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Istil huffed into the crease of his elbow and blew a tuft of hair away from his forehead. “I’m glad to know it’s not just me having a hard time accepting this.” He groaned. “I just can’t believe it. Every omega I know uses potions and has never had this happen. And I swear you’re the only person I’ve had since I left the mountain.”
“I know. I trust you.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking at me as if my trust was something unusual.
“If Eli does give us the answer we expect to hear, what are we going to do about it?”
He looked tired. “I’ve been asking myself that every day, and I’ve yet to come up with an answer.”
“We have options. There are potions, you know.”
“Yes, I’ve thought about that,” he said. “And I know it would be the responsible choice, even though my clan would feel otherwise. The Othos need whelplings, but it shouldn’t be me having them. I’m not meant to be a parent. I’m a warrior. I wouldn’t know the first thing about raising a child. Gentleness, patience, all of that. What do you think?”
“I think that it’s not up to me.”
The truth was, I also felt that fatherhood was not something I was equipped to handle. I would be an awful father. How could I not, with what I’d gone through? I didn’t want to subject my child to that, but it was all I knew. The thought of it broke my heart.
Ending this with a potion was the logical decision. So why did I hope that Istil would decide to do the opposite?
* * *
We entered town and continued to the harbor where Eli and Theo’s boat was docked. As we neared the two ancestor totems forming a guard post at the entrance, I saw that Visir was standing there, apparently waiting for us.
Startled, I felt a moment of panic. “Shit. What’s Visir doing here?” I muttered.
“I asked him to come,” Istil said.
“What? You told him what happened?”
No one was supposed to know—if the word got out to the family and then the clan, it would cause one massive headache. I wanted to keep things under my control. It was my mistake to assume Istil understood this. We hadn’t discussed it.
“Of course. He’s my cousin! He’s the only support I have here.”
“Did you tell Thran? Shen? Enry?”
“Absolutely not. Just Visir. And he’ll keep it to himself.”
“I hope so,” I said. “If he tells Kai…”
“He won’t.”
I stopped the cart by the gate. Visir nodded to us and climbed onto the back.
“Thanks for coming, Visir,” Istil said.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Not a word of this to anyone, especially not my cousins. Kai and Makoa have big mouths.”
“I understand,” he said. “Not a word.”
Eli was sunbathing on the boat’s deck when we rolled up. Theo, who was sitting on the dock with a fishing rod, helped me tie up the horse, and then we all went below.
“I’ll make some tea,” Theo said. “Are you hungry? Haru gave me some cheese and smoked venison from Brandy Oak. Swear to the Gods, it’s the first time I’ve had cheese since we set out from home.”
Visir eagerly accepted, and he sat with Theo in the galley while Eli, Istil, and I slid into the cramped quarters at the rear of the boat.
Eli was an exceptionally skilled healer, and though his methodology shared some similarities with my art, it was fundamentally different. He’d been trained by humans and relied on special instruments and complex potion-making instead of the energy and sense-based healing I knew. My father had emphasized the importance of tradition—that repetition of trusted methods was the best way to ensure success—but I refused to be so stubborn when it came to saving lives. If there was a better way, I was open to learning about it. I knew what Eli could do, so it didn’t bother me that he didn’t use T’Wanu healing arts. It was a relief to finally meet someone who knew more than I did.
“I just need to collect some blood,” Eli said as he put a small silver box on the table. “May I see your hand, please, Istil?”
