Obsidian Thornwing's Arc

Chapter 13 of 18

Two years passed in the cabin the way water passes over a stone. Obsidian rose before dawn, buckled on his sword, and walked the ridge trail to the royal guard post. He came home at dusk. Sylvara was always there. The mushroom walls still glowed low when he opened the door, and she still met him at it. He had stopped counting days a long time ago. This morning he laced his boots by the bed and watched her sleep. Her braid had come loose in the night. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and stood. "Wait." He turned. She was awake, one hand flat on her stomach. "Sit down," she said. He sat. She took his wrist and put his palm where her hand had been. He felt warmth under her skin, and under that, a second warmth that was not hers. Small. Steady. He did not have a word for what he was feeling. He looked at her face. "How long have you known?" "Three days. I wanted to be sure." He kept his hand where it was. His throat closed and opened again. He had trained for ambush, for blades, for the long ride north. No one had trained him for this. "You're sure." "I'm sure." He pressed his forehead to hers. His pale blue wings lifted without his asking, the way they had on the night the cabin bloomed. Her’s rose with them. He cupped her check and kissed her lips. "I have to tell the captain," he said. "Tell him after breakfast." He laughed once, low, and it surprised him. He had not laughed in front of anyone but her in two years. Outside, something moved at the birdfeeder hung by the door. He looked through the round window. The green lynx sat on the step, tail curled, watching the feeder as a bird lifted off it. The lynx did not chase. It only watched, the way it watched everything at the cabin now. "He knows too," Sylvara said. "How?" "He knows." Obsidian dressed the rest of the way. He hung the captain's braid back on the peg instead of pinning it to his shoulder. He would wear it on the walk. Today he would ask his captain for the leave a new father was owed, and after that he would come back and start work on a second room. The cabin would need one. At the door he stopped. "Sylvara." "Mm." "If it's a girl." "We have time." He opened the door. The lynx stood and followed him two steps down the path, then sat again and watched him go. Behind him, in the cabin, Sylvara laid her hand back on her stomach. The walls brightened a shade, on their own, and held.