“Do you want to hold her?” Naamah asks, watching me stare.
“Can I?” The word comes out embarrassingly breathless.
Naamah passes her over with the ease of someone who's already figured out the mechanics of a small person, and suddenly I have a baby in my arms.
Astarea is stunning. Amazing. Her dark eyes are fixed on my facewith unsettling intelligence, and two tiny nubs press against the soft cap on her head.
“Are those?—”
“Her horns coming in,” Naamah says, sounding ridiculously smug about it. “Earliest I've seen. She's going to be formidable.”
“She's perfect,” I breathe.
Astarea's little fist opens and closes, then her fingers close around my index finger with a surprising grip.
I melt into a puddle.
Kevin, sitting on the arm of Naamah's chair, grins at me from across the room. “She does that to everyone. Lana cried.”
“I'm not crying,” I say immediately.
“No, absolutely not,” Az agrees from the doorway, his voice very dry. He comes to sit beside me and looks down at Astarea with an expression I've only seen on his face a few times. It's raw and unguarded, and he doesn't seem used to having these feelings. He reaches out one finger and lets the baby grab it, just like she grabbed mine.
“Hello, little one,” he murmurs.
Astarea blinks at him. Then makes a sound like a fussy cat.
“She only does that with men who aren't her daddy,” Naamah says, clearly delighted.
“She has your manners,” Az tells his daughter without looking up from the baby.
Kevin coughs to cover a laugh.
After another hour of tea, Forneus' tiny sandwiches, and Naamah gleefully recounting the more horrifying details of labor to me while Kevin goes pale and Az very quiet, they take their leave.
As the manor settles back into its usual quiet, I lower myself onto the sofa with the grace of a fully loaded cargo ship coming into port and drop my head back against the cushions.
“She's extraordinary,” I say to the ceiling.
Az sits beside me, his arm coming around my shoulders. “She takes after her grandfather.”
I turn my head to look at him. “If our baby gets your ego, I'm sending them back.”
“Not possible.” He reaches over and rests his palm on my belly. “You'll just have to learn to love it like you’ve learned to love mine.”
I smile, covering his hand with mine. “We still haven't settled on names,” I say.
Az tilts his head back. “Hm. Do you have any ideas? If it's a girl?”
“Manon.” The name comes out immediately. “I had a friend named Manon. A long time ago, back in France. She's the one who helped me escape Thomas.”
Az is quiet for a moment. Something moves across his face, and I know he's filing it away. We're going to have to talk about Thomas eventually, now that I feel safe enough to say his name out loud.
“Manon,” he repeats. “I like it.”
“And if it's a boy?” I ask.
The corners of his lips curl into a wicked grin, and I press my hand against his mouth.
