Page 107 of Heart Cradle
Hayvalaine, seated beside him, gave a theatrical sigh. “Here we go.”
Taelin beamed before almost shouting, “a healer confirmed it, we are expecting our seventh child.”
The room exploded and Maeve didn’t even realise she was laughing until Eiran kissed her temple. Hayvalaine raised her glass with a grin, Orilan stood and clapped Taelin on the back, shouting something about how this one had better look like him.
Fenric bellowed, “Give it a good name… Fenric Junior!”
“If I ever name anything after you, it’ll be a particularly untrainable goat.” Taelin offered to his youngest son.
Maeve continued to laugh, but as the joy enveloped her, a sudden cold weight settled in her gut and she froze mid-sip. She and Eiran had had a lot of sex, repeatedly, enthusiastically, with no contraception, no potions, no runes, no… anything.
Eiran looked at her instantly. “What is it?” Eiran murmured, catching her emotion through the bond.
She forced a smile, too tight. “I…can we go for a walk?”
He was on his feet before she finished the sentence. He offered his hand silently, and she took it. They left the hall behind, slipping into the open air of Moraveth’s night. A cool breeze kissed her cheeks and the sky shimmered with silver stars and the moon riding high.
Maeve’s dress was a deep slate blue, simple in shape but finely made, with soft silver stitching at the cuffs and neckline. The sleeves were sheer and loose at the arms, the fabric light enough to move with every breeze. The gown skimmed her frame without clinging. Her pale skin stood out against the darker fabric, and the freckles across her shoulders were visible in the moonlight. Hazel hair left down for once, long and loosely curled, brushing her back and catching now and then on the wind. Eiran glanced at her as they walked through the gardens. “Is it Davmon?” he asked softly. “What’s troubling you, love?”
Maeve hesitated. “Yes. No…. I mean, yes, it was awful, but it had to be done. It was necessary, and better than the bottom pit. It was needed, for Melrathen. For… for our family.”
Eiran’s eyes softened with pride. “Then what is it?”
She bit her lip. “I just realised something. We’ve been… together. A lot and we haven’t been using anything. And I… ”
Eiran laugh interrupted her rambling, a deep, wine-soaked laugh that startled birds from a nearby tree.
She stared at him. “It’s not funny.”
“It is,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Oh, Maeve. You’re full fae now, remember?”
She blinked. “So?”
“So to conceive, both fae have to intend it. Magic listens to will, no accidents or surprises.” He grinned. “And as much as I’d love a little Eiran running around with your attitude and my eyebrows, I know we’re not there just yet. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks and besides, I’m far too selfish.”
She sagged with relief. “Good. Not that I don’t want children. I do. One day, but right now I just want… us. Peace. Time to travel. Time to breathe. Time at the Cottage. No awakenings. No near deaths. No war.”
He threaded his fingers with hers. “Then that’s what we shall do.”
?????
They’d wandered deep into a grove, their hands still intertwined, breath warm from laughter. The trees around them glowed faintly with the colour of lavender in the moonlight, their bark slick with sap and shining like pearl. The leaves above caught starlight like delicate glass, rustling in a breeze that carried the scent of night-blooming flowers and with what Maeve thought was old magic. In the centre of the grove stood an incredibly large tree, its roots curling up from the mossy earth like sculpted limbs. It loomed like a cathedral, everything about this place felt older than time, enchanted and private, like it had been waiting just for them.
Eiran slowed beside the great tree, turning to her with a wicked smile. A flick of his hand produced two small glasses and a slender bottle filled with deep violet liquid that glittered like liquid amethyst. He sank onto a root with lazy elegance, patting the spot beside him. Maeve sat, heart still pounding from everything, laughter, joy and the dangerous closeness of what they were becoming.
“What’s this?” she asked as he filled her glass, the wine catching the light as it poured.
“It’s called Virellin, but its known as Fae-Fire.” Eiran said, lounging back like a satisfied cat. “Enchanted berry wine from Eldrisil. Tastes like love, carnal regret, and the worst idea you’ll ever enjoy.”
She took a sip, and moaned softly, letting the taste bloom across her tongue. “Oh fuck.” Drinking the lot. “That’s dangerously good.”
He watched her with fire in his eyes. “It also heightens sensation and increases libido,” he added, voice casual but heated.
Maeve choked, “Eira!”
“What?” He raised both hands in mock innocence. “Just being thorough, not that we’ve ever needed help in that department.”
Her pulse fluttered and with a breath of intention, she stripped both of them bare, magic threading through the air like golden filaments, soft and shimmering as it danced over her skin. Their clothes vanished in a flicker of light, leaving them entirely exposed beneath the stars.
