Page 179 of Given to the Black King

Iona makes a sound behind me.

The healer leaves.

I close the door and cross back from it. Iona holds out both arms.

I go to her.

She draws me down by the shoulder, settling my head against her chest and one hand over the child.

“You cannot guard us out of being mortal,” she says.

“I am looking for a way around that.”

“I know.”

I lift my head.

She has found the old blood texts in the deep archive, then.

The bond gives me her answer.

Of course she has.

“We will discuss it later,” she says. “After the birth. After sleep. After strawberries.”

“There may be a way.”

“There may.”

Hope moves between us. Careful. Not a promise.

She presses my face back to her chest.

“Today, you have two heartbeats to guard.”

“Three.”

“The bond does not make yours my responsibility.”

“It does.”

“Then stop trying to frighten it to death.”

I breathe.

Her heart beneath my ear.

The child beneath my hand.

Mine in both their bodies through the bond.

Outside, dawn reaches the treaty orchard and the three rowans waiting for thaw.

Iona’s fingers move through my hair.

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

“The continent should be warned.”