Page 106 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

She muffled a small laugh behind her lips to hide it. “You sound a little jealous.”

“Jealous? Unlikely. More annoyed that he was needed when I now have the capabilities to do much more.”

She leaned forward so she could peek inside his hood. “You forget, none of them have met you like this yet.” She pulled back and noticed the many dark-yellow orbs and snouts pointed in their direction. “They’re curious about you. That’s a good sign.”

“I’m not quite sure if I want to be dissected by their gazes in blatant inquisitiveness. If they attempt to prod me, as they have done to each other, I will be angered.”

“What? You mean like this?” She sneakily poked his thigh and then side multiple times, without hurting him.

He grunted. “Exactly, but I don’t mind you doing it.”

I think... he’s afraid. Even though a little over three and a half months had passed since he first stepped onto Earth, and five since obtaining his new body, Weldir was still adjusting.

He was uncertain of their children, as he’d never been spoken to in a swarm, and they both could foresee their reactions. All I can do is support him.

She was patient, and willing.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nathair finally unfurled himself from his rested position. He put his hand out, telling his bride, Linh, to wait as he approached Magnar’s home on his own. He tilted his serpent skull up to them and then gestured with his hands in sign language.

“He wishes to speak with us,” Weldir translated.

“Can we?” she asked, with a beseeching, hope-filled gaze.

His big warm hand slipped underneath her cloak to clasp the small of her back, and Lindiwe prepared herself to dematerialise.

In the blink of an eye, she was before Nathair, who stood eight feet tall, if not more.

He shuffled down to lower his own height for their comfort, although Weldir definitely could have matched it freely.

“For the sake of conversational ease, I’m going to relay your words directly into her mind. Do you have any objections to that?”

“No,” Nathair signed, and unfortunately, the voice distinctly sounded like Weldir’s. At least his lips didn’t move. “I actually like that. It would make things simpler if I could share in that ability.”

As Lindiwe pressed closer to Weldir’s side, her heart fluttered a little faster with nervousness, and her hands shook in excitement.

She couldn’t believe she was having a proper conversation with him, or that he’d wanted to talk to her at all!

He might be the first of her children ever to do so, without there being meaning or dire requirement behind it.

“Weldir is going to teach me in the future,” she told him. “Now that I can actually see his hands, it’ll be easier to learn.”

She also just hadn’t been prepared for his sudden return to life, and never thought she’d need it. A language was best learned when it was in repeated use.

“I would appreciate that.” Nathair’s orbs glowed a bright yellow before they quickly dulled back to his normal orange.

He twisted to her a little more and even lowered his head.

“I wanted to thank you for all you did for me after I was brought back to life, and apologise for the many ways I hurt you – physically and emotionally. It was...” His hands paused, his fingers twitching in hesitancy.

“It wasn’t an easy time for me. It would’ve been more unbearable without you at my side. ”

Not expecting this, Lindiwe had to bite back the tingle of tears.

None of her children had ever thanked her or apologised for all the hurt they’d put her through.

She couldn’t believe one even wanted to, from the bottom of their heart, and that it was Nathair, her first, and the one she’d felt as though she’d failed the most from the very beginning.

It was overwhelmingly emotional. All she could do to combat the way her heart ached in reaction was force a broken smile on her face.

“Of course, Nathair,” she answered with a croak. “I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

All the pain, the claw strikes, being envenomed and nearly eaten, Lindiwe would do it all again so long as it helped him.

Nathair then waved his claws in a beckoning motion, and a little female not much shorter than Lindiwe came over.

Her eyes were such a dark brown they nearly looked black in the shade, but were molten in the sunlight.

Her face was sweet, young, and heart shaped, and she smiled freely at Lindiwe as her set of long black braids swayed in the warm breeze.

“This is Linh. She has been wanting to say hello since she saw you at our wedding.”

“Hello, Linh. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lindiwe greeted with a smile.

“Hi,” she answered with a wave.

“And these are our younglings.”

As if expecting him to mention them, Linh was already pulling their twins from her person to hand them to him. Nathair then, surprisingly, shoved them at Lindiwe so she could hold them.

Oh my gosh. I can’t believe I’m holding two of my grandbabies! Her heart was bursting with affection. She never thought she’d be allowed!

