Because apparently, I’ve forgotten how to be subtle or just, you know, manners in general.
His answering smile is proud and a little shy, like he’s still adjusting to the fact that something so good belongs to him.
“Yes. She is expecting. I would have liked to bring her here, but she cannot ride comfortably. Her stomach is... swollen.”
He says it with reverence, not discomfort.
“Of course it is,” I nod, then shift forward, hands gesturing as I speak. “You know, you can relieve some of the pressure in a pool or bath by holding her from behind and just letting her float. The water supports the belly and spine—it takes the weight off.”
Alaric’s brows lift with interest. “Truly?”
“Yeah. In fact,” I add, warming to the memory of reading an article during a boring on-call shift, “you don’t even need water. Have her stand in front of you, wrap her arms around your neck, then you take a small step back. It shifts her balance, so she’s leaning against you. Then sway a little.”
“Sway?” he repeats, clearly trying to picture it.
“Just enough to move together. It mimics the way a baby’s soothed in the womb. The rhythm helps. And it lets her body rest without actually resting.”
He’s quiet for a beat, and I wonder if I said too much.
But then he nods, slow and thoughtful.
“And this will ease her burden?”
“I mean, it’s not magic,” I say with a wry smile. “But yeah. It helps.”
“I will try it. Thank you, Lady Delia.”
“My pleasure,” I reply. “And please—tell her I said hello. I hope I get to meet her and Phoebe soon.”
“I will tell her,” he promises.
And something about the way he says it—not just polite, but full of certainty—makes me believe it. “I’m sure they will both like to meet you as well.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” Kael agrees. “They will like you.”
The words are simple.
But they hit deeper than I expect.
And gods, I hope so. Because I don’t just want to survive in this place anymore. I want to belong. To have sisters, not just cellmates in fate.
I watch him walk off into the shadows, his silhouette swallowed by flickering light, and I realize something else.
I miss Thorne.
And I’m more than a little terrified of what that means.
But still, warmth spreads through me at that.
I’ve never had many female friends. Not real ones.
Not ones who’d show up at midnight with snacks and shitty advice and still love me when I ignored it.
Maybe here it’ll be different.
I retreat into my—no, it’s Thorne’s, or maybe it’s ours—tent for something to wear—though swimwear is not a category that seems to exist in Nightfall.
