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"I want to be certain." His eyes follow the movement of my hand. "And to check that everything is... proceeding normally."
"You mean you want to make sure your heir is developing on schedule," I correct him, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Vael's jaw tightens. "I mean I want to make sure you're healthy."
The sincerity in his voice makes me look away. I'm not used to being someone's priority—especially not a demon's. "Fine. Tomorrow, then."
The healer'shome sits nestled in a grove of strange, silver-barked trees whose leaves rustle like whispers even when the air is still. The structure itself seems grown rather than built, with organic curves and surfaces that shimmer faintly with what must be protective magic.
"You're nervously quiet," Vael observes as we approach the entrance.
"Just wondering what demonic prenatal care involves. Blood sacrifices? Ritual chanting? Making me drink something that turns my insides to fire?"
He snorts. "Mireva isn't a demon."
"What is she then?"
"You'll see."
Before I can press for more information, the door swings open without anyone touching it. A tall, willowy figure stands in the threshold, her skin a deep bronze with faint lines that glow beneath the surface like buried embers. Her eyes—sea-glass green and unnervingly clear—assess us both in one sweep.
"Vaelrix," she greets him with a nod before turning to me. "And you must be Trinity."
I resist the urge to step behind Vael. "That's me."
"Come in. The trees don't like it when I leave the door open too long."
She turns without waiting for a response, her long coils of deep green-black hair swaying with her movement. Vael places his hand at the small of my back, a steady pressure that propels me forward when my feet might otherwise have hesitated.
The interior of Mireva's home is filled with plants I've never seen before—some growing from the walls themselves, others suspended in glass containers that hang from the ceiling. The air smells alive, green and sweet and ancient.
"Sit," she gestures to a curved bench that looks like it grew straight from the floor. "Both of you."
I perch on the edge, hyperaware of Vael's solid presence beside me. Mireva stands before us, her hands clasped at her waist.
"You're with child," she states simply. Not a question.
"We think so," I answer. "But we wanted confirmation."
Mireva's expression remains serene. "You don't need me to confirm what you already know, Trinity."
Her directness catches me off-guard. "I?—"
"But I understand the desire for certainty." She kneels before me, those luminous eyes seeking permission. "May I?"
I nod, and she places her hands gently on my abdomen. Her touch feels like sunlight through leaves, warm and dappled. Something inside me responds to it—a flutter too subtle to be physical movement but too distinct to be imagination.
Mireva smiles, the expression transforming her serious face. "Two heartbeats," she says softly. "Strong and clear."
Vael tenses beside me. "Two?"
"Twins," Mireva confirms, removing her hands.
The word echoes in my head. Twins. Not one baby but two. The transaction suddenly doubled in complexity, in responsibility.
"You're certain?" Vael's voice sounds strained.
"As certain as the tides, bounty hunter." Mireva rises to her feet in one fluid motion. "Your bloodline splits into two branches."