Page 36 of The Oracle's Journey

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked.

Lhoris’ worried eyes met mine for a heartbeat. “I think you might be pregnant. If you were another dark elf, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all,” he explained, gesturing emphatically with his hands.

I needed to say something but didn’t know what. My life had started out similarly and left my mother a miserable wretch. Lhoris wasn’t a one-night stand, though, and if our oracle was to be believed, we were meant to be together. But pregnant?

Looking distraught—and guilty—Lhoris explained, “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. You’ve lived such a human life, and they don’t have a nose for such things.”

“No. They don’t.” But when I thought about it, I realized my cycle was imminent and that I would have started to suspect it myself if it didn’t come. Was it really a big deal that he told me a few days before I started to wonder the same? No. Was it a little strange that he could detect that? I could smell magic and sometimes track people by scent, so rationally it wasn’t a stretch. Curious, I sniffed the skin of my wrist. Sure enough, I caught the faintest whiff of the earthy fragrance I associated with their magic. “Thank you for telling me.”

“If it makes any difference in how you feel, you’d be astonished by how many pregnancies end in a late moon. It’s still early, and it may not take.” He offered, still watching my face.

“Thank you for telling me that, too,” I gave him a feeble smile. It was going to take more than a few moments to process how I felt about it, really.

Fat drops of rain dripped from the sky, and Lhoris glanced up, his thick, pale lashes fluttering to protect his eyes. Reaching into his bag, he produced a waterproof cloak. Because I was still riding close, he tossed it over my shoulders. He rummaged through his bag again and retrieved a second cloak to cover himself.

How much could he store in that bag? It never looked full. Perhaps it was another piece of enchanted gear?

I gave him a hopeful smile from under my hood, trying to set his mind at ease. Lhoris appeared deep in thought, probably blaming himself. After several peaceful days together, I was able to see the quiet parts of his personality. He was confident in many ways, but, just like anyone else, there were parts of himself he struggled with. Most noticeable was his willingness to take on blame.

But what’s done is done. It was up to us to make the best of things.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” I asked him.

“There are so many things,” he said, “Things I wanted to tell you a little at a time.”

“I get that. We’re just getting started, and this would force us to change the pace.” From fast to faster.

After we rode in silence for a while, he spoke again. “Childhood for my people is hard. We might venerate the magic that is the creation of life, but once beyond infancy, it’s survival of the fittest. We’re raised to believe cruelty is the baseline of existence and something that must be endured. It’s vile.”

His throat bobbed, and he seemed to be struggling with something. “There’s a lot I can’t say on that just yet because it’s not entirely my story to tell.”

I nodded and sighed, watching the light rain gradually turn the parched dirt road a darker shade of brown. Lobikno’s terrible attitude made even more sense now. Lhoris’ self-doubts aside, his general bright and easy demeanor was miraculous if that’s how they were raised.

Despite my own rough start, I had always wanted a family—something I so desperately wanted as a child. If I was pregnant, it meant so much more than just having a baby. It meant possibly building a life with Lhoris. The thought triggered a slow wash of warmth in my chest and perhaps a flutter of hope, though it was too early to allow myself to get excited on either front. I shoved those fragile feelings away. I could dwell on them later when we were someplace safe.

“Lhoris,” I turned to look at him, “you aren’t like that, if that’s what has you worried. I don’t even think Lobikno would be like that. And I’m not like my mother. We don’t have to make the same mistakes when we start a family.”

His mouth quirked up a little bit, summoning one of his dimples. “We can make our own mistakes?”

“Damn right,” I nodded, relieved to see even a hint of his smile. “And we’ll do it together. But let’s not count our chickens before they hatch, ok?”

“Yes, I can do that,” he said, brightening. “I wish we weren’t on horseback. I’d kiss you for knowing exactly what I needed to hear.”

“I love you,” I said quickly before I could think about it. “That’s what do you know meant, at Onyxtoe’s office.” My face heated once the words were out there, but I knew they’d be well received. I had my reservations about how I came to love him, but it didn’t change the affection I allowed to take root in my heart. And I certainly didn’t doubt his feelings for me.

Lhoris froze and blinked at me. His chest heaved a few breaths before he slung one of his long legs over the saddle and hopped off his moving horse. The animal snorted and trotted after the rest of the group. I stopped my horse as he came closer, his expression simmering with emotion. Wonder, joy, excitement, fear all seemed to battle for control, and it wrenched my heart. Was I the first to say those words to him?

When he reached up to me, I threw myself into his arms.

“Oh, my Ozanna,” he murmured into my hair as we embraced. He placed a tender kiss on my lips, and our mouths moved together. But we weren’t stoking the lust that was always there between us. No, this kiss was tending to the hearth of our hearts.

Resting his forehead against mine, he said, “I love you too.”

Tears pricked my eyes and my chest tightened. I hated crying, but nobody had ever said they loved me before, either.

We stood there for a few moments, clutching each other in the road.

“Can you scent the magic?” he asked.

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