Page 195 of Stars in Umbra
His head snapped in her direction. ‘For us?’
She nodded. ‘Mum said she’s ours if we want her. We’ll keep it here, of course, but we can visit as often as we want.
Mo moved closer without another word. The young horse stumbled toward him, trusting, and he reached out with a shaking hand to touch its delicate nose.
He stayed like that for a long time, quiet, until Rina joined him.
Later, they walked into the warmth of Hanna and Reth’s embrace, leaving behind the sounds of night birds and the soft breath of the foal against the fence post.
The following days fell into a rhythm.
Rina pottered in the living area with Hanna humming off-key as she bottled preserves, Reth and Mo coming in and out of thepaddocks for iced tea.
Dinners at the farmhouse became ritual: Mo whittling wood, Rina reading in her armchair or barefoot in the kitchen, cooking.
One night, when Hanna and Reth went to the neighbours’ for the evening, they invited Issa and Ki’Remi for dinner.
The pair were on another two-week break and staying at Issa’s family’s farm, not so far away.
The two couples lingered by the outdoor fire.
Rina leaned back in her chair, her hand resting over her belly, while Mo stretched long across from her, firelight catching the glow of his glyphs.
The talk started with peace accords, medical missions, and even the foal that followed Mo around the paddocks.
But Issa turned solemn. ‘You’ve changed, Mo. You carry serenity within you, but likewise a significant gravitas.’
‘That’s because I’ve stopped running,’ Mo said. ‘I’ve also accepted my past and its quirks, I suppose.’
Issa added, ‘How about Sulfiqar’s legacy, your Sacran heritage, have you embraced what comes with it?’
Mo gave her a penetrating look. ‘What does it mean,’ he rasped, ‘to be Sacran?’
‘It means living in two truths,’ Issa said. ‘Forged for war, but meant for peace. Cast out, but not lost. Divine but unholy in seeking justice. The strength is in holding to both opposing paradigms without breaking.’
Mo let her words sink in. ‘I was once cold, unfeeling, trained as a weapon, to barricade away my emotions so I’d commit the worst atrocities. Now I feel it all: anger, grief, tenderness. I don’t block it anymore.’ He paused. ‘When I think of fatherhood, I think of what I never had. What Sulfiqar never gave me. I want to be everything he was not, present, giving, here for my woman and children. So count me in as the unholy seeking redemption, in this case.’
Rina took his hand. He held it, kissing the back of it.
He sliced his eyes from Issa to his woman. ‘I won’t let my past bleed into our son. I’ll carry the shadows, but I’ll teach him the light.’
Issa nodded. ‘Then you’re already walking that path. Not just his father, but his example of how to walk that narrow ridge between both paragons of his human and Sacran experience.’
A meteor shower broke over their heads, and both couples paused to stare at the arcing wild lights across the velvet sky.
Issa shot the couple a smile. ‘I think the stars above heard you two, and they approve.’
Two days later, under Dunia’s amber dawn, they welcomed their child.
It happened in the farmhouse, in Rina’s old bedroom, which had been transformed into a makeshift birthing room.
Sunlight streamed through the shutters in golden stripes.
The fragrance of sweet hay drifted in from the paddocks, mixing with the scent of citrus wood burning in the hearth.
Rina’s mother, Hanna, stayed close to her daughter, wiping her brow, whispering encouragement, and steadying her when the contractions grew sharp.
Mo never left her side, his sizable hand wrapped around hers, squeezing through every surge.
