Page 424 of Alchemised
When he wasn’t reminding her that “their daughter” needed Helena to breathe, and that she had to keep herself safe for “their daughter,” his interest faded.
One night, when they were lying in bed and she was trying to show him how to feel the constant kicking that she was subjected to, she realised his attention had wandered to her wrists, the punctures from the manacles that still ran through each of them.
She knew he worried that her ulnar nerve snapping was only the beginning, and that there might be more damage. He was constantly watching how she worked and rarely allowed her to carry or lift anything that might strain her wrists.
“Kaine,” she said quietly.
His attention snapped back.
“Kaine, you have to care about her.”
He stared at her blankly.
Her mouth went dry. “You can’t be like your father.”
His expression closed, but she sat up and gripped his hand.
“You have to care. You have to choose to care. The way you are, if you don’t, you won’t—and she’ll know. Just like you did. You cannot do that to her. She has to be someone that you decide to care about.”
She swallowed hard, looking down. “We don’t know how long I’ll … after everything. I need you to promise that if I’m not here, you’ll love her for me”—her voice cracked—“the way I would love her. She has to be that important to you. Do you promise?”
Kaine had grown pale, but he nodded. “All right.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
HELENA WAS PUT ON BEDREST during the last month of pregnancy when her heart began to struggle with even simple things like the stairs.
She nearly fainted, and before the dizziness had passed, Kaine had her in bed and would not let her leave it.
Riding Amaris, he had gone to the larger islands and found several medical texts on pregnancy, which he had read from cover to cover, designating himself as obstetrician. He would not hear of Helena doing anything, and when she tried to protest, he cited passages from the books.
Several women in the village came to the house and helped Lila manage cooking and cleaning. With nothing else to do, Helena began writing, filling a journal with everything she could think of. She wanted it all written down: her version of events. Who she was, and what she’d chosen, and why. Answers to all the questions she’d ever wished she’d asked her own mother.
The winter solstice passed, and so did Helena’s due date, and she thought she would always be pregnant and never leave her bed when her labour finally started. It moved at a relentless creep for more than a day with little progress as Kaine grew more and more worried. Lila was somehow the most levelheaded among them.
“We’re all vivimancers. No reason to think we can’t get one baby out,” Lila said, kneeling by Helena’s legs while Helena leaned against Kaine, his hand pressed over her heart, making sure the rhythm stayed even when the contractions crested and ebbed.
“I hate this,” Helena finally said, beginning to feel like it was never going to end, her forehead slick, curls clinging to her face.
“I know.” Kaine smoothed her hair.
“It hurts.”
“Yes.”
“I’m tired. I’ve been pushing for hours.”
“I know.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
Kaine stopped talking after that and didn’t utter a word of protest when she nearly broke his hand squeezing it through a contraction, her whole body curling forcefully.
“Almost there,” Lila said. “Head’s out. Just one more and you’ll get the shoulders through.” She looked at Kaine. “Do you want to catch her?”
He shook his head.
