Page 118 of The Onyx Covenant

She laughs. “I’m pregnant, not made of glass. Though you wouldn’t know it from how Kieran’s been acting. Won’t let me lift anything heavier than a dinner plate, insists I rest every hour…” She rolls her eyes, but there’s undeniable affection in her voice.

“I can’t believe it,” I say, still processing. “You’re going to be a mother.”

“And you’re going to be an aunt,” she says firmly. “The best aunt any child could have, whether we share blood or not.”

Emotion tightens my throat. “Damn right I am.”

“We’re telling Theron tonight,” she adds. “But I wanted you to know first.”

“He’ll be thrilled,” I assure her. “Especially since it means Kieran has something to focus on besides antagonizing the training recruits.”

We rejoin the men, and I struggle to keep my expression neutral as Kieran immediately fusses over Aria, making sure she isn’t too cold, too warm, or too tired. Theron catches my eye, one eyebrow raised in silent question. I shake my head slightly—not my news to share.

My father approaches, clasping forearms with Theron in the traditional Elios greeting before pulling me into a tight hug. “There’s my girl,” he says warmly. “Finally decided to join the celebration properly?”

“Had to make a dramatic entrance,” I say, returning his embrace. “How are you finding the festivities?”

“Better than I could have imagined,” he admits, glancing around at the mingling packs. “When I was your age, the idea of breaking bread with Umbra wolves would have been unthinkable. Now look at us.”

“Change comes whether we’re ready or not,” Theron observes. “Better to guide it than be drowned by it.”

My father nods thoughtfully. “Wise words from one so young. Your mother would be proud.”

A shadow crosses Theron’s face at the mention of his mother, but he inclines his head in acknowledgment. “I hope so.”

“Lyra!” a voice calls from nearby. “We need you for the blessing ceremony!”

I groan. “Duty calls, apparently.”

“Go,” my father says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll save you some of the blackberry wine for when you’re done playing high priestess.”

The next hour passes in a blur of ritual and ceremony. Despite my earlier complaints, there’s something deeply satisfying about leading the Blood Moon blessing, especially with elements from both pack traditions woven together. Theron stands beside me throughout, his steady presence an anchor as I guide the gathering through ancient words of thanks and renewal.

When the formal portion of the celebration concludes, smaller groups form around individual fires. Communal plates of food circulate—rich venison stew, roasted root vegetables seasoned with mountain herbs, flatbreads topped with wild honey and berries. The air fills with the sounds of laughter and conversation, the occasional burst of song rising above the general din.

Aria finds us again as we’re sampling food from the eastern firepit. She pulls Kieran forward, her expression a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

“We have something to tell you,” she announces, her fingers intertwining with Kieran’s.

Theron pauses with a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. “You’re moving to the southern territories?”

“What? No.” Kieran looks confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve been declining every hunting expedition for the past month,” Theron says. “I assumed you were planning some kind of major change.”

Kieran and Aria exchange a look that contains an entire private conversation. Finally, Aria clears her throat. “You’re not entirely wrong about the major change part.”

I bite my lip to keep from giving away that I already know. Theron sets down his plate, giving them his full attention.

“I’m pregnant,” Aria says, her voice steady despite the slight tremble in her hands.

Theron’s eyes widen fractionally—the equivalent of a shocked gasp from anyone else. Kieran stands straighter, as if bracing for judgment but determined to face it head-on. The silence stretches for one heartbeat, two, and then Theron’s face breaks into a rare, genuine smile.

“Well done, brother,” he says, clapping Kieran on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger slightly. “I had no idea you were capable of creating anything besides chaos and training injuries.”

Relief washes over Kieran’s face, followed by indignation. “I’m capable of plenty,” he protests. “In fact?—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Aria interrupts, though she’s smiling, too. “Some details should remain private.”

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