Victor Rosevale's Arc

Chapter 12 of 18

Sable stayed at the table with the strip of leather in her hands. Victor did not let go of her fingers. The word between them was small and huge at once. Late. Two weeks late. He looked at her stomach under the flight vest, then at her face. "You are sure," he said. "I am sure." He stood up. He came around the table and knelt by her chair. He put both hands on her hips and pressed his forehead to her belly through the vest. She smelled like oil and wood smoke. He breathed in and did not move for a long moment. "Victor." She set the leather down. Her hand went into his hair. "Breathe, honey." "I am breathing." "You are shaking." He was. He pulled back enough to look up at her. Her brown eyes were steady on him the way they had been in the river shallows, when she had told him about the two men, calm and quiet while she stood there, resolute. "A baby," he said. "A baby." He laughed once, low. He kissed her belly through the leather. He kissed her hip. He stood and lifted her out of the chair and set her on the edge of the table. She let him. He put his hands on her face and kissed her mouth. "No climbing," he said against her lips. "You said that already." "No flying." "Victor." "No lifting the pot off the fire. No stairs without the rail. No going to the well alone." She laughed and caught his wrists. "You cannot keep me in a box for nine months." "Watch me." She pulled him closer by the collar. She kissed him slow. She kissed his jaw and the corner of his mouth and then his mouth again. His hands stilled on her waist. When she pulled back he was smirking at her, the corner of his mouth crooked, purple eyes half shut. "There he is," she said. "There who is." "The boy at the gate. The one who forgot his post when I smiled at him." "He is done with the gate." "I know." He put his hand flat on her stomach. He kept it there.