Page 15

TRINITY

A week passes in a blur of nausea, unexpected naps, and Jackie's endless cups of special tea. I've established a routine of sorts—wake up, rush to the bathroom, sip tea while Jackie chatters about everything and nothing, rest when my body demands it, which is embarrassingly often.

But today, the routine breaks because Vael is back.

I hear him before I see him—heavy footsteps on the stone path outside, followed by the door swinging open. My body reacts before my mind can caution against it, heart speeding up, senses sharpening. It's been a week without his looming presence, his intense gaze, his sardonic remarks.

Not that I've missed him.

"You look like shit," Jackie announces from the kitchen doorway, her customary greeting apparently extended to everyone.

"Charming as ever, Jackie." Vael's deep voice reaches me where I'm curled on the couch in the sitting room, a blanket around my shoulders despite the mild temperature.

I stay perfectly still, listening to their exchange.

"Successful hunt?" Jackie asks.

"Yes."

"Anyone die?"

"Only who needed to."

"Cool. Dinner's in an hour."

Their easy rapport prickles at me. Even knowing Jackie is happily committed elsewhere doesn't stop the irrational possessiveness that flares in my chest. Another emotion I have no business feeling.

Heavy footsteps approach the sitting room. I quickly grab the book beside me, pretending to be absorbed in its contents when Vael appears in the doorway. His massive frame blocks the light, casting me in shadow.

I look up with carefully practiced indifference. "You're back."

His red-gold eyes move over me slowly, taking in the blanket, the book clutched too tightly in my hands, the cup of tea on the side table. "You're pale."

"That's my natural complexion," I counter, setting the book aside. "Not all of us can achieve that attractive ash-gray tone."

His mouth quirks up at one corner as he moves into the room. I catch sight of a new cut along his jawline, already healing but still visible. Without thinking, I ask, "Did your bounty fight back?"

Vael's fingers drift to the mark. "This? No. He was too busy begging." He sits in the chair opposite me, his large body making the furniture seem delicate by comparison. "This was from stopping in Ezzid on the way back."

That city is at the far north of the continent. "Stopping for what?"

He doesn't answer, reaching instead into a pocket and pulling out a small pouch. He tosses it onto the low table between us.

I look at it suspiciously. "What's that?"

"Open it and find out."

With hesitant fingers, I undo the drawstring and tip the contents into my palm. A bracelet slides out—delicate silver links interspersed with small blue stones that catch the light.

"It's a protective charm," Vael says, watching my reaction closely. "The stones are from Ikoth. They're known to ease pregnancy symptoms. At least, that's what the merchant claimed."

I stare at the bracelet, then at him. "You... bought me jewelry?"

"I bought you a functional item that happens to be decorative." He leans back, defensive. "Jackie mentioned your symptoms were getting worse."

The bracelet feels cool against my skin. I'm not used to gifts without strings attached—especially not from men. "Thank you," I say cautiously, still waiting for the catch.

He shrugs, looking almost uncomfortable with my gratitude. "It was on my way."

"Ezzid was on your way?" I raise an eyebrow, slipping the bracelet onto my wrist. "Isn't that in an entirely different direction?"

"Are you always this ungrateful?" But there's no real heat in his words.

"Only when demons bring me mysterious magical items." I admire the way the stones catch the light. "It's... beautiful."

Something shifts in his expression, softening the hard edges of his face. "Good."

The moment stretches between us, teetering on the edge of something dangerous. I look away first, suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him—smoke and spice and something metallic that must be blood. My stomach rolls.

"You need to bathe," I blurt out, pressing a hand to my mouth. "Now."

Vael frowns. "I just got home?—"

"Now," I repeat with more urgency, swallowing hard. "Or I'm going to throw up on your boots."

Understanding dawns on his face. He rises immediately, stepping back. "The scent?"

I nod, breathing through my mouth. "Everything is... stronger." I gesture vaguely. "Sensitive."

His eyes narrow thoughtfully. "I've heard this might happen. Your senses heightening is a good sign—it means the pregnancy is progressing normally."

"Wonderful." I close my eyes, still fighting nausea. "I'm thrilled to have a supernatural reaction to your stench."

Vael huffs what might be a laugh. "I'll bathe."

"And burn those clothes," I add, only half-joking.

He moves toward the door but pauses, looking back at me. "Are you... is it always this bad?"

The genuine concern in his voice catches me off guard. I open my eyes to find his expression serious, brows drawn together.

"No," I admit. "Just mornings, usually. And when certain smells hit me." I gesture at him. "Like eau de bounty hunter."

Vael laughs, a deep rumble that surprises me with its genuine mirth. "Fair enough." He runs a hand through his dark hair. "I'll be back, smelling considerably less offensive."

After he disappears down the hallway, I examine the bracelet more closely.

The blue stones catch the crimson light filtering through the windows, creating tiny purple flashes that dance across my skin.

I slip it onto my wrist and feel a subtle warmth spread up my arm—not unpleasant, just noticeably there.

By the time Vael returns, I've composed myself enough to sit upright without the blanket. The scent of him has changed—clean, with hints of some herb I can't name, but distinctly him underneath it all. His hair is still damp, pushed back from his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features.

"Better?" He spreads his arms, inviting inspection.

I take an exaggerated sniff. "Marginally."

He drops into the seat across from me, freshly dressed in a simple black tunic and pants. The informal clothing somehow makes him look more dangerous than his usual armor—like a predator at rest.

"I spoke with Mireva while I was out," he says, his tone shifting to something more purposeful.

"The healer?" He's mentioned her, though I've yet to meet her.

He nods. "She's agreed to see us tomorrow. To confirm the pregnancy."

My hand instinctively touches my still-flat stomach. "Is that necessary? I haven't bled, and unless you've been slipping anti-nausea herbs into my food for fun..."

"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's home 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."

As we leave Mireva's home, the reality of her words settles over me like a weighted cloak. Twins. I'm carrying twins. Vael walks beside me, his expression unreadable, lost in his own thoughts about this unexpected development.

I press my palm against my stomach, trying to reconcile the emptiness I feel with the knowledge that two lives are growing inside me.

Relief mingles with terror—relief that this arrangement wasn't some elaborate hoax, that my body is doing what it's meant to do; terror at the heightened stakes, the doubled responsibility.

The strangest feeling, though, is the quiet warmth blooming beneath my ribs. For the first time in years, I belong somewhere. These children—his children—have created a place for me in this alien world, temporary as it may be.