no such thing.” Sebastian took him by the wrist and guided his hand between his legs, into the mess. Peregrine squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for whatever awful things he’d find there, but rather than tissue, his fingertips brushed something smooth and leathery.
“You are not losing a baby,” Sebastian told him, more excited than Peregrine had ever heard him before. “You are laying our clutch.”
“An egg,” Peregrine gasped. “Our egg.”
He sat up as straight as he could to look between his legs, where two large eggs glistened in the candlelight. It was impossible to tell their exact color when it was still so dark, but Peregrine saw that they were rich and deep—Amethyst through and through. One was a hair lighter than the other, but by all other accounts, they were identical. Utterly perfect. His.
“Babies,” he whispered, stroking one, then the other, as love pooled inside of him that ran so deep, he could sink into it forever and still never find the bottom. After glancing apprehensively at Sebastian, he collected each into his arms and carefully lay back down so he was on his side and the eggs were wrapped up safe in his embrace. “I will love you forever. I promise.”
“Are there no more?” Sebastian asked.
Peregrine closed his eyes and, in total bliss, snuggled closer to the clutch. “I do not know.”
“Is there no more pain?”
Peregrine considered it, then shook his head slowly. “It persists, although not as much as before. There are still some yet to be laid, I think, but I don’t know how to go about laying them.”
“Push,” Sebastian urged, but it seemed a silly thing to do when his body wasn’t trying to rip itself in two. “You must continue to push. There are eggs inside you yet—you know it as well as I. Follow your instincts and push until they are all here with us. Until the clutch is complete.”
Peregrine ran his fingertips lovingly over the two eggs he’d already laid. While he would rather do anything than be parted from them, the thought that he might soon have more to cherish prompted him into action. He whispered a sweet something to each of them, then carefully rolled onto his back and propped himself up. There were more precious eggs inside of him, and he would not stop until he’d laid every last one.
* * *
Peregrine’s labor lasted for another half hour, during which he laid five eggs in total. Five beautiful, perfect eggs. They were all approximately the same size and shape, and all of them gorgeous in their own right. What varied between them was their color. Two of the eggs—the first two to be born—were shades of midnight and so deeply purple, they nearly looked black. The other three eggs were medium shades, neither too dark nor too light, and Peregrine spent a great many sleepless hours dreaming of what they’d look like in the sunlight. If only he’d laid during the day. It was a special kind of torture to be able to see something so precious, but not know what it looked like.
Throughout those sleepless hours, Sebastian came and went. At times he lay behind Peregrine and held him close, whispering affirmations of love and protection into his hair, and at others he ventured into parts unknown and came back each time with fistfuls of treasure, each more stunning than the last. There were gold coins and necklaces with fat jewels, gilded sculptures, and earrings. Bracelets and bangles and rings. He laid the bulkier items around the eggs, surrounding them in riches, and draped all the finer jewelry over their shells, making them even more beautiful.
When there was no space left to fill, and no egg left to decorate, Sebastian set his sights on Peregrine, stacking gold coins on the curve of his hip and affixing pretty golden pins in his hair.
“There will be more treasure soon,” Sebastian promised as dawn approached and the bedroom began to lighten. “When we return to England I will bring you to my hoard and I will shower you in riches the likes of which you have never seen. I will decorate you, Perry, and you will be the most precious treasure of all. You and the clutch both. I swear it.”
A few coins slid down Peregrine’s stomach, landing with a clink! on the gold surrounding the clutch. “It would not be befitting of a Disgrace,” he admitted rather shyly. “I think your father might be upset were he to find out.”
“It matters not what Father thinks, for you are no Disgrace. You are, and forever will be, my mate. My wytad. The father of my eggs.” Sebastian nosed into Peregrine’s curls and kissed the back of his head. “I will fight for you forever, and I will always keep you safe.”
Such love flowed through Peregrine then that it was impossible it was all his own. It was the bond, he realized. The invisible connection between him and Sebastian that would keep them tethered for life. In it, their love resonated like a golden note plucked from a string. It was beautiful. And the more Peregrine focused on it, the more he realized it did not stand alone.
There were other strings.
Five of them.
They were far more quiet and uncertain, but the more he listened, the more he could make out each one. They vibrated with excitement and were tuned to joy and love. One day, he was sure, they would sing… but for now, they contented themselves with quiet discovery.
Their innocence and honesty was so pure, it brought tears to Peregrine’s eyes.
