Page 68 of The Second Marriage
“Oh, it’s good to lie down in my own bed,” Sejun murmured.
Taral turned toward him and slung an arm across his waist. “Let’s visit Merek soon, to see your family. I know they’ll want proof that you survived your voyage.”
“We can go after your heat. That’s coming soon, isn’t it? I’ve lost track of time.”
Taral’s heat was in fact several days late by now, likely delayed by their travel. He had feared it would come on him in the mountains and he’d have to delay the whole convoy while he availed himself of Sejun’s charms. But it hadn’t turned out to be a problem after all.
“Yes, soon,” he agreed. “And I’d like to go see Gurratan, too, before the baby’s born. And by then summer will be over, and we’ll have to prepare for the autumn holidays.”
Sejun laughed quietly in the dark. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, my love. All we need to do right now is sleep.”
“You’re right,” Taral said. “I love you.”
“I’ll love you as long as the moons shine in the sky,” Sejun said.
Taral held Sejun’s hand beneath the blankets and listened to Sejun’s breathing slow as he fell asleep. He lay awake for a while, gazing at the familiar stars through the open window and breathing in the night air of home.
He felt like a different person than the Taral who had left Tadasho less than two months prior. Returning to his life was like putting on a robe he hadn’t worn for several years, that felt somewhat tight in some places and somewhat loose in others. But the seams would stretch soon enough to accommodate his new shape. He was glad to be home, glad to have Sejun with him—glad for all the days that would come, all the golden years ahead. Somehow, miraculously, with all the unexpected wonder of a blessing, happiness had found him.
EPILOGUE
For omegas, the date of conception was no mystery, and Gurratan’s baby was expected to arrive right around the time that even the least cautious herders brought their animals back down into the valleys before the deep snows came. But babies always had their own ideas about when the time was right to make their appearance, and Sejun wasn’t surprised when Taral received a letter a week after the anticipated date with the news that Gurratan was still awaiting the happy event.
“He says he’s extremely large,” Taral reported. “‘Big as a ewe bearing triplets, who can hardly stand up again after lying on the ground.’”
Sejun snorted. “A woman in Merek had twins when I was a child, and I remember being somewhat alarmed by her size in the final weeks. Perhaps he’s got more than one in there.”
“He wouldn’t be pleased to hear you say that,” Taral said, and Sejun laughed.
The next letter they had from Barun was from Ram, reporting the birth of a boy—only one—with a full head of black hair, and the good health of both Gurratan and the child. “That’s good news,” Taral said, with his customary pragmatism, but he read the letter several times over breakfast and smiled each time, and went around the fortress exuding cheer all day.
They left for Barun on the very day Gurratan’s week of seclusion ended, and arrived in the golden afternoon. Gurratan was waiting for them in the garden, the baby sleeping on his shoulder, and he stood and came toward them, smiling, as they approached around the side of the house.
“Oh, is this him?” Sejun asked foolishly, unable to help himself. The baby was wearing a little gown open at the bottom to provide ready access for diapering, and his tiny feet hung down below the hem, the toes curled against Gurratan’s chest.
Gurratan’s smile widened. “This is him. Would you like to hold him?”
Sejun did, very much, and Gurratan transferred him over, a somewhat awkward process as it always was with a newborn who couldn’t hold their head up or do anything to assist; it was like handling a very fragile, half-filled sack of flour. But Sejun had helped care for all of his sisters’ children when they were small, and he knew what to do. He cradled the baby against his shoulder and patted its bottom when it stirred, realizing he didn’t smell like its familiar source of food and comfort. What a sweet creature, so freshly brought into the world.
Taral was frowning at Gurratan. “Should you be out of bed?”
“You’re worse than Ram,” Gurratan said, laughing. “I’m perfectly well, Taral. It was an easy enough birth, and I did spend a full week resting in bed because Ram wouldn’t hear otherwise. It does me more good than harm to walk ten feet into my own garden to sit in the sunlight for a while.” He embraced Taral, who softened after a minute and stopped frowning. “But we’ll go inside now, just to please you, and you can serve us all tea.”
The interior of the house was spotless. Sejun imagined Gurratan’s mother, aunt, and sisters had all descended to cook, scrub, and hold the baby. He and Gurratan sat in the main room while Taral obediently went to make tea. The baby gave a single cry as Sejun settled it in his lap, its little fists treading through the air, then settled again into sleep.
“They sleep so much when they’re new,” Sejun said, gazing down at the little face.
“A blessing to give new parents some reprieve from the great upheaval that’s just occurred in their lives,” Gurratan said. He ran a hand over the baby’s dark head, his own gaze soft and affectionate as he watched the sleeping creature. “But he sleeps well with me at night, so I’m content to let him sleep as much as he likes.”
“He’s very sweet. What a dear little face. And so long! He’ll be tall when he’s grown.”
“That’s Ram,” Gurratan said. “His whole family runs to excessive height.” He stroked the baby’s cheek, his expression gentle with wonder.
“And the birth was easy, as you said? And you’re truly recovering well?”
Gurratan glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “I can’t say I enjoyed it, but there were no complications, and as you see I’m on my feet again without issue. Is there some reason you’re so interested in my health?”
Without meaning to, Sejun glanced toward where Taral was busy at the stove in the adjoining room. There wasn’t much point in trying to be coy about it; everyone would know soon enough.