Words failed him. Instead, he pulled her closer, tucked her head under his chin, and held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
Because to him, she was.
"Sleep," he murmured into her hair. "We have the rest of our lives to figure out what comes next."
So she did.
And for the first time she could remember, she dreamed of a future—warm and bright and full of promise—that she couldn't wait to live.
Epilogue
The first snow of winter had dusted the peaks when Delia felt the baby move.
She was at her workbench in the tannery, cutting a pattern for a child's boots—Kessan’s nephew, who had outgrown his last pair—when something fluttered low in her belly. Not the rolling nausea that had plagued her first months, not the stretching ache of her body making room. This was different.
A kick. Tiny but unmistakable.
"Oh," she breathed, her hands going still.
Brenneth looked up from his own work. "Problem?"
"No." A smile spread across her face, impossible to contain. "No problem at all."
She finished the boots with hands that wouldn't quite stop trembling, then walked home through the late afternoon light with one palm pressed to the swell of her belly. The baby didn't kick again, but she could feel them now, a presence she'd known about for months but hadn't trulyfeltuntil this moment.
Hello,she thought.I've been waiting to meet you.
Their quarters had changed in the months since the bonding ceremony. Small touches everywhere—a second chair by the hearth, her sewing basket beside his weapon rack, dried herbs hanging from the rafters that Thessaly had given her for the morning sickness. The furs on the bed were thicker now, layered for the coming cold. Her blue bonding dress hung in the wardrobe beside his patrol leathers.
Home. It still caught her off guard sometimes, how easily the word fit.
Ralvar wasn't back yet. She'd grown used to the rhythm of his days. Morning reports, afternoon patrols, evenings that belonged to her. But today he'd left early and been vague about when he'd return, which usually meant council business or some border matter he didn't want her worrying about.
She settled in the chair by the fire and let herself drift, one hand on her belly, waiting.
The door opened just as the light outside was fading to purple.
Ralvar ducked through the frame and stopped when he saw her.
"You look peaceful," he said.
"The baby kicked today."
His whole face changed. The careful neutrality he wore outside these walls cracked open, and underneath was raw wonder,the same expression he'd worn on their bonding day when she'd slipped the leather bracelet around his wrist.
"Kicked?" He crossed the room in three strides and knelt beside her chair, one massive hand hovering over her belly like he was afraid to touch. "Can I—"
"They've stopped for now." She covered his hand with hers and pressed it to the curve of her stomach. "But they're there. I felt them."
He was quiet for a long moment, his palm warm through the fabric of her dress, his gaze fixed on where their hands joined over the life growing inside her.
"I made something," he said finally. "For the baby."
"You made something?"
He reached into the pouch at his belt and withdrew a small wrapped bundle. His hands weren't quite steady as he placed it in her lap.
Delia unwrapped the cloth carefully.
