But there would be a price.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Gallagher reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny bit of cloth. When he stepped into the light of the bedside lamp, I saw that the cloth was red.
“I finished it last night.” He set the tiny cap in my hand, and I ran my finger over the material, marveling at the tight knit. It was a little red beanie with a flower knitted into the left side, where it would lie right over her temple. “Wow. That is oddly adorable, considering its purpose.”
“It’s supercute.” Lenore backed toward the door and opened it. “I’m just gonna give you guys a minute.” She stepped into the front room and softly closed the door.
“I didn’t even know you could knit.” I was still staring at the tiny cap, trying to imagine Gallagher with a set of knitting needles.
It was easier to imagine him with a sword. Or a dagger.
“I don’t knit. What you’re seeing is glamour, so I can change the appearance, if you don’t like this one.”
“No, I do like it. It never really occurred to me to wonder what a female redcap’s hat might look like. Much less an infant’s. It’s adorable.” I turned the cap over in my hand, amazed. I could feel the yarn beneath my fingers. I could see and feel each individual stitch. It looked and feltso real. “So, if it isn’t actually wool—or cotton—what is it made of?”
“As isfear deargtradition, Alina’s cap is crafted from the flesh of an enemy, killed in battle or vengeance.”
“An enemy? Where did you—?”Oh.“You took more than vertebrae from Oliver Malloy, didn’t you?”
“Yes. He seemed like the perfect source material for the most important gift our daughter will ever receive. Other than her birth. Delilah, do you approve?” His words had taken on a distinctive, formal tone, which surely meant something important was about to happen.
“Of the hat? Of course. Why?”
“Though it was my duty to craft our daughter’s first cap, it is your decision whether or not to present it to her. If you find my effort worthy, I would be honored to watch you put the cap on her head.”
“And I’m guessing there’s some symbolism involved in that?” As there was symbolism involved in everything he formally asked me to do.
“In presenting her with the cap I made, you’re presenting me to her as her father. And accepting me in that roll yourself.”
“But youareher father. Do you really need a ceremony to tell you that?”
“Infear deargculture, it’s a mother’s prerogative to choose a parental partner, and that partner does not have to be the child’s biological sire. It’s a concept similar to a human’s adoptive parent or stepparent.”
“I see.”
“I know you didn’t get to choose your child’s sire, and I know you likely wouldn’t have chosen me. Nor would I have asked you to, considering our existing relationship. Butthischoice is yours, and as much as I adore her—” his deep voice cracked as he cuddled Alina closer to his massive chest “—I will not take that decision away from you. I would love to be her father. And I swear on my honor that I will never let either of you down in that regard. But only if that’s whatyouwant.”
“Yes. Gallagher, of course I want you as her father.” The relief in his expression was like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I hate that you ever had any doubt about that. So how do I do this?”
He lowered himself to his knees with one hand on the edge of the bed for balance, still holding our daughter in his other arm. Then he reached across me for a pillow, which he laid lengthwise on my outstretched legs.
Gallagher placed Alina on the pillow, cradled by the support of my thighs beneath. “Once you put the cap on her for the first time, she and it will be inseparable until the day she is old enough to craft her own. It will return to her from anywhere, over any distance, with nothing more than her physical need of it or conscious desire for it. It cannot be destroyed by human means. And if it ever dries of the blood of her victims—my victims, until she is old enough to fend for herself—she will die. It is your acceptance of this cap on her behalf that makes that possible. Is that what you want? Is this what you want for her?”
“If I say no, can she skip the whole bloody cap thing?”
“You don’t have to give herthiscap—” though he looked brokenhearted by that thought “—but withoutanycap, she will die.”
I cleared my throat, well aware of what my next words would mean to him. And, someday, to our daughter. “Yes. I accept this beautiful and thoughtfully crafted cap on behalf of Alina, my only daughter, and with it, I accept you as her father.” Gallagher exhaled in relief, and I couldn’t resist a little smile. “How was that? I was going for formal respect worthy of your culture. How’d I do?”
“That was beautiful. Someday, I shall tell our daughter exactly what you said in this moment.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” And I was glad I’d put in a little extra effort.
The arch in his left brow gave him a quietly amused look. “I hope to also be able to tell her that this was when you first placed her cap on her perfect little head.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I picked up the hat. “It is truly my privilege,” I said as I slid the cap over the top of her skull and down to where it brushed her ears. It was a perfect fit. And somehow, I was sure, it would always be a perfect fit. “It’s beautiful. And so is she.”
“You are both beautiful,” Gallagher whispered, still on his knees next to the bed. “You are the best things that ever happened to me, and I regret every moment of pain I have caused you.”
