The merhorse’s kicking slowed, and Kiela was able to move in closer. She applied the paste as quickly as she could. “Start the spell,” Kiela ordered Eadie, Bryn, Ulina, Radane, and Caz. Meep held the paper with the spell aloft with his needles.
Together on the dock, the Pine Cone Coven began to chant as Kiela and Larran moved on to the next merhorse. When they got to the end of the spell, Kiela said, “Again.”
Restarting the chant, they continued to cycle through the spell as Kiela applied the paste to all four of the merhorses. The other two mares who were not yet in labor treaded water in the deeper part of the cove, watching with wild eyes. At the mouth to the cove, several mermaids and mermen had gathered. The merbaby that Kiela had once saved hoisted himself onto a rock for a better view. He’d grown over the past four months, and his tail sparkled with new flecks of gold and silver.
The horse-fish with teal scales—her name was Amarin, Kiela knew; she’d learned all of their names—twisted and cried out. Larran positioned himself beside her. “Shh, shh, that’s it, mama, you’re doing great. You can do this. Breathe.” He stroked her throat slowly and steadily until her breathing matched his strokes. She flailed less. “That’s it.”
As he calmed her, he positioned himself behind her.
In the same soft, soothing voice, he said, “Kiela, stroke her neck and keep her calm. Watch for her teeth. She may try to bite. She won’t mean it, but it’ll still hurt.”
The coven kept chanting as Kiela crooned to the mare.
“Contraction coming,” Larran warned.
She dodged in time to avoid the mare swiping at her with her teeth.
Three more contractions, and a foal with an emerald fish tail slipped out into Larran’s arms. “Good job, mama!” He rinsed the foal off in the water and guided him toward his mother. The foal immediately latched on and began to drink, and Larran turned to the next mare.
“Oh, that is amazing!” Radane said, after the last syllable of the spell.
She and the others started immediately into the next recitation as the second merhorse, Marri, gave birth to a little filly. Sian was third with a colt.
In the space of a single chaotic hour, all four babies were born. Larran cut the umbilical cords, helped the mothers pass the afterbirth, and checked over each mare and child to ensure they were all healthy—all were. By the time Kiela and Larran climbed out of the water, all four newborn foals had nursed for the first time and were now resting close to their mothers. Cooing and crooning, the mermaids and mermen swam around the mares, delivering seaweed for them to eat once they’d recovered enough and marveling at the foals without disturbing them.
Kiela flopped onto the dock. Her friends were all drenched from the amount of splashing. Caz and Meep had kept clear of the splash zone, she was happy to see.
“Rest,” Eadie ordered. “We’ll make dinner.”
“That’s okay,” Kiela said. “You don’t have to—”
Eadie snorted. “Of course we don’t have to. We choose to. Don’t argue. Unless you mind us using your kitchen and ingredients? May we?”
She waved her hand. “It’s fine. But thanks for asking.” It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d snapped at Larran for cooking with her stuff without permission, but she still liked to be asked. It was her kitchen, even though it was filled with memories of her parents—or perhapsbecauseit was filled with them.
“I’ll bake dessert,” Bryn offered as they climbed the stairs out of the cove. “Radane, I’ll mix the batter if you make the cream. Strawberry flavored?”
“Strawberry and honey, I think,” Radane said. She’d been working at the bakery with Bryn, and Bryn insisted she was a genius with flavors. Apparently, their customers agreed—they’d even had a few orders from nearby islands. One batch featured Kiela’s jam.
“I’ll do a salad,” Ulina volunteered.
Caz offered to help her, insisting it was self-preservation, not altruism.
After a few minutes they were gone, leaving just Kiela and Larran with the sleepy merhorses and the delighted merfolk. Kiela lay where she’d flopped after coming out of the water, on her back looking up at the clear blue sky.
“Four babies,” Larran marveled. “Four healthy babies with healthy mamas, thanks to you.” He turned his head and smiled at her as if she’d gifted him with the sun, the moon, and all the stars.
“It was everyone,” Kiela said. She, Caz, and Radane had perfected the birthing spell; she, Caz, and Meep had located the ingredients; and the full coven had made it possible for her to apply the ingredients while the spell was cast. And of course Larran had been midwife to the mares. It wouldn’t have been possible without him coaxing the mares through it, catching the foals, and cutting the cords.
Larran lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “It was you. You, caring enough to make things better, brave enough to try. You brought hope with you in that library scow. You, Kiela. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Kiela said. She searched for the words to say exactly how he’d changed her life. She’d come to Caltrey with a plan to hide in her parents’ cottage, seeing no one and befriending no one, and then Larran had showed up with his ridiculous scythe and a cinnamon roll . . . and suddenly it wasn’t about escaping or hiding anymore.Find someone who will be there for you,her father had once told her.Someone who will laugh with you through the years. Someone who makes you happy day-to-day.“You built me bookshelves.”
“And jam shelves.”
“Can’t forget the jam shelves,” Kiela agreed.
“Will you marry me?”
