A baby.

Evander’s baby. A half-fae, half-human little baby.

There’s a deplorable lack of information out there regarding what one should expect in my situation.

Oh, sure. There are plenty of books in the library about fae pregnancies, most of them focusing on how to increase the chances of procreating, given success tends to be elusive for the fae.

Apparently not for me.

That’s fine. Evander and I already knew we wanted children. I just didn’t expect it to happen this quickly. Not with how difficult everyone made it out to be for fae to reproduce.

We decided from the beginning we wouldn’t do anything to prevent it, for a variety of reasons. It took my parents a decade of trying to have me, and I share my mother’s menstrual irregularities. That, paired with the fae’s general difficulty procreating, caused us to determine that sooner than later was the best time to, if not try, then at least not not try.

Well, not not trying appears to have been effective.

Unfortunately, even the books that discuss fae gestation aren’t helpful. Apparently, gestation for the fae is slightly shorter than for humans, though it varies significantly depending on the pregnancy.

Again, not that helpful to me, considering I’m human.

There are books on human pregnancy, of course, which I suppose might have been more helpful in teaching me what to expect from my body, but again, if fae gestation often depends on the levels of magic the baby’s inherited…

Well, I just have no idea what to expect. Because until recent years, fae-human pairings were considered taboo, no one seems to have bothered to research what actually happens when a human becomes pregnant with a fae’s child.

It’s been several weeks since Asha and I first realized I was pregnant. She’s been discreet and only asks about it when we’re out of earshot from anyone else. Part of me isn’t thrilled that she knows. If it were up to me, I’d have wanted Evander to be the first to know, but we still haven’t heard from him, which has my stomach twisting further into knots. The other part of me is glad Asha figured it out, because at least I have someone to talk to about it.

Well, someone other than Peck, the royal physician, whom I told immediately.

He congratulated me, claiming he hoped the child inherited my brains rather than its father’s, which he must have immediately realized was rather insensitive when I burst into a waterfall of out-of-character tears.

Peck, unfortunately, also knows little about human-fae pregnancies. So it didn’t help me at all that I told him. Though he is showering me with all the treatments he can come up with for both fae and human pregnancies, meaning a strict regimen of rather contradictory advice.

The most unfortunate part is that I’m not really sure exactly how long I’ve been pregnant. My cycles have never been regular, which is why I didn’t realize initially that something was happening. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure I’ve even had a cycle since Evander and I married, meaning I could be as far along as four months.

At first, I dismissed the notion. After all, my symptoms didn’t appear until a few weeks ago. But Peck informed me that fae rarely experience symptoms until several months into pregnancy.

Now that I’ve actually started paying attention, I’ve noticed my clothes no longer fit as well as they used to. Imogen has had to make frequent trips to the tailor to have them taken out.

Thankfully Othian fashion has taken a turn for the poofy in the past few weeks, making it rather easy to hide my belly, which has yet to truly pop, underneath obscene amounts of tulle.

I’m already not keen on the fact that two people know before Evander; I’m not about to let other people in on the news, at least for as long as I can help it.

Especially not my father-in-law.

Fates, surely Evander will be back before anyone else notices.

My heart aches when I let myself think of it—the possibility Evander won’t be back. That I’ll be bereaved of him, forced to carry and raise this child on my own.

I haven’t been able to consider that version of the future, so I haven’t really let myself consider any future. I’ve just plunged myself into the research of what exactly I need to be doing to keep this baby healthy, and what exactly I should expect.

After about the four hundredth book that doesn’t at all mention fae-human pregnancies, I realize there may be no way of knowing what I can expect.

I’m about to give up, about to wander back to my and Evander’s rooms, tuck my face into his shirt that still smells like him, and cry, when Fin jumps from the desk. “I found him,” he says, running his hands through his jet-black hair.

I frown, unsure who he’s talking about. Asha seems to know, because she knocks over a chair getting to the other side of the table. They both lean over an open, dusty book, Fin murmuring under his breath, Asha nodding in understanding.

I’m about to return to my fruitless endeavor when a herald bursts through the door.

“They’re back,” he says, and Asha, Fin, and I start.

“Who?” I ask, refusing to allow my heart to skip a beat, refusing to allow my hopes to rise.

The herald looks back and forth between Asha and me, his voice faltering. “Your…your husbands, of course.”

Asha and I exchange a look, and then the two of us are both running.

We’ve hardly made it to the cascading staircase when Evander and Kiran reach us. I jump into Evander’s strong arms, memorizing the scent of him as he pulls me close and I tuck my chin into the crook of his neck.

He feels like home, and for the first time, as the tears flow freely from my eyes, I allow myself to admit how worried I’ve been that I’d never see him again.

“Never, ever do that again,” I whisper into his ear.

He just buries his nose into the crook of my neck. “Whatever you say, Ellie Payne.”

CHAPTER 13

KIRAN

Asha’s going on about a thousand things I missed, hugging my neck and telling me I’m never allowed to leave again.

I pull her into me, savoring the curve of her back, the feel of her tiny body against mine. It hurts to touch her sometimes, to feel how fragile she is in my arms, how easily she could be taken away from me.

Humans die.

Asha is human.

Therefore, Asha…

Someone clears their throat. I look up the blue velvet–lined staircase to find Fin, hands in his pockets, looking purposefully at Evander and Ellie.

“Welcome back, old friend,” he says, clapping Evander on the shoulder.

Evander immediately punches him in the face.

We all stand there in shock for a moment, Asha’s eye wide as she glances up at me in faux horror, when I know she’s only covering her mouth to hide her laugh.

“Evander!” Ellie cries, though more in shock than true reprimand.

My mind returns to a scene of Fin taking Ellie by the hand at her betrothal ball, leading her onto the dance floor and sweeping her away as Evander watched, fuming.