Raza pasted on a grin and slid off the bed to scoop up our daughter. Her Dragon-Djinn wings were fluttering in excitement and her eyes were so bright a green, I could barely see the golden star spokes over her irises. Her crimson hair, a match to the stripes in Raza's black locks, was pulled back in a braid, a sharp contrast to her black skin and wings. At nearly nine (she'd taken to saying that since the kids' birthday was in a couple of months), she was becoming quite the young lady. But for Shazy, that meant jumping off anything with a bit of height so she could show off her flying skills. Which was usually hell on her hair. Thus the braid.
Rowan, a near opposite of her sister and yet the closest to Shazy out of all her siblings, didn't make a sound as she wound through adult bodies to hone in on her father. Killian picked our daughter up and set her on the bed so she could crawl over to me. Her hair was red and her eyes green, but they were different shades than her sister's, and she looked nothing like Shahzadi. My Ro-Ro could have passed for human if she didn't have slitpupils—a hint at her Nathair-Sith magic. She had taken after her daddy. All my kids had taken after their fathers.
Thanks to Danu.
The Goddess's magic was what allowed me to conceive from four men at once. And then she altered the fetuses just a bit. Shahzadi was born a full-blooded Dragon-Djinn, confirmed by Danu herself. The others, including Rowan, who showed her Nathair-Sidhe nature later, didn't take after their fathers so completely, but they did physically resemble them. My boys had even inherited their father's mórs. But this baby had been conceived and grown without a god's magic. So, maybe she would take more after me. Maybe she wouldn't have wings. And I would be okay with that. Her father might even be overjoyed. I glanced up at Sever, who had yet to put a mask on his glower.
“Sever!” I hissed.
He blinked and slipped our daughter back into my arms. “I'm fine.”
“Lemme see her! Does she have bird wings like Uncle Sever Raye?” Caelum asked as he crawled onto the bed.
He was dressed a bit too grown-up for my taste. But trying to tell an eight-year-old boy how to dress is like trying to herd cats. It's just better to let them run wild. So, my son had on a pair of indigo leather pants, a perfect match to his hair, which he was growing longer because he heard the ladies like long hair. Instead of a fey tunic, he wore a Roberto Cavalli shirt (I didn't even know they made children's clothes) that was so obnoxious, it made my eyes hurt to look at it. What was worse was how he'd left the top two buttons undone.
“Come on, Grandma,” Falcas, my son with Tiernan, wasn't talking to Eibhleann, my father's Dryad wife. He was speaking to Sorcha Silverlight, Tiernan's mother, who had come from Seelie with Tiernan's sister, Latharna, for the baby's birth.
Fal came up to the bed holding his grandmother's hand, the look on his face one of polite expectation with a hint of excitement. Sorcha, the source of Tiernan's amazing ombré hair (wild platinum at the roots going to midnight black at the ends), beamed at her grandson. He'd become the center of her world, and I was glad they had each other. Tiernan's dad had been killed, and I wasn't around all the time. So Sorcha and Latharna helped Tiernan look after Falcas, and he kind of looked after them, filling the hole left in their hearts by Diocail Shadowcall.
Fal was my solemn boy. He, too, was dressed a little old for his age, but not like Caelum. Falcas looked like a mini fey lord, complete with a dagger hanging from his belt. He wore his prince circlet—a gold band with a sun engraved at the front center—not because he was proud, but because this was a momentous event, and propriety demanded he display his status. He would have been a miniature version of Tiernan, except for his hair. It was unusual, even for a fairy. Even considering who his father was.
Fal's long, black hair had highlights of gray that got lighter closer to the roots. The colors shifted when he moved, looking like shadows or spirits flowing over his locks. At his left temple, in the exact place my stripe of ombré purple hair grew on me, Fal had a stripe of silver. Yes, my kids had small signs of me in them—similarities, but not exact replicas. His eyes, however, were just like his father's—a stunning silvery blue with dark limbal rings.
Coming up beside Fal's group were my father, Eibhleann, and Aideen. Aideen was Eibhleann's daughter—a Twilight Fairy and one of my best friends. In addition to them were three men who I'd been surprised to hear had shown up—Raza's son Rayetayah, my cousin Bress, and my uncle Dylan. They joined the crowd gathering around my bed and the kids.
As I said, the whole family was there.
And there I was in a robe.
I pulled the lapels of my robe closer together and held my newborn daughter out to meet her family. The children came first, clustering around me to get a look at their new sister.
“She's got black hair,” Falcas said and smiled at me.
“Like us.” I nodded.
“What color are her eyes?” Shahzy angled her head closer.
The new baby stared up at her peacefully.
“Purple,” Shazy said in disappointment.
“Purple?” Caelum, who had my father's eyes—purple with silver star spokes—leaned in, then sat back and grinned at my dad. “She's got purple eyes, Grandpa! But no stars.”
“Ah, well, it seems that only the Twilight boys get purple star eyes.” King Keir of Twilight winked one of his purple star eyes at my son. But once Caelum was back to inspecting his sister, my dad leveled a worried stare at me.
I shook my head at him. My father was too damn perceptive. He knew something was wrong, he just didn't know what.
“She's so pretty,” Rowan said.
Shazy scowled. “She's kind of squished up and red.”
“Shazy!” Raza shook his head.
“What?”
“That's how newborns look,” I said to Shahzy and tapped her ebony nose. “You were much the same when you were born, though not so red. You have to look past the wrinkles. They'll smooth out in a bit and the redness will go away.”
“Oh.” She peered down at the baby intensely.
