The room tilts. I grip the edge of the table to keep from sliding off the chair. Yaern is at my side instantly, her hand warm on my shoulder.
"Breathe," she says. "Kess, breathe."
I breathe. In. Out. In again.
"Twins," I repeat, and my voice sounds strange to my own ears. "I'm having twins."
"It explains some things," the healer says, practical as ever. "Why the bleeding worried me more than it might have with a single pregnancy. Why your body is working so hard. Growing two at once takes more from you."
Two. Two children. Two lives that somehow held on through all the stress and violence and bleeding.
Two pieces of him growing inside me.
"Are they—" I have to stop, clear my throat. "Are they both okay?"
"As far as I can tell." The healer's voice softens slightly. "They're fighters, these two. Like their mother. The fact that you didn't lose them after everything you went through—that tells me they're strong. Determined to be born."
Strong. Determined.
Two of them.
Gods.
"Does this change anything?" I ask. "About what I need to do? About the risks?"
"It changes everything and nothing." She begins packing her supplies. "Twin pregnancies are harder. More dangerous, especially for someone already dealing with complications." A delicate way of sayingcontamination and transformation andcursed dragon father. "You'll need more rest. More food. More care. And if anything goes wrong—" She pauses. "It can go wrong faster. With worse consequences."
The weight of that settles over me like stone.
"But they're alive," I say. "Right now. They're both alive."
"Right now, yes." She meets my eyes, and for a moment I see something almost like warmth. "You're past the worst of the danger from the bleeding. Your body has decided to keep them. That's no small thing."
She finishes packing and leaves her instructions: more rest, more food, absolutely no strain. If any bleeding returns, send for her immediately—with twins, there's no room for waiting.
After she's gone, I sit at the table for a long time, hands pressed to my stomach.
Two babies. Two heartbeats I can't feel yet but that are there, somewhere beneath my palms, growing in the dark warm space of my womb.
"Twins," Yaern says softly, settling into the chair across from me. "That's a lot."
A laugh escapes me—broken, slightly hysterical. "That's one way to put it."
"Do twins run in your family?"
"No. Not that I know of. But I don't know anything about his family. About dragon bloodlines. About any of it."
His family.The words catch in my throat. These are his children too—his twins, his legacy, two lives that carry his cursed blood mixed with my warrior omega heritage.
He should know.
The thought rises unbidden, and I push it down immediately. He lost the right to know things when he decided I didn't have the right to know about my own pregnancy.
But still. Twins.
"Two of them," I whisper, more to myself than to Yaern. "You hear that? There are two of you in there. Both of you held on. Both of you survived."
No answer comes. Won't for months yet, when they grow large enough to kick against my hands.
