“He should be prepared.”
“He’s the size of a butternut squash.”
“A well-informed butternut squash.”
I walked over and his hand went to my belly automatically, palm flat, fingers spread. The baby kicked against his hand immediately, hard, the way he always did when Finneas was close.
“See?” Finneas said. “He agrees with me about the patrol rotation.”
“He kicked. That’s not agreement. That’s his foot.”
“It’s agreement.”
I shook my head and leaned back into him. His arms came around me from behind, resting on the bump, his chin settling on the top of my head. We stood in the nursery looking at the crib we’d built together, the walls I’d painted yellow because I refused to do blue or pink, the little wolf stuffed animal on the shelf that Luca sent with a card that saidfor the future king, from his favorite uncle (only uncle).
“You brief him every morning, don’t you?” I asked.
“He needs to know what’s happening.”
“He’s a fetus, Finneas.”
“He’s a fast learner.”
“What else do you tell him?”
“Pack updates. Security reports. Occasionally the weather.”
“You give our unborn child a weather report.”
“He should know what to expect when he arrives.”
I turned in his arms to face him, the belly bumping against his stomach as I shifted. His hands settled on my hips, holding me in place, and I looked up at his face. Sleep-rumpled, stubble darker than usual, amber eyes soft in the morning light. He was beautiful like this, unguarded, before he put on the King face for the day.
“You’re going to be a good dad,” I said.
His throat moved. “I’m going to try.”
“You’re already trying. You’re giving strategy briefings to a butternut squash at seven in the morning. That’s commitment.”
He almost laughed, catching it behind his teeth, and I pressed up on my toes and kissed him. Brief, soft, just his mouth against mine for a second. When I pulled back his eyes were closed and his hands had tightened on my hips.
“I have to get ready for the council,” he said. His voice was rough.
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to cancel the council.”
“I’m considering it.”
“Go.” I pushed his chest. “Rule your kingdom. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He went. Slowly, looking over his shoulder once from the doorway. I stood in the nursery with my hand on my belly,yellow walls around me, thinking about how two months ago I was sleeping in a guest room thirty feet from his door telling myself co-parenting only. Now I was kissing him in the nursery wearing his shirt, and it felt like breathing.
Finneas left for a council meeting that afternoon. I went to the animal wing, settled into the reading nook with Buddy at my feet and tea on the windowsill. The afternoon light was warm through the glass, the baby was quiet for once, and I was three chapters in when a voice came from the doorway.
“So you’re the human.”