She couldn’t help laughing, especially when they both curled their serpent tails around her forearms.

“I can see you want to make them like you, Nathair,” she stated warmly. They looked nearly identical, and very much like him when he was a baby. “Make sure to feed them fish until they gain their gills and fins.”

“We’ll definitely remember that,” Linh answered with a giggle.

Then Nathair reached out to Weldir, who darted his shadowy hand upwards and blocked the serpent Duskwalker from grabbing his hood with the back of his wrist.

“Don’t,” he warned.

With a snorted huff, Nathair pulled his hand back to sign. “Come now. I want to see your face.” He lowered to the side and flicked his forked tongue out in his direction. “I should be the first to see it. Why hide it?”

Weldir didn’t like to be bested, nor did he want anyone – except maybe her – to know how he really felt. He grabbed the sides of his hood and flicked it back until it evaporated in smoking shadow.

Just as he’d feared, the other Duskwalkers came over like a stampede, except for Merikh and Zylah, who were, in general, wary of the others. Then again, the female Duskwalker just seemed a little awkward in general, even as she looked at him curiously.

She reminded Lindiwe of a wallflower.

Both of Weldir’s hands were lifted so the golden bones in them could be inspected, all their adult Duskwalker children, for some reason, seeing him as harmless. Except when their brides also tried to approach, then they were quick to shuffle them back to a safe distance, warily.

He said little, just answered their questions in his usual indifferent, dull way, but she knew he was holding it in. So when Nathair, cheeky and quite used to Weldir, went to grab a horn, her overstimulated mate materialised them both back to the top of Magnar’s home.

He shuddered next to her but didn’t yank his hood back up. “I knew I would despise that.”

She offered a comforting smile, then slipped her hand into his shadowy cloak as it opened to allow her in, and grasped his much bigger palm. “At least it’s done.”

When the afternoon began to truly creep in, Linh approached Mayumi to ask about the tent she’d offered to set up in Faunus’ ward. They left temporarily to make sure that was done before night fell, with the intention of returning.

Now that there were fewer eyes on him temporarily, Jabez brazenly approached them. He climbed the side of Magnar’s home with his bare hands and feet, as if he worried about startling them by transporting himself to their side.

Just as he neared, a shadowy tendril, rigid and sharp, pointed right in front of his face. Jabez halted, and his red eyes crossed as he inspected it before pulling back slightly. Then he leaned sideways to look at them while remaining crouched.

“Touch her, and I’ll finally break my oath and kill you. You’re lucky that Mavka is the only reason I have not turned my fury from the past on you.”

Lindiwe expected him to grin or be a cocky little shit. Instead, his lips drew down, and he nodded. “Fair enough. Although, aren’t I impervious to death? Unless you want to destroy your own granddaughter.”

Weldir leaned back, and for the first time ever, greeted Jabez’s gaze properly. “Your threads are woven, but I’m still a god of souls. I can surely unravel them with a little practise.”

Jabez threw his hands up with a sigh. “I have no interest in this shit anymore. Trying to move on from the past, blah blah blah.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to forgive you,” Lindiwe cut in.

Still crouching, Jabez placed his fingertips against the rooftop to balance himself.

“I’m not particularly asking forgiveness, nor do I want it.

I can be as sorry and regretful about the past as I want, but we all know it matters little to fix what I have done, how I have done it, and what harm I caused.

” He lifted his free hand and shrugged. “However, obviously I have no interest in my war anymore, to my annoyed dismay. I come with a peace offering and a request.”

“You have quite the hide to ask anything of us,” Weldir stated coldly.

Jabez gave a low, dark chuckle. “I have always been arrogant and opportunistic. Merikh is unlikely to approach you soon, whereas I am impatient and would rather have my answer now. If I ask it, would you be willing to lower your ward?” He quickly put up his finger to pre-empt them interrupting him.

“Not for war, but to end it. I want to replicate Spiral Haven within Nyl’theria, and having citizens who understand how to govern themselves would increase its potential for success.

I’ve already spoken with the synedrus council, and they have agreed to it pending your answer. ”

Weldir was silent for a long while, perhaps too long. Jabez didn’t move, no matter how the minutes passed by, awaiting an answer. The lack of one was surprising, and likely a good sign for him.

“For now, no,” Weldir answered.