“What is it you’re not telling me?”
He bit down on his lip. I could not tell if he was fighting another smile or a grimace. “Melitta is…well…she’s pregnant.”
I stared at him for a moment, stunned.
“It’s yours?”
“Course it is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The thought of Melanthius as a father filled me with a rush of fierce joy, but the consequences that came with this news overshadowed the vision. He and Melitta did not have permission to have children—that much was clear. If our masters found out, they could be sold or worse. And Melanthius was only fifteen. I knew women were expected to carry babes at this age, yet it seemed so young to me. When I looked at my brother, I still saw the little boy who had tugged at my curls and tried to eat dirt just to make me laugh.
“Congratulations,” I finally managed, reaching for him.
He cocooned my hands in his warm, rough palms.
“I want our child to be born free, Mel. I want to give them a better life than we ever had. I want Melitta to have a better life.” Purposeburned in his voice. “She deserves it. So does our baby.”
“So do you,” I whispered.
“And you.” He squeezed my hands. “You’ll be an aunt.”
“An aunt,” I echoed. It frightened me how much I liked the sound of it.
Melanthius hesitated, glancing at the shadows. “Do you…think I should tell Dolios?”
“Why bother?”
“I just think he should know.” Melanthius’s lips twisted slightly. “He’ll be the baby’s grandfather after all.”
“Dolios isnorelative of ours,” I hissed. “He’s just a man who was once allowed to bed another slave because of good behavior. That’s all.”
“Mel…”
“What?”
Melanthius’s gaze filled with a sickening swirl of love and pity. “What happened to Mama…it weren’t his fault. You know that.”
“We’re not having this conversation. Not again.” I tugged my hands free from his suffocating grasp. “Don’t tell Dolios anything. He’ll only alert our masters.”
Melanthius winced, then sighed. “Fine.”
I stared into the shadows, letting the reality of Melanthius’s news settle and take root.
An aunt.
“I hope you know I’m going to spoil your kid rotten,” I murmured.
My brother grinned at that. “I guessed as much.”
“I’ll keep them up far too late telling them stories and feeding them treats.”
“Oh gods, you’re gonna make them a nightmare. Just like you were.”
We laughed, allowing ourselves to indulge in this vision of the future, however distant and unreachable it felt.
