Page 37 of King of the Dawn

“You don’t want to let her go.” She stated it slowly, as if she was trying it out to see if it was true. “So… why would you?”

Oh, my dear sweet sister. I loved her for many reasons, and one of them was because she went after what she wanted, without hesitation and regard for anything. She was single-minded to an admirable fault. I pity the man she sets her cap for. He will be done for.

Unless that man was Corbin McClellan. Then, the jury was out on if I would kill him myself for making her feel the need to change her hair.

“Because I love her, which means that I care for her happiness more than my own.” I stared down at my empty glass, and was sad at its hollow insides. So I grabbed the vodka and refilled it, before refilling Yuliya’s. “That is the definition of love, I think.”

She scoffed, taking a sip of the clear liquid, and had no expression as the burn came to her lips. “I think you’re full of shit.”

Chapter Fifteen

Aoibheann

I was pruning the tea leaves in my garden, the small knife in my hand just sharp enough to take the leaves from the stem without damaging the plant itself. That way, they could offer us the leaves that I would dry. Chamomile, lavender, peppermint, black tea, bergamot, and others. I would prune and dry them, making a custom tea for each of those I loved.

It was a never ending process. Grow, dry, then make into tea, and feed with love to the family I was gaining.

I laid the leaves out to dry in the sun - nature was always best for such things - before going to the small satchel I had put together for the young woman who I was starting to think of as my own daughter. Still, no matter how I felt, I wanted to wait for her to acknowledge me as her mother. After all, I was the invader that had come into her home and partnered with her father without her permission or her desire… surely, in this, I could wait for her to pick me.

I placed the little pruning knife in my pocket, as I took the kettle from the nearby sink, and poured water into a cup I had prepared just for her - peppermint today, to calm her stomach.

Rose took the cup of tea from me, then settled into the chair in the library. Before they left, Jericho lit the fire for us, and Alastair settled Rose before he reluctantly left with the siblings.

She had been less than enthused that her father and husband insisted she stayed home, but the doctor had put her on modified bed rest. She was allowed to wander the home, and leave the house to go shopping, but the extracurriculars that Jericho, Yuliya and Alastair were up to were a hard no.

And for obvious reasons. A pregnant woman shouldn't be in the thick of a manhunt for a murderer even if she could handle herself. It wasn't feasible, and the only person who didn't understand that was Rose herself.

Even with the little time I'd spent with her, I knew her need to be accepted by Jericho coupled with the desire to feel strong and capable enough made her hate feeling like she wasn't needed.

She didn't need to doubt herself though. She was one of the strongest women I'd ever had the pleasure to meet. Alongside Yuliya. Jericho made sure of that, and I wondered when he would realize I'd never be that woman. I'd never use my fists, or have enough muscle to care for myself. He would always have to keep me safe, and away from harm.

Would he one day soon wake and realize that his wife, a wife he never chose for himself, couldn't be left alone with fear of her being taken, or killed?

Alastair Green kept me locked away because he didn't want anyone to steal his precious plaything. Jericho kept me locked away because he couldn’t trust me to fight back.

Rose rubbed her belly, her fingers clasping over the growing bump as I forced myself to return back to my witchy business, as my husband so eloquently put it.

"I'm sorry you're stuck here, Rose," I said. "I know you want to be in the action."

The disgruntled look on her face dissipated as she eyed me with curiosity. "I do. I hate being left out. I know it's for the best, but I don't want to be treated like I'm fragile. I'm not."

I shook my head, agreeing with her. Rose was far from fragile. "You're creating two humans, you are far from weak. So many people want to take away how beautiful it is for a mother to create life and mask it behind feminism. They claim being a mother is harder than being a father. And it is, but not for the reasons everyone says."

I reached out and took Rose’s hand, running my fingers over the soft backs of them.

“Did you know that your baby’s cells can be found in your blood even decades after they’re born?” I asked her, smiling down at her growing belly. If I stared hard enough, sometimes, I fancied I could see the little ones swimming around inside her. “A baby’s cry will alert you in a way that a man will never know. A way that only a mother will know. And the more you give of your body to the baby, the more strength you lend your child.”

"Huh," Rose said. "I guess I never looked at it that way."

"When those babies are born, you'll go back to training. You'll be better, stronger for it. No man can ever go through the intense changes women do. And you'll be fiercer because of the love you have for your children, which will drive that dire need you have to keep them safe."

She nodded, then let out a soft yawn.

"I'm getting tired myself," I said, wiping my hands on the fabric of the table cloth. The crackling fire brought warmth to my chilled bones, but I stood and extended a hand to Rose. "We could both use a nap. Our men will be home when we wake, and maybe we can take a walk in the gardens."

Rose peered through the window, chuckling. "It's snowing Aoibheann. I'm not walking anywhere outside in this freezing weather."

She played with the cup in her hand, not quite ready to let it go.

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