Jim Gem's Arc

Chapter 22 of 23

The baby slept on Lena's chest. Her small back rose and fell. The line of black scales on her forearm caught the gray light and held a faint purple glow. Jim sat on the edge of the bed and watched them both breathe. His own scale sat warm against his chest, quiet now. Seraphina packed her cloth bundle by the wide door. She had delivered Kai and Azure's son, and she had done the same here without a wasted move. She pressed two fingers to Lena's wrist, then to the baby's tiny arm. Green light glowed under her palm and faded. "Both strong," the elf said. "The bleeding stopped. She'll nurse when she wakes." She looked at the scales one more time. She had seen them at the birth. She said nothing about them now, and that silence was a gift. "You saved them," Jim said. His voice came out rough. Seraphina lifted her bundle. "They did the work. I only steadied it." She stepped through the door. Rain from the waterfall misted the stone walls beyond. Blue and purple banners hung wet and heavy along the keep. She raised one hand without turning. "Send word if the fever comes. It won't." Then she was gone down the stairs, and the room belonged to the three of them. Jim stayed still. He had chased the dragon alone for ten years. He had wanted one form, held for himself. Now the form slept in a bundle the size of a loaf of bread, and she had it before she could lift her own head. He had not passed on a wound. He had passed on a life. Lena opened her eyes. She looked tired and fierce and awake. "You’re staring my love," she said. "Can't help it." "Yeah." Her voice dropped. She touched the baby's scaled arm with one finger. "She's got your mark. It’s beautiful." Then she stopped talking. Her eyes were wet. Jim leaned close. He kept his hands soft, the way he had all through the labor. No claws came. His heart raced, and the scale on his chest stayed flat and warm and still. He did not have to push anything down. He was only a man beside his wife and daughter. Lena reached up and pulled him to her. She kissed him. He kissed back. It was not the careful kiss he had learned to fear, the one that woke the dragon. It was joy, plain and whole. When they broke apart she was smiling and crying at once. "I love you so much baby." The baby stirred, made one small sound, and settled. Jim looked at the scales on her arm, then at his own. Two heirs now, not one. The thing he had struggled to master alone had become a family, and it would need teaching. He knew, sitting there, that his hardest work had only started.