Page 47 of Truly Madly Magically

My mother stands, and her smile is wobbly. I don’t know what to do with that. Tanith Good wobbly? “No, that’s all right,” she says quietly. “I’ll head downstairs.”

“Mom—”

She shakes her head. “You’ll show me and tell me everything after, but this moment? This is for you two.”

She smiles at me reassuringly, even though her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. She slides Zander a glance, notably dagger-free, and then she’s leaving.

Maureen nods at the space Jacob vacated, and Zander comes over to slide into it. He looks pale, and there are so many reasons he could be feeling pale tonight. I think about taking his hand, and I automatically start talking myself out of it, but I catch sight of Elizabeth out of the corner of my eye. She gives me a little nod.

I take his hand. He doesn’t resist—I’d have to punch him if he did.

I forget about punching things when Maureen settles her warm hands over my stomach, because this is suddenly much more real. She closes her eyes, whispers some words, and then a picture appears above me that looks like a little blob...

With a head, and arms, and legs.

A baby.

Our baby.

“As I said, everything is perfectly healthy. There’s no evidence of any poison breaching the walls that protect the baby. Mother’s magic, right there, and your protection pendant. Now, beyond that, I can tell you both a lot from this picture,” Maureen says. “Or it can also be a surprise. That’s your choice.”

“I want to know.” I want to hold on to whatever’s coming like a promise. Like an oath. We will fight, tooth and nail, come ascension—and I will fight even harder if I know what’s on the other side. I look at Zander.

He nods.

Maureen hums a little, and I can’t tell if that’s spellwork or her own happiness showing through. “Your baby is measuring just as she should. She’s got everything she’s meant to have and is developing right on target.”

“She,” Zander and I both manage to get out.

Maureen smiles at us. “Yes. Your baby girl will be born in March. Likely the twentieth or twenty-first.”

“That...” I swallow. “That seems longer than usual?”

“Oh. Witch babies take their time,” Maureen says reassuringly. “Jacob was near to twelve months before he decided to join us. You know what they say. The longer within, the more powerful without.”

I did not know that. Tanith does not sit around discussing gestation periods.

Maureen carries on. “An Ostara baby, I imagine, because that would make sense. I’ll have a better idea in the next moon phase, when I’ll insist you come in for another checkup. Babies conceived on a festival day are more likely to be born on one, though.”

“My mother...” Zander’s voice is raw. His grip on my hand tightens. “The twenty-first is...was her birthday.”

Maureen smiles over at Zander. “That, too, makes sense. Love is powerful magic, passed down.”

Love.

I can’t find words. The baby growing inside of me is projected right there. I can’t touch her—her—not yet, but I can feel her. She’s already here, with us.

Growing. Measuring.

Safe.

“Here,” Maureen says. The projection fades, but she holds out two pictures. One for me. One for Zander. “These will pass in human circles too, if they need to. And once the baby is born, of course, humans will only remember a typical human, nine-month pregnancy. It’s a blanket spell on all witch births.”

She’s talking about blanket spells, but I’m looking at a picture of my baby. Our baby. Our daughter. I hold the picture in one hand, Zander’s hand in the other.

I barely hear Maureen when she speaks next. “I’m going to give you two a few minutes of privacy, and then, as Jacob said, it’s time to rest.”

I don’t hear her leave, unable to tear my eyes from the pictures she gave us, but somehow I know when she’s gone.

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